"He was always the first to the ball, and always the first to smile."
️ An Ordinary, Heartbreaking Morning
I woke up this morning and scrolled through the news as usual, until I saw the headline:
Diogo Jota dies in car crash after wedding.
My heart sank instantly.
It was real. Not a rumour. Not clickbait.
Jota is gone.
28 years old. Just three days after his wedding, he and his brother were killed in a car crash in Spain.
And we fans, we could only stare at our screens, choking up at that photo of him smiling in his wedding suit, lost for words:
Why him?❤️ He Wasn't a Legend, But He Deserves Remembering
I first noticed him back in 2017, during his Wolves days in the Championship. Back then, he was a skinny kid, yet he was already darting through defences, shooting, tackling – a relentless, whirling force.
Later, when Wolves got promoted, Jota gave his all, almost every game. And then, he pulled on that shirt –
The Reds' jersey. Liverpool's number 9.
He wasn't the strongest, but he was always the hardest working.
He wasn't the most expensive, but he delivered those quiet, killer finishes.
You might forget the fancy goals, but you'll never forget the sight of him throwing himself into diving headers, time and again, just outside the box. At Anfield, He Was the "Unexpected Ace"
From 2020 onwards, Jota became Liverpool's most magical "fourth forward."
● He could play centre-forward, winger, and drop deep to link play.
● In the moments we desperately needed a goal, he'd silently step up.
● He never complained, whether starting or coming off the bench. He never sought the spotlight, yet he always found a way to be lethal.
I remember that 5-0 against United, that diving header that sent the Kop wild.
[FONT=&][COLOR=#404040]I remember his Champions League hat-trick off the bench, showing us all what a quiet assassin he was. We used to joke: "Salah is the King, Man