Today should’ve been Diogo Jota’s 29th birthday. Instead, the football world wakes to silence where fireworks once belonged: no cake-cutting at Melwood, no cheeky Instagram post from the man who scored 72 goals in 182 games for Liverpool, no more of that ice-cold “shush” celebration that silenced stadiums from the Etihad to the Bernabéu. On May 27, 2025, the sport lost one of its brightest flames when the private plane carrying Jota, his brother André Silva, and their partners crashed in thick fog over northern Spain. Four lives gone in an instant. Yet six months on, Jota’s legacy burns fiercer than ever – a Portuguese prodigy who arrived as “the Wolves guy” and left as the most complete forward of his generation, a serial winner who lifted every trophy possible in red, and the quiet assassin whose contributions to global football will echo long after the tributes fade.

Born in the sleepy town of Massarelos, Porto, on this day in 1996, Jota was never the loudest name in the room. No Ronaldo swagger, no Neymar flair – just relentless hunger wrapped in a boyish grin. At 17 he was already terrorising Primeira Liga defences with Paços de Ferreira, scoring on debut like it was the easiest thing in the world. Atlético Madrid snapped him up in 2016, but it was the loan to Wolves in 2018 that detonated his career: 44 goals in 131 games, the spearhead of Nuno Espírito Santo’s revolution that dragged the Black Country club from Championship obscurity to Europa League quarter-finals. By the time Liverpool paid £41 million (plus add-ons that hit £54m) in September 2020, Jürgen Klopp knew exactly what he was buying: a player who could replace Roberto Firmino’s brain, match Sadio Mané’s work-rate, and finish like peak Luis Suárez – all in one devastating package.

The numbers are brutal in their brilliance. 72 goals and 25 assists in 182 appearances for Liverpool – a goal contribution every 77 minutes. Premier League champion 2021/22. FA Cup, two Carabao Cups, Community Shield, and – in the cruelest twist – the 2024/25 Champions League trophy lifted at Wembley just 48 hours before the crash. Portugal’s Euro 2024 Golden Boot runner-up with 6 goals in 7 games, including that impossible hat-trick against Sweden that had Ronaldo clapping like a proud big brother.

But stats only tell half the story. Jota was the antidote to modern football’s ego epidemic. No tattoos, no drama, no social-media meltdowns – just turning up, tearing defences apart, and going home to play FIFA (ironically, he was rated 97 on Ultimate Team the week he died). Klopp called him “the perfect professional”: first in the gym, last to leave, always asking for extra finishing drills even after scoring four against Leeds. He was the player who made the impossible look routine – remember the Anfield bicycle kick against Spurs? The 95th-minute winner at Arsenal that sent the Kop into delirium? The way he ghosted past three Atlético defenders in the 2022 quarter-final, the club that once loaned him out like an afterthought?

His impact stretched far beyond Merseyside. In Portugal he was the bridge between Ronaldo’s era and the new guard – the kid who grew up idolising CR7, then stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him at Euro 2024, whispering tactics during drinks breaks like a veteran at 27. For Wolves, he remains the symbol of their golden age: the first player to score in four consecutive Premier League games for the club, the man whose £18m sale funded half of their Portuguese revolution. And for Liverpool, he was the ultimate luxury who became indispensable – the forward who could drop deep, press like a madman, and still finish with the composure of a born killer. When Salah, Mané, and Firmino left, Jota didn’t just fill the void – he redefined it.

Off the pitch, he was football’s quiet philanthropist. The Diogo Jota Esports Academy in Porto, launched in 2023, gave free gaming scholarships to underprivileged kids – because the boy who once played FIFA until sunrise never forgot where he came from. His donations to Portuguese wildfire victims, his visits to children’s hospitals in Liverpool wearing a silly Spiderman costume, the way he’d FaceTime young Wolves fans battling cancer – all done without a single camera crew. “He didn’t want praise,” his agent Jorge Mendes said after the tragedy. “He just wanted to make people smile.”

Today, Anfield will fall silent before kick-off against Manchester City. The Kop will unveil a new banner: “Diogo 29 – Forever Our No.20”. Wolves have retired his old number 18. Portugal’s national team will wear black armbands through 2026. And in Massarelos, a little square has been renamed Praça Diogo Jota, where kids kick balls against a mural of him mid-bicycle kick, the words beneath reading simply: “Nasceu para voar” – Born to fly.

Football moves fast. New heroes rise, records tumble, shirts change hands. But some players leave fingerprints that never fade. Diogo Jota wasn’t the loudest, the flashiest, or the most decorated of his generation. He was something rarer: the complete forward who made the beautiful game look effortless, who lifted trophies with a shy grin, who reminded us that humility and brilliance can coexist.

Wherever you are today, King Diogo – happy heavenly 29th. The goals have stopped, but the legend only grows. You’ll Never Walk Alone.