Hillsborough remembered twenty years on

I remember where I was quite clearly at 3:06 pm on Saturday 15 April 1989. I was in the small market town of Newtownards, about 15 minutes east of Belfast, sitting in the back of my parents car on a busy shopping street listening to the radio. I had been taken shopping by my folks and was eager to get home and play with my mates. I think we were listening to the local commercial station. There are many of these cheesy no-nonsense stations where content and music are mere filler between advertisements for local shops. At six minutes after 3 there was a newsflash and the afternoon DJ cut to go live to Hillsborough football ground where the FA Cup semi-final had just kicked off. I can clearly remember many different football matches, my first match (Manchester United 1- Everton 0 after extra time in the 1985 FA Cup Final. Norman Whiteside curled the winning goal past Neville Southall. Norman instantly became my hero, being from my hometown. I met him a couple of years ago and got my photo taken. I was genuinely thrilled), every World Cup Final since 1986 (Maradona’s Argentina in my parent’s front room), 1990 (Germany bored their way to a 1-nil win over Argentina in an Isle of Man hotel room) 1994 (Brazil beat Italy on penalties as I gored my way through a Toblerone I had bought in Geneva airport. I then vomited hot chocolate all over my mum’s favourite rug) 1998 (France surprisingly beat Brazil 3-nil as I drank Guinness in Major Tom’s in Dublin, 2002 (Brazil’s Ronaldo scored twice against an under-performing Germany early on a Sunday morning with my yoga loving ex-girlfriend) 2006 (Italy beat France on the 12th July as the 11th night bonfires smouldered at a mate’s house and our hangovers throbbed). I could tell you where I watched every FA Cup final and most of Northern Ireland ’s home matches since the early 1990s. There is a thrill in a sport caster cutting to another stadium as you think there must have been a goal, a sending off or another major incident. It was immediately obvious that something else had happened. The reporter was describing how Liverpool fans were being crushed and the pitch was now being flooded with fans. The game had been called off and rumours began to filter through that fans were losing their lives. It’s hard to describe the feeling you get when something utterly incredibly bad happens. It’s link a tingling in your scalp and a rush of noise in your ears. I could tell from the reporters tone that this was very serious indeed. We listened to the reports in silence the whole way home. As we turned into the driveway, I couldn’t get out of the car and inside to watch the footage on television quick enough. I watched for what must have been hours, listening to horrific eyewitness accounts, watching still photographs of distraught Liverpool fans watching friends and relatives being carried limp from the crowd. Maps of the stadium were flashed up on screen and low-tech diagrams showed the flow of the crowd. The head of the Sheffield Police was interviewed and tried to explain how his men had made a grave error opening the Leppings Lane gate, prompting a huge wave of fans to rush onto the terracing, crushing those who had got there early against the steel fencing penning them in. Fans spoke of the crush lifting them off their feet, completely immobilising them, pinning their arms by their sides as those beside them turned blue. 96 football fans lost their lives and the entire United Kingdom went into days of mourning. Sport has not been the same since. The government’s Taylor report changed how we watch sport, bringing in stricter policing, crowd control guidelines and all-seater stadia. The all-conquering Liverpool side broke up and the club fell into decline which it has only recently started to get out of. They will never dominate the way they did in the 80s. Their fans had been in trouble the same decade, rioting against Juventus in the European Cup final, prompting a wall to collapse killing dozens of Italian fans in what became known as the Hyssel Disaster in Belgium . The Sun, Britain’s biggest tabloid newspaper blamed the fans, causing a massive boycott of the paper in the Merseyside area. Today is the 20th anniversary of Hillsborough. It has re-opened old wounds and the old memories have come flashing back. Football hasn’t been the same since. Sure it’s safer, but it has also been taken away from the common man. It’s a game for prawn sandwich eaters and big business where TV contracts and exchange rates determine which teams perform best on and off the pitch and which go out of business. I doubt anyone from Belfast will ever score the winning goal in an FA Cup Final ever again. Top English sides are crammed full of Italians, Portuguese and Brazilians. There’s no room for Irishmen or Scotsmen, unless they are truly exceptional. There’s barely room for Englishmen.