After 30 minutes at Anfield, there was a moment of home-crowd theatre that would define this 2-0 Liverpool win, possibly even Conor Bradley’s young career, and inspire the night’s biggest and most emotional cry. Who doesn’t like a powerful roar?
From a Liverpool corner, Kylian Mbappe carried the ball upfield and felt the night open up ahead. At which time, Bradley ran over from the left with an enthusiasm that showed he was not a footballer out to harry, jockey, or show Mbappe the outside, but to separate his feet and the ball from the Anfield turf.
The crowd took a collective breath as Bradley launched himself, took the ball, upended Mbapp, and was met with a thunderclap from three sides of the ground, so loud people in the city center will have thought Liverpool had scored.
Bradley had a great night playing against Mbappe from the outset. Arne Slot made a great choice by trusting the talent rather than going with Joe Gomez, who was safer.
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Slot would walk his touchline at night, his smooth, soft pate shining under the midweek lights, and manage the top team in Europe.
Bradley considered the Mbappe fight pocket-sized. Memes, crudely photoshopped heads poking out of pockets. Between defending with clarity and ferocity, Bradley appeared in the Madrid penalty area early in the second half, fully inverted and unbothered by the Galactico at his back.
Bradley’s wonderful fizzed pass set up Alexis Mac Allister’s opening goal, a turn and shot that put the game away. Madrid offered to kick him by the end. There’s no better compliment.
At kickoff, Anfield was crisp, still, and frigid. The Super Champions League was created for nights like these, when we’ll all eat sweets and drink super club power-flash.
Some still find those grand old notes, the red and white blocks, fascinating. The idea that the moment inside that pure, clear square of light is all that matters.
Liverpool was motivated to play hard here. This was a chance for Slot to establish himself as Liverpool manager and show he is no longer a gardener.
Liverpool faced a depleted Madrid, without six key players. They are a different team without Vinicius Jr. Like Thor entering into battle without his hammer, their menace, edge, and potential harm should be considered.
Mbappe did receive what he wanted the chance to be The Man on the left.
Transition has been challenging. Mbappe appears weak and anxious. Early on, he was booed heavily and witnessed Mac Allister steal the ball and feed a fast-moving Darwin Nunez, always the best. In truth, Mbappe never recovered.
A lack of viciousness exists. He faced Bradley again in the second half, did at least 40 whiffling stepovers, danced near a football game, and lost the ball.
At 1-0 down, he got away from Bradley and helped Madrid win a penalty. He missed a spot kick that Caoimhin Kelleher might have easily caught.
Otherwise, Liverpool dominated Madrid physically on a night of bravura. Nunez Cruyff moved past Jude Bellingham after a corner and grooved in front of the lowest tier of the stand, eliciting celebrations and hand gestures.
On 64 minutes, Bradley glided into the Madrid area, watched a cross sail over his head, and turned to see Mo Salah hammer back 40 yards to steal the ball.
It would have been better if Salah had done it with a contract in his hand, pages flapping out behind him. Salah missed a penalty minutes later. Liverpool and Slot may have liked that it never appeared to matter.
