Only a couple of weeks back, Liverpool seemed set to secure back-to-back Premier League titles and potentially a further Champions League crown. Their ability to secure victories without optimal performances felt like the mark of true title-winners.
However, subsequently the tide shifted. The Anfield side persisted with average showings and began losing points. At the same time, Arsenal, known for their resolute defense and squad depth, started narrowing the gap at the summit.
Does three consecutive defeats represent a collapse? Like most sporting discussions, it depends completely on your definition of the central term. Is Paul Scholes world class? How do you define "world class" even mean? Are Aston Villa a big club? What constitutes "big"? Are Manchester United returned to prominence? Well, maybe that is a question we can answer.
For a club of this club's stature and last season's brilliance, a mini crisis seems a reasonable description. During a broadcast, ex- forward Neil Mellor was asked how many losses in a row would trigger alarm. His answer was six. Currently, they are halfway to that threshold.
One can observe clear footballing problems. Assimilating new signings like Milos Kerkez and Jeremie Frimpong, who provide a distinct style to previous stalwarts Andy Robertson and Trent Alexander-Arnold, presents a challenge. Similarly, incorporating a gifted playmaker like Florian Wirtz has reportedly unbalanced the engine room. Observers of the Bundesliga point out that Wirtz is a creative player who elevates those around him, connecting play effortlessly rather than imposing himself on the game.
Furthermore, a number of players who shone last campaign—including Mo Salah, Ibrahima Konaté, Alexis Mac Allister, and Conor Bradley—are now below their best. In fact, most of the squad is. Yet every one of them share one significant, fresh experience: the passing of their colleague and companion, Diogo Jota.
We are now just more than three months since the tragic passing of their friend. While the outside world progresses quickly, shifting focus to global matters, the club's players carry on training and playing each day without their friend.
This is not possible to gauge how each player and staff member is coping on any given day. It requires a significant amount of projection. Maybe Salah didn't track back in a recent match simply he was tired. Or perhaps his performance level is down a few percentage points due to the fact he is grieving for his friend.
The London club's head coach, Enzo Maresca, spoke insightfully before a fixture, making a comparison to his personal situation of the loss of a teammate, Antonio Puerta, when at Sevilla. "The way they are doing this campaign is remarkable," he said of Liverpool. "Especially after the tragedy. I went through exactly the same thing when I was a player two decades past."
"It is difficult for the squad, it's not easy for the club, it's not easy for the manager when you come to the training complex and you find daily that place vacant. So you must be very strong. And this is the reason why for me they are performing not good, but exceptionally well. Because they are attempting to handle a problem that is not easy."
Just as summarized well on a well-known fan podcast, the memory triggers are ongoing. They hear his song in the 20th minute, they notice his empty locker in the dressing room. In the middle of matches, a pass might be played and the realization arises: 'Oh, Diogo would have been there.' When the Egyptian showed emotion in front of the Kop a few games ago, it signals that all is not normal.
After reporting on football for two decades, one realizes there is a fundamental lack of depth in most punditry. We simply cannot know how an individual is coping at any given time and how that affects their play. Jota's death is one of the most stark examples. We know a tragic thing occurred, and we comprehend the concept of sorrow. Beyond that lies an immeasurable layer of impact on different people at the club. It is highly likely that a few of the squad themselves do not truly understand its effect from one day to the next.
How the media reports on this and how supporters analyze performances is obviously not the primary factor. On a functional basis, bringing up Jota's death is difficult to accomplish in a short segment before transitioning to on-field concerns. Outside of this particular tragedy and beyond Liverpool, it would seem bizarre to preface every critique of a player with an admission that we are largely ignorant about their private circumstances—be it their parental relationships, personal struggles, or relationship problems.
An ex- professional player, the defender, lately spoke on radio about how his mother's death halfway through his playing days impacted his passion for the game. "I didn't enjoy football as much," he stated. "Some of the highs and the lows that accompany it didn't really feel the same after that." And that was half a career; for Liverpool and Jota, it has been just three short months.
So, regardless of what Liverpool accomplish this season—if it's something or failure—whether or not we omit reference to it every time we discuss their matches, even if it is not the sole cause for their eventual outcome, we should not forget that a short time ago they lost not just a exceptional footballer, but, more importantly, they said goodbye to a dear friend.
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