Almost to a man, they wept - and not just the vanquished players of Inter Milan.
Ederson, the hero of the added-time rearguard action, sobbed into his luminous sleeve.
Jack Grealish shed tears into the turf of the Ataturk Stadium, Erling Haaland punched the air and blubbed simultaneously, Rodri’s eyes filled up and erupted at the enormity of what he had just done.
It was the tearful Treble.
But amongst them all wandered a genius with a suddenly-discovered air of calm.
At one point of a fraught night in Istanbul - after a Manuel Akanji mistake, early in the second half, that was typical of a brutally tense contest - Pep Guardiola sank to his knees.
He slowly made it up to his haunches but, for most of the game’s remaining time, he did not make it much further. He leapt when Rodri’s strike stunned Inter and he celebrated briefly when the final whistle signalled Manchester City’s moment of history.
But straight after that, he went over to shake the beaten Simone Inzaghi’s hand and then marched on to the field to congratulate his players. And during the celebrations, Pep looked almost as purposeful as he did elated.
He was probably thinking of how he wants to line up for the first game of the Premier League season on the second weekend of August.
He was probably putting an arm around Phil Foden to congratulate him and tell him how he took too many wrong passing options.
He was probably hugging Jack Grealish and chastising him for slacking on the tracking-back front late in the game.
And I’m only half-joking. Because that is what makes him great.
While this was not a bravura performance, while this was not the cavalier charge to victory some seemed to expect, Pep, on the eve of the game, called it right.
When it is goalless, he said, the Italian team will think they are winning. They are not. When it is goalless, he said, we might think we are losing. We are not.
And that, pretty much, is how it felt for so much of this match.
Yet, somehow, Guardiola’s message to his men to stay patient seemed to get through.
They were patient even though they were uncharacteristically sloppy and nervous.
They were patient even though Inter had their moments.
They were patient even though Haaland was restricted to only one clear chance.
They were patient even though Inter used every familiar dark art known to footballers.
And that patience paid off when Rodri struck the goal of his life with three quarters of a deadlocked contest elapsed.
How appropriate, by the way, that Rodri should be the match-winner. He has been the fulcrum of City’s remarkable season, the man who Guardiola recognised as having the potential to be the central cog of this winning machine.
There is no better judge or improver of a player than Guardiola. While several City players might have not been as effective as normal, John Stones was again excellent, just one of many symbols of Guardiola’s coaching brilliance.
As he went round and hugged every member of his squad during the fantastic celebratory scenes, it was hard not to wonder what Guardiola might do now, hard not to wonder if there is just the slimmest of chances that he might think it can get no better than this in England.
It was hard not to wonder if he might think his work - which is now 12 major trophies in seven years, including a first Champions League trophy for City and a Treble - is now done at the Etihad.
Famous last words, but no chance.
When the open top bus finally parks up late on Monday night in Manchester, he will probably look back at this night and think how he is going to make this team even greater.
And that, quite simply, is what makes HIM great.
