The margins can be devastatingly cruel. Twice in Lisbon, Lyon had rolled back the stone and cheated death. But Juventus and Manchester City bear little resemblance to the behemoth Bayern Munich have become under Hansi Flick. And just when Rudi Garcia’s side required all their underdog trickery and fearless opportunism, the clinical edge that humbled Europe’s Goliaths deserted them.

Less than a minute separated Karl Toko-Ekambi’s close-range shot shanking off the inside of the post and Serge Gnabry’s spectacular drive into the top corner. Lyon had flooded the flanks, exposed the space behind Bayern’s full-backs, and charged unwaveringly towards the headlights.

First, it was Memphis Depay, Lyon’s talisman and free-spirit, who’d been redemptive and nerveless up to this point. After pouncing on Thiago’s sloppy pass, he rounded Manuel Neuer but could only watch mournfully as his shot flapped against the side netting. Minutes later, it was Toko-Ekambi, who pirouetted magnificently around Alphonso Davies and wrong-footed the goalkeeper, only to bear the same grieving expression.

At this level, on this stage, they are the thin lines between heroism and reality. The inches you cannot afford to waste when attempting to disassemble a powerhouse. In one fluid, merciless stroke, Gnabry wriggled along the edge of the box and thundered a shot into the roof of the net. Three chances. 58 seconds. The difference between snatching a dream and killing it.

Of course, this was always going to be something of a Sisyphean task. The snarl and beauty of this Bayern side is currently unparalleled in Europe, a Swiss-army knife in attack, capable of punishing an opponent a dozen ways from as many directions. At a time where the world’s best sides are struggling for balance, they are the perfect blend of experience and freedom: Robert Lewandowski dovetailing with Gnabry, Davies rampaging forwards before covering for the ageing Jerome Boateng. Flick may have honed a regimented system, but Bayern’s every movement feels so expressive and instinctual.

It’s not to say they are impenetrable, though, on a night where Neuer was forced to evidence his own merit on several occasions. The chinks in their armour – namely the vast space behind their high line – were displayed in brief bursts between the bloodshed against Barcelona and again here tonight. The wasteful Toko-Ekambi failed to pounce when presented with another wonderful chance in the second half. The simplest of long balls occasionally caused havoc as the game became stretched and wore into a desperate pattern as Lyon chased a comeback. When faced by the skill and speed of Kylian Mbappe and Neymar, there’s no shortage of guarantees that any similar weaknesses will be carved open far more ruthlessly.

It would be remiss to not point out that, while Bayern are steeped in such quality, this tie was also won on the scales of financial power. A side worth closer to one billion pounds against one of less than half that value, who’ve turned a profit by selling their best players. That statistic alone shows the true imbalance of Lyon’s achievement. They’ve transformed into this season’s great underdogs, the outsiders and anomaly, and provided a rarefied air of unpredictability that only becomes scanter in European football.

New money; soft power; old institution. The fabric – for worse rather than better – of modern football. A financial war waged off the pitch and won on it. Bayern have marched relentlessly into a final that, perhaps, best illustrates the true direction of the sport. It’s hardly to distract from their quality, but, for the likes of Lyon, it was always going to take something truly astonishing to prevent them from finally crumpling their shoulders, sitting on the floor in despair, and watching as the boulder rolls back down the mountain.

Read More