Forty years and it all came down to one kick. At 00.51 in the morning in Seville, Alex Berenguer stood by the penalty spot: one shot, one opportunity to seize everything they ever wanted. Across four decades, five finals, Athletic Club had been close but never as close as this and this time they were not going to let go. Berenguer skipped to one side, ran towards the ball, smashed it into the net and just kept on running: over the advertising board and towards the thousands of fans behind the goal, celebrating their first major trophy in a generation. Unmoor the barge that they dared not mention; it is time to take it down the Nervión River for the first time since 1984. Exhausted, Athletic had been made to suffer. They had conceded first and they had to fight back, they had been taken to extra-time and all the way to penalties, this final finishing at 1-1, but they had at last won the Copa del Rey for the 24th time. It had been some wait, and some battle too: there was admiration as Athletic’s fans applauded Real Mallorca when they collected their runner-up medals. Mallorca had thrown their bodies on the line, heroic to the last, and they had reached another shootout, just as they had in the semi-finals. This was the plan and they had celebrated it too, just as they had back then, but this time it wasn’t to be. The 23-year-old Julen Aguirrebalaga, their backup goalkeeper, saved from Manu Morlanes and then Nemanja Radonjić shot over, to leave Berenguer to make history. In the end, it was Athletic who went up to lift that cup at long, long last. It had been a long, hard night – how could it not be – but here they were. Mallorca had done all they could; it was all they could all do to still be standing at the end. Javi Aguirre’s team had even scored the opener after 20 minutes, a loose ball in the Athletic area proving the most valuable of all. The first shot was blocked, the second saved, but still the danger wasn’t gone. It fell to Antonio Raillo, Mallorca’s captain and the last man left in the starting XI from their third-tier days. Time was limited, the temptation to hit it, but his pulse did not race; instead, he nudged the ball to Dani Rodríguez, who, every bit as cool, bent a superb shot into the net. Rodríguez, who hadn’t even played a first division game until he was 31, and then scored just three minutes in as Mallorca returned to the top flight in 2019, set off sprinting towards the corner, his teammates chasing him. This was the perfect beginning. Pushed back by Vedat Muriqi, the striker whose manager says you would cross the road to avoid and an immovable man mountain man winning every ball, Athletic had looked ill at ease to start with. And now, just as they had started to get a bit of a hold, forcing Dominik Grief to make a sharp save from Inigo Ruiz de Galarreta, they found themselves behind. For a while, Athletic seemed shaken. Here perhaps was the pressure of not having won a major trophy for 40 years, five consecutive finals lost and their favouritism, the difficulty of controlling that combination of euphoria and fear. And yet, while they were not comfortable, far from the side that asphyxiates opponents, bit by bit they did push Mallorca back. The best of their moments came from Nico Williams, forever the outlet running up the right, repeatedly going to Mallorca. There was another sharp save from Greif and Nico thought he had equalised with a swift one-two and a smooth finish, but he had been a little too quick and was called back for offside. Not that he stopped and, just before the break, Ruiz de Galarreta slotted him in; this time, though, the shot went into the side-netting. There was still time for Guruzeta to flash a shot just wide before the first half ended and then the second began with Agirrezabala saving from Cyle Larin, clean through. It was a big moment: from two up, the cup within reach, to a whole new ball game in a flash: within three minutes, Nico delivered a wonderful, disguised pass into the area for Oihen Sancet to bend a superb finish into the net. From the other side of the pitch, the entire Athletic bench emptied, a reflection of the release. The 40,000 Athletic fans inside this stadium – barely half those who had come to the city – erupted. Although Muriqi almost caught them out soon after but this was different now. Mallorca were wobbling, holding on as best they could, Athletic alive and coming for them. Nico especially; he could barely believe it when an extraordinary run into the area took him past two men and his delivery ran right across the face of goal without his brother Inaki managing to provide the touch to push it over the line. He did reach his brother’s delivery soon after but Greif was there. At the other end Antonio Sánchez, one of two substitutes sent on alongside Morlanes, fired off a warning that this wasn’t done yet, the ball flying over. The changes had done Mallorca good, the worst of the storm seemingly weathered, Radonjić the next man to be sent on and soon involved as the game headed towards extra time. Mallorca welcomed the possibility. Athletic made one last effort to avoid it, Greif scrambling away Dani Vivian’s shot and Guruzeta heading a fraction wide, but it was inevitable. Five to midnight, and still they went on. Athletic’s captain, Iker Muniain, a veteran of five lost finals, was introduced, given half an hour to become a hero. One chance flew over, and then a free kick curled into the side netting. For a fraction of a second, some thought it was in. The margins were fine, hearts in mouths, Williams just unable to force one over the line and Muriqi reaching a header. Aguirrebalaga saved then, and again when penalties came. Until one man was left, one shot for the ages.