Masterful Silva makes difference for Manchester City in win over Bayern

J ust before the hour in this match at the Etihad Stadium, Bernardo Silva took the ball on the right flank and began to drive inside, not so much sprinting as ambling urgently, like a man running a little late to deliver a lecture, scarf flapping absently over one shoulder.

Casually, more just to hold on to the ball, he nutmegged Alphonso Davies. Then he did something impossible, seeming somehow to walk through Davies’s legs in pursuit of the ball, reappearing on the other side of his man via some invisible hobbit tunnel.

As an afterthought, he also nutmegged Matthijs de Ligt, then looked up to find Davies back hounding him, forcing him to stop and spin and drag the ball back, making snow angel patterns in the grass before eventually being scragged to the ground.

Ten minutes later Silva was in the same space, choosing this time to draw another character from his complete one-man ensemble cast performance. This time judging the delicate flight of Erling Haaland’s cross and launching himself like some anvil-headed goal-pylon of the 1950s to butt a power-header past Yann Sommer and high into the net to make the score 2-0 in the first leg of this quarter-final, and in the process confirming two things.

First, that City are just too good, too settled, too grooved right now to fall for the off-chance of a little Thomas Tuchel voodoo. And second, that Silva is one of the most extraordinary footballers in the elite modern game. Haaland will take the headlines, the difference‑maker who made one and scored one. But Silva was utterly masterful here, starting the game in the bespoke right-wing super‑presser role that Guardiola has set aside for him in the current version of City.

Silva was there because Bayern’s right flank is a