Champions League final LIVE SCORE – PSG vs Inter Milan: Huge clash on NOW as European titans face off
THE Champions League final between PSG and Inter Milan is taking place in Munich RIGHT NOW.
The headline team news from Germany is that
The French giants broke
And
You can watch tonight's action for FREE via the discovery+ app/website, but you must make an account on the platform.
Kick-off time:
8pm BST
FREE live stream:
discovery+
TV channel:
TNT Sports 1
PSG starting team:
Donnarumma; Hakimi, Marquinhos, Pacho, Nuno Mendes; Joao Neves, Vitinha, Fabian Ruiz; Kvaratskhelia, Dembele, Doue
Inter starting team:
Sommer; Dumfries, Pavard, Acerbi, Bastoni, Di Marco; Calhanoglu, Barella, Mkhitaryan; Lautaro, Thuram
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By then the game was gone, as was Doué shortly after, replaced by Bradley Barcola. And really it was his opening 20 minutes that decided this Champions League final. Doué is a very distinct kind of attacking tyro, with a martial artist's precision in his close-quarter fast-twitch movements, always just enough of a feint and a snap of the heels, always purposeful, never gratuitous. Watching him on nights such as this, it is as though somebody has taken Neymar and boiled him for eight hours until all the waffle and frippery have disappeared, then sent him on to the pitch crisp and starched and purified. This is a Neymar without the madness, the weight, the excess appetite, a post-therapy Neymar. Read More Carnival atmosphere in Paris after Champions League success Plus, of course, Doué has that thing all the best players have, the compound eye vision, the ability to freeze, rewind, judge the space and angles around him in the tiniest flicker of everyone else's analogue time. How do you get like this, aged 19, on this stage, a goal and an assist in the opening 20 minutes of the Champions League final, for a team that have never won it, and who you joined only last summer? Doué has been a late-breaking story this season after his move from Rennes. He didn't score his first goal at the Parc des Princes until March. He hadn't scored or assisted in eight games coming into this final. But he is without question the high-ceilinged real deal. Lamine Yamal may be more obviously, cinematically effective. But Doué is at the same level, just more compact and less lavish, the further maths version to Yamal's bold strokes of fine art. By the end here, as another 19-year-old, Senny Mayulu, made it 5-0 against a frazzled Inter, this had become the perfect night for PSG and for the Paris Project, overseen by the unclosing hand of Qatar Sports Investments. First we take the world. Then we take Europe, via Paris, Doha and now Munich. For the state of Qatar and its interests this is football pretty much completed. In the space of three years the world's most relentlessly efficient gas state's outreach arm has won a home World Cup, led by its star player, the emir's tailor's dummy Lionel Messi, and now the greatest club prize. Paris Saint-Germain's French midfielder Desire Doue (C) celebrates with PSG's Portuguese midfielder Joao Neves (2R) and Brazilian defender Marquinhos (R). Pic: INA FASSBENDER/AFP via Getty Images PSG are currently the best team in the world, treble winners and champions of Europe, the scalps of three recent finalists dangling from their belts on that run. And really this was just too easy most of the time, a flaneuring kind of victory against opponents who were always either chasing, panting for breath or windmilling away just out of reach. Munich had spent Saturday baking in the sun, a city already on its summer holidays, green fringes thronged with picnickers, sunbathers and knots of Italian men sweating across the white heat of the Englische Garten in blue and black nylon shirts. The Allianz Arena is an epic, widescreen kind of stage, those steeply tiered stands curving towards a perfectly puckered oval of powder blue above the lip of the roof. Ten minutes before kick-off it was still hot and heavy, the kind of evening that makes you sweat just sitting still. Linkin Park, who must have a very good agent, put on an agreeably energetic pre-match rap-metal stomp-about. A celebrity violinist performed a hideous screeching Seven Nation Army fiddle-along. The giant Parisian tifo was scrolled away. And from the start this was just pain for Inter, a time to run and harry and chase younger and fresher opponents as the Mendes-Vitinha midfield pivot, PSG's velcro-touch directors of traffic, just took the ball away. Physical and mental intensity were always going to be key. PSG have been able to replenish the stocks, let the bruises heal, rest their best players. Inter have been all-in, flailing through a series of crunch end-of-season dates, limbs sloshing with lactic acid all the way to the line. It showed. For 12 minutes this was a kind of smothering. After that it became an extended execution, led by Doué. The first goal came from a lovely piece of applied geometry, all clean crisp lines, made first by Khvicha Kvaratskhelia easing inside two defenders. From there the blue shirts completed a high-speed passing triangle, the key ball from Vitinha pinged hard into the feet of Doué, who had found space by not moving, holding his position while Inter's defenders went to cover. He clipped the ball back for Achraf Hakimi to side-foot into an empty net. Read More Luis Enrique 'emotional' at tribute to his daughter after Champions League win The second goal eight minutes later was a break the full length of the pitch, PSG funnelling out from their own corner flag, finding Ousmane Dembélé in space, there to gallop away, all easy grace, head up, before curling a crossfield pass into the run of Doué. He controlled with his torso, then hit down on the ball at the top of its bounce, a deflection taking it past Sommer. Either side PSG were immaculate. This was box-fresh elite club football, possession, counterpress, swift transitions. At times it's like watching a team of head prefects, a supremely drilled exhibition the Iberian-Catalan Style, with just the right bolt-on parts in every role. This is of course the work of Luis Enrique, who has won 11 out of 11 finals, and who was up from the start at the edge of his rectangle, all in black with white trainers, lithe and animated, revolving both arms, shuttle running left to right, like a mime artist taking part in a gruelling military fitness drill. It has been said Luis Enrique turned to Paris two years ago after being appalled by the despotic owners of Chelsea and Spurs, which is certainly an interesting take on the extraordinary freedoms inherent in the Qatari propaganda project. But he has been the perfect man at the perfect time, the ideologue, the data-based strongman, here just as the years of celebrity overdose are finally cashed in, brand leveraged, income vast enough to leave PSG with a free hand to build a brilliant, hungry, youthful modern team. The idea has been to create a group of anti-stars. Good luck with that. 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Seventy years ago, the French sports newspaper L'Équipe created the European Cup . Their motivation was to generate content that would help them sell more papers in midweek, but they also no doubt expected French football would take its fair share of ' la gloire'. Instead, after France gave the Cup to Europe, Europe wouldn't let them have it back. Only one French team ever brought the title home, and that was Marseille's tainted vintage of 1993. As L'Équipe's correspondent Vincent Duluc lamented on the morning of Saturday's final, 'We invented the Cup – for others to win.' Not any more. On a sultry Saturday night in Munich, Luis Enrique's brilliant Paris Saint-Germain crushed Inter Milan 5-0 in the most one-sided final in the history of the competition. Nobody has ever nailed a European Cup final performance quite like this . A brutal night for Inter ended on the stroke of 90 minutes, as the referee ignored the usual minimum injury time to blow the whistle and put an end to their suffering. READ MORE As PSG's captain Marquinhos lifted the Cup, Enrique turned and applauded the Inter players who had stood waiting to watch the trophy lift. A gracious gesture from the victorious coach to the men his side had just put through hell. This match was always going to turn on whether PSG, under the pressure of a final their fans and Qatari bosses expected them to win, could reproduce the free and flowing football that had destroyed Manchester City , Liverpool , Aston Villa and Arsenal on the way to Munich. The Premier League teams had all discovered that pressing PSG's midfield was like punching air. Disoriented and intimidated, they ended up retreating into a defensive shell. Simone Inzaghi decided Inter would dispense with the preliminaries and start the game already in the defensive shell. Carefully, the Inter coach laid out his fortifications. Inter wouldn't press Vitinha, instead sitting off and marking the men PSG's playmaker might pass to. Paris Saint-Germain's Vitinha and Joao Neves celebrate in front of supporters on Saturday night in Munich. Photograph: Franck Fife/Getty The apparent hope was that Vitinha, in the biggest game of his life, would freeze in the spotlight. Inter's whole plan really depended on this – that PSG would seize up, that the occasion and expectation would unnerve them, that the experience of Inter, whose starting XI was five years older on average than PSG's, would make the difference in the end. Instead, right from the start it was Inter who looked afraid. Their play was strewn with underhit passes, a telltale sign of a team that's nervous and trying to be too careful. Vitinha, allowed space to strut and swagger, transmitted calm, unhurried confidence to his team-mates. The French team swept the ball around with bold and adventurous passes as Inter shuffled and shuttled to cover. It takes patience to be so passive in a final. The risk is you end up looking – and feeling – timid and irrelevant. In Istanbul two years ago Inter's fans outsung Manchester City's, here the noise was all Paris. You couldn't really blame the Inter fans for being subdued. From the opening minutes there was a creeping sense of dread that their team had got themselves into a situation they could not handle. On 12 minutes, PSG proved the point. The Italian defensive perimeter was first pierced by the aggression and daring of Khvicha Kvaratskhelia, dribbling on the left and glancing up at the two covering Inter defenders, Denzel Dumfries and Benjamin Pavard. Dumfries pointed for Pavard to cover the outside, only for Kvaratskhelia to attack a gap the Inter players didn't realise was there – darting suddenly between them and firing a pass through to Fabián Ruiz, who had infiltrated the penalty area unnoticed. Fabián turned, paused, allowed three Inter defenders move towards him, then laid it back to Vitinha, unmarked outside the box. Acerbi, acting automatically according to the ingrained habits of 37 years of Italian defending, rushed forward as Fabián played the backwards pass, trying to push out the offside line. His team-mates never followed him. Federico Dimarco on Inter's left was the deepest, but Alessandro Bastoni, Pavard and Dumfries were all playing Désiré Doué onside as he sneaked into the space Acerbi had left in behind. Doué took Vitinha's pass on the spin and in the same fluid movement stroked it sideways to Achraf Hakimi for the tap in. Achraf Hakimi scores PSG's first goal during the Champions League final. Photograph: Kirill Kudryavtsev/Getty So often scoring a goal can look like the hardest thing in the world, but in this moment PSG didn't just make scoring look easy, they made it look natural, logical, inevitable. The elegant simplicity of the move looked effortless, a demonstration of clear superiority, and the chilling effect on Inter was plain (as flies to wanton boys are we to PSG…). But even a scarily brilliant goal is still just one goal. Inter still had their game plan, and a big part of that game plan was set pieces. Like Arsenal in the semi-final, they had signalled as much by flinging some early long throws into the box. On 20 minutes, Nicolò Barella tried to shepherd a loose ball over the goal line for what he expected to be a valuable corner kick. Willian Pacho surprised him, nicking the ball away to Kvaratskhelia, and though the play was still 100 metres from Inter's goal everyone could see immediately that they were in deep trouble. Kvaratskhelia found Ousmane Dembélé racing away down the left, a lovely curving pass picked out Doué arriving on the far side, and his powerful shot took a deflection off Dimarco that wrong-footed Yann Sommer. The contest was already over. The torture was not. When Inter went in at half-time only 2-0 down, you felt they'd got away with it. The half-time message was clear: score the next goal and who knows what could happen? But when Marcus Thuram won a promising free kick early in the second half, Inter wasted it with a feeble delivery. Another bungle to reinforce the feeling that they just couldn't do anything right. On 63 minutes, Vitinha, Dembélé and Doué combined to score a brilliant third. As PSG celebrated in the corner in front of their fans, the Inter players waited to restart, standing spread out across the pitch in their prescribed 3-2-5 kick-off formation. There was something pathetically dignified in this dutiful observation of the formalities. They knew it would get worse and they could see thousands of their fans were already leaving, but they'd keep carrying the cross up the hill. Kvaratskhelia scored the fourth, Senny Mayulu the fifth. In the end 5-0 flattered Inter. Such a historic defeat demands scapegoats and Simone Inzaghi, with colossal unfairness, will pay the price. La Gazzetta Sportiva marked his performance at 3/10: the lowest on the Inter side. It doesn't matter that he has assembled this team from players other big teams didn't want, not a single one of whom would make the PSG team. Inzaghi is like a village carpenter who builds a wooden racing car in his workshop out of handcrafted clockwork components. Imagine the infinite care, imagination and ingenuity he has poured into such a labour of love. To general delight, the car wins some local races. Then somebody organises a race between the home-made vehicle and a Formula 1 car. Swept away by the romance of it all, the whole village bets on the clockwork car, but the Inzaghimobile is left in the dust and the neighbours turn mercilessly on the tragic carpenter, now a disgrace to the village. Dejected Inter Milan head coach Simone Inzaghi reacts after his team's heavy Champions League final defeat. Photograph: Stu Forster/Getty Those of us who don't feel the sting of Inter's humiliation as a deeply personal insult can accept an outcome like this was always on the cards. PSG, who have supposedly renounced the superstar culture, have spent €660 million on new players in the last two seasons. Inter are the second-placed club in Serie A, a league where MVP Scott McTominay tramples defences like a war elephant. To allude to the Qatari billions that are the ultimate source of PSG's power is not to deny the brilliance of their performance in the final and indeed in the whole campaign since January. Everyone knows about their financial advantages, but in the autumn few were touting them as likely European champions. Even within the club, important people doubted whether PSG had the tools to do the job. The sporting director, Luis Campos, wanted to sign a new centre forward in the last two transfer windows – but Enrique refused, insisting they would do better with flexible forwards capable of playing anywhere across the front line or just behind. If that decision shows Enrique's football insight, the lunatic intensity in the eyes of Dembélé proved his powers of leadership and motivation. Every time Sommer prepared to play the first pass, Dembélé was crouching a few metres away in a starter's stance, primed to explode after the ball. This was more than mere pressing, it was a performance designed to intimidate. Who before Enrique believed Dembélé had such competitiveness in him? The coach, determined never to appear satisfied, could be seen during the game screaming at Dembélé in apparent frustration, but afterwards he had only praise. 'Everyone always talks about the Ballon d'Or. I would give it to Ousmane Dembélé. Just think about how he defended today. He was a leader, he was humble, he got down and he worked: he deserves it not only for the goals he has scored but also the pressing. He was exceptional in this final,' he said. Was Enrique having fun at the expense of Kylian Mbappé, whom he so often criticised last season for failing to do what he was now praising Dembélé for doing? Maybe it was just the coach in him, unable to resist the opportunity to teach Mbappé one last time, as if to say: 'See? I was right, but don't be downhearted, it's not too late for you to change.' PSG, whose expensive failures in this competition entertained Europe for years, might now stand on the brink of a new era of domination. Later this month they go to the United States to play the Fifa Club World Cup , and it's hard to see who can stop them. Unlike most people in football, Enrique sounded genuinely excited about that tournament as he looked ahead to it on Saturday night. There are always new fans coming to the game, and PSG believe that victory in the US will mean imprinting themselves on the minds of these people as officially the best club in the world. The English were sceptical about the European Cup too. If a newspaper's midweek content generator can grow into the biggest prize in the club game, then maybe there's hope for this Fifa nonsense.
