There’s nothing you can say at a time like this that feels sufficient. So we’re just going to watch Diogo Jota score goals.
News that Liverpool and Portugal forward Diogo Jota and his bother André Silva had both passed away following an auto accident as the vehicle they were in came off the road near Zamora, Spain in the early hours of Thursday morning remains shocking, devastating news.
There feels, perhaps, as if there’s nothing sufficient that one can say following such news. In Jota’s case, though, there are the goals. The touches, the turns, the slaloming runs into the opposition penalty area. The composed finishes—and the headers. The headers that, if you thought about it logically, a player standing 1.73M had no right reaching as often as he did.
There was always a certain look to a Jota goal, it sometimes seemed. A feel. A mood. A vibe. Limbs shot out, legs extended what felt like just a bit too far as the Portuguese poacher cut and janked and weaved his way past one defender and another. And then slotted home.
His final goal was scored against Everton in the 57th minute on April 2nd, 2025. It was a quintessential Diogo Jota goal. Painfully so, now.
There were so many others. One-hundred and thirty-three over 302 career club games. Sixty-five came in 182 games for Liverpool, plus a further 14 for Portugal in 49 senior caps. They weren’t everything Jota was, especially not to those closest to him who will be hit the hardest today. Still, it’s nice to have them, now, and to be able to sit with them for a little while. YNWA, Diogo.