De Bruyne finds key as Real Madrid are locked down in their super-prison

S hortly after the post‑World Cup resumption Pep Guardiola made some comments about Kevin De Bruyne; sighing a little, looking sad, bemoaning by sly implication the physical state of his champion midfielder.

As motivational obiter dicta go it was brutally effective. The Belgian has been sublime on the current winning run. This has been late imperial De Bruyne, a resurgent wave, buried a little behind the cold, hard numbers of Erling Haaland playing (and this is no coincidence) just ahead of him.

It was De Bruyne who pulled himself up to his full height at the Bernabéu; and who seemed, with a single moment of brilliance, to cause a shift of the narrative pressure in this ongoing two‑hander.

City needed it, too. By the time the ball was rolled back to De Bruyne by Ilkay Gündogan with 67 minutes gone the Bernabéu had already begun to seethe and purr with a familiar self-generating triumphalism. Manchester City had spent much of the game to that point chasing ghosts, had gone to half-time at 1-0 down, and seemed to be losing themselves once again in the white zone.

Pep Guardiola’s team had strangled Madrid for long periods early on. Madrid took their punishment, held their lines. City’s poise, their endless stitching in midfield came to nothing. This was like watching an idea come up against an emotion – systems play, clean lines, grooved movements, planned phases – versus a kind of sporting dieu et mon droit.

Towards half‑time Guardiola, dressed for the occasion in a skinny-fit undertaker’s suit, had begun to point and gesture and revolve his arms more urgently, seeing shapes, premonitions, ghosts, flickers of disaster.

And of course Madrid scored. Eduardo Camavinga made it, surging forward from left-back, rolling the