LIVERPOOL, England — Liverpool’s players stood in front of the Kop, those who had played and those who had watched, their heads shaking in disbelief, their arms draped over one another’s shoulders, as if they needed to hold on to something, anything, to make sure it was real.

In front of them, all around them, flags fluttered and scarves waved and spines tingled as Anfield sang its hymnal. The stands were still full. Barely a soul had moved. Nobody wanted to break the spell, to head out into the night. Nobody wanted the feeling to end.

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In the corner, far away, Barcelona’s fans stood, too, doubtless desperate to leave, to escape, but with nowhere to go. Police procedure determines that traveling fans must stay behind until the home crowd has cleared, to reduce the risk of disturbances. It feels, at times like this, a particularly cruel form of torture.

Barcelona had suffered one of the most humiliating nights in its history, beaten, 4-0, by a Liverpool team that had lost the first leg of this Champions League semifinal by 3-0, and had arrived at this game more in hope than expectation. Liverpool’s manager, Jürgen Klopp, had asked his team’s fans to turn the evening into a “party.” He had encouraged his players that if they were to fail, they were to do so “gloriously.”