Paris has just about everything … but when it comes to the, OK, less-than-highbrow concept of the sports bar … well, they don’t do it often and often don’t to it well.

All these years later, we finally seem to have found a competent sports bar that is a sports bar in a way that Americans or Britons might recognize.

And the occasion?

A pairing of old English rivals Liverpool and Manchester United in a rare Monday night match. Which we do not get in the friend’s apartment where we are staying.

So after some diligent research (by someone not me), a solution was found. And yielded the sort of cross-border, cross-culture crowd that the Premier League probably would be proud to know two of its teams lured into a bar on a cool October night.

Our impression is that sports bars in Paris tend to be found near the Opera Garnier (because soccer fans are opera fans?) or in the Latin Quarter, which skews young and international.

However, the Latin Quarter is located on the other side of the Seine River from where we are staying, and Opera isn’t right next door, either.

But we found something interesting named “Playoff” … and it had committed (online, in fact) to showing the Liverpool-ManCity match, which started at 9 p.m. here, and — good news!” — “Playoff” is in the 17th arrondisement, where we are staying!

The place also has a wide selection of beers and a menu that features sandwiches, hamburgers and salads, so we were in.

We made the short walk and found a sprawling place that looked like a cross between an American sports bar and a British pub with more floor space and TVs than might normally be expected in Paris.

We sat down around 8:30 p.m., noted with satisfaction that Heinz ketchup was on every table top and ordered food right off — because you don’t want to be eating when you’re looking up at the big TV on the wall. A club sandwich and a bleu-cheese burger. And they were fine verging on better-than-fine.

Meanwhile, I had the Guinness grande, and we were set.

The crowd was thin when we arrived and the biggest group of people in the place didn’t quite fit the demographic of your average sports bar patron — four of the five were female, one of them on the high side of 60 and another on the low side of 16.

But by the time kickoff rolled around, we looked up and the place had 40 or 50 people in it. All but two of them men, from what I can see. But they seemed from several English-speaking countries, not to mention French fans. It wasn’t like the place was Rick’s Cafe Americain, from Casablanca, but it wasn’t just Brits in there.

The match was intense, as you would expect when those old rivals are paired, and watching the coaches (Mourinho, Klopp) operate was interesting. It ended in a scoreless draw, in part because both sides seemed worried about committing too many players to the attack. Most of the fans there appeared to be of the Liverpool variety, and one of them, a Frenchman, was shouting obscenities by the end of the match.

But the key to this evening was the discovery of this place. I would go back for another Premier League match, if I lived here.

Clean, well-lit, lots of beer choices, decent food, fair prices (by Paris standards) … and lots of TVs.

So, my list of complaints regarding Paris, which was never particularly long, can be reduced by one more. Sports bars apparently do exist here, and we know about one from first-hand experience.