Only a couple of weeks back, Liverpool appeared destined to secure back-to-back Premier League titles and potentially another Champions League trophy. Their ability to win without peak displays felt like the mark of true champions.
But, then the momentum turned. The Anfield side persisted with average performances and began losing points. Meanwhile, the North London club, renowned for their resolute backline and strength in depth, started narrowing the gap at the top.
Can a trio of consecutive losses constitute a collapse? Like many football debates, it depends completely on your definition of the key term. Was the United midfielder elite? How do you define "world class" even signify? Are Aston Villa a major club? What defines "big"? Is the Old Trafford outfit back? Well, maybe that's one we can answer.
For a club of Liverpool's stature and previous campaign's brilliance, a mini setback appears a fair description. On a recent radio show, former striker Neil Mellor was asked how many losses in a row would cause panic. His reply was six. At present, they are midway to that threshold.
One can observe obvious tactical problems. Assimilating new signings like Milos Kerkez and Jeremie Frimpong, who offer a distinct style to departed stalwarts Andy Robertson and Trent Alexander-Arnold, presents a difficulty. Similarly, blending in a gifted attacking midfielder like Florian Wirtz has reportedly unbalanced the midfield. Experts of the Bundesliga point out that Wirtz is a technical talent who improves those around him, connecting play effortlessly rather than imposing himself on the game.
Additionally, a number of players who shone last season—such as Mo Salah, Ibrahima Konaté, Alexis Mac Allister, and Conor Bradley—are now underperforming. Actually, the majority of the team are. And every one of them share one profound, recent experience: the tragic death of their colleague and companion, Diogo Jota.
It has been just more than three short months since the devastating loss of their teammate. Although the wider world progresses quickly, shifting attention to global events, the club's squad carry on going to work each day without their friend.
It is impossible to gauge how every player and member of the backroom team is dealing from one day to the next. It requires a significant amount of speculation. Perhaps Salah didn't track back in a particular match simply he lacked energy. Or maybe his performance level is down a few per cent because he misses his pal.
Chelsea's head coach, Enzo Maresca, commented insightfully before a recent, making a parallel to his own situation of losing a fellow player, Antonio Puerta, when at Sevilla. "How they are performing this season is remarkable," he said of Liverpool. "Particularly after the loss. I went through exactly the same experience when I was a player 20 years ago."
"It's not easy for the squad, it's not easy for the club, it's not easy for the coach when you come to the training ground and you see daily that place empty. So you have to be incredibly resilient. And this is the reason why for me they are doing not well, but exceptionally well. Because they are trying to handle a situation that is not easy."
Just as summarized succinctly on a popular supporter's show, the reminders are ongoing. The players are reminded by his song in the first half, they notice his empty locker in the changing room. In the middle of matches, a through ball might be played and the thought arises: 'Ah, Jota would have reached that.' If Salah showed emotion in front of the Kop a few games ago, it indicates that all is not normal.
After covering football for twenty years, one comes to believe there is a fundamental lack of depth in the majority of analysis. We genuinely do not know how an individual is feeling at any specific time and how that impacts their play. Jota's passing is one of the clearest examples. We know a tragic event occurred, and we understand the concept of grief. Beyond that lies an immeasurable level of impact on various people at the organization. It is very possible that a few of the players themselves do not fully understand its effect from one moment to the next.
The way the press covers this and how supporters dissect displays is clearly not the primary factor. On a functional basis, bringing up Jota's passing is challenging to do in a short segment before moving on to on-field concerns. Beyond this specific tragedy and outside Liverpool, it would seem bizarre to preface every critique of a player with an acknowledgment that we are largely ignorant about their personal lives—be it their parental situation, personal struggles, or relationship difficulties.
A former pro footballer, the defender, recently talked on radio about how his mother's death midway through his playing days impacted his love for the game. "I didn't enjoy football as much," he said. "The high points and the low points that accompany it no longer felt the same any more." And that was many years into his profession; for Liverpool and Jota, it has been only three months.
So, regardless of what Liverpool achieve this season—be it success or failure—even if we don't mention it whenever we analyze their fixtures, even if it isn't the reason for their eventual result, we must remember that a few weeks ago they lost not merely a brilliant footballer, but, crucially, they lost a friend.
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