The Allianz Arena erupted in enthusiastic applause as the whistle blew for halftime, but it certainly wasn't for the men in black.
Joshua Kimmich walked toward the tunnel with his head down, staring at his boots as if they had personally betrayed him.
The ghost of Ling's Cruyff turn was still replaying in his mind, like a looping gif of humiliation.
"Hey, chin up," Thomas Müller said, jogging alongside him.
The Bavarian veteran ruffled Kimmich's hair aggressively. "It's just one defensive mistake. I've missed plenty of sitters right in front of goal before. We are still in this."
"Yeah," Kimmich replied softly, though his ears were still burning.
"Just keep pushing forward," Müller added, his voice hardening. "With Manu in the hospital, we don't have time for self-pity."
Inside the home dressing room, the atmosphere was charged.
Jupp Heynckes didn't shout as he just looked at them.
"Playing at home and performing like this?" Heynckes said, his voice quiet but cutting. "I'm sure you're not satisfied. Maybe clinching the Bundesliga title early has made you soft. Arrogant."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "But is the Champions League the Bundesliga? Manuel is watching this from a hospital bed. Do you want him to be eliminated without playing a single minute? Do you want to let him down?"
The Bayern players shook their heads in unison.
The mention of their captain was a masterstroke.
"Good," Heynckes nodded. "Pull yourselves together. Press aggressively. Track back. Thomas, Arjen—create space. Joshua, push forward. Make amends."
Müller suddenly stood up, slamming his fist into his palm.
"Let's give Manu a victory! Let's go!"
....
In the away locker room, Jose Mourinho was in full professor mode.
He pushed a magnetic tactics board into the center of the room, his movements sharp and angry.
"The scoreline says 1-1, but the performance says you are sleepwalking," Mourinho spat. "Bayern exploits the wings to stretch you, then floods the box. You are watching them play!"
Mourinho drew dozens of small grids on the board, slamming magnets with player numbers into position.
"Second half, we change," Mourinho commanded. "We kill the space. Paul, Nemanja—you are too far apart. Move closer. Block the central channel. Do not let James breathe."
He turned to the bench. "Marcus, get ready. You're coming on for Mata. I need legs. Drop deep. Support Antonio. We do not concede again."
The message was clear: Survive.
....
Beep!
The second half began, and the dynamic shifted instantly.
Manchester United settled into a rigid, suffocating rhythm.
The formation morphed into a distinct 4-5-1, a deep low block designed to frustrate.
It was the classic Mourinho "Bus"—ugly, unyielding, and incredibly effective.
Bayern threw everything at the black wall. Ribery twisted and turned, Robben cut inside, but every shot was blocked by a leg, a chest, or a head.
74th Minute
The pressure was reaching a boiling point.
James Rodriguez, suffocated by Paul Pogba's physical marking, was forced to recycle the ball backward.
Javi Martinez collected it near the center circle.
The Spaniard wasn't just a destroyer, he also possessed a quarterback's vision.
He looked up and pinged a diagonal laser toward the right flank.
Arjen Robben and Ashley Young, two veterans with a combined age of nearly 70, battled for the aerial ball.
Robben used a subtle shove to gain leverage, nodding the ball forward into the path of the overlapping Kimmich.
Kimmich, desperate for redemption, controlled it instantly. He drove to the byline, head up, and whipped a vicious cross into the corridor of uncertainty.
"Defenders hate those," Gary Neville muttered on commentary. "Spinning towards the goal... what a nightmare."
Phil Jones didn't panic. He read the flight, leaped above Robert Lewandowski, and powered a header clear.
The ball looped high, dropping toward the edge of the D, twenty-five yards out.
Suddenly, the Bayern fans leaped to their feet.
They saw him.
James Rodriguez.
The Colombian stared at the falling ball.
For a split second, it felt like 2014 again—the Maracanã, the Golden Boot, the world at his feet.
His body reacted on instinct.
He cushioned the ball with his chest, killing the momentum dead in the air. As the ball dropped, he didn't let it touch the grass.
He swiveled his hips, planting his right foot, and unleashed a ferocious left-footed volley.
BANG.
The sound of the impact echoed like a gunshot.
"OH MY WORD!" Martin Tyler screamed. "JAMES RODRIGUEZ!"
The ball didn't spin; it knuckled.
It flew like a cannonball, rising straight into the top right corner of the goal, kissing the post as it went in.
2-1 Bayern Munich!
"Beautiful! A world-class strike!" Gary Neville yelled, forgetting his bias for a second. "Chest, turn, bang! He's put it in the postage stamp! De Gea is nowhere near that!"
"Damn it!" David De Gea punched the turf in frustration, screaming at his defenders.
He hadn't expected a shot of that quality from that distance.
Ling stood near the halfway line, rubbing his head in disbelief.
That was outrageous!
That was a goal you couldn't defend against.
James sprinted across the field, shaking his finger in celebration, his smile lighting up the Allianz.
His years at Real Madrid under Zidane had worn down his confidence, chipping away at his ego, but today, he was the Golden Boy again.
"James!" Muller grabbed him in a headlock. "I think you just won the Puskás Award again!"
"You fool," James laughed, breathless. "Whatever! We are winning!"
On the sidelines, Heynckes applauded softly with a satisfied smile on his face.
Mourinho, however, looked like he had swallowed a lemon. His plan to hold the 1-1 draw had been shattered by a moment of individual genius.
But what happened next was even harder for Mourinho to accept.
Heynckes immediately signaled the fourth official.
OFF: Franck Ribery, Arjen Robben.
ON: Thiago Alcantara, Niklas Süle.
The formation shifted to a 4-2-3-1, but defensively solid.
Heynckes was shutting up shop.
He knew his aging wingers couldn't sustain the press, so he brought on a ball-playing controller and a giant center-back to lock down the game.
Mourinho's plan to counter-attack down the wings in the final ten minutes was dead in the water.
Bayern choked the life out of the game.
84th Minute
Romelu Lukaku found a yard of space and unleashed a snapshot, but Mats Hummels threw his body in the way, blocking it with his chest. Bayern nearly broke on the counter, but Matic fouled Thiago to stop the rot.
Mourinho stood on the touchline, arms folded, accepting the reality.
2-1 away was not a disaster.
Beep-beep-beep!
The referee blew the final whistle and the Allianz Arena erupted with thunderous cheers.
Bayern Munich 2 - 1 Manchester United.
The Germans had won the battle, but the war would be decided at Old Trafford!