Diogo Jota’s Legacy: Frozen in Time, Forever Young

The Tragedy That Stilled Liverpool's Summer. RIP Diogo and Andre.

Diogo Jota should have been bouncing back into the training centre at Kirkby next week, aiming to get back to peak fitness and secure a role in Arne Slot’s revamped Liverpool team. Instead, the laughter, storytelling and joshing that characterises the beginning of pre-season will be muted. A huge vacuum has been left in the squad.

The Void Left Behind

The suddenness of Jota’s death, the loss of a man in the peak years of his career, who was on a professional high, is devastating and sobering. How can a livewire like the Portuguese, who had so much to live for – a newlywed wife and three young children most of all – be taken so brutally?

The shock waves across the club, and across football, will resonate for a long time. Forget wondering how Liverpool will fill the void on the pitch; that will happen naturally. It’s the void left in the friendships in the dressing room and in the hearts of supporters that will cause such pain.

Frozen in Time

We often talk about moments on the pitch being frozen in time. Incidents can exist as snapshots and video clips but in reality time ticks on. When we close our eyes, we can see Kenny Dalglish scoring just seconds after kickoff at Goodison or John Barnes shredding Queens Park Rangers at Anfield. But when we open them, there’s Kenny in the directors’ box at 74; or the camera panning on to Barnesy, now in his 60s.

Everyone’s said it: “The King’s showing his age,” or “Digger’s stacking on the weight.” The contrast between the youthful athlete and the elder statesman is stark.

Yet at times like this, you realise that growing old is a luxury. Diogo Jota will never have that luxury.

The Portuguese’s last goal for Liverpool was the winner in the derby, a marvellous, memorable strike that was close to iconic even before the forward’s untimely death. Now it has been elevated to a different level, its significance overlain with a gnawing sense of loss.

More Than a Game

One of the things that has been used as a stick to beat us with since Hillsborough is Bill Shankly’s famous party piece: “Football’s not a matter of life and death. It’s much more important than that.”

It should be explained that this trite phrase did not come fully formed in the style that we often see written down. After a disappointing result, Shankly was fuming. A reporter tried to inject some perspective. “Come on Bill, it’s not a matter of life or death.”

“No,” Shankly quipped back. “It’s much more important than that.”

The retort caused everyone in the room to laugh. The Scot, ever the showman, was delighted with the impact of the repartee and it became his stock witticism. And it was funny. Until it wasn’t.

One of the things that makes football attractive to fans is the sense of community; the feeling of togetherness; the mutual support – in all its meanings. People matter more than results. No one knows this more than Liverpool supporters. Shankly, in his more sensible moments, talked about communal effort and sharing rewards. That also means we share the grief.

And why wouldn’t we? We know all about grieving, about shocking, unexpected loss. We know about rallying round because we needed to stick together when the world seemed against us. We know about empathy, because so many people had none for us in our hour of need.

Jota loved that aspect of playing for Liverpool. He spoke to friends at home in Portugal about the atmosphere at Anfield and the noise of the Kop. Yet the point he emphasised most is that, whatever the result, the crowd remained supportive. When things went wrong, he knew he had the backing of those in the stands. Jota loved that.

He felt welcomed on Merseyside on and off the pitch. He enjoyed living here.

From Glory To Despair

What makes Jota’s loss so emotionally distressing is the human side of his life rather than the sporting area: those wedding pictures of his lovely family from last month; the horror of his brother being killed alongside him in the accident; and the thought of their parents, whose grief is overwhelming.

Jota will never have the privilege of ageing. We will never see him with a thickening waist and greying hair, like most of our other heroes. He is frozen in time. In the worst possible way.

This should have been one of the greatest of summers. The Premier League trophy sits at Anfield and the sense of wellbeing had been enhanced by the club’s work in the transfer market. The dark hours after a vehicle ran into the crowd at the parade evaporated after it became clear that serious calamity had somehow been avoided.

Now it has turned into one of the saddest of summers. We will never forget you, Diogo. Never. You will forever be 28 and at your glorious peak. Oh, how we wish we’d seen you grow old.