Tomorrow, April 15, R.I.P.

As I'm sure a lot of you remember tomorrow is the 15th Anniversary
of a day when 96 football fans who went off to see their team play a match
did not come home.
Even if you are not normally into saying a prayer or whatever
keep them in mind tomorrow at 3.06pm.
Also, as it is the only newspaper that did not apologise for telling
lies about what happened on the day, even if you normally
buy the S*n, please support tomorrow's boycott. It is questionable whether any football fan who supports his or her local team should ever buy the filthy rag until such time as they print a proper apology for the lies they told, but please at least consider supporting tomorrow's boycott.
Lads, many of you may be of the mindset that Irish people should not bother with supporting any clubs outside Ireland. That's fine, I may not agree, but it's an opinion held by a lot of people. Tomorrow has nothing to do with that, though. Tomorrow is simply a day where people who support their local football team join together in solidarity to remember the 96. R.I.P.
Thanks for taking the time to read this
http://www.contrast.org/hillsborough/

Yup, we're all football supporters at the end of the day. Liverpool FC has never been the same since that day, it was the beginning of the end of a truly great team & club (unlike the imposters at the self styled "Theatre of Dreams").

RIP the 96

Can this be moved into General Football or Off-Topic.

Sorry mate, didn't mean to post in the wrong discussion forum, I'd have no objection to it being moved if one of the moderators sorted it out. Apologies again

Hey man ... all is good with me (actually had forgotten the date was coming up) Just might get more visitors there.

remember it vividly, a terrible tragedy.

I've had the conversation about buying 'The Sun' with Liverpool fans since, a lot do, not something I could understand to be honest.

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Originally Posted by A face

Hey man ... all is good with me (actually had forgotten the date was coming up) Just might get more visitors there.

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thanks, much appreciated

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Originally Posted by tiktok

remember it vividly, a terrible tragedy.

I've had the conversation about buying 'The Sun' with Liverpool fans since, a lot do, not something I could understand to be honest.

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Not something I can understand either, I remember the first time I saw a lad in a Liverpool top, on the boat heading over for a match, reading the thing, I was absolutely gobsmacked. I think a younger generation have grown up who don't really remember the tragedy or its aftermath. I wonder for a lot of people is football just another form of entertainment, they don't want to take it too seriously, such as think about things like Hillsborough. They'll wear a replica shirt for some English club and might even go to see their local eircom league team occasionally but it's not really a way of life for them, just a hobby? I don't mean to be harsh, I hope that they will prove me wrong and keep making the effort to support their local team if/ when football loses its current fashion status. Anyway I don't want to cloud the issue, I just wanted to remind people about tomorrow, thanks again for taking the time to look at the thread

Rip

Ynwa

RIP the 96.

I will never buy the flithy rag that is The Sun after their disgusting lies in the aftermath of the tragedy.

I am surprised everyone in Liverpool doesn't boycott it. Surely local newsagents etc could be presuaded to not even stock the flith.

To the best of my knowledge there are very few newsagents/news stalls that carry the rag in Liverpool.

I was at Anfield once, and was quite humbled to see the shrine outside the crowd with the names and ages of the deceased. Even then, and it was in 1996, it was fuly decked with flowers of sympathy. I was a strange feeling, looking at these names, fathers and sons and daughters, all they wanted to do was what i was about to do, watch Liverpool play.

May they all Rest In Peace and hope that a tragedy like this never happens ever again.

This is a great piece on what really happened at Hillsborough

http://forums.liverpoolfc.tv/Forum11/HTML/000504.html

This is also an account from a Liverpool fan who was actually in the Leppings Lane End as the tragedy unfolded:

The funny thing is, that since 1989 I have had a macabre fascination with what happened that day but I have had problems talking about it. What I wrote in the earlier post dredged up a lot of painful memories, but it actually helped.

Reading about the failure of the police and the authorities on that day (and since) still makes me angry.

The following is my memories of the day. They may not follow the timelines that other people have posted but it is how my memory has ordered things.

We finally took up a speck about 3 qtrs of the way up the pen. We did not notice the gates at the top of the pen leading to the sides (to be honest we were not looking but it is just worth noting for later). The atmosphere was still one of excitement. I remeber pointing up to the seats above the pen and telling my Dad where I had sat the previous semi.

The ground seemed to fill up pretty quickly and before long it was quite uncomfortable. Now, I am 6ft 2 and quite big (I trained regulary at a gym and did martial arts. My Dad is about 6ft, 6ft 1 and is pretty fit, but even so it was very uncomfortable.

As the ground filled up more, there was still no panic. I told my Dad that there was no problem, that once the players come out there will be a surge forward and then everyone will find there own space, it used to be a regular thing on the Kop.

As the kick off drew closer, the circumstances on the terracing quickly changed. It was now very uncomfortable and you had no control on your movements. We were now packed in so tight that as the crowd moved, you moved with it. I remember having to push really hard to stop my arms getting trapped by my sides. I started to feel claustrophobic. I had never felt this way before at a match and I had travelled all over the world with Lierpool - still I believed that the usual surge at the start of the game would level everything out. To think that the Police could see this on camera and did nothing - Unbelievable.

Now, I know I have made a big thing about my size and health, but there is one thing that I have missed off. I had acute asthma as a child and had a number of very scary episodes growing up.

At about 2.55 I started to feel slightly panicky. The crush and the heat was stealing the air from my lungs. I was struggling to get a breath. A started to stretch my neck up as high as I could to get cool, fresh air. It was a feeling that I can only describe as drowning (the nightmares that I had after that day actually always had me drowing, these are less frequent now but still occur).

The really weird thing about the sensations of panic at that time were that I was more concerned for my Dad. I was 24 and my Dad was 49 (he was 50 later that year). All I could think of was looking after my Dad (and after talking to him, he said he was more worried about me).

Suddenly the teams were on and there seemed to be a surge in the crowd. It was unlike any other that I had experienced. Usually the surge forward would alleviate the crush and then everyone would find their own level. This was different. It felt as if the crush had intensified.

I was really struggling now and was physically pushing the people in front to generate a pocket of air. Suddenly a girl in front of my Dad went limp. Her face just went grey. As the crowd moved she was dragged to one side. You could see that she was unconscious and the weight of the crush just took her in its tide. My dad grabbed hold of her and told me to force a wider gap. A pushed with all my might to enable her to be pushed in front of me. Then with a slight protective cell we managed to push her up over our heads and then she was passed backwards (I assume she was because as soon as she was pushed up, the weight of the crowd forced the gap to close and I could not ove to turn to see what happened).

By now it was real panic and I knew something was wrong. I have no idea of timescale. It felt like hours. Suddenly another surge and a roar. Peter Beardsley hit the bar. Surely this surge will settle things down. But now, it actually got worse. Then from the front someone started shouting at a steward or a policeman. His reaction was to wave at the fans to push back. He said something about a crush.

Push Back - was he joking!!! what did he think we were trying to do.

We couldn't push back. We were now like a single entity. No longer a crowd of individuals. We were packed so tightly that individual movement was impossible.

I looked up and could see the TV camera and I honestly thought I was about to die. I prayed that my Wife was not watching and that she would not be worrying. I could feel the lack of air starting to get to me. I thought I ws going to be dragged under. Then I felt my dad grab my arm. It steadied me and then suddenly I got a blast of air. I managed to push a bit of extra space in front of me.
A voice shouted again to push back, that people were dying.
By now, all thoughts of football had gone. This was now all about survival.
To anyone reading this, please remember, that from where I was, I still had no idea what was going on, what was happening. All I knew was that I needed air and I needed to look after my Dad.
Again someone shouted to push back. It made me angry. Push back ? Where the F*** to ? I didn't care if people were dying, I thought I was going to die.
Then I saw people climbing over the fence at the front. People starting screaming at the police to open the gates. Someone attempting to climb over was pushed back in.
Then I felt a bit of space behind me. People were being pulled up into the stands.
Suddenly, relief.
Air.
Space.
And then, realisation.
I could see people on the floor.
What on earth was happening?
It was a mess.

I looked up and could see the players walking off the pitch. I did not know what was going on. I was totally dazed.

I don't know how long passed. My dad never spoke. Then suddenly someone grabbed us and pushed up towards a gate into the next pen. I never questioned him or anything, I just let myself be led.

We got into the next pen and just sat down.
I watched as people started to be dragged from the front of the crush.

Suddenly the pitch seemed to be full of people running around. I remember watching a fireman give mouth to mouth. He kept trying until someone pulled him away. He wouldn't stop.

Then from the stands above, a blood curdling scream. Someone had seen their brother lying on the pitch. I remember crying as he was passed down from the stands to get to his brothers side.

Then fans started to tear down the hoarding to make stretchers. Amazing, still no professional help (or so it seemed).

My memory does not remember the actual sequence of events but through the grief, shock amd upset I remembr feeling rage as I watched the police form up across the halfway line. Was this to help out - No, they had assumed it was hooligans. With all the cameras and viewing stations and all the 'expertise' in crowd control - with all this information on hand (including perfect views of the pen) - they still had no idea what was going on.

I watched as heros gave mouth to mouth. I watched as brothers hugged brothers. I watched as dads held loved ones. I watched as no one came to help.

I sat on the terracing and cried. I could not help. I could not move. I still prayed that my wife was not watching. I prayed she knew I was alright.
My dad sat in silence.
What can you say.
Then someone walked up and sat down. He turned and said "Fifteen dead".
I felt sick.
I couldn't believe it.

Finally an announcement was made that the game was not continuing. What a joke. What game ? This was no longer a game. This was a shame on the country, the police and all connected with the government.
The government are supposed to run the country, ensure that it is a safe place to live.

As the last ofthe crowd started to dissapear. we made our way out ofthe ground.
It was an eerie walk back to the car.
It was like a scene from a horror film. Zombies just walking. Numb and brainless.

And then every time I pulled my self together, someone would come out of a house doorway and pat me on my back and say sorry or offer me a cup of tea or the use of their phone.
Me, they offered me sympathy. What had I done but watched as people had died.

We then turned a corner near where we had parked and saw a queue to a telephone box. Second in the queue was my mate. He looked up. His face was still wet with tears. He had thought we had died. He was just about to ring his dad to go round to my mums house (they were neighbours).
We hugged like long lost relatives. There was no embarresment at this show of emotion.
He swore at me and said that he had been worried sick. He wanted to know where we had been, why had we not left straight away.
I had no answers.
He rang his dad and told him to tell my mum we were okay. His Dad said he would and that my wife was at my mums as he had seen her arrive.
The guy behind my mate asked if I wanted to use the phone.
I said no.
I couldn't.
I knew I could not speak to anyone at home.
It was taking all my will power to stop from breaking down in uncontrollable tears.

We got back to the car and sat in silence for about ten minutes.
My dad offered to drive but I said I was okay.
We put the radio on.
30 dead.

Oh my God.

We drove off and then saw a bar/club or something.
It was full of Liverpool fans. I needed the toilet and a glass of water.
We went in. It was silent.
People just sat in silence and shock.
A TV was showing images.
I just went to the toliet. When I came back my dad and friend had finished a drink. I drank a few sips of water and then said we should go.

The drive home was surreal. The radio number increased. I drove at speeds way above the limit, but nobody seemed to care.
Then my dad told me to pull over at some services.
At the time I didn't know why, but later my dad had said that he could see that my knucles were white as I had gripped the wheel tighter and tighter.
I went to the loo again in the services and then decided to ring home.
I just said
"I'm okay" and put the phone down.

We then drove home without saying much more.

Arriving home was not the end of story, but it is as much as I can write at the moment. These are memories that I have never fully shared with anyone.

What started out as a glorious day had turned into a nightmare I would never forget.

Returning Home. I honestly thought that once the day was over then the horror would disappear. I had seen many things over the years on the news. One day they make the headlines the next day they are gone and forgotten. You become immune to the numbers .....1000 people die in earthquake in some foreign land......terrorist attack kills 100s in another foreign land. I used to see these on the news, feel a sense of sympathy and then forget. I thought that would be how I would be affected by the days events. Tomorrow I will wake up and new headlines will replace the old and it will all be forgotten.
But that did not happen.

I arrived home from Hillsborough and dropped my Dad off at my Mums. She came running out and hugged me. She then said a weird thing. She had been worrying about it all day since hearing the initial reports. She did not even look at my Dad. She looked at me and said "I am glad you are okay". I shrugged it off and said "Me Dads okay as well", she said that she wasnt worried about him as she could always re marry but a son cannot be replaced. It wasn't meant as anything nasty, but I can understand now what she means and I can only just imagine what it must be like for all those mothers whose sons and daughters did not come home.

Finally I headed home. I pulled up on the drive and my Wife was waiting (along with a few neighbours) including the one I had met inside the ground before the start of the game). As soon as I saw everyone I felt sick. I just ran passed everyone and went into the kitchen. I stood over the sink retching but nothing came up.

I was numb and did not know what to do. I remember putting on the radio (Sky did not exist so we did not have rolling news channels etc.). The number of dead was still rising.

My mate came over and talked me into going out for a drink. We went down to the local (my Dad, wife and a few others all came along). It was really busy but almost silent in the pub. Everyone spoke in whispered tones.

Finally I felt as if I had relaxed and I started to chill out and have a few laughs. By the time I went home I felt okay.

That night was one of the worst nights in my life.

I had nightmares that I will not go into detail about but usually involved people being crushed or people drowning and always had me in a situation watching on helpless.

These nightmares went on for a number of years but got less frequent. Now they are almost gone but usually when Hillsborough is in the news I still get the odd bad dream as opposed to nightmare.

Then came the news of the pilgramage to Anfield. Initially I could not face it. I vowed I was not going to go. It was stupid, why would anyone want to go and wallow in pity about this. I assumed it would just be a load of people wanting to hear the macabre stories of the day. How wrong I was. In the end my Wife and parents talked me into going. We queued up right down along the Kemlyn Rd stand and made are way around (John Peel was in the queue behind me and was an absolute gentleman).

When I got into the ground I almost choked at the sight of the flowers and scarves.
I finally made my way over to the spot in the Kop where I used to stand. I just looked out over the pitch and ....... I do not know how to describe this. I cried my heart out but did not shed a tear. My whole body was screaming out in pain but I stood still and just looked at the scene of flowers and scarves. Looking back I know I should have let go and not bottled it up, but hey, I was a young lad and we don't cry. Since that day I have never really cried over Hillsborough. I have cried inside (watching the drama doc was painful). Hopefully one day I will release the pain.

Other things happened after the day of the tragedy. The Sun printed its lies and god that hurt. The police came and took interviews and treated me like a liar (they could not believe that I did not drink alcohol). Then came the Taylor report, the regular news coverage, the cover up, the anniversaries.

Every time it is raised I feel the pain. The funny thing is, I am a lucky one, only part of me died that day unlike those we remember on the memorial.

Time moves on and I still have total distrust of the Police and the authorities. I think Jack Straw is a hypocrite and I will hate (I know it is a strong word, but I really do hate him) Dukenfield until the day I die.

To all those who lost loved ones that day, you have my deepest sympathy and I hope that one day you get the closure you deserve.

Very sad indeed :(

RIP the 96.

YNWA

:ball: PP