Just a few weeks ago, the Merseyside club appeared set to secure back-to-back Premier League championships and potentially another Champions League crown. Their ability to win despite not peak displays felt like the hallmark of genuine champions.
But, then the momentum shifted. The Anfield side persisted with average performances and began dropping points. At the same time, Arsenal, known for their resolute defense and squad depth, began narrowing the gap at the top.
Can three consecutive losses constitute a crisis? As with many sporting discussions, it hinges completely on your interpretation of the central term. Was the United midfielder world class? How do you define "world class" actually signify? Are Aston Villa a major team? What defines "major"? Are Manchester United returned to prominence? Alright, maybe that's one we might settle.
For a club of Liverpool's size and last season's brilliance, a minor setback appears a reasonable assessment. On a recent broadcast, ex- striker Neil Mellor was questioned how many losses in a row would cause panic. His reply was six. Currently, they are halfway to that threshold.
There are clear 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 difficulty. Likewise, incorporating a talented playmaker like Florian Wirtz has reportedly disrupted the midfield. Observers of the Bundesliga note that Wirtz is a creative talent who improves those around him, linking play seamlessly rather than forcing himself on the game.
Furthermore, a number of individuals who shone last season—such as Mo Salah, Ibrahima Konaté, Alexis Mac Allister, and Conor Bradley—are currently below their best. In fact, most of the team is. And every one of them have one significant, fresh experience: the passing of their colleague and friend, Diogo Jota.
It has been just more than three months since the tragic passing of their friend. While the outside world moves on rapidly, diverting attention to global events, the club's players continue going to work day after day without their mate.
It is not possible to know how each individual and member of the backroom team is dealing from one day to the next. It requires a great deal of speculation. Maybe Salah didn't track back in a particular match because he was tired. But perhaps his performance level is down a few per cent due to the fact he is grieving for his pal.
Chelsea's head coach, Enzo Maresca, commented eloquently before a recent, drawing a parallel to his own situation of losing a fellow player, Antonio Puerta, while at Sevilla. "The way they are doing this campaign is remarkable," he said of Liverpool. "Especially after the loss. I went through a very similar experience when I was a player two decades past."
"It is difficult for the players, it's not easy for the club, it's not easy for the manager when you come to the training complex 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 doing not good, even better than good. Because they are trying to handle a situation that is not easy."
Just as explained succinctly on a well-known fan podcast, the reminders are ongoing. They are reminded by his song in the 20th minute, they notice his empty peg in the changing room. Even during matches, a pass might be made and the thought arises: 'Ah, Diogo would have reached that.' When the Egyptian showed emotion in front of the Kop a few games ago, it indicates that all is not normal.
Having reporting on football for two decades, one comes to believe there is a inherent superficiality in the majority of punditry. We simply cannot know how an player is feeling at any specific time and how that affects their performance. Jota's death is one of the most stark examples. We know a tragic thing happened, and we comprehend the nature of grief. But further lies an immeasurable level of effect on different people at the club. It is very possible that some of the squad themselves do not truly grasp its effect from one day to the next.
How the media reports on this and how fans dissect performances is clearly far from the primary thing. On a functional level, bringing up Jota's death is difficult to accomplish in a brief soundbite before transitioning to tactical concerns. Beyond this specific tragedy and beyond Liverpool, it would seem bizarre to preface every criticism of a footballer with an acknowledgment that we know so little about their private circumstances—be it their parental situation, health struggles, or marital difficulties.
A former professional footballer, Nedum Onuoha, recently spoke on a broadcast about how his mother's death halfway through his career impacted his love for the game. "I didn't enjoy football as much," he stated. "The highs and the lows that come with it didn't really feel the same after that." And that was many years into his profession; for Liverpool and Jota, it has been just three short months.
Therefore, whatever Liverpool accomplish this season—if it's something or failure—whether or not we omit reference to it every time we analyze their matches, even if it is not the sole cause for their eventual outcome, we must remember that a short time ago they suffered the loss of not merely a brilliant footballer, but, more importantly, they said goodbye to a dear friend.
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