Only a few weeks ago, the Merseyside club seemed destined to claim back-to-back Premier League championships and possibly another Champions League trophy. The team's capacity to win without peak performances felt like the mark of genuine champions.
But, subsequently the tide shifted. Liverpool continued with average showings and started dropping matches. At the same time, the North London club, renowned for their resolute defense and squad depth, began closing the gap at the top.
Does three straight defeats represent a collapse? Like many sporting discussions, it depends entirely on your definition of the central term. Was the United midfielder elite? What does "elite" even mean? Is the Birmingham club a major team? What defines "big"? Are Manchester United back? Well, perhaps that is a question we can settle.
For a club of Liverpool's size and last season's excellence, a minor crisis seems a reasonable assessment. During a radio show, former striker Neil Mellor was asked how many losses in a row would cause panic. His answer was six. At present, they are halfway to that point.
One can observe obvious footballing issues. Assimilating new signings like Milos Kerkez and Jeremie Frimpong, who provide a different style to previous key players Andy Robertson and Trent Alexander-Arnold, presents a challenge. Likewise, blending in a gifted playmaker like Florian Wirtz has reportedly disrupted 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 upon the game.
Additionally, a host of individuals who shone last season—including Mo Salah, Ibrahima Konaté, Alexis Mac Allister, and Conor Bradley—are currently underperforming. In fact, the majority of the team is. And every one of them share one significant, recent experience: the tragic death of their teammate and friend, Diogo Jota.
We are now just more than three months since the devastating passing of their friend. While the outside world progresses rapidly, shifting attention to global events, the club's players carry on training and playing day after day in the absence of their friend.
It is impossible to know how each player and member of the backroom team is dealing from one day to the next. It requires a significant amount of speculation. Maybe Salah didn't track back in a recent match simply he lacked energy. Or perhaps his performance level is down a small percentage points because he is grieving for his friend.
The London club's head coach, Enzo Maresca, spoke eloquently before a recent, drawing a comparison to his own situation of the loss of a teammate, Antonio Puerta, while at Sevilla. "The way they are performing this season is fantastic," he said of Liverpool. "Especially after Jota's tragedy. I went through a very similar experience when I was a player 20 years ago."
"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 ground and you see every day that spot empty. So you have to be incredibly resilient. And this is the reason why for me they are performing not well, even better than good. Because they are attempting to handle a situation that is not easy."
As summarized well on a well-known fan podcast, the memory triggers are constant. The players hear his chant in the first half, they see his unused peg in the dressing room. Even during matches, a through ball might be made and the realization arises: 'Oh, Diogo would have been there.' If Salah was seen crying in front of the Kop a matches ago, it signals that everything is far from normal.
After reporting on football for twenty years, one realizes there is a inherent superficiality in most analysis. We genuinely do not know how an individual is coping at any specific time and how that impacts their play. Jota's passing is one of the most stark examples. We know a terrible thing occurred, and we understand the nature of sorrow. But further lies an intangible layer of impact on different people at the club. It is very possible that some of the squad personally do not fully understand its influence from one moment to the next.
How the media reports on this and how fans analyze performances is clearly far from the most important factor. On a functional basis, mentioning Jota's death is challenging to do in a short segment before moving on to on-field issues. Beyond this specific event and outside Liverpool, it would seem strange to preface every critique of a player with an admission that we are largely ignorant about their personal lives—be it their family relationships, personal challenges, or relationship difficulties.
An ex- professional footballer, the defender, lately talked on radio about how his mother's death halfway through his playing days affected his love for the game. "I lost some joy in football as much," he said. "Some of the high points and the lows that come with it didn't really feel the same any more." And that was half a career; for Liverpool and Jota, it has been just three short months.
So, whatever Liverpool achieve this season—be it success or if it's nothing—even if we omit reference to it every time we discuss their matches, and even if it isn't the cause for their eventual outcome, we should not forget that a few weeks ago they lost not merely a brilliant footballer, but, more importantly, they lost a friend.
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