IT’S always a great sadness to lose a football legend, and truly devastating to see one cut down in their prime.
Diogo Jota’s untimely death is an incomprehensible shock to the global army of Reds fans who worshipped him.
We see our heroes as indestructible, and the striker Jota was no exception.
He regularly worked miracles.
His final goal for Liverpool confirmed his legendary status: a late winner to push his team closer to that 20th league title.
At the Kop end.
In a Merseyside derby.
Goals don’t come much bigger than that. Jota the Slotter’s crucial strikes earned him the ultimate badge of honour — his own song from adoring Kopites.
Even when on the bench, the crowd would bellow it out to the tune of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s hit Bad Moon Rising.
“He’s a lad from Portugal; better than Figo, don’t you know; Oh, his name is Diogo.”
Barely a month ago, I was among a record 1.5million who saw him and his teammates parade the Premier League trophy through Liverpool on an open-top bus.
It turned into a harrowing day when a motorist drove into a crowd, injuring 109.
Two weeks after that day of triumph and horror, Jota lifted the UEFA Nations League trophy with Portugal.
And only ten days ago he married his sweetheart Rute, mother of his three young children.
Our grief as fans cannot begin to compare with the pain felt by the Jota family, who have lost not only Diogo but his younger brother, Andre.
We see our heroes as indestructible, and the striker Jota was no exception
I’m sure the club and its supporters will ensure they never walk alone.
Over decades as a Liverpool fan, I’ve stood many times in silent tribute to Kop legends – from Bill Shankly and Ron Yeats to Gerard Houllier and Ray Kennedy.
No crowd does it better than Anfield.
But there will be an added poignancy when Diogo is honoured as he enters the pantheon of lost legends at the age of just 28.
I suspect the club will retire the Number 20 he wore as a mark of respect.
But his song will echo on the Kop into eternity.
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