Álvaro Morata silences Bernabéu as Milan capitalize on Real Madrid malaise | Champions League

For one brief moment, you wondered if it might happen again. With eight minutes to go between the clubs who have won this competition more than anyone else, and Real Madrid 3-1 down, Antonio Rüdiger guided a shot into the net that might have been a bugle call, a call to arms, madness gripping this place again and ushering in another of those wild finales. This time though there was no comeback and no epic, only reality. Justice too. Rüdiger had been offside and the goal was ruled out, the illusion lasting only as long as the VAR check, leaving Milan striding to a victory they thoroughly deserved.

Goals from Malick Thiaw, the exceptional Tijjani Reijnders and the tireless Spain captain Álvaro Morata – of course – secured a win Milan badly needed and inflicted Madrid’s first Champions League defeat here since Chelsea won 3-2 in April 2022. Even back then Madrid, coming back from 3-0 down, had gone through, becoming one of the most miraculous champions in memory; here there was no such luck, no such reaction either. No noise, no revival, and no hiding from the truth. “We have to be worried,” Carlo Ancelotti admitted. “We’re lacking something.”

But for Andriy Lunin, Milan’s margin would have been even greater, an extraordinary close-range stop from Ruben Loftus-Cheek in the last minute perhaps the best of six saves. No one has come here and had more shots on target in 20 years. On the night that Ancelotti equalled Alex Ferguson with the most games as a manager in the European Cup, his slow and desperately disorganised team were outplayed. Milan, supposedly struggling, their coach on the edge, were superb, Christian Pulisic especially. Long after the final whistle Italian supporters were still locked in but they didn’t care; instead, they sang.

Madrid’s had long since whistled and made their way to the exits. It was not just that they had been beaten; it was how, an indolence about them that irritated supporters, the visitors’ job made unexpectedly, almost shockingly easy. Milan played their way around the Bernabéu pitch, advancing mostly unchallenged through midfield, where Morata dropped to be an extra man and Reijnders ran free. The ball didn’t even have to move especially fast from player to player, white shirts arriving late if they came at all, challenges weak or nonexistent, the two goals that gave Milan a half-time lead a portrait of all that.

They had only needed 11 minutes to take the lead. A lovely ball from Morata, struck with the outside of his foot, set Rafael Leão away up the left beyond Lucas Vázquez and he won a corner off Éder Militão. Pulisic delivered it for Thiaw to head in without having to jump.

So often it seems that Madrid need something to fight against in order to stir and their reaction was almost immediate, Kylian Mbappé drawing a sharp save from Mike Maignan 19 seconds after the restart before Vinícius Júnior won and dinked in a penalty on 23 minutes. And yet this was not, it turned out, the revival many imagined, the usual story from the usual suspects.

Instead, Milan imposed themselves, three corners in a minute underlining how far, and how easily, they were being allowed to travel. Theo Hernández reached the edge of the area to fire off a shot. Lunin made an impressive save from Reijnders. And when Pulisic led another calmly constructed attack, Milan picking their way through again, the second arrived. Pulisic found Leão, who turned near the penalty spot to shoot and although Lunin saved, Morata put away the rebound.

It had to be him. He had been whistled, there had been chants of “Morata how bad are you?” – not bad at all – but there was no wild celebration. He cupped his finger round his lip – silence perhaps or a nod to Movember – and then raised a V in support of Valencia’s flood victims.

Eduardo Camavinga and Brahim Díaz were introduced at half-time and Dani Ceballos followed not long after but it didn’t change anything. Not even the atmosphere; there was no roar, no smell of blood, no belief. Instead, Milan continued to control this. First Lunin made a brilliant save from Leão’s header. Then Pulisic stepped away from Rüdiger and ran free, a path opening all the way to the Madrid goal; 60, 70 yards he went before finding Leão, who wasted the opportunity. And while Jude Bellingham then scuffed one over and Mbappé shot wide, Milan soon made it three.

Again, it was Reijnders who led them, the move beginning all the way back with Maignan; again, the challenges, if they could be called that, were ridden with ease, two men rolled not once but twice. A one-two with Leão and the Dutchman dashed into the area to steer past Lunin. There was still time for Madrid – they tend not to need much, after all – but when Rüdiger was ruled offside the revival, insofar as there ever was one, was over. When Maignan saved from Díaz it was too late even for them. “It will be a very long night,” Ancelotti said. For the Milanists still celebrating in an empty, conquered stadium, it certainly was, and it was theirs.