Today's Preston Friendly Marks Liverpool's Emotional Return to the Pitch
Liverpool’s First Match Since Jota’s Passing Carries Extra Meaning
I’ve never previewed a pre-season friendly before. I don’t know many Liverpool fans who would usually watch one with anything other than a fleeting glance either. But this is not a normal match, and nothing about this moment feels ordinary. When Liverpool step out at Deepdale to face Preston, it will be with more than fitness on their minds and more than just a ball to chase.
They will play while grieving. For Diogo Jota. For his brother, Andre. For the shocking weight of their loss and the emptiness that remains in a team and club that does not move on easily from its own. Yet, move forward they must. Not as a betrayal of what has happened, but as an act of memory and defiance. Football doesn’t pause. Not even for death. That truth can be brutal, but it can also be redemptive.
On Sunday, Liverpool return to the pitch not for glory, not for points, not even for pre-season preparation in the conventional sense, but to begin a process that no manager, player or fan can truly prepare for. To begin again.
Jota’s Absence, Ever Present
There’s been a lot said in the past week, and rightly so. Diogo Jota was not just a gifted footballer, he was one of our own. You knew when he pulled on the shirt, he believed in it, lived for it. He played with a controlled intensity, always ready to press, always ready to finish. He was relentless without ever shouting about it. Just a proper player.
It is hard to put into words what it means for him and his brother to be taken so suddenly. No pre-season training plan prepares a squad for that. No tactical session can solve the ache it leaves behind.
And so Sunday becomes something else entirely. A game that must be played, yes, but also something softer. Something reflective. It becomes a moment of shared space, where fans and players alike can be close to the memory of someone who mattered.
This will not feel like a normal match because it shouldn’t. I expect a strange atmosphere, a heavy silence before the kick-off, and probably a few tears. I know I’ll be watching. I suspect many who normally wouldn’t bother with a televised friendly will be watching too. ITV1 is broadcasting it, and I think the audience will be vast. Not because of the opposition, not because of the stakes, but because of the shared emotion.
Preston the Setting, But Not the Story
There is football to talk about, of course. There is always football. Liverpool are playing Preston North End, just down the road, at a ground that has seen its fair share of drama over the decades but rarely under circumstances quite like this.
Arne Slot’s Liverpool will take to the field for the first time since winning the Premier League. There will be new faces. Florian Wirtz could make his debut in attacking midfield, the £116 million signing from Bayer Leverkusen poised to pull the strings between Salah and Gakpo. Chiesa may also feature, and there is a strong sense that this match will function as an early audition for many, especially the youth and those returning from loans.
Mamardashvili, another new name, is expected in goal. The Georgian has waited over a year for this moment after his transfer last summer. He may be shielded by a back four including Jeremie Frimpong, Milos Kerkez, Joe Gomez and the captain, Virgil van Dijk.
There is competition in every area. Not just for places, but for purpose. This match is a start, a way to regain sharpness and cohesion. But it is more than that. These players will be looking to connect with something again, to find their rhythm amid the sorrow.
For Preston, it is a chance to test themselves against champions. But even they will know they are playing a team still grieving. And that changes everything.
Grief Within a Club That Always Remembers
Liverpool are a club built on memory. We don’t forget. Not the good, not the bad. This is a place where names live long beyond their last kick or chant. And while Jota’s story was still being written, it will now live differently in the minds of the supporters.
There’s a temptation in sport to rush past things. To turn every tragedy into a cliché, to say the player would want us to carry on, to make every loss a rallying cry. But this doesn’t feel like that. It feels slower. More human.
Because the reality is that grieving takes time, and the people closest to Jota will need months, not minutes. This match won’t bring closure. But it may offer something smaller, something quieter. A start.
The manager, Arne Slot, has handled this with remarkable calm. His public statements have been restrained, thoughtful, and dignified. He’s avoided spectacle, and that’s precisely what was needed. In a moment like this, leadership isn’t about bold declarations; it is about knowing when to be present, when to be quiet, and when to let others feel what they need to feel.
Slot had already won over the supporters with his football. But this week, he has shown another side. One that suggests he understands the weight of the shirt he now manages.
Looking Ahead With Our Eyes Still Behind Us
It may feel strange to think about transfers now, or to look ahead to the Community Shield or the Premier League opener. But that is what football requires. It keeps moving.
And yes, Diogo Jota would have wanted that. That’s not something we say to ease the grief. It’s simply true. He was a football obsessive. He loved the game. You could see it in every touch, every celebration. He would want his teammates to keep going, to push for another title, to honour his memory by being the best version of themselves.
There are still gaps in this squad. No obvious replacement for Jota’s versatility. No clarity yet on Konate, Elliott, Nunez or Díaz. The market will be busy. The decisions that need to be made won't wait, and the Preston match will act as the beginning of that evaluation.
But it will all feel secondary. Every sprint will still be coloured by the loss. Every goal will echo slightly with what is no longer there. Football cannot solve grief. But sometimes, just sometimes, it can help shape it. Give it structure. Give it somewhere to live.
At Deepdale, there will be tributes. There will be minutes of silence or applause. There may be banners and songs. But most of all, there will be presence. The presence of people who care. Fans. Players. Staff. All trying, in their own ways, to make sense of something that makes no sense at all.
It will be a match. But not like others. It will matter. But not in the usual ways.
As Liverpool play Preston, they do so with Jota in their hearts. And it will be the first of many times that happens in the season to come.