The only storyline ahead of the NWSL championship was the storyline itself, which seemed too perfect: Megan Rapinoe of OL Reign would square off against Ali Krieger of NJ/NY Gotham FC. Two American legends playing their final matches for a trophy that neither had ever won.

What a way to go out, and what a story for this league to sell.

But whoever, or whatever, actually writes the storylines had other ideas – and not even Rapinoe, a master of publicity, could bend the script to her will. The two-time World Cup winner and Ballon d’Or recipient who became a household name for standing up for numerous causes, and, literally, not standing up for others, drawing praise and controversy throughout it all, has always cannily understood sport’s power as a platform. It was truly disorienting, then, when Rapinoe went down with no contact just four minutes after kickoff on Saturday, saying later she felt a pop in her achilles tendon.

Sometimes the end comes before you’re ready for it. Nobody was ready for this. In an instant, she went from center stage to spectator. Her night was over, and throughout the evening it seemed impossible to contemplate that her career was also over – especially in such a way, on such an occasion.

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The show had to go on. And, luckily for the league, it did so with a wild final at Snapdragon Stadium in San Diego. It was a match that was often cautious, occasionally dazzling, and at times bizarre. For soccer in America overall, and particularly the NWSL, it often seems as though a match or even announcement can only take place with the following questions being asked: How will this look? And will it grow the game?

Even this matchup was part of a dicey tradeoff for the league, set up by last week’s semi-finals. San Diego’s NWSL Shield-winning team, a tenant in Snapdragon, vastly outdraw their American-college-football-team landlord, and often sell out the 35,000-seat stadium. The question became, would it be better to have a full, rocking stadium for the final, or an irresistible narrative?

It got the latter last Sunday after Rapinoe’s OL Reign beat San Diego at home in front of a sold-out stadium. Last night’s championship attendance was announced significantly lower, at 25,000 – which, to the eye, seemed a little generous. Nevertheless, it was a new record for the final.

As it goes with soccer in America, the crowd on hand was notably young and cosmopolitan. The merch counter lines looked impossibly long. Everywhere were fans not just of other NWSL teams, but of seemingly any team. There were USWNT shirts. Manchester United shirts. Arsenal shirts. Events like this are soccer as lifestyle, you might say. American fans attend not just for the game, but for the sport itself, which still takes a backseat to the likes of American football, basketball and baseball.

After Rapinoe’s exit, the match became cagey and cautious in the first quarter hour, as finals often are. Perhaps fittingly, two of Rapinoe and Krieger’s USWNT teammates scored the opening goals of the game: Lynn Williams for Gotham and Rose Lavelle for OL Reign. And it was a World Cup winner who decided the game, but not an American one. Spain’s Esther González was unmarked in the box when headed home for Gotham.

There was drama late in injury time though, when the tension was unexpectedly cranked up. Gotham’s keeper, Mandy Haught, handled the ball outside the box to stop OL Reign’s Elyse Bennett from scoring on a breakaway. After a quick VAR review Haught was red carded, and Nealy Martin, a midfielder, took the gloves and played goalkeeper. From the free kick, Gotham’s wall headed it clear, then blasted the ball out and the referee blew her whistle.

The championship was Gotham’s, the team that finished in last place last season. Krieger got her trophy and half a stadium spontaneously chanted her name – Midge Purce, who had caused chaos for the Reign defense all night was named the championship game MVP. Fireworks exploded, confetti shot everywhere. Krieger shook with excitement afterward in the mix zone – eyes wide, huge smile, glistening with sweat, a shiny medal around her neck.

In Friday’s pre-game press conference, Krieger and Rapinoe each separately reminisced about their first years in the league. It was a hardscrabble experience playing to crowds of several hundred, having to scrounge for socks or other basics, and washing their own uniforms.

Though this was their final game, in many ways, the league that these two veterans helped build has already begun to move on. The NWSL just announced a lucrative new TV deal worth a reported $240m, which would be the largest ever for a women’s sports league. The league is rapidly expanding and will feature a larger playoff format next year. Celebrities have invested in the league. Parity has largely been achieved. New talent is emerging. This game itself was held in a stadium which has averaged more than 20,000 fans a game in the NWSL this season. And this particular match featured impressive goals and wild moments.

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In other words, it was a stellar final without Rapinoe’s involvement. Yet in a strange way, the night seemed to still belong to Rapinoe, the star who hardly starred at all.

By the time she reached the mix zone long after the final whistle, her foot was Velcroed into a walking cast, and she was adorned in Michael Caine glasses, large necklaces and a denim coat. The stadium staff, team entourages and heavy equipment often found buzzing around the bowels of a stadium were all long gone. It was just Rapinoe, her press handler, and a small gathering of patient reporters. She graciously professed to feeling excited for where women’s soccer is now after what her generation has built, and where it’s headed. “I’m like a proud gay aunt looking down on the league, proud that they’ll take it further,” she wisecracked.

It was a discordant sight. All her usual flash and stardust were on display but she looked crushed. Here was a rock star whose band had already begun to play on without her. Sometimes, this is how things end. “I’m most upset that I’m now just a NARP – a normal-ass regular person – having to do rehab, which is fucking devastating,” she said in the post-match press conference.

As her handler hastily cut-off the interviews in order to get Rapinoe on her way, the fallen star flashed a wry smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be around!” Rapinoe said. Then she limped away by herself, down the ramp and into the night.