Force of nature Zlatan Ibrahimovic is the roaring lion of Jose Mourinho's Manchester United

There are certain types of footballer – of sportsmen – of person – who comprise more than the sum of their parts: things happen to them, and things happen because of them. For whatever reason, the cosmos digs their life-force, and as such, they bowl about enjoying themselves to an extent that is as moving as it is disconcerting.

Zlatan Ibrahimovic is an unusual footballer, his skills of touch, power and imagination found in very few others. But that is not why Manchester United beat Southampton; Manchester United beat Southampton because Zlatan Ibrahimovic is an unusual character, able to impose his confection of aggression and conviction, mania and chutzpah whenever it is needed most.

But though Ibrahimovic defined this final – and what a fantastic final it was – he did not dominate it. Southampton played superbly, particularly during a first half in which Nathan Redmond proved, again, that he has completed the journey from talent into player. Nominally stationed at the left facet of a midfield diamond, he was a sinewy, inventive, compelling menace, most commonly picking up possession in the triangle of space between Ander Herrera, Chris Smalling and Antonio Valencia before driving at United’s back-four – with hilarious consequences.

Defensively, United were somehow befuddled by a team who always play the same system, while in attack, the poverty of their passing left them unable to take advantage of its inherent weakness, that being too many men ahead of the ball. United had turned out; Southampton had turned up.

Though Redmond largely spared Marcos Rojo – a surprise given his awfulness at left-back – it was his error which almost allowed Southampton the lead. Robbed by Cedric deep inside his own half, Gabbiadini then turned in the ensuing cross, the goal disallowed because Ryan Bertrand had run offside. As the law now stands, the linesman was wrong to raise his flag – Bertrand made no attempt to play the ball – however odd it is to deem a run into the goalmouth to meet a cross as not interfering with play.

Shortly afterwards, United won a free-kick, 25 yards from goal, behind which Paul Pogba loitered – but only on general principle. Ibrahimovic, who has spent two-thirds of a season wasting such opportunities, bent a venomous shot over the head of the wall’s smallest member before parading his magnificence in a manner simultaneously overstated and understated.

Southampton were not in the least bit cowed, twice forcing David de Gea into smart saves before, on 38 minutes, United scored again. Juan Mata and Anthony Martial combined to find Rojo, who sauntered into the box and squared to Jesse Lingard, in such inordinate space that he appeared double-take, prior to beating Forster from ten yards.

There are many footballing mavens who do not appreciate Lingard – curiously, Alex Ferguson, Paul Scholes, Louis van Gaal and Jose Mourinho are not among them – and through this game, his touch was off. But while he is not the kind of transcendental attacker able to lift a team on his own, playing with good players amplifies his movement and facilitates his inclination towards the spectacular; roughly, he is a deluxe Ji-sung Park. This was third time he had contested a trophy with United, and the first time he had scored a goal which was merely routine.

Naturally, Ibrahimovic used the celebration to make a pedagogical point, but at the time it seemed moot – Mourinho teams tend not to lose two-goal leads, and United would surely improve after half time. Except Southampton were still contesting the first half and United, despite recent clean sheets, do not defend especially well. Their most significant achievement of the afternoon was somehow refraining from finishing any of the numerous low crosses they allowed to whizz across the face of their box, and it was in such circumstance they pulled a goal back. Just as the additional time of two minutes was announced, Redmond appeared at inside-right, fed James Ward-Prowse, and while Rojo dreamt of bad tattoos and burnt toast, Gabbiadini lost Eric Bailly to tuck a livener under De Gea.

Mourinho replaced Mata with Michael Carrick for the second half, his presence giving United greater security if not greater control. His impact, though, was far from immediate; he was part of a defence which failed to clear a corner, and when Southampton forced another, Martial was shoved off the ball before Gabbiadini turned Smalling to send a superb finish into the net.

With both teams committed to attack, more goals looked likely, all the more so as the game stretched. Around the hour mark, Pogba emerged into proceedings and as a consequence, United took hold of midfield – though it was Southampton who came closer to scoring, most particularly when Oriol Romeu’s header came back off the post.

But then with three minutes remaining, Martial – who endured a largely ineffective afternoon – finagled a pass out wide, time standing still as the forces of nature composed themselves and the ground inhaled in anticipation and resignation. Meanwhile, on the right side of the box, Herrera strained every fibre of his being to teleport a cross into the middle, knowing that Zlatan Ibrahimovic was waiting underneath it to personality home the winning goal, ball dismissed from countenance with minimum effort and maximum prejudice. Somehow – him-how – United had won.