
Anfield Index
·9. Juli 2025
Support systems key as Liverpool prepare for life after devastating loss

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Yahoo sportsAnfield Index
·9. Juli 2025
There are moments when football feels secondary. Moments when the roar of the Kop, the blare of transfer speculation, the hustle of pre-season fades into insignificance. The death of Diogo Jota, alongside his brother Andre Silva, is one of those moments.
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James Pearce’s piece in The Athletic casts a painful light on the emotional weight hanging over Kirkby as Liverpool players return for pre-season. It is a reminder that, for all their extraordinary talent, these are human beings first. Men grappling with sudden loss, searching for routine and connection amid grief.
Jota’s conversation with club psychologist Lee Richardson last October, on World Mental Health Day, now reads as a haunting prelude. “Sometimes speaking to someone, saying the problem out loud, helps,” he said. “When you say it out loud, it already gives you a different feeling.” Jota’s candour made him relatable. His vulnerability, rare in a game steeped in bravado, was a quiet act of strength.
Photo: IMAGO
Liverpool, under Arne Slot, are walking back into a very different football club than the one they left for the summer. The heavy weight of grief will be felt in the canteen, the dressing room, even in the corridors where Jota once joked with teammates.
Fortunately, this is a club with structures built on togetherness. Bill Bygroves, the long-serving club chaplain, has already played a key part in helping the players and staff grieve. “Tears are like safety valves of the heart,” he said during LFCTV’s tribute to Jota. “They are like liquid prayers. They say things we don’t have the words for.”
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Richardson, who has been at the club since 2019, will be just as vital. His role, often operating in the background, is now central. His ethos is clear: mental health must be treated with the same seriousness as physical fitness. “This idea that there are happy, healthy people who go through life not having any challenges is a complete fantasy,” he once told The Athletic. “Most of us will face difficulties at some point.”
Players will react differently. Some, like Jota once described, may find peace in returning to the pitch. “I feel like when I enter the pitch, everything clears,” he said. “It doesn’t come across my mind.” For others, it may take longer. Liverpool will not rush them. The collective embrace of the club, from directors to backroom staff, offers a soft landing for those who need time.
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In that sense, Kirkby becomes more than a training base. It is a place for shared healing, where grief is met with compassion, and support flows through every level of the club. The mental health questionnaires Richardson gives the players aren’t just paperwork, they are touchpoints for reflection, spaces for honesty in an environment that demands performance.
Jota’s passing brings with it not only loss, but a deepened sense of purpose. In life, he helped break down barriers around mental health. In death, he may further embolden the conversations he started. There is poignancy in knowing that, just months before his passing, he was encouraging others to seek help. It was Richardson who said, “Some people think psychologists ‘do something to you’. They don’t. They ‘do things with you’. It’s a shared process.” That shared process, built on trust and empathy, is now what binds this squad together.
This is a football club that has endured tragedy before. From Hillsborough to Heysel, from the loss of team-mates to the grief of its fanbase, Liverpool understands the long tail of sorrow. But it also understands how to rise, not in haste, but with dignity. Slot and his coaching team are entering this new season not with tactics or press conferences front of mind, but with duty. Duty to protect, to nurture, and to guide a wounded group of players.
There will be no pressure. No forced smiles. Just care, respect and the space to mourn. What comes next on the pitch matters, but what happens off it will define the tone of this new era more than any signing or tactical switch.
Liverpool’s strength has always been found in its people. In times like this, you see why that matters.
As Liverpool supporters, we are used to carrying pain. We sing about walking through storms because we’ve walked through so many. But this one cuts differently. Losing Diogo Jota, in the prime of his life and career, is a heartbreak we weren’t prepared for.
Reading the words from James Pearce and hearing about the club’s internal response offers some comfort. It matters that this club still holds its people close. That a player’s mental health is as valued as their pressing stats or goal return. It matters that chaplains and psychologists are part of the furniture at Kirkby, and not just for show.
It is impossible to imagine the mood in that training ground right now. The silences. The moments when someone forgets for a second and then remembers. But knowing that Jota had opened conversations around mental health makes you feel proud. Proud that he was our player. Proud that he helped create a space for vulnerability in an industry that so often buries it.
Whatever happens on the pitch in the weeks to come, we as fans need to be part of that healing process too. No judgment, just backing. This club has always found strength in unity. Right now, it needs that more than ever.