By our man at the Anfield
There is a specific kind of magic that hangs in the salt-heavy air of L4 on matchday, but yesterday at Anfield, it felt a little heavier, a little more sacred.
On a biting post-Christmas afternoon, the famous old stadium didn’t just host a football match; it became a cathedral of memory.
This was the first time Liverpool and Wolves had met since the tragic passing of Diogo Jota in July, a man who belonged to both of these great cities.
Long before the first whistle, the atmosphere was set.
The usual roar of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” carried an extra layer of poignancy, echoing off the rafters of the Main Stand. But the moment that truly broke hearts—and then mended them—was seeing Jota’s young sons, Dinis and Duarte, walking onto the hallowed turf as mascots, hands held tight by captain Virgil van Dijk.
When the clock hit 20 minutes, the football briefly became secondary. The entire stadium rose as one.
The shirt number Jota wore with such distinction has been retired by the Reds, but his song lived on yesterday, belted out by 61,000 voices in a spine-tingling tribute that left grown men in the Kop wiping away tears.
On the pitch, Liverpool eventually found their rhythm in a frantic two-minute window.
Ryan Gravenberch broke the deadlock in the 41st minute, but the biggest cheer was reserved for Florian Wirtz. Just 60 seconds later, the German starlet poked home his first-ever Premier League goal, a moment of pure joy that briefly lifted the somber clouds.
However, Anfield is never a place for a quiet life. Wolves, bottom of the table and fighting for their lives, refused to play the role of mourners.
Santiago Bueno bundled home a scrappy goal early in the second half, turning the famous “Anfield roar” into a nervous hum.
As the winter sun dipped behind the stands, the tension was palpable. Wolves pushed, the away end sensed an upset, and the ghost of Jota seemed to linger over every missed chance.
But as the final whistle blew, securing a 2-1 victory for Arne Slot’s men, the relief was total.
Liverpool may have taken the three points to move into the top four, but as Sting’s “Fields of Gold”—Jota’s favorite song—played over the PA system at full-time, nobody was talking about the league table.
They were talking about a father, a teammate, and a hero.
In the end, the scoreboard read 2-1, but the real story was written in the stands of a stadium that knows better than any other how to remember its own.
