I'm not a Scouser; I'm a Woolyback. I've always associated closely with Liverpool, spent a lot of time there (despite now working in Manchester) and have supported Liverpool since about the age of 4 when a new kid, who was from Liverpool, from a family of Liverpool fanatics, moved in 4 houses down from me and we became best mates (still are mates, 40 years on). But I'm not from Liverpool.
I don't know any of the families of the 96. I didn't have any close friends there - the nearest to that was a friend of a friend who I'd met 2 or 3 times, and who was caught in the crush at the Leppings Lane Terrace and, although was ultimately OK, did turn blue for a time through being unable to breath and needed medical treatment.
I certainly wasn't at Hillsborough. Despite following Liverpool like a maniac growing up, knowing every player, every score, every honour, by 1989 I'd probably only been to around a dozen games, always with my dad, who put his Everton support to one side to indulge me - even cheering with me when Liverpool scored, a smile on his face so warm because I was happy and his own footballing preference didn't matter in those moments.
On the afternoon of Saturday April 14th 1989, I was sat in my mate's beaten-up Vauxhall Chevette with another mate, outside a scrapyard, while the car-owning mate was inside trying to get a headlight to replace the one he'd smashed when going too fast down the ramp from a multi-storey car park. The radio was on as we listened to the build-up to the match. When the tone of the broadcast changed as the disaster became apparent, our sense of dread building, we sat in silence. The car-owning mate came back, all smiles as he carried a headlight. His smile faded as we told him something terrible was happening at the Liverpool game. We sat there for an age, in his car outside thescrapyard, nervously smoking, listening to the commentary not of a football game but of a tragedy unfolding.
The memory of that afternoon is etched on my mind. Over the years the emotions that even a mention of Hillsborough bring forward have remained undimmed – a mix of horror, sympathy, anger & desolation. And I had just a loose connection to the event, that of a distant fan. I cannot begin to know how those who lost loved ones or witnessed the carnage feel.
But I can know that the admiration I have for their dignity throughout and for their tenacity in their fight for truth and justice is limitless. Seeing the group of families & survivors yesterday after the verdict was bittersweet. You could see relief and joy in their faces – and god knows, if any group on this planet deserves some of that it is these – but the price they have paid has been immense. The smiles yesterday could not disguise the haunted pain that remains. I hope the verdicts yesterday can give everyone affected some semblance of peace, and I hope that those responsible not just for the catalogue of errors on the day and the awful planning decisions prior to that, but especially those who despicably tried to cover their and their colleagues’ incompetence in the most sickening way, are made accountable for their actions.
If one positive can come of all this, it is the reaffirmation that Liverpool FC is a special club. And that Liverpool is a uniquely special city. Even as someone on the periphery, I feel a sense of pride that I have even a small association with you all.
YNWA