One Year On: Remembering Diogo

AN ARTICLE BY MATTY

I distinctly remember two occasions where I was waking up for work or school, checked my phone and saw news that made me run out to tell my mother. The first time was when Klopp announced his departure from the club. But the second time? I just remember staring at the screen in utter disbelief. “This couldn’t be right, surely?” Then I checked the news, and I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. Diogo Jota was gone. Died in a car crash with his brother Andre Silva. I remember telling my mother, tears welling up in my eyes, and she simply said “I don’t know how anyone in that team can recover. He was their heartbeat.”

That’s exactly who Diogo was, really. The glue who held everyone and everything together. He may have been a lad from Portugal, but he was one of us. The way he celebrated his goals, the way he played the game, pressing hard yet always with a smile on his face. He uplifted everyone. It helped too that he was a true striker. Ball in the box fell to him, bang, it’s in the back of the net. What a wonderful player, what a wonderful man.

My first memory of him was how much I enjoyed watching him at Wolves before he came here. How much I was in his corner from the start when other fans were skeptical. I knew he’d come good, he was too much of a personality and too technically good to fail. He made an immediate impact, a perfect fit. So many other players took time to hit their stride. Diogo was perfect right from the very start. I hope Rute and her family know that they truly never walk alone. They are Liverpool for life.

It’s been a year without him now and yet I imagine some scars and wounds still aren’t healed. Some likely never will be. There were so many times this season where I bet Slot would’ve been looking to the end of the bench to bring on Jota, the man known for scoring late goals and game winners aplenty, only to realize Jota’s no longer there. I think of his wife and children. I think of players like Robertson and Salah who were so clearly affected by his loss. I wonder if the malignant traits of Salah’s personality wouldn’t have shone so bright had Jota been there to lift him up. In many ways, it feels like the club’s recent tailspin started a year ago today. July 3rd, 2025.

The last time something like this happened, it was Hillsborough. An unimaginable tragedy caused and then covered up by police. For years and years, the city and fans have fought for justice for the 97. But for one day, it seemed like everything was forgiven. We’d won the Premier League again, this time with fans there at Anfield to witness it. The celebrations lasted long into the night. Jota and so many other players who were key pieces to the team weren’t at Liverpool the last time we won in 2020. They finally got a major trophy to enjoy. It felt like fans and players alike were finally beginning to heal. Our glory days were not over after Klopp, they were continuing, perhaps even reaching new heights. Until one seismic thud. Until a player who was unanimously loved was suddenly taken away from us.

As I wrap up this brief reflection, I wish I could thank Jota. Thank you for representing the club and its fans so well. Thank you for carrying us to victory so many times. Thank you for the joy you had, which was felt not only by your teammates but by everybody who ever got to watch you play. Thank you for the memories, your determination, and your youthful spirit. We love you and we miss you, Diogo and Andre. Rest in peace, lads.