For Internazionale, the road to Istanbul was paved with bad intentions. The exuberance and colour of their first-leg victory gave way to something darker and grittier here: not so much a semi-final as a turf war, the sort of game that is to be endured rather than enjoyed. Here their great city rivals were snuffed out, dismantled piece by piece, and finally picked off via a goal by Lautaro Martínez. Milan is theirs. But the greatest prize of all remains tantalisingly within reach.
Simone Inzaghi’s side will probably go into the final on 10 June as one of the least fancied Champions League contenders in recent history. And from the English perspective there is perhaps a tendency to gaze upon this wrought and wizened squad, with the 37-year-old Edin Dzeko up front and the 35-year-old Francesco Acerbi in the centre of defence, and wonder just how they got this far. But there is also a kind of deadly honesty to them: men of conviction, men of skill and steel, who over 180 minutes simply stood taller and made the braver decisions.
