Post by kemo on Apr 15, 2009 9:35:18 GMT
I'm sure most of you are aware that today marks the 20th anniversary of the tragedy that was Hillsborough. Being an 11 year old Manchester United fan the events that happened on this day 20 years ago will long live in my memory as probably one of the worst sporting disasters ever witnessed. I'd like to pay this tribute to the "96" That lost their lives on this fatal day.
I found this lovely story on a football forum that I'd like to share with you all. It's a story from a Liverpool Fan who was part of the crowd on that fatal day. It's a very emotional read
"On the morning of the match, the weather was very similar to what we've experienced over the past couple of days. Myself, along with my mate Gary, & Brother-in-Law Jimmy, set-off around 10.30am. Driving over The Woodhead Pass, taking in the wonderful scenery on a beautiful Spring day - Having stopped for something to eat on the outskirts of Sheffield, we parked up about a mile or so away from the ground at approx 1.30pm. We slowly made our way up to Hillsborough, getting involved in the general banter & piss-taking that normal covers up the butterflies everyone feels before a big match. When we arrived at the ground, even then, we realised things were different to what we'd experienced the previous year, when the same match, played between the same teams, had taken place at Sheffield Wednesday's ground. In 1988 the police had operated a system whereby they set-up groups of coppers asking to check supporters tickets. Once they had done so, they gently persuaded us to move closer to the stadium. This was repeated again as we got closer, until, before we knew it, we were inside whether we liked it or not. In 1989, the same practice wasn't followed, as fans were generally left to mill outside & soak up the sunshine.
We entered into The Leppings Lane end at roughly 2.15pm & made our way into the already overcrowded central pen. After 10 minutes or so, even us hardened Kopites decided it was far too packed & went back out through the tunnel to go into the left pen, which was less than half-full at the time. 15 minutes or so before kick-off, Gary went for a piss. The toilets were located up in the stands immediately above the terraced area. When he returned, he remarked on the amount of people still outside. From the rear of the stands, it was possible to see over the gates at the mass of Liverpool fans trying to make their into the ground. From our vantage point, we were only a few yards away from the same pen we'd left only 20 minutes or so earlier. It was clear to see even then that something was not right. There was very little singing, & people seemed to be quite distressed. I couldn't understand why they'd want to put themselves through all that. Shortly before the match kicked-off, there was a rush of people around us. One guy commented on how he'd paid £6 for his ticket & the police had opened the gates without checking it. When the game started, there was a surreal, uneasy atmosphere amongst those around me. We had one eye on the pitch & one on the events that were going on in the middle pen. Fans were being pulled up to safety by other supporters in the stands. We could see a few people who were unconscious, yet incredibly, the police seemed totally oblivious to what was going on. A few of us quickly made our way down to the front to try & make the police aware of the situation. One copper smashed his baton on the blue wire-meshing & told us to, "shut the fuck up you Scouse bas*****". After a few minutes, with more & more fans having to clamber to safety, it became only too obvious that something catastrophic was going on. With fans now spilling onto the pitch, the referee called a halt to the game. The next 45 minutes or so were the most traumatic I've ever experienced in my life.
We all stood there. Silent, motionless, but worse of all, totally helpless. I can't think of a word that suitably describes the carnage that was taking place before us. Liverpool fans were ripping down advertising boards to use as stretchers to take injured & dying fans to the ambulances waiting outside the ground. There was no order to anything, no-one to take control. Of all the images I witnessed in that 45 minutes, there are 2 that still haunt me to this day - One is seeing the lifeless body of a young lad lying on the pitch just a few yards in front of me. It was difficult to ascertain his age because his shirt had been pulled up to cover his face by those who had tried, unsuccessfully, to save the young lad. I remember looking at his frail little body, with one of his trainers missing, & wondering why nobody was sitting with him, holding him until his mum & dad could take him home. The second one is watching a St Johns ambulanceman trying desperately to resuscitate this guy, whilst his friend/brother/son/father watched in anguish at his attempts. After a few minutes, the St Johns guy stood up & slowly shook his head. The other bloke simply fell to his knees & buried his head into his hands & into the Turf sobbing uncontrollably.
Shortly before 4pm, we suddenly broke from our trance & realised that what was going on, was being beamed to our families via the TV screens. This being the era before mobile phones, we knew we had to make contact with our loved ones to let the know we were OK.
We made our way quickly, & silently back to the car. Searching in desparation for a vacant phone-box so we could call our respective families to re-assure them that we were fine. However, every one we passed had about a dozen or so Liverpool fans waiting to use it. We decided to get into the car & drive further afield in the hope of finding a vacant phone-box. After a half a mile or so, we eventually found one. I parked the car at an awkward angle on the road, so much so that a local bus driver had difficulty in getting past. As we made our way to make our telephone call, the bus driver opened up the doors of his bus to make a point about my parking skills. I promptly lashed back with a mouthful of abuse, not really caring that much at the inconvenience I'd caused him.
I don't really recall too much of the journey back home, except that we had the radio on, listening to the aftermath of the awful tragedy we'd only recently left. After I'd dropped Jimmy & Gary off, I arrived home shortly before 7pm. My wife flung her arms around me with a mixture of joy, relief, & sadness. I myself was still feeling too numb to really feel anything. It wasn't until I went into the bedroom of my 2 week-old son & watched him sleeping peacefully, did I cry for the first time.
I slept for only a couple of hours that night. My sleep was broken by a dream I had concerning the bus-driver I'd verbally abused earlier on in the day. In it, he had the doors open on his bus, letting copious amounts of Liverpool fans on board. I could see them getting crushed, but he continued to do nothing. More & more were getting on, & more & more people were dying in front of me. I was screaming at the nearby police to do something about it, but they simply held me back, smiling as they did so.
The following day was when it really hit home. I'd experienced the shock, followed by the anger, now the grief took a grip. Radio City, Merseyside's local radio station, played nothing but mellow music all day. No DJ's, just regular news bulletins, which obviously covered only one story. I'd heard that Liverpool Football Club had opened it's gates to allow supporters inside to pay it's respects to those that had died. After a quick telephone call to Jimmy & Gary, they too felt it was the right thing to do. We made our way to Anfield, stopping on the way to buy flowers. We placed our flowers on the goal-line at the Kop end, taking time to read some of the messages that had already been left. We then sat on the steps of the Kop along with a lot of fellow fans, sitting in quiet reflection of what had happened less than 24 hours earlier.
The support we got from other clubs & other fans over the following weeks was absolutely incredible. Tributes from Everton & Manchester United supporters in particular were highly prominent in the thousands of wreaths, scarves etc that were placed in & around Anfield.
As we now approach the 20th anniversary of the Hillsborough tragedy, I often get asked how much that day has changed me. In truth, it's really difficult to say. I was never in any really danger, & I never knew anyone that had lost their lives. A good friend of mine suffers from severe claustrophobia as a result of being caught up in the middle pen. He's never been to a football match since, & I doubt he ever will. Even going shopping has to be done early in the morning, before the crowds manifest themselves. So I think it's important to remember that there were other casualties as a result of what happened that day. For me personally, my scars are relatively minor in comparison. However, as my son has recently celebrated his 20th birthday, I find it harder & harder each year to look at the ages of many of those who died at Hillsborough. For every year that passes, there seems to be more & more who were younger than my lad when they lost their lives. I can't even imagine what those families must have felt like when they found out their sons, daughters, fathers, brothers etc were not coming home. So for me, that is the biggest scar of all that I will always carry around with me.
Finally. 'My story' is probably similar to thousands of others who were there that day. I've not gone too much into the 'why' of what happened, because it's been fairly well documented, plus there will be plenty of TV coverage over the next few days concerning the tragedy. So there is no excuse for anyone, no matter what their age, to not have a fairly good understanding of what happened that day. & if anything good can come from all this, maybe those same people will have a greater appreciation of what they've got the next time they visit a Premiership football ground. There are 96 people, who sadly, are not around to enjoy the vast improvements that have been made since that terrible day".
RIP
I found this lovely story on a football forum that I'd like to share with you all. It's a story from a Liverpool Fan who was part of the crowd on that fatal day. It's a very emotional read
"On the morning of the match, the weather was very similar to what we've experienced over the past couple of days. Myself, along with my mate Gary, & Brother-in-Law Jimmy, set-off around 10.30am. Driving over The Woodhead Pass, taking in the wonderful scenery on a beautiful Spring day - Having stopped for something to eat on the outskirts of Sheffield, we parked up about a mile or so away from the ground at approx 1.30pm. We slowly made our way up to Hillsborough, getting involved in the general banter & piss-taking that normal covers up the butterflies everyone feels before a big match. When we arrived at the ground, even then, we realised things were different to what we'd experienced the previous year, when the same match, played between the same teams, had taken place at Sheffield Wednesday's ground. In 1988 the police had operated a system whereby they set-up groups of coppers asking to check supporters tickets. Once they had done so, they gently persuaded us to move closer to the stadium. This was repeated again as we got closer, until, before we knew it, we were inside whether we liked it or not. In 1989, the same practice wasn't followed, as fans were generally left to mill outside & soak up the sunshine.
We entered into The Leppings Lane end at roughly 2.15pm & made our way into the already overcrowded central pen. After 10 minutes or so, even us hardened Kopites decided it was far too packed & went back out through the tunnel to go into the left pen, which was less than half-full at the time. 15 minutes or so before kick-off, Gary went for a piss. The toilets were located up in the stands immediately above the terraced area. When he returned, he remarked on the amount of people still outside. From the rear of the stands, it was possible to see over the gates at the mass of Liverpool fans trying to make their into the ground. From our vantage point, we were only a few yards away from the same pen we'd left only 20 minutes or so earlier. It was clear to see even then that something was not right. There was very little singing, & people seemed to be quite distressed. I couldn't understand why they'd want to put themselves through all that. Shortly before the match kicked-off, there was a rush of people around us. One guy commented on how he'd paid £6 for his ticket & the police had opened the gates without checking it. When the game started, there was a surreal, uneasy atmosphere amongst those around me. We had one eye on the pitch & one on the events that were going on in the middle pen. Fans were being pulled up to safety by other supporters in the stands. We could see a few people who were unconscious, yet incredibly, the police seemed totally oblivious to what was going on. A few of us quickly made our way down to the front to try & make the police aware of the situation. One copper smashed his baton on the blue wire-meshing & told us to, "shut the fuck up you Scouse bas*****". After a few minutes, with more & more fans having to clamber to safety, it became only too obvious that something catastrophic was going on. With fans now spilling onto the pitch, the referee called a halt to the game. The next 45 minutes or so were the most traumatic I've ever experienced in my life.
We all stood there. Silent, motionless, but worse of all, totally helpless. I can't think of a word that suitably describes the carnage that was taking place before us. Liverpool fans were ripping down advertising boards to use as stretchers to take injured & dying fans to the ambulances waiting outside the ground. There was no order to anything, no-one to take control. Of all the images I witnessed in that 45 minutes, there are 2 that still haunt me to this day - One is seeing the lifeless body of a young lad lying on the pitch just a few yards in front of me. It was difficult to ascertain his age because his shirt had been pulled up to cover his face by those who had tried, unsuccessfully, to save the young lad. I remember looking at his frail little body, with one of his trainers missing, & wondering why nobody was sitting with him, holding him until his mum & dad could take him home. The second one is watching a St Johns ambulanceman trying desperately to resuscitate this guy, whilst his friend/brother/son/father watched in anguish at his attempts. After a few minutes, the St Johns guy stood up & slowly shook his head. The other bloke simply fell to his knees & buried his head into his hands & into the Turf sobbing uncontrollably.
Shortly before 4pm, we suddenly broke from our trance & realised that what was going on, was being beamed to our families via the TV screens. This being the era before mobile phones, we knew we had to make contact with our loved ones to let the know we were OK.
We made our way quickly, & silently back to the car. Searching in desparation for a vacant phone-box so we could call our respective families to re-assure them that we were fine. However, every one we passed had about a dozen or so Liverpool fans waiting to use it. We decided to get into the car & drive further afield in the hope of finding a vacant phone-box. After a half a mile or so, we eventually found one. I parked the car at an awkward angle on the road, so much so that a local bus driver had difficulty in getting past. As we made our way to make our telephone call, the bus driver opened up the doors of his bus to make a point about my parking skills. I promptly lashed back with a mouthful of abuse, not really caring that much at the inconvenience I'd caused him.
I don't really recall too much of the journey back home, except that we had the radio on, listening to the aftermath of the awful tragedy we'd only recently left. After I'd dropped Jimmy & Gary off, I arrived home shortly before 7pm. My wife flung her arms around me with a mixture of joy, relief, & sadness. I myself was still feeling too numb to really feel anything. It wasn't until I went into the bedroom of my 2 week-old son & watched him sleeping peacefully, did I cry for the first time.
I slept for only a couple of hours that night. My sleep was broken by a dream I had concerning the bus-driver I'd verbally abused earlier on in the day. In it, he had the doors open on his bus, letting copious amounts of Liverpool fans on board. I could see them getting crushed, but he continued to do nothing. More & more were getting on, & more & more people were dying in front of me. I was screaming at the nearby police to do something about it, but they simply held me back, smiling as they did so.
The following day was when it really hit home. I'd experienced the shock, followed by the anger, now the grief took a grip. Radio City, Merseyside's local radio station, played nothing but mellow music all day. No DJ's, just regular news bulletins, which obviously covered only one story. I'd heard that Liverpool Football Club had opened it's gates to allow supporters inside to pay it's respects to those that had died. After a quick telephone call to Jimmy & Gary, they too felt it was the right thing to do. We made our way to Anfield, stopping on the way to buy flowers. We placed our flowers on the goal-line at the Kop end, taking time to read some of the messages that had already been left. We then sat on the steps of the Kop along with a lot of fellow fans, sitting in quiet reflection of what had happened less than 24 hours earlier.
The support we got from other clubs & other fans over the following weeks was absolutely incredible. Tributes from Everton & Manchester United supporters in particular were highly prominent in the thousands of wreaths, scarves etc that were placed in & around Anfield.
As we now approach the 20th anniversary of the Hillsborough tragedy, I often get asked how much that day has changed me. In truth, it's really difficult to say. I was never in any really danger, & I never knew anyone that had lost their lives. A good friend of mine suffers from severe claustrophobia as a result of being caught up in the middle pen. He's never been to a football match since, & I doubt he ever will. Even going shopping has to be done early in the morning, before the crowds manifest themselves. So I think it's important to remember that there were other casualties as a result of what happened that day. For me personally, my scars are relatively minor in comparison. However, as my son has recently celebrated his 20th birthday, I find it harder & harder each year to look at the ages of many of those who died at Hillsborough. For every year that passes, there seems to be more & more who were younger than my lad when they lost their lives. I can't even imagine what those families must have felt like when they found out their sons, daughters, fathers, brothers etc were not coming home. So for me, that is the biggest scar of all that I will always carry around with me.
Finally. 'My story' is probably similar to thousands of others who were there that day. I've not gone too much into the 'why' of what happened, because it's been fairly well documented, plus there will be plenty of TV coverage over the next few days concerning the tragedy. So there is no excuse for anyone, no matter what their age, to not have a fairly good understanding of what happened that day. & if anything good can come from all this, maybe those same people will have a greater appreciation of what they've got the next time they visit a Premiership football ground. There are 96 people, who sadly, are not around to enjoy the vast improvements that have been made since that terrible day".
RIP
Thanx for posting this must have been a shocking experience for all those people to have gone through.. ..the scars will never heal Im sure ...but they will also never be forgotten and Im sure all football supporters worldwide no matter who they support were saddened and emotionally affected on that terrible day........R.I.P.
