The sixth star sewn on to the Liverpool shirt and a place for Jurgen Klopp among the greats at Anfield, where they have compiled a European history unsurpassed in the English game of famous victories and great finals — of which, strangely, this, the occasion of their sixth European Cup, was neither.
It is hard to reconcile the immense achievement of Klopp's Liverpool, the transformation of a mediocre Premier League team into the champions of Europe in less than four years, with this their meekest squeak in a season in which they roared.
It was admirable in ways different to the team we have come to know, a performance of resilience and concentration, a perfect performance on an imperfect night.
In the end, their cussedness won them this game, the brilliance of their goalkeeper Alisson, the muscle memory of a tired Virgil van Dijk, carrying their team on in the defence of a lead gifted to them by a dubious first-minute penalty.
Then as Tottenham made one last push, that old Champions League assassin Divock Origi, on as a substitute, pounced in the penalty area and this final which had barely come alive was dead at last.