Mühren's cross is technically imperfect — it floats over van Basten's head and lands behind him, at the extreme right edge of the penalty area, in a position from which any shot must travel at such an acute angle that the goal itself is barely visible. A striker of lesser conviction would control the ball, turn, and look for a better option. Marco van Basten volley it, on the half-turn, from the right instep, into the top left corner of the net.
The geometry is the point. From where van Basten struck the ball, the available target — the part of the goal not covered by the goalkeeper's body — was no larger than a single square foot at most. He hit it with pace and accuracy from a position where most professional footballers would have struggled to simply make clean contact. Soviet goalkeeper Rinat Dasayev, a man who had spent his career reaching balls that others could not, did not move. He stood and watched the ball disappear into the net with the expression of a physicist whose equations have been violated.
The goal came in the 54th minute of a final the Netherlands were already winning, and it transformed a tight victory into something wider — into a statement about van Basten personally, about the Dutch golden generation, about what the human body is capable of doing with a football given sufficient nerve and technique. The 1988 European Championship belonged to the Netherlands; the final belonged to van Basten; the moment belonged to nobody because no one, watching, quite believed it had happened.
Marco van Basten retired at twenty-eight due to ankle injuries that no surgery could resolve. He scored 277 goals in 373 club appearances and 24 goals in 58 international matches. The Munich volley is the signature of a career built on the principle that the correct response to an impossible situation is to score. He operated as though the laws of physics were a loose convention rather than a constraint.