This Christmas, We Remember Diogo Jota and What Truly Matters
As Liverpool fans celebrate Christmas, one family faces it with unimaginable pain. This is a day to be grateful, reflective, and united in memory of Diogo Jota.
Christmas without Diogo
Some things never leave you, no matter how many weeks pass or how full the stadium gets. Today is Christmas Day, a time when many of us gather with family, share warmth, food and laughter. But for Rute Cardoso and her three young children, this day brings a silence that no gift can fill. Diogo Jota should have been there, sitting at the table, laughing with his son Dinis, cuddling his baby daughter Mafalda, perhaps building new traditions with Duarte, only two years old. But instead, his chair is empty. The man who brought so much joy to so many is gone, and his family are left to carry a grief that should never have been theirs to bear.
Jota was more than a footballer. Anyone who watched him knew that already. The spark in his game, the clever movement, the ruthless finishing, the way he came alive in the box. But those who worked alongside him, lived alongside him, knew the person. A good man. A father with endless love in his eyes. A husband whose wedding video only emerged a day before tragedy struck. A friend who left a hole in every room he once lit up.
Today is not about goals or trophies, though he had plenty of both. Today is about love, about memory, about how fragile life can be. It is about recognising that while many of us sit with full plates and full hearts, others are staring at photographs trying to remember the sound of a voice.
City of celebration, season of sorrow
Back in May, Liverpool supporters were still floating on the clouds of a Premier League title. The sun had shone on the city during that beautiful weekend, when Palace were beaten and the trophy was finally hoisted in front of a crowd that sang like they were ready to wake the dead. The memories of Spurs at Anfield, when the title was confirmed, remain etched into the minds of everyone who lived it. The parade that followed, red smoke and pure elation winding through the streets, reminded the world that no city celebrates quite like this one.
Diogo Jota was part of it all. His goals in that run-in were crucial, his presence felt in every photograph, every cheer, every embrace. He was there on the open-top bus, singing, waving, grinning like a man who understood what it all meant. And he did. He got this club, this city, these people. He was one of us, even if he never came from here.
So when the news came in July that Diogo and his brother Andre Silva had lost their lives in a car crash, something in Liverpool broke. Football can often seem relentless, always focused on the next fixture, the next trophy. But this stopped everything. It had to. The number 20 shirt, now retired, became a symbol. The song in the 20th minute, now tinged with grief, became a prayer. The mural outside Anfield, the silence in the dressing room, the tears in Robertson’s voice when he spoke about his friend, all reminded us that football clubs are built on people, not plans.
The 2025/26 season has been a difficult one. Injuries, inconsistent form, questions about leadership and momentum. But perhaps the most important thing to remember today is that this is not just about tactics or formations. It is about trauma. It is about pain that is not always visible but lives in every touch, every half-chance missed, every moment of hesitation.
Gratitude in times of grief
Christmas has a way of reminding us of who and what we have. We count blessings, we share gifts, we embrace old traditions. But this year, it feels more important than ever to think about who is missing, too. To light a candle, to pause for a second, and to feel the weight of what Jota’s family are enduring. His wife, left to navigate life alone with three children under the age of five. His sons, Dinis and Duarte, with memories still forming and fading. His daughter, Mafalda, born months before he died, who will never feel his arms around her.
It is difficult to write this. It should be. But that is why it matters. Because this game we all love, this club that gives us so much, has given us a lesson this year that no matchday programme could contain. That football is life and loss, that what matters most is not silverware but the people who lift it.
As supporters, we often get caught up in the emotion of form, of transfer gossip, of VAR decisions. But none of that truly defines us. What defines Liverpool Football Club is how it responds in moments of heartbreak. From Hillsborough to this, the club has always carried its people. The players, the fans, the families. It is why Jota will never be forgotten here. Because love never leaves Anfield. Not really.
It is why Robertson’s tribute from Scotland resonated so deeply. His team had just made history, qualifying for their first World Cup in 27 years. And all he could think about was the friend who should have been celebrating with him. That is Liverpool. That is football. That is life.
Message to supporters this Christmas
So this is my message to fellow Liverpool fans, wherever you are in the world today. Be thankful. For family, for friends, for the little moments. For the joy this club gave us in May, and for the strength it has shown since July. Be proud of what we’ve come through, even if this season has tested that pride.
If you can, spare a thought for Jota’s family today. For Rute. For the three little children who will grow up surrounded by stories and songs but without the man they are about. If you raise a glass, raise one for him. If you hug your loved ones, hug them a little tighter.
Liverpool will go on. It always does. There will be goals, games, maybe even more trophies. But this year will never be normal. It will always be the one where grief walked beside glory. The one where we celebrated in the sun and cried in the dark. The one where we learned, once again, that football is not life and death. It is life and love, and loss, and the spaces between them.
As we move into 2026, let us do so remembering what Diogo Jota gave us. Not just the goals. Not just the memories. But the reminder that we must cherish each other, fight for one another, and never take a single moment for granted.
He will always be part of this club. His song will always echo. His story will always matter. And on this Christmas Day, more than any other, he is in our hearts.
Merry Christmas to you all. You’ll never walk alone.