Just a couple of weeks back, the Merseyside club appeared set to claim back-to-back Premier League championships and potentially another Champions League crown. Their ability to win despite not optimal displays felt like the mark of true title-winners.
However, then the momentum shifted. Liverpool persisted with mediocre showings and started losing matches. Meanwhile, Arsenal, known for their stubborn backline and squad depth, started narrowing the gap at the top.
Does three straight defeats constitute a collapse? As with many football debates, it depends completely on your definition of the key term. Is Paul Scholes elite? What does "elite" actually signify? Is the Birmingham club a big club? What constitutes "major"? Are Manchester United back? Well, maybe that's one we might settle.
At a team of this club's stature and previous campaign's excellence, a minor setback appears a reasonable assessment. During a broadcast, ex- forward Neil Mellor was asked how many defeats in a row would trigger panic. His reply was six. Currently, they are midway to that point.
There are obvious tactical problems. Assimilating new additions like Milos Kerkez and Jeremie Frimpong, who provide a distinct skill set to previous key players Andy Robertson and Trent Alexander-Arnold, creates a challenge. Similarly, incorporating a talented playmaker like Florian Wirtz has reportedly unbalanced the midfield. Experts of the Bundesliga point out that Wirtz is a technical player who improves those around him, connecting play effortlessly rather than imposing himself upon the game.
Additionally, a host of players who excelled last season—such as Mo Salah, Ibrahima Konaté, Alexis Mac Allister, and Conor Bradley—are now below their best. Actually, most of the team is. And they all have one significant, recent experience: the tragic death of their teammate and companion, Diogo Jota.
It has been just over three short months since the tragic loss of their teammate. Although the wider world moves on quickly, shifting attention to other events, Liverpool's players carry on training and playing each day without their mate.
It is impossible to gauge how each player and staff member is coping from one day to the next. It requires a great deal of projection. Perhaps Salah didn't track back in a particular match because he was tired. Or perhaps his performance level is down a few per cent due to the fact he is grieving for his friend.
Chelsea's head coach, Enzo Maresca, commented insightfully before a recent, making a comparison to his personal experience of losing a fellow player, Antonio Puerta, when at Sevilla. "How they are doing this season is remarkable," he said of Liverpool. "Particularly after the tragedy. I went through a very similar thing when I was a player two decades past."
"It's not easy for the squad, it's not easy for the club, it's not easy for the coach when you arrive at the training complex and you find daily that place vacant. So you have to be very strong. And this is the reason why for me they are performing not good, but exceptionally well. Because they are attempting to deal with a problem that is not easy."
As explained well on a well-known fan podcast, the reminders are constant. They are reminded by his song in the 20th minute, they notice his empty locker in the changing room. In the middle of games, a pass might be made and the thought arises: 'Oh, Diogo would have been there.' If Salah showed emotion in front of the Kop a few games ago, it signals that everything is far from normal.
Having reporting on football for two decades, one comes to believe there is a fundamental superficiality in the majority of punditry. We simply do not know how an player is feeling at any given moment and how that impacts their performance. Jota's death is one of the most stark examples. We know a tragic thing happened, and we understand the concept of sorrow. Beyond that lies an intangible layer of impact on different individuals at the organization. It is highly likely that some of the players themselves do not truly understand its influence from one day to the next.
How the media covers this and how fans dissect performances is obviously not the primary thing. On a practical level, mentioning Jota's death is difficult to accomplish in a short soundbite before transitioning to on-field concerns. Outside of this particular tragedy and beyond Liverpool, it would seem strange to qualify each critique of a footballer with an acknowledgment that we are largely ignorant about their personal lives—be it their parental relationships, health challenges, or relationship difficulties.
An ex- professional player, Nedum Onuoha, recently talked 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 said. "Some of the highs and the lows 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 just three short months.
So, regardless of what Liverpool achieve in the coming months—be it success or if it's nothing—even if we don't mention it every time we analyze their fixtures, even if it is not the sole reason for their eventual outcome, we should not forget that a short time ago they lost not just a exceptional player, but, more importantly, they said goodbye to a friend.
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