As embodiment of Madrid-ism, Karim Benzema can still drag Real to Paris

There are penalty kicks and then there are Statement Penalty Kicks. Even the best players approach this trial from 12 yards with a binary sense of dread. Relief or disaster: these are the only sensible outcomes. Except, of course, when there’s a third option, the penalty that becomes an act of stagecraft.

Who could forget Andrea Pirlo pulling the plug on Joe Hart in Kyiv in 2012 with the most impossibly light, fluffy, airy Panenka, a penalty kick that took Hart gently by the elbow and said, do sit down, the grownups are talking. Or David Luiz smashing the ball into the stanchion with Chelsea trailing in the 2012 Champions League final shootout, a moment of such fearless, ringlet-tossing abandon it changed the weather completely: actually, we’re coming after you.

Tuesday night brought another one. Karim Benzema really did need to score from the spot at the Etihad Stadium. Two goals down with eight minutes to play, Real Madrid were clinging on to this semi-final by the standards of normal, everyday football teams.

At which point Benzema produced – well, what exactly? An impudent dink. A regal loft. An imperial tickle. A moment to steal a little hope from your soul.

Madrid had been brittle in defence and slow in central midfield, with Toni Kroos creaking about the pitch like a fond old Victorian rocking horse.

Benzema’s dink told the world they still considered themselves to be winning this tie.

Mainly because – read the badge – they’re called Real Madrid. But also because they have Benzema, 13 years into his career at a club that doesn’t generally do 13-year careers; and right now the outstanding single presence in elite European club football.

The talk now will be about the Ballon d’Or, because football tends towards