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Only a couple of weeks ago, the Merseyside club appeared destined to claim back-to-back Premier League championships and possibly a further Champions League crown. The team's capacity to secure victories despite not peak displays seemed like the hallmark of true title-winners.

But, subsequently the momentum shifted. The Anfield side persisted with mediocre performances and started dropping matches. At the same time, the North London club, known for their stubborn backline and squad depth, began narrowing the gap at the summit.

Defining a Crisis in Modern Football

Can a trio of consecutive losses represent a crisis? Like many sporting discussions, it hinges entirely on your definition of the central word. Was the United midfielder elite? What does "elite" even signify? Is the Birmingham club a big club? What defines "big"? Is the Old Trafford outfit returned to prominence? Well, perhaps that's a question we might settle.

At a team of this club's size and previous campaign's brilliance, a mini crisis appears a reasonable description. On a recent broadcast, former striker Neil Mellor was asked how many losses in a row would cause panic. His reply was six. At present, they are halfway to that particular point.

Pinpointing the Tactical Problems

There are obvious footballing issues. Assimilating recent additions like Milos Kerkez and Jeremie Frimpong, who offer a distinct skill set to previous stalwarts Andy Robertson and Trent Alexander-Arnold, presents a challenge. Similarly, blending in a talented attacking midfielder like Florian Wirtz has reportedly unbalanced the engine room. Experts of the Bundesliga note that Wirtz is a creative player who elevates those around him, linking play seamlessly rather than forcing himself on the game.

Furthermore, a host of players who shone last season—such as Mo Salah, Ibrahima Konaté, Alexis Mac Allister, and Conor Bradley—are now below their best. Actually, the majority of the team is. And they all have one profound, fresh event: the tragic death of their teammate and friend, Diogo Jota.

The Unseen Effect: Grief on the Pitch

We are now just more than three short months since the tragic loss of their friend. Although the outside world progresses quickly, diverting focus to other events, the club's squad continue going to work each day without their mate.

This is impossible to gauge how each individual and staff member is dealing from one day to the next. It requires a great deal of projection. Perhaps Salah failed to defend in a recent match because he lacked energy. But perhaps his form is down a few per cent because he is grieving for his friend.

Chelsea's head coach, Enzo Maresca, spoke insightfully before a fixture, making a comparison to his personal experience of the loss of a teammate, Antonio Puerta, while at Sevilla. "How they are performing this season is fantastic," he said of Liverpool. "Especially after Jota's tragedy. I went through a very similar thing when I was a player 20 years ago."

"It is difficult for the players, it's not easy for the club, it's not easy for the manager when you come to the training ground and you find daily that place empty. So you have to be very strong. And this is the explanation why for me they are doing not well, even better than good. Because they are trying to handle a situation that is not easy."

Just as explained succinctly on a well-known supporter's show, the memory triggers are ongoing. The players are reminded by his song in the 20th minute, they see his unused peg in the dressing room. Even during matches, a through ball might be made and the thought arises: 'Oh, Diogo would have been there.' When the Egyptian showed emotion in front of the Kop a few games ago, it indicates that all is not all right.

The Boundaries of Football Analysis and Personal Grief

After covering football for two decades, one comes to believe there is a inherent lack of depth in the majority of punditry. We genuinely cannot know how an individual is coping at any specific time and how that impacts their performance. Jota's death is one of the most stark examples. We are aware a terrible thing happened, and we comprehend the concept of sorrow. Beyond that lies an immeasurable layer of effect on different individuals at the club. It is highly likely that a few of the squad personally do not fully grasp its influence from one day to the next.

The way the press covers this and how supporters dissect performances is obviously not the most important factor. On a practical level, bringing up Jota's passing is challenging to accomplish in a short soundbite before transitioning to on-field issues. Outside of this specific tragedy and outside Liverpool, it would seem bizarre to qualify each critique of a player with an acknowledgment that we are largely ignorant about their private circumstances—be it their family relationships, personal struggles, or marital problems.

A former pro player, the defender, recently talked on radio about how his mother's passing midway through his career impacted his passion for the game. "I didn't enjoy football as much," he stated. "Some of the high points and the lows that accompany it didn't really feel the same any more." And that was half a career; for Liverpool and Jota, it has been just three short months.

The Concluding Thought

So, regardless of what Liverpool achieve in the coming months—be it success or failure—even if we omit reference to it every time we analyze their matches, even if it is not the sole reason for their eventual outcome, we should not forget that a few weeks ago they lost not just a exceptional footballer, but, crucially, they lost a dear friend.