Covid-19 deaths put football's plans into perspective: Richard Buxton

Immortality comes to football's great and good only once they are no longer around.

Larger-than-life characters that captivated and coloured the Beautiful Game in equal measure do not grow old in the minds of those whose lives were enriched by their personal endeavours.

Death elevates them to an untouchable status which no illness or disease could possibly taint.

Those memories are now mixed with questions after Norman Hunter, a member of England's 1966 World Cup-winning squad, last week became the latest high-profile victim of Covid-19.

Hunter's tough-tackling style earned him the affectionate nickname of "Bite Yer Legs" among Leeds United supporters at the height of their all-conquering days in the early 1970s.

But the battles he won on the pitch paled in comparison to the one he ultimately lost off it.

His and Kenny Dalglish's paths overlapped only four times in their respective playing careers, with Liverpool's talisman getting the better of his opposite number by scoring twice in those games. Yet, the pair found themselves simultaneously fighting against the coronavirus this month.

Dalglish's name could easily have joined Hunter's in memoriam as the pandemic continues to afflict all and sundry, irrespective of background.

Besides Hunter, it has also claimed the lives of Pep Guardiola's mother Dolors Sala Carrio, ex-Real Madrid president Lorenzo Sanz, his former Marseille counterpart Pape Diouf, as well as a host of club legends throughout Europe, including some from the continent's worst-affected regions.

Former Atalanta goalkeeper Zaccaria Cometti and Real legend Goyo Benito are further casualties while Bernard Gonzalez, a doctor with Ligue 1 club Reims, committed suicide after becoming infected.

Yet the passing of Atletico Madrid duo Jose Luis Capon and Miguel Jones puts the ongoing discussions about how and when to resume the current season into true perspective.

COMMITTED

Last week, the English Premier League confirmed that it was committed to finishing the season, no matter how long it takes, with the Covid-19 pandemic showing no signs of easing.

Atletico's win over Liverpool in the Champions League's Round of 16 on March 11 proved a watershed moment for football in the coronavirus era.

Uncertainty had clouded the game even before the doors had opened to the 52,267 people packed inside Anfield that night.

More than 3,000 Atleti supporters travelled over from the Spanish capital, where 782 of the country's 1,646 cases at that time had originated, exposing a different major city to Covid-19.

Opposing fans rubbed shoulders in the streets outside the stadium as well as in its stands.

Five days on from that pulsating encounter, 12 confirmed cases of coronavirus were reported in the Merseyside region. That number has now spiralled to almost 3,000, with over 480 deaths.

In Britain, there are now over 114,000 cases and more than 15,000 deaths.

The mayors of Madrid, Jose Luis Martinez-Almeida, and Liverpool, Joe Anderson, both criticised the decision to allow the match to go ahead, just as Bergamo's mayor Giorgio Gori has said the Champions League tie between Atalanta and Valencia in Milan was "among the sad explanations" for the high infection and death rate in the region.

Earlier this month, Juergen Klopp conceded that he found it difficult to prepare for the Reds' Champions League title defence once armed with the knowledge that Spain was preparing to enforce a nationwide lockdown to limit the impact of Covid-19.

Marcos Llorente recently claimed that Liverpool's players were "freaked out" by Atleti during the game's frantic extra-time finish.

Virtually everyone inside Anfield that night felt the same way.

A bona fide European classic has become pockmarked by the betrayal of football's authorities.

When the game is reshown in years to come, everyone will still be asking the same question.

Why?