They are Europe’s twin pillars of fashion, cities of grandiose, perfume ads and no little chaos. Yet the football clubs of Paris and Milan do not arrive here in the sauna of Munich conforming to cultural stereotype. If anything, they are built as much on the traditions of the country that will play host to Saturday’s Champions League final.
Paris Saint-Germain and Inter are the right finalists, too. They have been the standout teams in this season’s competition. There is flair but with it functionality, in its best sense. Not the obdurate, grind-you-down type. Rather, a competence and strategy that allows the likes of Khvicha Kvaratskhelia, Ousmane Dembele and Lautaro Martinez to stand atop their own side’s structure and break down that of the opposition.
Like Germany teams of old, this pair are quietly formidable. Leave it to Real Madrid and Barcelona to squabble over their Ballon d’Or favourite, the greatest prize awaits here at the Allianz Arena, Bavaria’s luminous cocoon that glows as brightly as the sun on the outside and silverware within.
The trophy sparkled pitchside on Friday night as the world’s broadcasters took turns to plant it on their velvet pedestals.
And the most intriguing aspect of it all? No-one knows who will lift it come sundown. I chatted to Rafa Benitez, a Champions League winner, at Munich Airport on Friday. Edwin van der Sar, a two-time winner, strolled by.
Big game, big names. Benitez sided with PSG, and then made an argument for Inter! Having been to both semi-finals, I would share Benitez’s instinct, but only just.
PSG have undergone a footballing feng shui since I watched them lose to Dortmund in last season’s semi, when they could not score over two legs. They are no longer hostage to the ego of Kylian Mbappe, Leo Messi, Neymar and others. Under the bold and brilliant Luis Enrique, the matador has chased the bulls from the ring.
There are stars, but they exist in the same orbit as their manager and team-mates. Georgian winger Kvaratskhelia was not only PSG’s best attacker in the semi-final win over Arsenal, he was their best defender. It is because of him and the likes of teenage jewel Desire Doue that PSG are, whisper it, likeable.
There has not been a great deal of neutral affection in 14 years of their Qatari-bankrolled project, and such fondness might well be the biggest transformation of all. It is hard to believe this is the same team that not so long ago felt like a mood board for petulance, now on the brink of their first Champions League crown.
Simone Inzaghi’s Inter are worthy of equal respect. Their greatest strength? They find a way to win. In fact, they know no other feeling. In 14 Champions League matches, the Italians have trailed for just 16 minutes.
And yet, there is also an endearing jeopardy at times. Catenaccio this most definitely is not. In the quarters and semis, when they were underdogs against Bayern Munich and then Barcelona, the wolf was never far from their door. At least, that is, until Lautaro showed his fangs and chased it away.
Is there a more under-rated player in European football? The Argentine’s goal here versus Bayern will make the podium for this season’s best, a move he started on the centre spot and finished on the penalty spot. He will also be one of only two players on the pitch to have played in a World Cup final and won. The Champions League would complete the game’s ultimate double.
In the Allianz media room on Friday night, Inter officials asked each journalist which player they would prefer to ask questions of – Lautaro or midfielder Nicolo Barella? Sempre Lautaro!
The subject of perception was broached but, curiously, it was the idea of him being appreciated more in Italy than Argentina. Barella, sitting next to his captain, laughed. He knew it would likely irritate his friend. Lautaro seized the chance to hit back. Call it striker’s instinct.
‘You’re the journalist, you tell me!’ he snapped, albeit with a smile. ‘You’re from Argentina. You know the daily grind, what you guys are saying about me. I always think individual achievements are in the passenger seat anyway.
The main priority for me is to give what I can to Inter. I’ve been here seven years, the Italian press see me every day. Maybe that’s why they hold more esteem for me. But when I’m back with Argentina, I also get good press, I think!’
With his squat stance anchored by calves that make those of Jack Grealish look like cocktail sticks, there is something of the middleweight boxer about Lautaro. He let his tongue land the blows this time.
The 27-year-old was on the losing side in this final two years ago, when Inter were beaten 1-0 by treble-chasing Manchester City in Istanbul. Pep Guardiola told Inzaghi afterwards that his team would be back in another final soon enough. Maybe it was one of Pep’s slightly patronising consolations – ‘Southampton, so, so good’ – or maybe he had seen beyond the scoreline and knew that Inter were the better team.
And they are, still, a better team than what many believe them to be. It is wrong, too, to pitch this as a clash of styles. Inter have scored 114 goals this season. Across those ties against Bayern and Barcelona, they netted 11 times.
The biggest contrast is age. PSG have the youngest average starting XI in the Champions League, at 25, whilst Inter have the fourth oldest at 30.3. But there is a feeling for both that their time is now. This is no dress rehearsal for another day. That much was evident in the centre of Munich on Friday night, where it felt as if an entire continent had converged.
The beer halls were perfumed by roast pork and the spilt froth of giant steins that are still too small, but the pervading scent in this sticky, summer air was football. Kvaratskhelia and Dembele shirts sat alongside those of Lautaro and Thuram. The only thing more intense than the heat was the hope. When the rivals bickered, it was never anything more than hop-fuelled claims of which team would win.
And that is the beauty of this final – we really don’t know the answer.
