That atomic game, full of impurities, inaccuracies and full of risks that went well with Liverpool, changed the plane. Madrid took the ball, the mechanism of self-defense that best knows, from the hand of Modric, his silent hierarchy, and was marking the steps. First he tamed the opponent, then cornered him and finally left him at the slaughterhouse's doorstep. Shortly before the break, he was denied a goal by Benzema, for a double offside by him and Cristiano, and Nacho and Benzema himself really threatened Karius. The Madrid began to escape through the bands. The control began to eat at vertigo. The champion, finally, left the ropes and took the center of the ring.
Liverpool had changed the plan and luck. He was still recovering from a shot to the crossbar of Isco when Karius joined Ulreich, goal of Bayern, in the club of the comedy. He wanted to get out of his area with his hand and smashed Benzema's boot with a ball that went to the bottom of his frame. The first goal of the Frenchman in a Champions final. In matches like this Madrid usually chained to the scoreboard, but this time it was in the first corner. Twice he was shot in the area in a corner. The second, of Mané, at point-blank range, was unappealable