DOMINIC KING: The fact Liverpool were here to face Preston was triumph in itself

It all looked so normal. Close to the far touchline, a group of Liverpool players popped a ball around in one of those high-speed rondos, as Arne Slot's right-hand man Sipke Hulshoff supervised and barked out encouragement.

The sun was shining, the Liverpool fans in the Bill Shankly Kop were resplendent in red and the teamsheet was rich with intrigue: Giorgio Mamardashvili, the Georgia international, was starting in goal for the first time; academy graduates Rio Ngumoha and Trey Nyoni offered future promise.

But as you surveyed this scene, the melancholic choice of song being played inside Deepdale felt wholly appropriate. Souvenir, one of Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark's greatest offerings, is emotional and poignant and contains the line: 'You'll understand, it's not important now.'

How right that is. Up on the digital screen, there was the picture of Diogo Jota and Andre Silva, two brothers-in-arms. It has only been 10 days since the pair tragically perished in a car accident yet here were the Premier League champions trying to carry on with their routine.

The fact Liverpool were here was a triumph in itself. Yes, there comes a point after a bereavement when life must move on but something about this occasion felt disorientating for the 21,289 who had packed into this historic stadium. How can football matter when grief is so all-consuming?

'Nothing seems to be important if we think of what has happened,' Arne Slot told LFC TV before kick-off, his only interview of the day. 'But we are a football club. We need to train and we need to play again, if we want it or not.

'It's very difficult to find the right words because we constantly debate what is appropriate. What is appropriate in our actions? Can we train again? Can we laugh again? Can we be angry if there's a wrong decision? I've said to them, maybe the best thing for us to do is handle this situation like Jota.

'What I meant is Jota was always himself. It didn't matter if he was talking to me, to his teammates, to the staff. So let us try to be ourselves as well. If we want to laugh, we laugh. If we want to cry, we're going to cry. Don't think you have to be different than your emotions tell you.'

And how their emotions are raw. While the fans sang Jota's name relentlessly, at 240pm, 246pm, for nine minutes continuously when the clock reached 20 – the number he wore with such distinction and has now been retired from service by the club – the players did their best to power through.

Quite how they did it after the most immaculate pre-game ceremony is a testament to their professionalism. Before an impeccable minute's silence, Preston captain Ben Whiteman walked slowly on his own, carrying a white wreath to the away end. The occasion clearly affected him, too.

But both sides got on with it and played the game as professionally as Jota would have done. Preston were a credit and their fans fully deserved to celebrate when Liam Lindsay halved the advantage strikes from Conor Bradley and Darwin Nunez either side of half-time had given Liverpool the lead.

Cody Gakpo, though, saw to it that no comeback would materialise but even if it had, so what? Gakpo, a man of devout faith, pointed to the heavens after celebrating with a thunderclap, just as his much-missed old friend would have done.

At the final whistle, spontaneously they all came together: Liverpool players standing in front of the away end, fans singing for Jota. It was hugely powerful and poignant and then, as the stadium cleared, Souvenir was played for the second time. Football isn't important. Unity is all that matters.