As a seething, soaking wet Anfield braced itself for one last Real Madrid fling, a narrative that had assumed pantomime quality throughout the evening threatened to turn more consequential. Trent Alexander-Arnold shaped to unfurl one of those dipping deliveries that have more than paid the Kop their due over the years and the thought flickered that, were it executed correctly, he might depart having helped to earn a point his team did not remotely deserve.
Any fears were unfounded. For one thing, in keeping with a pallid display, Real’s attack had neglected to offer Alexander‑Arnold a target. For another, when his cross swung out to no man’s land with Vinícius Júnior in half-hearted pursuit, a familiar obstacle lay in wait. Conor Bradley had thundered through the Brazilian, perfectly cleanly, near the byline in his previous foray and was not about to let anything go now. Seeing the ball out as his opponent went flying in desperation, Liverpool’s current right-back completed a night’s work that rendered sideshows irrelevant.
