When at last the never ending story reached its final page, there was Bukayo Saka standing at the north end of the Santiago Bernabéu shrugging a familiar shrug that says: how about that, then? And that was pretty special, Arsenal’s own story written as Mikel Arteta had demanded and a moment they will remember for a long time. Here was the goal that effectively put them into the semi-final of the Champions League for the third time in their history and a portrait of the way they had played here: an exercise in patience, control, and maturity.
Precision and courage too. Saka had missed a first-half penalty that might have set up their passage sooner, but he was not sunk. None of them were: not by the legend, the atmosphere, the history, not by the quality of players in front of them either, the fatalism that saw so many others crumble and fall. Instead, the Santiago Bernabéu spell was broken, Real Madrid eliminated. And deservedly so. At no point really was Arsenal’s 3-0 lead from the first leg in real danger. Not even when they gifted Real Madrid an absurd equaliser. That kind of moment that usually sparks madness did not; the men in black ensured as much.
And then, as if to underline their superiority – and make no mistake, over these two legs they have been far, far superior to Real Madrid – Gabriel Martinelli escaped through the middle of what little was left of the home defence and slotted past Thibaut Courtois. They had not just beaten the European champions across two games, winning 5-1 on aggregate, they had beaten them in two games, fans singing high in the stands above, perhaps the greatest night in their European history completed on its grandest stage and in grand style.
Carlo Ancelotti had said that his team didn’t necessarily need to score early, but it couldn’t hurt either and Madrid had the ball in the net before this game had even reached two minutes. Kylian Mbappé knew he was offside as he turned it in with his chest and there was no celebration; there was though, a rise in pitch, in excitement, in belief. Perhaps in fear, too. Here was the evidence that it was possible, both promise and threat. And a moment later, Mbappé set Vinícius Júnior sprinting up the line.
Arsenal though were ready for this. Saka flashed a shot past the post and then saw another pushed away by Courtois. Arteta’s team managed the tempo, slowing the game down when it suited mostly keeping Madrid at a safe distance, while occasionally stepping out. There was little sign of nerves, not even when the opportunity to end it slipped through their fingers. Which might sound like an absurd way to describe a penalty inside quarter of an hour but in that moment, in this arena, that was how it felt.
At first no one even knew what it had been given for. The incident that François Letexier was called to look at wasn’t even the last; it had happened a minute or so before. But there on the screen, in slow motion, Raúl Asencio pulled down Mikel Merino. Saka stepped up and clipped the penalty towards the south stand, a kind of semi Panenka, but too low and too soft, the moment gone. Courtois was able to dive past it and still reach up a hand to stop it, this place erupting.
If that seemed like the spark they needed, it was quickly followed by another, and suddenly the impossible seemed inevitable again, Letexier giving a penalty for a tug on Mbappé. Declan Rice protested his innocence and eventually the referee agreed and changed his mind. The wait for him to go to the VAR screen took five minutes and on the screens in the stadium his decision to not give the penalty was attributed first to an offside and then, it said, to the fact that “Arsenal player No 41 did not commit a foul”.
That was a relief there, but the plan didn’t change and Arsenal were handling this. Arteta had talked about the value of frustrating Madrid, turning that narrative against them, and that was a fairly accurate description of what was happening. David Raya was booked for time wasting after half an hour and not called on to make a save in the first half. Courtois had made three, the last a sharp stop from Rice. Madrid lacked structure and ideas, a Lucas Vázquez cross that curled all the way through almost their best moment and a portrait of their difficulties.
The second half needed something different, renewed energies but Madrid didn’t seem to have any. There was a tiredness about them, little spark. Rice had to step in front of Jude Bellingham and Mbappé headed over from a corner but Arsenal appeared to be in control. There was a reminder that it wasn’t a good idea to assume too much when a long run of oles from the taunting Arsenal fans was interrupted by Madrid suddenly racing up the pitch. It ended tamely enough but it also ended with their first shot on target, Raya comfortably gathering Vinícius’s shot.
The next time there was a shot, just after the hour, Arsenal led. Raya’s long ball was nodded on by Rice. Saka came inside, went to Martin Ødegaard, who slowed, waited, and gave it back. Ødegaard played to Merino who slipped a clever ball through the gap and there was Saka, dinking it coolly, gently over Courtois and into the net.
This was not the way visitors are supposed to behave when they come here; what came next is, a goal gifted to Madrid out of nowhere when Raya rolled to William Saliba, who got robbed on the edge of the area by Vinícius who smashed the ball into an empty net. Suddenly there was that roar again, a reaction to something so ridiculous that for a moment they thought that maybe, maybe, it could be the start of something even more ridiculous.
Arsenal though weren’t going to let that happen, not now, not ever, Martinelli writing the final line of a new story all of their own.
