Forever 20: A Tribute Written in Red

As Liverpool announce permanent memorials for Diogo Jota and his brother André, we reflect on loss, legacy and what it truly means to walk on together.

There are moments, few and far between, when football no longer feels like a game. When the lines painted on a pitch dissolve into something much bigger than goals, points and trophies. When the roar of the crowd softens, and a city finds itself united not in celebration, but in mourning. That moment came for all of us the day Diogo Jota and his brother André Silva were taken far too soon.

It has now been three weeks, and still, I struggle to put it all into words. I have watched our club win titles, seen legends rise and fall, and felt the thunder of Anfield shake the bones of our great city, but never have I felt anything quite like this. This was different. This was grief of the deepest kind, one that clutches your throat without warning and leaves you speechless in your own home, staring at your television as the news breaks. I remember the exact moment. I bet you do too.

Jota had become one of us. Not just a fine footballer, not just a number on a shirt, but a lad who played with fire in his belly and a glint in his eye. A forward with the instincts of a street footballer, never afraid to take the hit or shoulder the burden. He gave everything in red. But more than that, he smiled. He always smiled. That cheeky grin, the kind that reminded you he never forgot how lucky he was to be playing the game he loved, for the club we adore.

What the club announced yesterday moved me more than I expected. Not just because of what they are doing, but how they are doing it. With grace. With thought. With heart.

Thousands of tributes had been laid at Anfield. I walked past them more than once. There were scarves from rival clubs, hand-painted signs, flags from faraway lands, and the kind of flowers that only ever seem to bloom in times of heartbreak. And yes, there were tears.

Liverpool, true to its soul, have not cleared those tributes away in silence. They are being preserved with care. The flowers are being composted, their essence becoming part of the soil that gives life to the beds at Anfield, the AXA Training Centre and Melwood. The messages, the banners, the shirts, all are being transformed into a permanent sculpture. Not just a memorial, but a legacy. Something we can all touch, all return to, all remember him by.

And it goes further. The number 20 shirt will be retired. Not just in the men’s first team, but across the entire club, from the Women’s team to the Academy. No one will wear that number again. It will stand still in time, forever Jota’s. The club have never done that before. It tells you everything about the man, and how deeply he had embedded himself in the fabric of Liverpool.

There will be a sculpture, yes, but the true monument will be the lives touched. The LFC Foundation has committed to setting up a grassroots programme in his name. For every kid who scores a goal wearing worn-out boots on a muddy field somewhere in Merseyside, Diogo Jota’s spirit will live on. That is what football should be about. Not money, not fame, but giving something back. Helping others up, just like he always did on the pitch when a team-mate was down.

And in the shirts we wear, the memory will live. From the Asia tour to the kits fans will buy on launch day next week, Jota’s name will be everywhere. A patch, a number, a message. ‘Forever 20’ will be stitched into this season’s fabric. I love that phrase. It says everything. He may be gone, but he will never be replaced.

There will be tributes at every game, but none more powerful than what is being planned for the first home match of the new Premier League season against Bournemouth. A fan mosaic, a minute of silence, and a city standing still for a lad who gave us everything. I already know I will be in bits that day.

In the meantime, a temporary reflection area has been created at Anfield. If you need somewhere to stand quietly, to remember, to cry, to smile, it is there for you. For all of us.

Some people might ask why we mourn like this for a footballer. But we know better. Jota was more than that. He was family. Part of the Liverpool tapestry. Woven into our greatest wins and our most hopeful moments. To see him score at the Kop end was to feel the pulse of the club beating strong.

And this goes beyond football. We lost not just a player, but a husband, a father, a brother. And in André, another soul tied to him and to us, gone far too early. We do not forget the family either. Their loss is beyond comprehension, but in some small way, we stand beside them, shoulder to shoulder, singing his name with a heavy heart and an open soul.

In time, we will heal. That is the way of things. But we will never forget. And nor should we.

This is Liverpool. We remember our own. We carry them with us. From Paisley to Shankly, from Rush to Gerrard, and now, Jota. Not for the goals alone, but for the spirit he brought.

So here’s to Diogo. Forever 20. Forever red.

And always, one of us.