Champions League: Borussia Dortmund 1 PSG 0
As the final whistle blew on this pulsating, perplexing game you could see the Dortmund and Paris Saint-Germain players stumbling around in a kind of daze, still trying to process things. Wondering how their combined efforts and errors had resulted in just a single goal. Wondering whether – for all the boldness and brittleness of the men in yellow – this really could be Borussia Dortmund’s year.
Niclas Füllkrug’s first half goal ultimately settled matters, even if very little felt settled during a subsequent hour during which Gregor Kobel’s goal seemed to be doused in holy water. Kylian Mbappé had 50 touches, three shots on goal, hit the inside of the post and still left empty-handed.
But perhaps Dortmund had earned their luck too, after a performance of utter, sweat-drenched conviction, and a maturity that has not always been their hallmark. The reformed, reborn Jadon Sancho was the best player on the pitch by a distance, slaloming and cajoling, roaming right and roaming central. On the other flank Ian Maatsen probably got the better of a fascinating duel with Achraf Hakimi. It was a 1-0 that could have been 4-4 or frankly anything in between: the sort of high-wire, high-stakes game we have come to expect from two teams with no interest in biding their time.
Füllkrug’s goal had been coming. It was PSG who settled into the game quicker, beginning to dominate possession and flick through their many threats – Hakimi’s surges up the right, Bradley Barcola’s dashes down the left, Fabián Ruiz’s late charges through the middle – like a diner perusing the menu. Mbappé, as ever, was playing largely by aura in those early stages, his very presence stretching the Dortmund defensive line and creating the pockets in which Ruiz and Ousmane Dembélé love to operate.
But after about half an hour of sketchy defending and half-baked attacking ideas, something seemed to click in the home side. After a succession of safe sideways passes, Sancho finally took on and beat a couple of men on the edge of the area and cut the ball back for Julian Brandt. Though the shot was deflected away, Sancho’s shimmy seemed to fill Dortmund with the spirit of enterprise, remind them of themselves.
A few minutes later Nico Schlotterbeck clipped the ball over the top for Füllkrug, who took two sumptuous touches: one to control with his right foot, one to bury a low finish across Gianluigi Donnarumma with his left. Now the Yellow Wall smelled blood, heaved and swayed, demanded more. Kobel put Barcola on his backside with a daring 180-degree swivel. At the other end only Donnarumma’s sprawling dive stopped Marcel Sabitzer from making it 2-0.
In hindsight the break seemed to come at a good time for PSG, who emerged from the dressing room with a little more control and purpose. Early in the second half Mbappé capped a stinging counter-attack with his trademark curler from the corner of the area, clattering off the inside of the post. Seconds later Hakimi had another go and hit the inside of the other post. A few minutes after that Marquinhos put in a wonderfully disguised low cross that Ruiz somehow managed to head wide. As was also the case in both legs of their quarter-final against Atlético Madrid, Dortmund were living off charms and wishes.
The problem for PSG – and really, not at all a novel problem for anyone with even the merest grounding in the heritage of this club – was that in between those wild flourishes Dortmund were essentially walking the ball through them at will. That familiar lack of defensive intensity up top was inviting pressure further back. Just before the hour Sancho, by now playing all the old hits, wafted at warp speed to the right byline and cut the ball back for Füllkrug, who missed a chance far easier than the one he had scored.
It had been a sweltering day in Dortmund and as PSG began to surge again, to build the waves of pressure, you could see the Dortmund players trying to catch their breath during the breaks in play. Perhaps there was an argument that Edin Terzic could have turned to his bench earlier, but their attackers were having a storming game, and was this really the moment to bring on a fresh defender against Mbappé and friends?
Marco Reus did eventually make his appearance eight minutes from time, by which point the patterns had largely been established. PSG continued to threaten. Dembélé missed a wonderful chance from Hakimi’s cross. Ruiz squandered another header. But somehow Dortmund survived, like John Travolta and Samuel L Jackson in Pulp Fiction, when they turn around to see the wall behind them riddled with bullets. This movie is only half-over. But for Dortmund, a return to the heavenly lights of Wembley has never felt closer.
