What Hillsborough Means To Me - LFC.TV

On the 22nd anniversary of Britain's worst sporting disaster, we publish 96 very different responses to the question: What does Hillsborough mean to you?

1. Margaret Aspinall, Mother of 18-year-old James who died at Hillsborough

I can't blame the club for what happened on that day. I'm angry that they even allowed the game to be played at Hillsborough, especially giving Liverpool supporters the smaller end of the ground, but I've no resentment against Liverpool Football Club since Hillsborough. I felt we were trying to defend the fans on that day, which is the wrong word to use, because there was nothing to defend them for, but that's what we were doing at the time and I just felt very angry with the Club that they didn't do something more for their supporters at that time. They should have done it, not us, but I felt we had to do it. In other ways, the Club have been very supportive to the Hillsborough Family Support Group. It's important when you go the Memorial Service that you remember the cost of these all-seater stadiums. Not monetary but something so much more precious than that, 96 human beings. A part I try to remember is that's the price our children paid for safety. Families knew that this was a cover up and it is a cover up. I'm not ashamed to say that. If that offends anyone, tough, I make no apologies for that. The Memorial Service has always been full. Even last year we know we could have had a lot more people there but we had to make it all ticket, for safety reasons, for the same reasons that 96 people died. Safety is paramount.

2. Barney Lowe, Supporter

What does Hillsborough mean to me? The day football died.

3. Scot Williams, Actor

What does Hillsborough mean to me? In brief, it breaks my heart in two every time I hear the word.

I can no longer sing 'You'll Never Walk Alone' without crying a river of tears.

I remember doing my research for my role of Joe Glover in the 1996 Docu-Drama 'Hillsborough', (Joe was surviving brother of Ian Glover, one of the 96 victims).

I remember interviewing a guy in a wheelchair who hadn't walked since that fateful day of April 15th 1989. He was completely able bodied and had full use of his legs, but on that particular day he had stood on children's head's and so now flatly refused to ever stand upon his own two feet again.

I interviewed a man who had barely said a single word in the seven years between the disaster and the film. That man told me something that he had NEVER told anyone else, not even his own parents and that something was his brothers final words to him that day: 'Please don't let me die'.

I spoke to a guy who awoke under a pile of bodies, presumed dead and flung aside. He'd had his pulse taken by a policeman wearing leather gloves.

I scrolled through piles and piles of photographs of victims of crush asphyxia, shots from that day that where very rarely seen. Men with arms broken at right angles; old men crying; children dying.

Hillsborough was TWO disasters. First, what unfurled that day in the Leppings Lane stands and secondly the disaster that followed in the law courts. I watched hour upon hour of footage from both of these events. I saw survivors and families of the dead being asked if their loved ones had been drunk, disorderly.

I saw Liverpool football fans accused of terrible, terrible things. I saw hideous blatant lies spread on tabloid front pages in a bid to make bloody money, but people have eyes and they will have seen what I saw.

Great heroism, courage, initiative, an army of medics and soldiers all dressed in the Red shirts of LFC fighting for their fellow men and women, fighting for the family that is Liverpool Football Club.

So yes, Hillsborough to me means INJUSTICE, TRADGEDY, TEARS.

But it also means PRIDE, HOPE and LOVE. YOU'LL NEVER WALK ALONE.

4. Kevin Cowley, Supporter

The very word Hillsborough changes me even today. It has become to me more than a word. It has the ability to transport me back to that day.

It evokes tears and defiance. It gives me goose bumps when I or others speak about it. It signified a change in me that has made me the person I am today.

Twenty two years ago, I was a happy go lucky teenager with my life mapping out the way I wanted. I was academically bright, sporty and confident. I had spent my youth following the Reds and match day was the highlight of every week.

The person that came back across the Pennines and got off that coach was not the same. I struggled to complete my A levels. I couldn't concentrate anymore. I was prone to sudden outbursts of anger and real depths of depression. I stopped going to the match for 11 years.

It left me looking at a person in the mirror that I didn't recognise. Today, as I write this, it is a beautiful spring day. But they are the worst. I want to sleep until the 16th April. I want to hide from the world.

I rage, I cry, I have nightmares about getting out of Pen 3 and the things I saw. I look to the sky and think, 'It was just like today' and I feel isolated from even my closest family and friends. I am surrounded by the love of my family but feel alone, exposed.

I feel guilt and shame. I feel pride and sorrow. I fought my way out of that pen, but try to console myself knowing that on the pitch, I carried the dead to the gym.

I struggle every day to come to terms with it and have yet to find a release. I lived, they died. I still don't know why. This year, as every year, I will be back on that terrace. I hear the cries and moans. I smell the sweat and fear. Seeing again the mental pictures I carry with me.

Waiting for the 16th to come and hoping that next year could be different. To some people Hillsborough is a word. To me and many others it's a constant every day of our lives.

5. Tony Barrett, The Times

HILLSBOROUGH. Even now, 22 years on, it is hard to say the word out loud. You hear it mentioned on the television or radio and involuntarily your thoughts are cast back to a tragedy that never should have happened. It may be the name of a football stadium but the heartbreaking events that occurred there on April 15, 1989 mean that it will forever be associated with disaster and despair.

Today, when the names of each of Hillsborough's 96 victims are read out at the annual memorial service the emotions of their loved ones will once again be thrown into turmoil. The passage of time may well heal some wounds, but it can never be a cure all, particularly not when the most gaping wound of all is being repeatedly rubbed with the salt of injustice.

The causes of Hillsborough are now well known, even if those responsible are yet to take full responsibility for their actions and those bereaved and traumatised by it are yet to receive the justice that they deserve.

But there is also another story of Hillsborough, it is an inspirational and uplifting one of how men, women and children from all walks of life reacted to tragedy in the most humane manner imaginable; a tale of ordinary people who have refused to give in no matter how many times doors have been slammed shut in their face. From those who tore down advertising hoardings to carry the injured as the disaster unfolded to those who continue to fight for justice to this very day, they are the heroes of Hillsborough, a group of individuals to whom all of us owe a significant debt.

Many of them will be at Anfield today, paying tribute to those who went to a football match and never came home. They will be stood on the Kop, probably not aware of their own heroism and certainly not seeking credit or recognition for their actions. Take a quick glance at the person next to you and you will probably see one of those heroes. Look at the mirror when you get home and you will probably see another one. Through their unswerving solidarity, their unstinting commitment to the cause and their unconquerable determination to fight, everyone who has played a part in the ongoing battle for justice is a hero in their own right, an ordinary decent one who seeks nothing other than what is just.

At any stage in the 264 months that have elapsed since the name Hillsborough was etched into our collective consciousness like never before, it would have been easy for those who have carried the fight to walk away from it because of the seemingly insurmountable odds against them. There could have been no criticism had they done so, only an admiration that they fought in the first place at all. That their efforts have not only relented, they have actually intensified with time indicates that this group of people possess a collective courage in the face of adversity that can only be an example to us all.

Through their actions they have helped create another meaning for Hillsborough - one of hope and of bravery; one that cannot be overlooked nor forgotten; and one which is great testament to those whose actions made it possible. Men, women and children. Supporters of Liverpool and Everton and clubs from further afield. People who want to do whatever they can to help right a wrong. Individuals who have stood shoulder to shoulder when it mattered most and who continue to fight on behalf of the 96. They are the heroes of Hillsborough and they deserve nothing other than gratitude and respect.



6. John Henry, Principal Owner

I have been a part of this Club for just six months now whereas those who lost loved ones at Hillsborough have suffered for 22 years, so I don't consider myself properly placed to answer. Although we were aware of the tragedy before we arrived here, the one thing I can say is that the more Liverpool supporters I meet and the more people I speak with, the better I understand just how much Hillsborough affected so many people's lives and continues to do so today. What comes across clearly is how much Hillsborough brought all LFC fans together and how strongly they have supported each other in difficult circumstances. The other thing that has struck me is the absolute dignity with which those so touched by the tragedy have conducted themselves for so long.

7. Andy Mitten, 'United We Stand' editor

I was 15 and horrified by the images on television and the updates on the radio as the death toll grew. I remember thinking, 'That could have been us.' United fans had been crushed in the overcrowded Leppings Lane several times in the years preceding Hillsborough. The authorities had paid little notice to the fans being herded into pens like cattle.

Three months later I met a Scouser for the first time. We were both kids on holiday with our families in Mallorca. He stood on the Kop, me the Stretford End. He couldn't articulate what the disaster meant, but his dad tried. He'd just walked from Old Swan to Hillsborough to raise money for the appeal, done it in memory of a friend he'd lost. He explained how he'd trekked alone across Greater Manchester, where he'd been put up for free and well looked after. I was glad of that, but still couldn't make much sense of 96 people going to see their team and never coming home. And I still can't.

8. Steven Gerrard, Liverpool FC captain

I was only nine years old when it happened. I was really, really shocked and deeply saddened to have seen the scenes live and heard the news over the radio. Unfortunately for myself and my family we got the dreaded knock the next morning to say that a member of our family was at the game and had been tragically killed.

Obviously it was difficult to take that my cousin Jon-Paul had been there. Seeing the reaction of his mum, dad and family helped drive me on to become the player I have developed into today.

Hillsborough is very important to this club. The 96 will never ever be forgotten, but it is important these people are remembered individually and not just as a number. This club has fought for justice ever since and will continue to do so. Time has gone by, but the scars will never ever be healed and the fans will never forget.

Even when I stop playing for the first team I will continue to go to the service and show my respects every year. I see Jon-Paul's family there as well so it's nice to go and share the memorial service with them. The families who lost loved ones have shown great dignity. I think they should be proud of themselves. They have behaved impeccably and the club are very proud of them and the way they have handled this tragedy.

9. Sean O'Neill, Supporter

Hillsborough means many things to me - it means spring sunshine, it means the Snake Pass, it means laughing with mates, it means convincing our driver to take another one of us to Sheffield when both car space and the law suggested he shouldn't, it means parking up with a nice walk down hill to the ground, it means not liking the disorganisation outside the ground, it means hot, sticky heaving, it means the stench of vomit, it means the panic as horses and crowds and police lines collide, it means children separated from their father, it means helping these children over turnstiles long since vacated by gatemen, it means temporary relief from the hell that was outside, it means the calm and freedom that is inside, it means the North Stand is a good place to be right now, it means that something is wrong, very wrong, it means that life is being extinguished right before my eyes, it means not knowing what to do, it means panic, it means angst, it means that that man with a black leather jacket covering his face that's reflecting the bright spring sunshine is dead, it means my mates may be dead, it means that my mate who I swapped my ticket with may be dead, it means get out of my way, it means jumping on to the pitch, it means looking at the grass and wondering why I was standing there, it means seeing one of the lads with a vacant look in his eye handing out water to those prone on the ground, it means realising that I must phone home and phone home now, it means kindness of spirit, it means a long trudge up hill to the car, it means a head count of the lads, it means we are all safe, it means the drive home, it means the Snake Pass, it means arriving back in Liverpool. It means I'm no longer a boy, it means I'm a man. It means the end of innocence, it means the end of football as we know it, it means that nothing will ever be the same again.

10. Steve Rotheram, MP

It is probably THE most poignant and significant date in the history of Liverpool. I'd put it on a par with 1207 when Liverpool received its charter.

I was there back in 1989 and I remember that we made our way to Sheffield and got there 20 minutes before kick off. I just remember it being a glorious day. We'd been there the year before but there didn't seem to be the same order and control. I'd swapped my ticket just before the match to go into the stand above the Leppings Lane and I got into my seat just before kick off. I watched things unfold in a surreal and dream-like state. I remember certain parts of the day vividly but the rest of it seems something of a fog.

The reaction of the whole of Merseyside following that day showed the true spirit of Liverpool as a city. It didn't matter whether you were red or blue or supported any other football team. They just came together and the true characteristics of Scousers came shining through. It was there for all to see, with the images of the pitch, the different coloured scarves and the way people supported each other.

11. Matt Walker, LFC TV


13 years old, wishing I was at the game to see the Mighty Reds do it again, listening to the radio with my scarf on and then watching Grandstand, bewildered, as the disaster unfolded. Feeling sick to the stomach and crying in bed long into the night thinking of all those supporters who were killed at a football match.

20 years later, sitting in silence in a darkened LFC TV edit suite with two bereaved mothers showing them our 'Montage of the 96' for the first time and knowing that their lovely children are about to come up on the screen any moment.

Literally putting a face to each of the 96 names and the enormity of what happened that day dawning on me like never before. 96 photographs, snap-shots in time - smiling at a birthday party, after lunch at a wedding, relaxing in the sun in the back garden, feet up in the arm-chair with a cup of tea, a school portrait, down the pub with mates, laughing by the Christmas tree, proudly wearing the Red's latest home shirt, collecting an award at school - 96 people just like you or me and so many of them so young.

Dave Kirby's poems 'The Justice Bell' and 'Impunity for the Guilty' which make my blood run cold every time I hear them - years of anger and a yearning for justice expressed with the most beautiful clarity.

Travelling in a car to interview the Prime Minister on Hillsborough ahead of the 20th anniversary, totally overwhelmed by a desire to not let anyone down and make sure certain questions are asked and answered.

Being among the 32,000 at Anfield who rose up with one voice demanding justice after 20 years of lies and deceit. The first time I have witnessed history in the making. Feeling so proud to be part of a club with such a brilliant and loyal support.

Getting to know people who have been so cruelly treated for so long and learning from them that each set-back has only made them stronger and more determined. I am 100% certain that their desire for the truth will one day lift the blanket that was thrown over Hillsborough.


12. Tom Werner, Liverpool FC Chairman



What does Hillsborough mean to me? It's a difficult question for me to answer, as John's and my association with the Club has been recent. Of course I had heard about the tragedy, but when we first visited Anfield in September 2010, I stopped at the Shankly Gates and began to understand the pain and suffering so many have gone through these past 22 years.


Since then I have spoken to many supporters and a few families directly involved in the events of that tragic day. I read a letter, as well, that was published on the 20th anniversary, written by the wife of one of the supporters who never returned. The letter was so eloquent: 'To the world my husband is one of the 96, but to me and his children, he was always number one.'

I will be among the millions thinking about these families on this April 15th. Along with other supporters, we will reflect on what happened that day. Hopefully, some day the families will get the justice and closure they deserve.



13. Ste Walker, Supporter

Hillsborough means everything to me, my dad was supposed to be at that game in the Leppings Lane end. I count myself lucky to be alive at this present day and he was only stopped due to a family wedding happening. I'm glad this wedding happened because I probably wouldn't be here if he had gone to the game, however, forget me for a second and lets pay tribute to the 96 lives that were lost on that day. YNWA, 96 lives lost but never forgotten.





14. Peter Millea, Liberal Democreat Councillor for Cressington

As the Council's Chairman of the Hillsborough Disaster Working Party for many years, and the present Chairman of the Ground Safety Advisory Group, I have always been motivated to ensure justice for the 96 and their families and friends is achieved, but that also their memory and legacy is that we always ensure the safety of the supporters at our two football Stadia in Liverpool. I can never ever get the scenes of carnage out of my mind, whenever I think of Leppings Lane on April 15th 1989. I pray constantly for the 96 souls, whenever I am in church, or passing the Hillsborough Flame in Anfield Road, though I know that they are better placed to pray for me.

This has always been an issue which does not divide Councillors, as it did not matter whether it was me or my late friend, former Labour Councillor, Jack Spriggs, who chaired either the Working Party or Advisory Group. Jack and I always agreed on what needed to be done to give our support for the families affected, and there was never any political advantage being sought. Indeed, Jack was a vocal critic of his own Government, if he thought they were dragging their heels. I will be at the 22nd Anniversary Service as usual, having attended every service at Anfield since the fateful day, to pay my respects and to offer to do whatever I can to help in the quest for Justice.

God Bless the 96, YNWA.

15. Sheila Coleman, HJC

I always remember the day of Hillsborough because I was down great Homer Street Market with my son. We were walking towards my mother's house and an old man stopped me and said 'Isn't it terrible what's happening'? I asked him what he meant and he said, 'The football'. Right away I thought Liverpool must be losing. But he said 'No, no, people are hurt'. When I got to my mother's I turned on the TV and we watched the disaster unfold. I remember there was a heavy atmosphere in the city because people didn't know who was dead or who was injured.

If it hadn't been for the breakdown of police control those deaths would not have occurred. I think Hillsborough is firmly set in the context of British society in the 1980s. It was a time when the ordinary working person was oppressed. Football supporters in particular were treated very badly. They were herded to football grounds and penned in like animals. Even the police language at the time involved animal terminology. They spoke about corralling fans from trains to the ground and putting them in pens. Liverpool fans paid the price for that mentality.

Had people held their hands up at the time I am sure families would have moved on; but because of the lies told, people feel they have to fight for justice for their loved ones, otherwise they are doing them a disservice.

I therefore see the history of Hillsborough as a history of a cover-up.

16. Kathryn Owen, Supporter

To me, it means still having my dad. He was there. I was two at the time and poorly at home. My mum could have lost her husband and I could have lost my dad. My sister would never have been born. It means pain, and loss. It also means community - from the "mile of scarves" from Anfield to Goodison, to the always moving annual Hillsborough memorial services. But, what Hillsborough means to me can be summed up in one beautifully written line: "96 friends we all shall miss, and all the Kopites want justice." To those that lost their lives and to their families - You'll NEVER Walk Alone.

17. John Marquis, Supporter

Let me spell out to you my thoughts and feelings about H I L L S B O R O U G H

Hills borough, Sheffield. 15 April 1989, the day 96 Reds; men women and children went to an FA Cup semi-final and never returned. The...

Inspiration, we have all gained from the dignity and strength shown by the families of the 96 over the past 22 years. Not only did they lose those close to them in circumstances that could so easily have been avoided but they have suffered time and time again and continue to do so because their loved ones have been wrongly saddled with the blame for the disaster.

Liverpool, a city that was united in grief. The...

Lies and myths, perpetrated by the authorities in order to protect their vested interests and with the connivance of the media... none more so than by the editor of the.......

Sun. Lies were printed as fact and believed by a gullible British public thereby tarnishing the memory of the 96. Don't buy the Sun. Ever.

Blues and Reds unified. Scarves that were linked across Stanley Park.

Overcrowding may have been the reason for the disaster but never forget that the cause was the breakdown of police control. The authorities were more concerned with containment than the care and safety of Liverpool fans. Indeed it was...

Reds who had to look after their own.

One minute silence. Impeccably held now for 22 seasons in memory of fellow Reds and fans to this day will visit the Eternal Flame on match day to pay their respects to the 96.

Uneducated Reds. A whole generation has grown up, but there are too many of whatever age that remain unaware why the disaster took place on a sunny, spring afternoon, twenty-two years ago. So...

Go out, educate and inform fellow Reds as to why the fight for JUSTICE is ongoing.

And finally the...

Hillsborough Justice Campaign, working tirelessly for JUSTICE, whilst supporting the families of the 96 and the survivors of a disaster that should not have taken place.

So wear your JUSTICE flame and wrist bands with pride.

It may be 22 long tearful years but with your help and support JUSTICE FOR THE 96 WILL PREVAIL





18. Kenny Dalglish, Liverpool FC manager

Hillsborough taught me the value of life, really. Football is very, very important but for two or three weeks after Hillsborough it became unimportant. The most important part of that time were the people's lives.

For me, the greatest thing we did was to win the FA Cup that year. There were so many Evertonians who came to Anfield to pay their respects who had never been in the ground before. The rivalry went out of the window for that, just as it did with Manchester United who had many supporters coming over. It pulled a lot of fans closer together and made people realise it could have been their team. Hillsborough put things into perspective and certainly put football on the back-burner in the aftermath.

The people were absolutely magnificent in enduring Hillsborough and then in the aftermath the people of Merseyside and football people in general were fantastic in the support they gave everyone and in the way they turned up to the ground to pay their respects. Even now, the eternal flame burns outside the ground and has never been vandalised in any way, shape or form. I think that's a tremendous mark of respect from football fans who come to Anfield, because it is at the away end. It shows people want to pay their respects to those who lost their lives.

19. Ben Thornley, Daily Post

Too often the words 'tragedy' and 'disaster' are used recklessly by football supporters and journalists when discussing defeats and off-field setbacks. Not at Liverpool. Not at a club that discovered in the worst possible way that the game isn't more important than life or death over two decades after Bill Shankly first made the claim in jest.

Hillsborough isn't a day remembered only on its anniversary, it's a part of the Reds' identity as much as any triumph, the memorial flame etched into the badge and fabric of the club. It gives Liverpool fans perspective, even during the worst of times.

The lows are less painful and don't linger as long. In that respect it is a source of strength.

Debt ridden and destructive owners, blundering managers and disloyal players could never inflict as much agony on Liverpool as the Lepping Lane fences and South Yorkshire Police Force did.

I was 10 in 1989. The cruelest moment I'd experienced following the club - perhaps even in my sheltered life - by that point was the 1988 FA Cup final loss to Wimbledon. It hurt like hell.

Yet a year later when Michael Thomas and Arsenal stole the title at Anfield on the final day of the season, it didn't seem to matter as much, despite the tears.

Not after seeing 96 fans die supporting the team they loved. As a 10-year-old, I couldn't reconcile how it could ever be allowed to happen. Some 22 years later, I still can't.

Football learned some lessons from the disaster. But while supporters are no longer treated like animals, they are still lowest in the thoughts of Britain's ruling classes, police and the game's governing bodies.

Hillsborough was a tragedy for all of sport, yet it also served to strengthen the sense of isolation felt among those who stand on the Kop from the rest of Britain.

Many outside of Merseyside and the club's fan base claim to understand the significance of April 15 to Liverpool. Few, though, in my experience do.

Just as they struggle to grasp the sense of injustice or the rage felt towards those who blackened the name of supporters as they were mourning loved ones in their darkest hour.

However, the response of Kenny Dalglish and his players in 1989 solidified the special bond between what Shankly described as the Holy Trinity of players, fans and managers. Football may not be more important than life or death, but Hillsborough is also a reminder that Liverpool is much more than a football club.

20. Stuart Long, Supporter

What does Hillsborough mean to me? It was the day when mums, dads, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins, friends, best friends went to a football match and didn't come home.

21. Brian Reade, Daily Mirror columnist

The fans in the central pens looked like sardines packed in together. You could see on either side that there was more space and it seemed weird so many were in that same area.

Suddenly, the game stops and people start pouring onto the pitch. Then you see fans going underneath you with ripped advertising hoardings as stretchers and fans putting coats over faces. Once I saw that I started to think the worst.

I wrote a piece. It was about how society had mistreated football fans to such an extent that this is what happens.

Twenty years on fans today wouldn't believe that. They sit in all-seater grounds that are stewarded correctly and it's all because of Hillsborough. We were all treated as potential criminals. I heard the president of UEFA at the time saying that Liverpool fans were like beasts entering the arena and that was the last straw for me. It was the young, innocent ones who died. As a result of that there was a sense of guilt among those who had gone home alive that day.

The story that the fans urinated on the police and pick-pocketed the dead was such a fantasy tale. Twenty years on, not one person has come forward to back up that story. It's shameful that we should have to defend what happened that day.

The one overriding feeling I am left with is sadness. It still comes to me if it's a sunny day or I see a number 96 bus... I cry and the sadness gets to me.

22. Pat Joynes, Mother of 27-year-old Nicholas who died at Hillsborough

You learn to live with the grief and the sorrow, everything. You learn to live with it as time goes on. Nick was the youngest of our three sons so he was very well looked after by his two brothers. He was quite shy and he expected his brothers to look after him especially in school. He loved his football, he was a great football fan, he went to Paris and Rome and he was just a dedicated supporter. From day one, we knew the truth would never come out. The cover up continued from Government level, from the police, from everyone. Over the years it's been very hard to come to terms with that. All we wanted to know was the truth, what happened that day. So we could put our son to rest, put him with his brother and hopefully they are together. I think as a group, we're amazing. I didn't know Margaret or Jenni or any of the other families before that day but we've gained good friendships, support and help. I don't think we would have survived without that actually. It's been a very painful time in our lives and we'll go on to the bitter end. Every anniversary we get lots of messages of support from lots of people and it's a tribute to the 96 that they're thought of not only on that day but other days as well. That's what we want, that they will be remembered because they only went to a football match. They went to go on a day out and enjoy themselves and they came back in coffins.

23. Roy Henderson, Supporter

Although I can remember returning home on the day itself and seeing the footage, the horror of it all was always once removed living at a distance. Nobody could have experienced the pain as acutely as those who were there, not to mention their immediate families and community.

It wasn't until 1994, doing a 'Law & Medical Ethics' course at University, that I started to appreciate things from a different viewpoint. We studied in depth the tragic case of Tony Bland, and of course began to learn the fuller circumstances not just of the events of the day itself, but the devastation and catastrophic human impact it left in its wake. These aren't things you can snap your fingers and recover from. That these people have led their lives since in such a dignified way, despite endless provocation, is testament both to themselves, and to the resilience, empathy, and common bond of a unique community.

These are people we should all be proud to be associated with, and they'll always have our love, support and respect. RIP The 96 YNWA

24. John Ryan, Supporter

What does Hillsborough mean to me?

Pain: The suffering of the families, friends, supporters and the club in the immediate aftermath and the years following.

Betrayal: The institutions of the police and the justice system that colluded to hide the truth. The institutions who, whilst pretending to help, used the families ignorance of the complicated procedures to block every move for justice, understanding and ultimate closure.

Disgust: The lies of that paper and its editor.

Apathy: From the majority of organisations; from the government to the press who just want us to sit down and shut up.

Pride: That this club and all its supporters have never given up; have continued to strive for justice; have supported the families unconditionally because families stick together.

25. Jamie Carragher, Liverpool FC vice-captain

I must have been 10 or 11 years old when it happened. I was quite young but old enough to understand what was going on. In those days the semi-finals were played on the same day and at the same time, so with me being an Everton fan I was at Villa Park watching Everton play Norwich.

I just remember an announcement at half-time that the Liverpool game had been abandoned. It was before the technology of mobile phones etc so no-one really understood what was going on. It wasn't until we were on our way back to Liverpool that we heard what had really happened on the car radio.

I remember Liverpool's first competitive game after the tragedy was against Everton. I was in the Gwladys Street End that day and I remember having a strange feeling about the match. It was just special that the first game was between those two sides and both teams went onto the FA Cup Final that season which was just as fitting.

It is essential that we don't forget those who lost their lives that day. The Hillsborough families have conducted themselves superbly. For people to send family and friends away to a game and for them to not return is a terrible thought. What those people have gone through is unbelievable and the way they have conducted themselves since is impeccable.

No-one will ever forget what happened. We will always be there supporting the families by doing everything we can to help.

26. Nima Majidzadeh, Supporter

It's the day football became more than "just a sport" and the day Liverpool began playing not only for trophies but for the 96 fans who will never be forgotten

27. Jon Wilson, Supporter

My brother-in-law, (an erstwhile Villa fan, on a free ticket) and I entered the Leppings Lane end an hour early on that fateful day. We wanted to sample the build up in the unique atmosphere that a F.A. Cup semi-final brings. Our respective families have held that decision as divine intervention ever since.

To say that the horrendous scenes we witnessed changed our outlook on life, is an understatement. Post Hillsborough, I wanted nothing to do with football, my life-passion.

Only after an awful lot of soul searching, did I even watch a game on TV.

I found it all too painful to attend the Memorial Services until the 20th Anniversary, but I am so glad I did. Meeting with and listening to the stories fellow fans retold, re-enforced the sense of community that is always a part of the Liverpool Way.

28. Rafael Benitez, Former Liverpool FC manager

On the day of the disaster I was still living in Spain and have to admit that at first we didn't realise the magnitude of what had happened. It was only afterwards, when I heard the stories on the news that I realised the full extent of it.

When I came to the club in 2004 my understanding grew and after hearing more stories from the fans and the staff, it made me realise just how important it is for the people here. I think that the whole of football should be aware of the events of Hillsborough. It was a terrible tragedy and we must always remember those who lost their lives there.

The first time I attended the annual service at Anfield was very emotional. It was amazing to see the support of the people and the respect that they were showing. As a father and a family man, you think about this when you are reading the names of those who lost their lives. When you think about your own daughters and imagine what it would be like for yourself, it is then that you realise the scale of such a disaster.

I'm really impressed with the families and their efforts to ensure their memory is never forgotten. The staff and everyone involved at the club will always be there trying to help them in any way we can. They should know that the club will always be behind them and we will try to support them as much as possible.




29. Paul Anderson, Supporter

It was April 1999 and 10 years on from Hillsborough. Liverpool had just been beaten at Anfield courtesy of a 90th minute winner by Ian Marshall for Leicester City. But my most vivid memory of that fixture was walking out of the Anfield Road as an 11-year old and looking on in amazement at the amount of scarves hanging from the Shankly Gates.

I untied my scarf, walked over to the gates and tied it tight on the famous gateway. Next to it people paid respects at the Hillsborough memorial by laying flowers and other memorabilia. The sight is something which was filled with sadness, but also of picturesque beauty.

April 15 is undoubtedly the most important date in the Liverpool supporter's calendar, and a date on which our side should never be made to take to the field. It's a subject which goes hand-in-hand with following the Reds.

Years may pass, but as different generations of supporters step into Anfield they will be educated into the importance of this day, remembering the 96 and to never buy The Sun newspaper for their post-Hillsborough lies.


30. John Joynt, Supporter

To me the horror of that day gets thought about daily. I am angry, sad. The thought of people being underneath you and being helpless to help them will haunt me forever. The very mention of anything to do with that day sends a shiver down my spine. What also makes me angry are the lies and nasty accusations made by certain media sections that today still run very deep. They say time is a great healer, I don't agree with that at all. Many good people today still suffer very badly from that day.

31. Shaun101, Supporter

I typed a page documenting my day and my thoughts but deleted it as I cannot read it back for my own reasons. All I can put to text right now is to sum it up by saying that there was my life before Hillsborough and my life afterwards and, yes, there are times still when I still feel guilty for the life I have.

I lost something and someone that can never ever be returned and the injustice at the whole cover up burns deeper with every year that passes. JFT96 and don't buy the rag.

32. Red Rich, Supporter

I lived in a hilly part of Sheffield. On the morning of the 15th April 1989, I looked out of my attic bedroom window down to Hillsborough a couple of miles away and wished that I was going to the game. I wasn't able to attend that day. Two friends of mine were getting married and I'd promised to be there.

During the church service I nipped outside to tune into the radio on my Walkman. A broken reception brought across the message of doom. By the time we hit the hotel where the reception was to be held, I was sat gazing at Desmond Lynam telling the world of the horror that was unfolding.

I came home that night with my then girlfriend, an intensive care unit nurse at Sheffield's Hallamshire Hospital. We wept. I took flowers to the Leppings Lane gates on the Sunday with my brother, also a reds fan. We wept.

She told me how the players came over to visit the patients in the ward one day when she was at work. Later, they took her and a couple of her colleagues to Anfield as a thank-you for their caring. They wept.

She brought home a framed picture of Shanks and a red 'Walk On' hat signed by Rushie that were given as presents. Back to work she went. She told me there was one lad there who was still in a coma. Eventually 95 became 96. We wept.

I no longer see that girl who took care of the victims; she cares for patients on another continent now. But when I think of Hillsbrough, she comes to mind, along with the many people who suffered and still suffer because of April 15th 1989. Peace to you all.



33. Mark Moraghan, Actor

Hillsborough will never be forgotten. The fight for justice for 96 Reds must go on. The darkest day in LFC history, we owe it to their memory.

34. Tage Herstad, Supporter

15th of April 22 years ago I was 15 years old. My football team, Tempo FK, was playing a match. The seniors this was, I was a junior player. Most players where LFC supporters and the reserve GK had a radio with him. I was sitting on the bench with him so we could listen to the semi-final from BBC.

The reports that came through was terrible... I told my mates who played what got reported. Trouble, hooligans, deaths, match stopped... Later on, when we came home, we could see on the news what had really happened. It was frightening to see.

When I was at the 10th anniversary in 1999, something special happened to me. I spent £40 of my last £60 on flowers to put down by the goal for my football team, Floro Liverbirds (west coast of Norway). After the ceremony I was invited to come to the Dockers club. I've been a docker myself for 13 years (we collected money for the Dockers strike through my Dockers union), so I was made up. I got down but was skint and just stood by the bar since I did not really know many very well there and then.

Then big Fergo and his mates from Huyton told me to join in at their table. They had seen me put down flowers and wanted to have a chat. I did not buy a drink again that night. Just not allowed near the bar by them boys.

I ended up staying with Fergo and his family for 3 days. I got so well looked after it was almost embarrassing. Truly great hospitality, as Scouse as it can be. Then it came to the match day and I had no ticket, no money and no Visa card so no chance of getting money from Norway. Fergo soon found out and said no worries and made me a bacon butty and black pudding(!). When we left, he put £20 in my pocket. For my pints, he said. I arrived at the pub, one of the boys came over with a match ticket, others with £10 here and there. People I had barely ever talked with. I just did not understand what happened until one of the boys told me that Fergo had told them what my last money had gone to.

Flowers and words to the 96.

I think I then first really realised how much it meant to everyone. Not the flowers really, but that someone from the outside cared about it. (We where a team with 90% LFC supporters, so of course we cared). I was overwhelmed.

I have since moved over to Liverpool and now know well many people who have lost family and friends at Hillsborough and I often get told stories from that day that are truly horrible. If it happened now, it would have been a totally different story for me.

I do my best to collect money to and help the HJC shop every season, because as I said before, it could have been my friends, my family and myself if it happened now. And I know my family would have been looked after and supported in the same way.

When I see how family and survivors have been treated by the government after Hillsborough, I must say I'm disgusted. It's disgraceful that justice has never been done or not even an apology. Someone must sleep bad at night and it's all probably just down to money really. South Yorkshire Police and loads of politicians should hang their head in shame. Forever.

But then again, I have learned how much Scousers stay together and look after each other when it's really needed. I am really proud to call myself a Scousewegian. So Hillsborough to me now means tragedy, horror, no justice, gutless and cowardly politicians/police, liars, friendship, boycott, strong people, fighting spirit and togetherness. YNWA.

35. Ben Smith, The Times

Bill Shankly joked about the game being more than a matter of life and death but at Hillsborough the nation learnt what it was like to really lose at a football match.

Many Liverpool fans I know believed and still believe the season should have ended at 3.06pm on April 15. Everything after that felt meaningless. Going to the match was painful, like an endless wake. But still they went.

How can you sum up what a disaster like this means in words? When people have watched their loved ones leave the house on a bright April day to watch the semi-final of the FA Cup and never come back, how can you express how that feels?

The enormity of the sadness is beyond words, expression and at times even grief. At the centre of the memorial at the Shankly Gates burns an eternal flame, but such things can only ever be balm for the bereaved. There is no healing for their pain. When your husband, your sons and daughters, your friends have had the life squeezed out of them in crammed spectator pens, how do you live with that? Families were halved and no one has even said sorry. The lack of justice for the 96 who died remains one of Britain's festering sores.

The fools who believe 'The Truth' remain out there - the fingers still point against every shred of evidence. But justice will be done one day and until then all we can hope is that no one else ever has to live through something like this at a football match again.



36. Darren, Supporter

It means to me: everything about our wonderful club.

Our darkest day ever. A day that will not, should not and must not, ever be forgotten.

As a regular match goer (Left side of the Kop) from the early to late 80s, there was something seriously wrong with the way that all football fans were treated. Ours and theirs. Whether this was being herded sheep style, to the match, clashes with away fans (inside and outside the ground) and Police treating with let alone lack of respect but more often, with utter naked contempt.

Some of the stuff I witnessed first hand now makes me shudder.

Then there was Hillsborough.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

It couldn't.

It shouldn't.

It wouldn't.

From the superb way the city pulled together, Red and Blue.

From the services at the Anglican and Paddys, to the way the players (Kenny in particular) went to see victims and their families.

Skippy flying home from Australia despite his sister being ill.

I love this club and during all this, I was never prouder.

The way Celtic opened their doors to our grief (and my second club is Rangers) was a joy to behold.

The way we dealt with Kelvin McKenzie and his utter lies and did not resort to their level, but simply stopped buying their rag and hit them where it hurt most.

Never forgive and never forget.

I will never forgive the Sun and South Yorks Police, but I will never forget the 96.

Walk On

(Exiled Billinge Wool, now London)

38. Martin Langmead, Supporter

What does Hillsborough mean to me?

96 reasons to never buy the sun

96 reasons to keep fighting for the truth

96 reasons to keep believing that justice will be done

96 reasons to never let them be forgotten

96 reasons to keep the memorial flame alight

YNWA JFT96

39. Craig King, Supporter

I am not a Liverpool supporter brought up around Anfield, nor am I a supporter directly affected by this travesty, however what April 15 1989 means to me is a day where 96 people died doing what they love doing. A day where those fans went expecting to see our team play their hearts out. They weren't expecting to see a horror show. What this day now stands for for me is a day where boys became men and a city became united in wanting one thing JUSTICE FOR THE 96. Each day we as supporters and as a union should play/sing our hearts out for them and show them what they mean to us. We all live by 'Liverpool till I die' motto but no one expected it to happen in such a tragic way for those 96. R.I.P and maybe one day you will get what you deserve!

40. Chris Owen, Supporter

My name is Chris and I'm fast approaching 40 and now living in Perth Western Australia and this is what Hillsborough means to me. I was 17-years-old and my brother Richard was 14, and we'd both been lifelong reds. This was our first season as ticket holders and our first away game without Dad.

We arrived at the Leppings Lane end and it was packed. The Reds came onto the pitch and there was an almighty surge. I was lifted clean off my feet and pushed further through the crowd until we where 6ft from the fence and my brother started to scream he was getting crushed.

A couple of men asked if he wanted pushing up above the crowd. I can still picture his face being so frightened. The man asked if I wanted to go, so I squeezed my arms free and pushed on their shoulders until I was on top of the crowd. We scrambled over the fence, but I slipped and caught a few peoples fingers that where poking through the mesh. I looked in horror to see faces of unconscious people, gasping and pleading to be let out. We landed on the pitch with people in the stands booing us; I remember screaming at the police that people where dying in there, but no one listened.

The events unfolded and we were sitting in the penalty area with people staggering around in a daze or injured. One of my worst memories was walking back through the twisted metal that was left of the Leppings Lane end knowing people had died just watching a game.

The trip home was awful with two empty seats on the bus. We arrived in Birkenhead and I phoned home. Our parents thought the worst as my dad had seen events unfold on a TV as he walked past the shops, it was a picture of a policeman giving a young boy CPR. The whole street had descended on our house for support; it was a very emotional return.

The days following were a blur of uncontrollable grief. We went to Anfield a few times and placed some flowers and a shirt with a message.

I went to the Cup Final but didn't renew my season ticket; it would have killed my mum. I went to some counselling but spent 10 years trying to come to terms with it all and struggling to process what had happened.

I still don't know if the men who helped us got themselves out. They saved our lives and I have never been able to thank them. It also haunts me that I hurt people's fingers when I slipped over the fence, people who where grasping for their last breath.

I still cry when I really think about it and struggle to watch the memorial service on TV or the internet every year.

I'm still bitter about it today and feel unjust in how we've all been let down. It will be with me forever. RIP the 96.

41. Ian Ayre, Liverpool FC Managing Director

As well as being a terrible tragedy it forms part of our city's culture. The mention of it evokes all the memories and feelings of the time and how you actually felt as a Scouser and a Liverpool fan.

I was in the Navy at the time and planning to listen to it on the radio. I got a call from my Mum to tell me my brother was at Hillsborough. Having seen all the footage afterwards one of the things that struck me was the number of people who had someone there but perhaps didn't lose anyone on the day. There weren't mobile phones back then so there was this big period of time when people just didn't know. It got to about 9pm before my brother finally arrived home and he was somewhat bewildered by the attention he was getting from the family. It felt like such a lifetime before we knew he was okay.

For me personally, the experience with my brother made it hit home how difficult it must have been for the families who did ultimately lose someone.

Any fan who loses their life watching Liverpool Football Club has given the ultimate sacrifice. The campaigning that has continued is admirable and shows we will never give up on anything, especially when it comes to the people who were lost.

Hopefully we will get justice one day. For these people to carry on with their day-to-day lives and to do it in the way they have without any closure is admirable.

42. Jim Boardman, Supporter

22 years and the emotions felt so strong at the beginning haven't faded.

22 years and we're still no closer to accepting what happened.

When I talk about accepting what happened, I'm talking about us getting to that stage we eventually get after the loss of a loved one, where we talk about their lives more than we talk about their deaths.

A lad of my age from work was one of those who didn't come back. I remember his smile, but I remember more strongly the feelings when I was told he was one of those who didn't come back.

Every year as the anniversary draws near I think of what's happened in my life in that last year and in all the years since he died. All those things I've shared with my family that his family never got to share with him. It makes me thankful that I've had that chance; it makes me sad and angry that he didn't.

My grandmother died a few years back. She was, genuinely, the kindest person I ever knew. She also made me officially eligible to play for Ireland, although my skills only made me eligible to be laughed at.

She lived a long and at times difficult life but she left me with some wonderful memories. Happy times. I miss her, but it's her life I remember best, not her death.

Like with other loved ones that have passed during my lifetime, I find when we talk about her, it's not about her death. We feel sad about losing them but we focus on their lives and the happy memories we have of them.

22 years after Hillsborough and we still haven't got to that stage. We still find ourselves talking about their deaths more than we talk about their lives. We can't accept what happened because 22 years later justice still hasn't been done.

Numerous people, before during and after those terrible minutes on April 15th, did the wrong thing. There has been no apology from them and no sign of compassion. Still we wait for the truth.

Apologies, compassion and the truth won't bring anyone back, it won't undo what was done and it won't heal those emotional scars.

But it would be a start. 22 years late, but a start. And we'd be a step closer to being able to talk about the lives of the 96 more than we talk about their deaths.

Until then, we fight. That's what Hillsborough means to me.

43. Lawrence Inder, Supporter

April 15th had a special meaning in my life for 35 years. It is my birthday, and it used to be a day for getting around family and friends and celebrating the fact that I made it another year. Now my thoughts are always with the 96 'family members' who never got the chance to add another year to their lives.

Whose lives were snuffed out in that Sheffield cage at 3:06 Saturday 15th April 1989. The 96 who never got the chance to see possibly the greatest night in LFC's history in Istanbul, who never got the chance to scream their lungs out when Stevie G lifted Ol Big Ears for the 5th time. The 96 who never got the chance to see Stevie G hit the screamer of all screamers past Shaka Hislop to bring the scores level at the Millennium the following year.

The 96 who never got the chance to see King Kenny return. But what Hillsborough means to me the most is the fact the 96 cannot get the chance to tell their mum, dad, brother or sister, son or daughter how much they love them and how sadly they are missed. 96 YNWA

44. Ian Wilson, Supporter

This was a disaster, which could, and should, have been prevented, which is still burnt into the hearts and minds of the people of Liverpool, but if anything can be gained from such a painful experience, it is the positivity and compassion of the public. Hillsborough brought our great city to its knees, both in prayer and in sorrow and by doing so brought together people in mass mourning from so many different backgrounds and cultures, despite colour, religion, creed, sexuality or whether they supported Liverpool or a rival club.

It was during the aftermath of the disaster when many thousands of people from all around the world attended services and brought flowers, scarves, banners and shirts, many of which were from other clubs, to lay at the Kop that I, along with so many other people, realised the power of human kindness.

While there are wars and rioting going on around the world, and the country is in such financial turmoil, I still think back to the warmth and kindness brought to our city and the families of the victims of the disaster with a positive attitude and I know in my own heart that the bad in this world is a tiny dot in the landscape of good, honest and decent people.

The families and friends of the 96 have the backing of us all in the fight for justice. YNWA!



45. Evangeline Jennings, Supporter

My first attempt at writing about Hillsborough was the best thing I've ever written.

It had pathos, anger, and wit. It even had a vivid description of a personal moment that would have brought tears to your eyes. But when I came here to post it today, I realised it wasn't true.

Well, it was true. But it wasn't the Truth.

I originally looked at Hillsborough through the eyes of a four-year-old girl who might have been orphaned because her father went to a football match. And I talked about the impact his experiences then still have on our lives today. But then I realised that's not what Hillsborough means to me at all.

In my first piece, I said Hillsborough happened to other people, not me. And I laid out a clever case that led to the inescapable conclusion that Hillsborough happened to all of us. And that's true. But it entirely misses the point.

Because what Hillsborough really means to me is that in the eyes of the English establishment, the lives of 96 football fans are worthless. Doubly so if they happen to come from Liverpool.

It's not only the dead who've been denied justice. Everyone who experienced those horrors and has lived with them since has been similarly denied. My father. Kenny Dalglish. You.

Meanwhile the English class system and establishment has consistently protected and paid-off the people who caused it in the first place.

Why? Because football fans from Liverpool don't count. And because as far as they're concerned, the police who were paid to protect us were the real victims of Hillsborough.

If ten people died at Wimbledon or Twickenham in 1989, all hell would have rained down on the people responsible. The organisers? The emergency services? The police whose role was to guarantee public safety? They would have been chewed up, spit out, and left for wild dogs to fight over.

David Duckenfield - the man who opened the gates and lied about it - would have found it a little more difficult to enjoy two decades of comfortable "early" retirement on the South Coast if he'd killed a couple of rugby fans.

Kelvin McKenzie would have been tarred, feathered, and run out of the country. Not feted by the BBC.

And press and politicians would have asked considerably harder questions about the millions paid in compensation to 'traumatised' police if Hillsborough had happened in the Home Counties.

The £330K paid to just one policeman who discovered he was traumatised a mere nine years after the event would have pretty much covered all compensation paid to the families of our dead.

If you care, the 39-year old sergeant in the South Yorkshire police was also given early retirement on an enhanced pension.

So yeah, that's what Hillsborough means to me. English justice is a joke.

I'm not Englisht, I'm Scouse.

46. Gaggzy, Supporter

Criminally substandard stadium; inevitable disaster-waiting-to-happen; why us? Why anyone? Inept policing. Why did it have to take the deaths of 96 of our fans to drag safety into the modern era? All these questions and more flare up in my mind at the mention of Hillsborough along with a knot in my stomach; anger, frustration, grief, which is then compounded by the agony of the cover-up.

47. Brian Durand, Supporter

April 15th was a beautiful day. Well, it started off as a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining as thousands of Liverpool supporters welcomed the new day in eager expectation of yet another massive game.

Liverpool supporters of all ages and from all corners of the country were digging out their red shirts, their scarves and their lucky socks in preparation for the game at Sheffield against old rivals Nottingham Forest.

Nobody reading this will need reminding that all the hope and expectation was soon to be replaced with desolation and despair.

The events which unfolded at just around three o'clock seemed to occur in slow motion. Suddenly there was a commotion. Suddenly there was no football, instead there were people in a daze on the lush turf. There were police. There were hoardings being used as stretchers. There were injuries. My God, there were people dead.

By five o'clock it was time to exit the stadium and head for home. Thousands headed to pre-arranged meeting points to meet up again with friends and family. People hugged. They cried. Tragically some never met up again. The residents of Hillsborough played a blinder. They offered the use of telephones in those pre-mobile days. They brought out cups of tea for their confused and dismayed visitors. For many there was an empty journey home. For others the journey was in the opposite direction from Liverpool to seek out news of their loved ones. Chaos reigned. The families were treated shabbily, but conducted themselves with extreme dignity. At the same time the authorities and police were smearing the good name of thousands in an effort to deflect attention from their own shortcomings.

Back in Liverpool at 9pm the feeling of numbness overwhelmed me. How could people lose their lives at a football game? How could they wave goodbye to their mothers, wives, children never to return? They were part of MY family. I had rubbed shoulders with these people for years. I had shared jokes with them. Now they were gone.

I did not know them, yet I knew each and every one of them like family.

I live in Anfield. Sunday morning's papers were plastered with truly awful images of young fans crushed against iron railings, their faces contorted in pain and fear. The finger pointing had begun. There was only one place I wanted to be that morning, and so I trudged to Anfield stadium. This stadium was where I had pestered players for autographs twenty years earlier. It was where I used to bunk in at three quarter time, and where I eventually graduated to a fully fledged Kopite. There were others at the ground. There was already a small shrine of scarves and flags, not exclusively in Liverpool red. Before long it was decided to open the gates and we streamed in. We were allowed access to all parts of the ground. Obviously I headed straight to my regular spot on the Kop. I did not have my scarf with me, but already some scarves were being draped over the crush barriers. Over the following week those tributes would multiply until an astonishing array of tributes would engulf the terraces and pitch.

I recall the news bulletins. I remember the anguished faces of the players. Kenny Dalglish and his wife Marina went beyond the call of duty and would ultimately pay a high price. I also remember Alan Hansen, John Barnes, Bruce Grobbelaar, John Aldridge, Ronnie Moran...

The events of that day were horrific, but they also inspire in me many positive feelings. I was proud of Liverpool Football Club and its supporters and for the togetherness that was engendered.

I remember also returning to work on Monday morning. I worked in Burnley at the time, and as my car pulled into the car park the Bangles' song 'Eternal Flame' played on the radio, followed by Gerry's anthemic 'You'll Never Walk Alone'. I blubbed like a baby. I can't recall how long I sat in my car, before heading in to work. To everyone I worked with I was LFC through and through, so the day was spent with people who I had never spoken to consoling me and hugging me.

The recovery process was a slow one. Football did not matter. I would surely never go to a match ever again.

Within weeks the decision was taken that life must go on and Liverpool's courageous players were back in action. The scene at Celtic for their first appearance would have reduced a statue to tears. YNWA was sung by the Celtic fans and Liverpool faithful in a manner that was the most fitting tribute to the fallen that one could imagine. Another memory of the time is of the fans at the Milan derby in the San Siro singing our club anthem soon after the disaster. Football fans were showing their class on all sides, at a time when the government were sadly letting us down. People should remember too that Manchester United players and officials also visited Anfield to pay respects at the impromptu shrine.

For some families there could never be a return to normality. For the rest of us we go on supporting the club we love. However those that were lost that day are remembered with pride. The events of 15th April 1989 robbed us of so much that was precious, but it strengthened the club. It gave our anthem even greater meaning and poignancy. The events created a scar on Kenny, Aldo, Jocky every bit as much as it hurt us. We remember the victims, young and old, not just every year on the anniversary, nor just every time we pass the eternal flame on Anfield Road. I remember them every time the Kop sings 'You'll Never Walk Alone'. Having said that, how I wish we could turn the clock back. Although they died supporting the club they loved, their deaths were avoidable.


48. Gareth Roberts, Editor, Well Read

TWENTY-TWO years. Or 8,035 days. Or 192,948 hours. It's a heck of a long time to go without justice for the death of a loved one and without knowing the truth behind the tragedy that caused it.

A son, a daughter, a brother, a sister, a dad, a granddad. Cruelly snatched away by a preventable crime. That's what Hillsborough was. A crime. A crime for which now, more than two decades on, nobody has been made to pay for. No-one's even said sorry.

Lord Justice Taylor blamed police for the loss of 96 lives. But no policeman has ever lost his job because of it. No policeman has been prosecuted. Some policeman have been compensated for Hillsborough. One officer on duty that day is believed to have been awarded £330,000 for post-traumatic stress. Phil Hammond, who lost his son Philip, 14, at Hillsborough received £3,500 compensation for his death.

How can that be right? How can that be justified? And how can the families, as so many of the ignorant suggest, 'Just leave it'?

It was the police that allocated the smaller end of Hillsborough to Liverpool.

It was the police who put Chief Superintendent David Duckenfield in charge of his first major match.

It was Duckenfield that gave the signal to open Gate C, allowing 2,000 fans to flood into areas already desperately overcrowded without stewards to guide them to less-populated side pens of the Leppings Lane end.

It was the police that ignored cries for help from dying fans. It was the police that battered down supporters that tried to climb the perimeter fence.

It was the police that watched from the control room, showing criminal inaction as the tragedy unfolded on CCTV cameras.

It was police that later claimed that CCTV on Leppings Lane was out of order.

The ground engineer later swore an affidavit that police had been lying when they told the inquest they couldn't see the extent of the crush from the control box.

It was the police that claimed CCTV tapes from the day were "stolen" and it was the police who have never explained how that crime could take place on the day of a disaster of the magnitude of Hillsborough in a locked and alarmed control room.

It was the police whose indecision meant perimeter gates remained locked as fans lost their lives.

It was the police that moved in with dogs when a gate was forced open and fans spilled on to the pitch, gasping for air. Liverpool supporters paid a heavy price for the Establishment culture which labelled football fans as hooligans.

Gates were finally opened at 3.06pm when a policeman signalled the match should be stopped.

But it was police who prevented 44 ambulances from helping dying and injured fans.

"You can't go on the pitch, they're still fighting," the police told Tony Edwards, the only professional ambulance attendant to reach the Leppings Lane end. Edwards was never interviewed by the Taylor inquiry - his ambulance never existed as far as the investigation was concerned.

It was the police that engineered a smear campaign against supporters. "Black propaganda," Liverpool MP Maria Eagle called it.

Police quizzed survivors as to how much they had drunk and whether they had tickets. Even corpses were tested for alcohol levels.

The police have never explained why they thought people having a drink, or trying to buy a ticket outside a football match, was a new phenomenon.

It was the police - Duckenfield to be exact - who minutes after the disaster lied as he told FA chief executive Graham Kelly that supporters had forced Gate C open.

So began a smear campaign that has hindered the fight for justice and taints perception of the disaster to this day.

The Sun is boycotted to this day in Liverpool after the cretinous decision by then editor Kelvin Mackenzie to run disgusting lies about Liverpool fans on the front page:

"The Truth; some fans picked pockets of victims; some fans urinated on the brave cops; some fans beat up PC giving kiss of life." Mackenzie still defends his decision. In 2006, he said: "I was not sorry then and I'm not sorry now. All I did wrong there was tell the truth."

His source? The police.

It wasn't just The Sun, either. The police spread its lies far and wide. Across the country, lies were being manifested into the national conscience.

The Sheffield Star reported: "Many supporters were still propping up the bars at 2.30pm. They raced to the stadium arriving at the Leppings Lane end at the height of the crush. Some of them were the worse for drink; others without tickets were hoping to sneak in."

The Evening Standard wrote: "How long will it take for it publicly to be acknowledged that fans themselves share the blame? The catastrophe was caused first and foremost by violent enthusiasm for soccer, in this case the tribal passions of Liverpool supporters. They literally killed themselves and others to be at the game."
The smear campaign gathered momentum. Jacques Georges, President of UEFA, jumped on board: "One had the impression that they were beasts waiting to charge into the arena."

The view of the then Tory government was also clear. The day after the disaster, Margaret Thatcher went to Hillsborough, and was briefed by police. Thatcher's press secretary, Bernard Ingham, said he "learned on the day" that the deaths were caused by a "tanked up mob" of Liverpool fans.

Lord Justice Taylor saw through it all. He blamed the police.

In his official report he said the principal cause of the disaster had been the police's "blunder of the first magnitude" to open an exit gate without directing fans away from overcrowded central "pens." Lord Taylor also highlighted the police's planning failure which allowed "dangerous congestion at the turnstiles". He hit out at the police's "sluggish reaction and response when the crush occurred" and on Duckenfield's lies said: "He could not face the enormity of [his own] decision to open the gates and all that flowed therefrom."

Taylor recognised that from moment there was a concerted effort to blacken the reputation of fans. The defaming of supporters has helped to hide the truth. Families and supporters alike have since faced a dual battle - to defend their name and fight for justice. No evidence to back up the succession of police lies has ever emerged - no pictures, no witness accounts, no video footage.

That hasn't stopped people believing it, either through ignorance or bigotry towards Liverpool.

The inquests, held before a Sheffield jury, and a coroner who was in the pay of Sheffield Council delivered verdicts of accidental death. The coroner had imposed a 3.15pm cut- off time, claiming that every victim would have been brain- dead by then and ruling out any evidence relating to events after it. That let the emergency services off the hook, making it that much harder to prove there had been criminal neglect.

All charges against the police were thrown out on grounds of insufficient evidence. No senior officer was prosecuted and a disciplinary case against Duckenfield was stopped when he took early retirement at 46 on medical grounds, with a full pension.

In 1997 Home Secretary Jack Straw appointed Lord Justice Stuart- Smith to look at new evidence to see if it merited a fresh public inquiry.

When there was a delay at the start of proceedings, due to the absence of some family members, Stuart- Smith turned to Phil Hammond and said: " Are they like the Liverpool fans, turning up at the last minute?"

The Lord Justice discovered that 183 police statements had been edited to remove criticism of senior police management. But staggeringly he ruled there was not enough evidence to merit a fresh inquiry.

The families took out private prosecutions against Duckenfield and his deputy on the day, Supt Bernard Murray. They went on trial charged with manslaughter and wilful neglect of duty. Murray was cleared of all charges and when the jury failed to reach a verdict on Duckenfield the judge halted the trial, cleared him, and ruled there could be no retrial.

At the 20th anniversary memorial service at Anfield, Margaret Aspinall, chair of the Hillsborough Family Support Group, whose 18-year-old son, James, died in the disaster, said: "All the families have ever wanted is the full truth, and an acknowledgement by those responsible."

They are still waiting.


49. Roy Evans, Former Liverpool FC manager

As the early moments of the game developed people started to come over the barrier and we began to realise there was a problem. We just thought it was an overspill and that once it was cleared up the game would carry on. It wasn't the case and we know the sad story that unfolded after that.

The journey back home was one of numbness. Both my son and Kenny Dalglish's son had gone to the game with a friend of ours. At first you begin to wonder if they were involved, but we got a phone call from the lad who had taken them and he gave us a better picture of what had happened.

In the days that followed the people of Merseyside were fantastic and the support for everyone was great. I also have to commend the players and Kenny for the way they approached things. Families would come into Anfield and we would meet them and talk to them. We went to different funerals and quite a strong bond developed between ourselves and the families. Merseyside reacted with great dignity. Not just the Liverpool side of things but Everton too. There was a great respect and a great response from the world of football.

I hope we learn from it. It's disappointing no-one has been big enough to admit mistakes were made. The blame was forced on to the fans and they didn't deserve that. They deserve justice.

50. Graeme Sharp, Former Everton player

We were in a semi-final tie at Villa Park against Norwich. It wasn't a great game, but we managed to win it 1-0. As soon as we sat down in the dressing room, news started to filter through that there had been some sort of crowd trouble at Hillsborough. We were quite joyous after our victory, but slowly we began to hear that there had been loss of life in Sheffield. It wasn't until we were on our way home on the bus that we found out more. Normally you would enjoy winning a semi-final, but coming back up the motorway, it certainly wasn't the case. It was a very quiet bus and our thoughts were centred on those who had died.

At the time Kenny Dalglish and all the Liverpool players had to deal with funerals etc and it was a very difficult period for them. The Hillsborough tragedy probably played a part in why he eventually resigned.

We (Everton) were affected as well. I remember on the Sunday, Kevin Sheedy and myself went along to a Catholic service at the cathedral. It was an awful time and we did our best to help whenever we could. We visited Anfield as a group of players to show our respects. It was a fantastic scene with all the flowers.

The first competitive game they played after the tragedy was at Goodison Park and again it was a hugely emotional night. They would never forget, but it was time to carry on with football.



51. Wendy Aslett-Clark, Supporter

The day that 96 of our fans died at Hillsborough has got to be the saddest day in Liverpool's history. I had a work colleague that lived near the ground that day and she told me of the chaos and sadness that was felt and how the locals tried to help the fans who were sat outside the ground, totally in a daze. Our beloved Club has had some devastating times but this was the worst. Dear God, let justice be done soon. We the fans will never let it be forgotten and if they think time will make us mellow, little do they know the resolve of Liverpool fans.

52. Andrew Heaton, Supporter

What does Hillsborough mean to me? Having spent the past two days trying to articulate an answer that even scratches the surface of that question, it has taken me through what feels like an entire spectrum of emotions.

As I type this out for what feels like the hundredth time, I'm still not sure of my thoughts, and probably still won't be right now as you are reading it.

Can anyone really have an opinion unless they were actually there? No matter how much you try to empathise, comfort and try to understand, how can you really know?

Trying to write about what happened that day has left me feeling empty, a fraud, an imposter. I wasn't there. So how can I?

One of my closest friends was and still carries the emotional scars of that day as I imagine thousands of others do.

Hillsborough still exists to him, but it isn't in Sheffield, it's a place in the recesses of the mind that is kept locked away and unspoken of, because to speak of it is to open the box, and all that's ever in that box is darkness.

A darkness that is impossible to articulate, one filled with feelings of guilt, selfishness and rage, a darkness that I'll never fully comprehend, so to even try, to me, would be disrespectful.

So to answer the question posed, the best I can offer is to describe the emotions that I've experienced over the last two days in trying to write my response.

Incredulity that 96 people could go out one day to see a football match and never return home.

Anger that the city, its people, the club and most importantly the memories of those people were sullied by the country's biggest selling 'newspaper' who to this day have yet to issue an apology worthy of the name.

Resentment at those who still choose to believe the lies that were perpetuated in the aftermath of the disaster by that paper to protect those who were really responsible for the events of April 15th 1989.

Aching sadness for the mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives and friends of those who died that day who never got to say goodbye.

Overwhelming pride when I think of the dignity and grace with which the families, HFSG and HJC have carried themselves despite all too often heartbreaking setbacks in their quest to find out what really happened on that fateful day, and hold those responsible to account.

But mostly grateful that I grew up in a city and support a club whose fans have the courage and solidarity to stand shoulder to shoulder, who refuse to adhere to those people who tell them to let 'it' go, people who haven't a clue what 'it' actually is.

A group of fans who share a 22-year old bond that's as strong now as it's ever been, who will always remember and will never give up until the families of the 96 Liverpool fans who never came home get what they've deserved for 22 years.

Justice.

53. Anfield Dom, Supporter

Hillsborough means to me the day that Liverpool Football Club changed football, the day that all rivalry was put aside. For that one day on the 15th April, we need to show justice for the 96.

54. Chang Mei Wan, Supporter

Justice delayed is justice denied. Humility is nothing but truth. Only truth will set us free and make a better world. YNWA

55. Roger McGough, Poet

I remember seeing it on the television and I couldn't believe it. It was a similar feeling to the one I had many years later watching the horrific events that took place with the Twin Towers. It's hard to come to terms with this horror happening before your eyes. You really couldn't foresee the disaster and the pain that lay ahead.

The TV cameras moved between shots of fans crying and captured the general chaos as people tried to ascertain what was going on. There was a sense that it wasn't really happening, that it couldn't be true. It was disbelief turning into horror, anger and then sorrow. When bad things happen it shakes the entire community.

Everybody is involved and everybody feels the pain. If I try to equate things, the recent tragedy that saw the death of Rhys Jones is similar in many ways. The whole city feels it. It's like the blue and red scarves tied together. You look back on those days and you think of Adrian Henri's poem and a lot of good poems came about as a result of the genuine emotion and grief being felt.

You recall the carnage but also remember the flowers everywhere and the outpouring of grief that was genuine. These things bring the city together as well as the anger and the feeling of injustice.

It's 20 years on and it hasn't gone away, people still haven't been recompensed. It's still there, that black hole...

56. ElScouse, Supporter

Hillsborough is an emotion.

On some days, the darker ones, it's an emotion that tears me to pieces as I dwell on the memories of not just the day it happened, but also the torrent of lies and finger-pointing reactions that were spewed out by the media, police and government. We had devastatingly lost 94, 2 were critical and hundreds were injured, and yet we were being attacked from all quarters.

I still can't get my head around it to this day.

On better days I remember the unity and solidarity it created within the city and the heartfelt reactions of the people of Sheffield and fellow reds from around the globe. All flickering lights of hope and warmth during a very cold and dark hour. It meant so much then and continues to mean so much now. Without them, I may well have lost all faith in humanity.

The only emotion that I want to feel now though is the one that I'll have on the day that we finally see justice for our 96 brothers and sisters, for their families and friends, for you and for me. It won't bring anyone back, and it won't ease the loss, but this cold and dark hour has lasted 22 years too long already and we need to feel the emotion that only truth and justice can bring us all. YNWA.

57. Oliver Kay, The Times

Of course the saddest thing about Hillsborough is the loss of so many lives - and, sadder still, so many young lives. As a boy who would go anywhere to watch his team, it upset me greatly at the time - and it still does - that so many of those who perished were, like me, in their early teens or even younger.

I can never walk past the Hillsborough memorial at Anfield without thinking "There but for the grace of God." It could have been me. It could have been any of us.

But as the years have gone by, my personal reflections have been overtaken by a growing sense of frustration about the widespread ignorance - wilful ignorance in many cases - about what really happened on that terrible day.

There was a smear campaign against Liverpool fans at the time and, regrettably, lazy myths have been allowed to take hold. People need to be educated about what really happened at Hillsborough. The findings of the Taylor report should have been enough to dispel the myths, but I sincerely hope the new inquiry will not only reinforce the truth but reveal the whole truth. Goodness knows the families have waited long enough.

There is an awful lot more I could say from a personal viewpoint, but it is not about me. It is not about any of us. It is about the men and women and boys and girls who went to Sheffield in high spirits that day and never came home. Justice for the 96.

58. Gary Ablett, First-team player in 1989

I first noticed something wrong in the warm-up when I looked behind the goal and saw how many people were in there. When we came out just before kick-off you could see people up against the railings at the front. The most noticeable thing was at about six minutes past three when the referee stopped the game. I was pretty close to the by-line and in the area of that terracing and to see the amount of people in there, I just thought to myself, 'It doesn't half look busy in there.' The referee called us off the pitch and we were expecting to go back on almost straight away. We kept warm in the changing room but as time went on we realised something was horrifically wrong.

It was a very sombre drive back to Liverpool. It was only then it started to hit home what had happened. Kenny Dalglish and his wife Marina led from the front in terms of putting themselves out there and being available for anyone to talk to. We came back to Anfield and didn't play for many, many weeks. Listening to people's accounts of loved ones and why they supported the club - it was a difficult couple of weeks.

I would love for the families to get closure. I would love for them to get the answers so they know what actually happened that day. If I could have one wish it would be for those families to get answers and for those responsible to be held accountable for that.

59. Andrew Soutar, Supporter

Hillsborough to me is one of the saddest days of the year, due to us thinking back to the 96 loved ones who went to a football match but never came home. The day unites all of football fans together to remember these people and it will do for eternity. All these families would like one thing and this is Justice.

60. Gareth Rogers, Supporter

I remember every moment of the day like it was yesterday. The mocking of Michael Knighton taking over Man U. The fans jumping out of cars and transit vans singing at the roundabout near Sheffield, the sun shining down on us. The Samba trainers I was wearing, the denim shirt, the candy logo's top sticking to my skin.

The parking of the van on the council estate at the top of the hill, the walk to the ground, the mayhem outside, the crushing outside, the ignorant police, the horse manure squelching onto my jeans. The excitement and relief of getting through the turnstiles, the walk towards the main entrance, walking into the tunnel, then deciding to walk out, the scouring for a sign to direct me to another entrance.

The match kicking off, the 'sense' that there was something not right, Beardsley hitting the cross bar, people being crushed in the next pen, the agony on their faces, Bruce's plea for help to the Policeman.

The fans on the pitch, the forest fans thinking it was a pitch invasion, the forest fans singing 'You dirty Northern b*****ds'.

People crying, bodies being covered up, advertising boards used as stretchers, the feeling of guilt that I was in the next pen. The feeling of being stunned, in a daze, thinking to myself, Where are my mates? Did they get in? Are they covered up?

The walk up the hill, the queue for the phone box. The relief of seeing my mates, the ignorant woman at the house who we had to pay to use her phone. The drive home, the cans of Heineken, the stunned silence in the van, the rising death count. Arriving home, everybody at my house, then the feeling of embarrassment. Picking up the paper the next day, two girls on the front page, being crushed against the fence. The same two girls I chatted to at the Brentford game in the Kop.

I think it took two days to actually sink in what had happened. 'You'll Never Walk Alone' now still brings a tear to my eye, even 22 years later. Typing this is actually making me upset inside. I was 16 then. I have a daughter, Kennedy Lee Rogers, who is three on the 17th April. Ironic really.

61. John McKnight, Supporter

My wedding anniversary is the 14th April and in 1989 I had been married 5 years. I gave up my ticket for the game as I had also promised my wife that I would take her away for the weekend.

We booked in to a little bed and breakfast in Chester, we went to the room and I sat on the end of the bed and switched the television on.

Was that really Bob Wilson saying Liverpool supporters were causing trouble - I couldn't and wouldn't believe it. Then the cameras switched on to the horror that was unfolding - watching the fans trying to get the Police to help, using the advertising hoardings as makeshift stretchers and listening to the Forest supporters chanting - until they realised.

I honestly can't remember where my ticket was for - I don't believe it was for the Leppings Lane end but the guilt I feel at not being there and not being to help pulls me apart to this day. As I sit typing this the tears are rolling down my face.

My son tends to go to more of the away games than me, he is a big strapping 25-year-old, and the worry I go through each and every time I am not there with him is unbelievable. So, what does Hillsborough mean to me? It means being very close to my family and feeling guilt at not being able to share the pain of the families that lost their loved ones at a football match. They will never walk alone.

62. Paul Machin, The Redmen TV

I vividly recall being in floods of tears as the reports of the disaster started coming in on Grandstand. I was six years old, and all I knew was that my dad was at the game. For those next few hours the future of our family, like so many others', hung in the balance. My dad came home that night, when 96 others didn't. For me, Hillsborough is about mourning those who were lost, whilst being eternally grateful for those who were returned to us...

63. Roslagen, Supporter

It means 96 reasons to live life to the full and to be thankful for what you have and really take care of those you love. RIP

64. "The Chosen One", Everton manager

It was a tragic day and something I will always remember. I think I was playing at Shrewsbury when news filtered through on the day of the disaster. I just felt shock and horror at what had happened.

When I was a supporter myself I remember going down to the front and experiencing the feeling of being crushed. I didn't enjoy that, but I always felt people around me would help and support me. Coming from Glasgow I was brought up with the Ibrox disaster and the Hillsborough disaster is another one which should never have happened.

Kenny Dalglish is a great man and he did everything in the right manner in the aftermath. What can you say to families that have lost loved ones? They see them go to a football match but at the end of the day they don't come home. For all the rivalry we have between clubs, nothing is more important than life. On that day they were just supporting their team and it is such a tragic loss.

Everyone at Everton Football Club is behind the families and we will certainly observe any silence for anyone connected with Liverpool.

65. Steve Hunter, LFC TV Commentator

Hillsborough to me is something that should never have happened and 22 years on I still find it hard to come to terms with it. It was the worst day of my life. I will never forget that horrific day. We need justice and we will continue to fight until finally we can say justice for the 96 has been realised. I remain hopeful we will have it one day. Walk On.

66. Mod234, Supporter

15th April 1989, two weeks after my dad had passed away. Me, my mate and brother travelled over to Sheffield as we had the previous year, looking forward to a great day out watching the Reds in the semi final. The sun was shining, we managed to park up and get in the pub for a couple of pints before searching for a chippy. We entered the ground about 2pm and headed towards the tunnel. My brother who had been in the Leppings Lane the previous year said we should go to the side corner as he said it was too packed last year and couldn't see much of the game. If it wasn't for his comments, maybe this would have been a different story. We went to the corner, rumours were flying around regarding gates and tickets. The game kicked off. I only remember us hitting the bar and the sway of people below in the pens. Some people started to climb into the stands, others tried to get onto the pitch... the rest of the day inside the ground is documented elsewhere and I don't want to revisit it. I have my own pictures which unfortunately will stay with me for the rest of my life.

We left the ground, not sure what time and started walking up the hill away from the ground before the game had officially been called off. We knew people had died and just wanted to go ring home and get away. We told anyone who knew us to let so and so know that we had seen other mates and that they were OK. There were no mobile phones then. We sat at the car for a while waiting for my mate who was in the stands. When he arrived we heard that 16 were not going home. We drove up the hill to the motorway only stopping at the 1st services to ring home. The queue for the phones stretched through the service area. I rang home but the call went to someone else who knew me. I don't know who it was but they started taking a list of who I had saw and would ring round to let their parents know. In the car the number just kept on rising... the rest of the disaster kept unfolding. I can still see it today. For those that didn't return, may GOD bless you and keep you in his safe keeping.

I am constantly reminded about April 15th 1989 and if there was any Justice in this world then those responsible should stand up and be counted. Apologies by government ministers who were only children at the time is NOT good enough. The families deserve better. The campaign for justice should be loud and clear.



67. Alan M, Supporter

It means to me sitting on the coach coming home, seeing three empty seats, and still wondering to this day what became of those people. What right did I have to be on that coach when they may have been in hospital or no longer alive? Before every home game I have a look at the memorial. It also means seeing human kindness on an epic scale as the residents of the area (many elderley) could not have been more helpful when they saw us queuing in vast numbers at every available phone box. "Come and use our phone", "Would you like a cup of tea?" and "Is there anything we can do for you?" are three phrases that were said to me and undoubtedly many other LFC fans that afternoon.

68. Paul Barton, Supporter

An emotional sadness and anger that will never go away until answers are found and we can finally let our loved ones rest in peace with a sense of justice for them. This also brings a sense of betrayal and contempt for those in power who tarnished our loved ones on that sad day.

69. Tracey Wilkinson, Supporter

We all knew someone who had been affected by this awful tragedy - whether they were there themselves and would bear the mental scars forever, or they knew or had lost someone who had been there.

The entire city stood Red and Blue together, shoulder to shoulder, bearing the burden between the people. The support of the Everton fans was amazing - football is not a game in Liverpool, it's a way of life, a religion - and what many people don't realise is that just as many Evertonians lost people that day as did Liverpudlians. Families in Liverpool are usually made up of red and blue, not just one or the other. I'll never forget the connection that was forged between us and the way we helped each through those dark, dark days that followed Hillsborough.

22 years later the pain is still there, fresh as ever - even for those of us who didn't lose anyone we knew. We still lost 96 of our own. We still take flowers to Anfield on 15th April, we still cry, we still remember. We remember that on that awful day nearly 800 people were injured, 300 were taken to hospital and 94 souls were lost.

We remember holding our heads in sorrow when we heard that a 14-year-old boy had become the 95th victim, dying in hospital, days after the event from his injuries. We remember hoping and praying that Tony Bland, the 18-year-old who fell into a coma after being crushed, would recover completely. He didn't make it, and never regained consciousness. He became the first person in English legal history that was allowed to die by withdrawal of the treatment that was prolonging his life. We remember the day he died, 4 years after the disaster, at the age of 22 and we remember how a city wept for another lost son and the 96th victim of the Hillsborough tragedy.

But finally, and most importantly, we remember each and every one of you. You are not a number, you are our brothers and sisters, and you will never, ever be forgotten. Whenever we sing 'You'll Never Walk Alone' we are singing it for you. And we know you are singing with us.

70. Derek McLean, Supporter

What does Hillsborough mean to me? April 15th is a traumatic day every year and always will be for me. I was 26 years old when I travelled to Sheffield for the 1989 FA Cup Semi Final. I did the driving with the same four mates who had been the year earlier.

We got there in time to have a chippy dinner and a pint in one of the local pubs near the ground. We made our way towards the ground and noticed how the police had not stopped to check our tickets near the ground like the previous year.

We got in the Lepping Lane terrace in good time, heading for the same part of the terrace as the year before. This was a tip off from Leeds fans who had been there in 1987, we entered the turnstiles and then went left avoiding the obvious tunnel to the centre pens. We ended up on the higher banked corner for a better view of the game. This decision saved our lives.

It became apparent how the centre pens filled up while the outer pens had spaces. As the kick off neared some people had started climbing up to the upper seated area from the centre pens, some were climbing into the outer pens and some were trying to climb onto the pitch.

The game kicked off and we all know what happened after that. My friends and I headed back to my car, the number of deaths was rising. We were lucky, we had survived, we had not seen the real carnage in the centre pens or the tunnel. We queued at a local shop to use the phone, waiting for a line to dial out as everybody was doing the same, and nobody had mobiles in those days. Just a message to my girlfriend to say I am still alive and tell all my family.

The problem now is the guilt of surviving, of being so close to death but being so lucky. Why did I get out, why did young and old, males and femal's die when I didn't. It is hard to understand and the Hillsborough service brings it all back, but I have to go to pay the 96 fellow fans my respect. They just loved football like me and they had their lives taken away. Why them, why not me? That's what I don't understand?

71. Suzy Ive, Supporter

What does Hillsborough mean to me? This question poses a difficult answer to put into words, especially when the events from the horrific afternoon was a whole 614 days before my birth. After much deliberation; the word I reside upon is strangely 'life'. Following the disaster, The Taylor Report provided recommendations on improving football ground safety and subsequently removed the fences in front of the fans on terraces and converted them into all-seaters in the country's top stadiums. Being from a football loving family, around that time my Dad, Uncle and Brother would have been travelling around the country watching football matches. The aftermath from the fateful afternoon in April meant that they were now going to these matches in a much safer environment than they were before. If Hillsborough had never happened, then another disaster may have occurred and at a match where members of my family may have been. I owe a lot to those 96 fans that never came home. An awful lot. They unwittingly changed the future of football and I believe they have saved a lot of lives. Unfortunately, they paid the ultimate price with their own lives.

Hillsborough means I appreciate what I have in life. I am lucky to have my parents and brother and cannot imagine life without them. I cannot imagine the pain that the families, friends and survivors live with each and every day for the past 22 years after losing somebody they treasured so much. Their fight and determination to get justice for the 96 epitomises what it means to belong to Liverpool Football Club. Our club is like no other. We have a sense of unity and togetherness. We are like a family and we lost 96 of our own that day. The photos provided since the 20th anniversary has meant the world knows it is not just a figure - they were real people with a passion for football. Whenever I visit Anfield, the first thing I do is pay my respects at the Hillsborough memorial and quietly thank them for making football grounds a safer place to go. I feel a sense of guilt when I go to a football match and return home safely when they were not so lucky and ensure I give them a thought. Since I was old enough to understand what happened, I have grown up appreciating the life I have and have ensured I support groups like the HFSG to get the justice the 96 souls deserve. They will truely Never Walk Alone.

72. Jim Sharman, Editor, Hillsborough: Context and Consequences

My own experience of it began on Church Street on that ill-fated afternoon. I went past a fruit and veg salesman with his radio on. I remember hearing distinctly 'We are hearing unconfirmed reports that someone has died.' The feeling was tangible. The death toll was increasing minute by minute.

What struck me was how the city galvanised itself and how the people came together and united in grief and support. To me that is what being a Liverpudlian is all about.

Putting together the Context and Consequences work with Nicola McMillan, Hillsborough began to mean different things to me. Hillsborough became synonymous with injustice. It was a massive miscarriage of justice. When you deal with a culture that is used to being spoon fed the news, it's very hard to counter that, if what is said or printed is not true. Hillsborough has come to represent a struggle for truth and decency.

From the beginning there have been people prepared to risk a lot, in their concerted campaign for justice. I don't have a name to clear, but I'm a Liverpudlian, a football supporter, and I like to think I am a decent human being. So when a system that comprises various authorities that collaborates and colludes to deny a group of people the very basic human right of truth and justice, there is something fundamentally wrong with our society. That's what Hillsborough has come to mean to me.

73. Shanks1965, Supporter

This year it means I'm 22 years older than the day I went to a football match and came home from a scene more akin to a first world war battle field. This year and every year it means I feel more of the pain that took years to develop as a result of the growing guilty feeling for coming home safe and sound when so many didn't. It means a twelve letter word, the name of a football ground, a place where cup semi finals used to be played, where supporters travelled full of hope and excitement will forever be remembered by all Liverpool supporters and many more, as the place where the authorities failed in their duty and as a result 96 people died and many more lives were shattered and even more affected forever.




74. Joel Richards, Supporter

April 15th 1989. A date that will always bring Liverpool fans to a standstill.

From one generation to another, the Hillsborough disaster is a topic that every resident on Merseyside, and football fan across the country should be made fully aware of.

Although I am only 19, I have been brought up and fully educated on a subject that many understandably find difficult to talk about. After all I come from a family full of Liverpool fans, some of whom were in attendance on that fateful day.

While they were in the relative safety of one of the side stands, my Grandmother's cousin was one of the 96 who died on the Leppings Lane terrace. Every year she recalls her own experiences from that afternoon. It may be the same story but it is one I never tire of hearing as we make our way up to Anfield for the memorial service.

Normally a trip to Anfield brings excitement and anticipation ahead of a match I have been longing to attend all week long. But this trip is different.

As I take my place on the Kop I look around for a moment. I see the parents who still struggle to accept that they lost a child who they would never see grow up, the son who lost his father and match-going partner as well as the man who lost his friend despite promising to meet after the match by the coach they travelled on.

The common factor is all are united in grief. They all ask the same questions too. Why did it happen? Why did it happen to them and their loved ones? Will justice ever be done?

Not a moment goes by that I don't think of the 96 when I travel to and from a football game with my family or friends. I think what the conditions would be like if Hillsborough had never happened and if anything would have changed.

Would football fans still be caged behind fences so high you could barely see the other end of the pitch? Would we be punished with rough policing just because we had the audacity to like football? Would we have to stand on crumbling terraces built in the 19th century packed like sardines? Most of all would we even come home safe and sound?

Whatever the case, the feeling of injustice will never go away until those who had a part to play in the disaster and its coverage admit they were wrong and offer an apology, something the families and fans still wait for.

I can only admire and respect those affected by the events that unfolded on that tragic afternoon. They should be regarded as heroes who did their best while South Yorkshire Police just stood back and watched with folded arms.

As for a certain paper and its editor who printed lies in the days that followed, I feel nothing but hate for them and the allegations they aimed at any Liverpool fan that was there. How does Kelvin MacKenzie sleep at night? Why can't he accept that he was wrong? Why can't that paper apologise for that story and print 'WE LIED' instead of 'THE TRUTH'?

The feeling towards The Sun hasn't changed 22 years on and the successful boycott on Merseyside still remains. Stickers bearing the message 'Don't buy The Sun' are a prominent fixture on any supporter travelling to and from a game and are seen around Liverpool and beyond.

No matter where you are this Friday and whatever you are doing, just stop and pause for a moment. Think of those fans that went to watch a football game and never returned, think of their loved ones and think of those fans that survived and still suffer to this very day.

After the service, I'll walk round to the Anfield Road end of the ground and I'll stand and stare at the memorial. I'll look at all the flowers, every name and age, and then gaze at the eternal flame that resides as a permanent reminder that their lights will never go out. No matter what, it will always bring a great lump to my throat and a silent tear to my eye.

You'll Never Walk Alone. Justice For The 96

75. Peter Hooton, Singer

The memories of that fateful day are still very raw and I still find it difficult to look at images or footage of the tragedy. There are so many emotions surrounding the events of the day and like many there on the 15th April 1989, I still don't think I have really fully come to terms with it. As an eyewitness from the North Stand, I watched the events unfold unaware of the severity of the tragedy and then in disbelief as I saw Liverpool fans trying to revive victims who had been carried the full length of the pitch on advertising hoardings.

My initial emotions were of anger and frustration at the authorities' inadequate reaction to the disaster but also a great sense of pride as I witnessed the real heroes on that day; ordinary Liverpool fans who took control of the rescue operation. A few days later these same fans had to read lies in the 'gutter press' in a classic smear orchestrated by the authorities via the odious Kelvin MacKenzie and his minions. Following 3,776 written statements, over 1,500 letters, 70 hours of video footage and the evidence of 174 witnesses in court Lord Justice Taylor did not find a shred of evidence to support the reports in The Sun newspaper. In fact, Lord Justice Taylor called Liverpool fans response to the unfolding disaster 'magnificent', praising them for actually initiating and taking control of the rescue operation as those supposed to be in control 'froze'. These allegations in The Sun were later called 'disgraceful lies' by Lord Justice Stuart Smith in a scrutiny in 1997 to look at new evidence.

In the 22 years since the disaster, football has been transformed beyond recognition with the Premiership becoming a global phenomenon. Many point to that day and the death of 96 innocent Liverpool fans being the catalyst which changed the face of the modern game in England. Sadly it took the death of innocent men, women and children for the powers that be to look at their approach to crowd control and safety.

The real culprits for the tragedy have never been held to account and this has been a constant reminder to Liverpool fans of the injustice surrounding the authorities' response to the tragedy. Even though Lord Justice Taylor public enquiry into the disaster soon after found that the 'main reason for the disaster was a failure of police control' and that Chief Superintendent David Duckinfield's decision to open the gates which led to the crush was a 'blunder of the first magnitude' nobody has ever been held culpable unlike the 1985 Heysel tragedy where both fans and people in control of events and crowd safety on that day, namely the Brussels police chief, the head of the Belgian FA and the general secretary of UEFA were put on trial and were convicted of 'criminal negligence' and 'involuntary manslaughter' receiving fines and suspended prison sentences

The 96 will never be forgotten and the campaign to hold those responsible will never cease until justice has been done!

76. Dave Kirby, Writer

ANOTHER SPRING

The dawn arrives to greet the day
Daffodils dance and songbird's sing
I know that grief is on the way
Another year - another spring

Thoughts - visions - sights - sounds
Silent guilt - silent tears
Pain and sorrow all around
It's here again - that time of year

Mother Nature comforts the soul
With floral colours that gently entwine
It takes me to a field of gold
A beautiful vision from 89

As time rolls on - each passing year
I feel more close to those who fell
I live in hope that soon we'll hear
The deafening toll of the justice bell

Ninety six loved ones - ninety six lives
Each one a person - a face with a name
Sons, daughters, husbands, wives
Remembered forever by an eternal flame

Every April feels the same
Daffodils dance and songbird's sing
Guilt - anger - sorrow - pain
Another year - another spring

77. Magnus Thor Jonsson, Supporter, Iceland

Coming from as far as Iceland, the happenings at Hillsborough on the 15th of April 1989 really put Liverpool and football into perspective.

My 18th birthday was the day before and on the night of 15th April there was going to be a big school fair so me and my mates gathered around our TV sets to wait for our beloved club. The most famous Icelandic sports analyst was at the stadium and as the horrible scenes were unveiled on our screens, the face of football changed in my mind. Life stopped and I still remember that day like yesterday. I stayed home that night.

Nothing will ever compensate for 96 football fans leaving their homes for a game, never to return. In the weeks following the tragedy I listened to BBC and read everything I could, as I was really worried my club had decided to stop. And I understood those feelings, wouldn't have been mad or sad, because this club is really about it's fans and was in pains. And still a big part of our family is, as we must never forget.

During my visits to Liverpool since then I have met people who lost their relatives, been to a memorial service on the Kop and travelled specially for the home game in the FA cup in 2007 to be able to say to people I joined in the 'Justice chanting' at the start. I have written articles on Liverpool websites which have been quoted elsewhere about 'The Truth' of that day, and used each chance given to tell people what really happened and how important it is we'll never see something like that again. But above all, that day told us to treasure each day and value the experience of loving Liverpool Football Club. You never know if you will be able to do that tomorrow.

78. James Carroll, Liverpoolfc.tv journalist

What does Hillsborough mean to me? Tragedy. Hurt. Questions. Cover-ups. Disgust. Lies. Anger. Injustice. Solidarity. Determination. Fight. Pride. One day, justice will prevail. They will never walk alone.

79. Bordessa72, Supporter

I was 17 years old when my friend and I travelled to Hillsborough. We got into the ground in plenty of time and headed down the tunnel towards the centre pen and as we got into the daylight we realised the pen was full. I turned left and went into the next pen but my friend stood his ground and we argued were we were to watch the match. Eventually he joined me in the next pen.

As kick off neared the Liverpool players came out and an article 20 years later reminded me that Alan Hansen had been out for most of the season and was out warming up to the chants of 'Jockey is Back' and all my memories came flooding back. The only thing I remember about the game was Beardsley hitting the bar then all hell let loose.

We didn't know what was happening but things were not right and we had to get out onto the pitch which some fans had done. We got out via a tunnel which separated the pens and we could then see what was happening and as we made it just through the gate I remember a police officer saying, 'Oh no you don't 'and pushed us back in. We eventually got out and I ran to the fences shouting to a police officer that we needed wire cutters but the look on his face said it all. Like many others, we ran at the Forest fans who were booing but didn't know the full extent of what was happening.

With no help arriving we had to get the injured over to the other side of the ground using advertising boards, with a police officer giving CPR to a very young blonde boy with his father kneeling beside him, then his father picks him up in his arms and he runs and runs. These memories are so vivid and a few times during the week I find myself thinking of everything that happened that day.

There have been many tragedies over the years which have had closure but because football fans and in particular Scousers where at Hillsborough, the way the 96 and their families have been treated is an absolute disgrace. The government, South Yorkshire Police and, in particular, the FA should be ashamed of themselves. We will never forget the way we have been treated and we will never forget the 96. Y.N.W.A. That's what Hillsborough means to me.

80. Kristian Walsh, Supporter

I was two-years-old when 96 people never came home from an FA Cup semi final. I probably fathomed the events of that day then as much as I do now.

I don't remember Hillsborough; I'd never dare claim to possess the same strength of emotion felt by those who watched it on television or, even worse, experienced it in person. I know this to be true as I know a large number of people, some I'd include as my dearest friends, were there.

I feel anger about the scurrilous, hurtful lies a certain rag published causing grief to so many; anger which rises within me every time I hear its name or the name of its editor, the most despicable human being on the face of this earth.

I feel hurt that the 96 were like any other supporter who wanted to watch their football club; hurt that mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters were taken away far too early from this world.

I feel confusion at how justice has yet to be served; confusion at how the loss of 96 innocent lives is consistently met with such a blasé attitude from the government.

All of what I feel is strong, but nowhere near as strong as those who have suffered directly from that day onwards. For that, I sometimes feel relief and sometimes feel a strange regret - regret that I wasn't there to help people both during the tragedy and in the aftermath of it.

The people who died at Hillsborough would still be on the Kop today following their football team. A hug at Istanbul or a sing song in Cardiff, lost forever. That's why even those who are too young to even remember it pain so much; the 96 were normal supporters like us, attending a game of football to cheer the mighty reds into another cup final.

No person should go to a football game and never return home; no family should have to live afterwards without justice ever being served. The people who should be held culpable for their deaths never have been. For the 96, we must continue to fight for it.

No matter where you are in Anfield, it's hard not to spot the eternal flame. It rests upon our crest. It rests upon pin badges and stickers. It flickers, never ending, inside the Hillsborough memorial. A reminder to us all that no one should have to suffer what those who knew the 96 suffered; a reminder that no one should never return home from a game of football.

But most of all, it's a reminder that they're always in our hearts; their memory will never extinguish. Justice for the 96; we will never forget you.

81. Andy Yates, Supporter

I'm by no means the world's best Liverpool supporter and I only stood on the Kop as a kid a few times due to half my family being Blue and the other Red. I'm even a Wirral-born lad (or plastic Scouser), I've never experienced an away game in Europe and I wasn't even born when Hillsborough happened. But because of the club I support and the people that support it, I know the story. It angers me, shocks me, surprises me, even inspires me. I've read the stories of people who were there, and witnessed it. And, like too many Liverpool supporters, I know someone who was there that day. My nan has only told me once of that day her son (my uncle) sat at the opposite end of Leppings Lane, losing two of his friends in the crush. When you hear these stories from your own family you feel connected to what happened, and even though you can't do anything about it, you feel the injustice and the pain that those families feel.

Now my story may not be the most inspiring or gut wrenching, but it shows what Liverpool Football Club is all about. A fan who wasn't even born in 1989 knows the story, the pain and the losses of that day. I use what I have been told to tell others, to tell of the injustice and the sadness that changed peoples' lives. It's the worst story I've ever heard in my life, but it has made my love for Liverpool Football Club deeper. I hope justice comes to those who deserve it, and I will tell the story to my children in years to come.

82. Stephen Done, Liverpool FC museum curator

It's a disaster of such profound sadness that it is difficult to sum it up. When 96 people die you can't consign it to history. At a time when people get worried football is losing touch with the fans, I think it is important that a club that is a multi-million pound business never loses sight of what happened that day.

It's sometimes easy to forget that many thousands are still damaged and affected by it. It wasn't just the ones who died. There are all the survivors, family and friends who to this day, have to remember that horrific event.

In some ways you can think of the club before and after Hillsborough. It's part of what makes Liverpool Football Club what it is now. At Anfield we have the Hillsborough memorial as a permanent monument to those who died. It can be found next to the Shankly Gates where there is the living flame and the names of the 96. Every single day tributes are laid there and every time we have a home match it is flooded with scarves and beautiful gestures.

The club crest also changed as a result of Hillsborough. In 1992 - the year of Liverpool's centenary - chief executive/general secretary Peter Robinson made the decision that they would review the crest and make a permanent memorial to the victims of Hillsborough. Hence, the flame on either side of the crest with the top the section of the Shankly Gates saying, You'll Never Walk Alone.



83. Peter Denk, Supporter, Nambia

I am writing from Namibia, in the south western part of Africa, far away from Liverpool city and Liverpool FC, the club I am so much part of. The Hillsborough disaster reveals more about the sprit and strength and honesty of all the people connected with Liverpool FC and most especially families of the people who died such a horrible death on that afternoon of April 15.

I am reminded by this spirit of togetherness and honesty as I look at pictures of people holding out their hands from above the standing terraces, reaching out to people to pull them to safety, despite the obvious risk that the person above faces. I hear the desperation from below, in my third eye I see the franticness of such a desperate situation. I get a big knot in my throat as I see a hand reaching out and people are pulled to safety. Further down below I try to imagine the finality of the situation, too ghastly to imagine as people suffer a slow and horrible death. 96 people. I cannot, I was never there. I pause though and say a prayer for those 96. Rest in Peace.

I get out and cast an eye, I see the advertising boards are ripped from their spaces with bare hands and people assist how they can. I salute Liverpool and its great fans. I say Ubuntu, togetherness.

Because of this, standing terraces are banned. It must be banned forever because moves to try and unban it reveals terrible insensitivity towards the bereaved families and most of all those that have died.

I am also reminded though by another ugly part of the human spirit. I read the lies, the behind the scenes plots, the ugliness makes me step back and ask, how and why? I am told that is how the human spirit is. Ugly and Beautiful. I cannot understand but I am consoled that there is a conscience, a sense of right and wrong. I salute the bereaved families, I salute Liverpool FC and I salute Liverpool fans.

84. Gordon Brown, Former Prime Minister

People will never forget that day; it's etched on our memories. I don't think we can ever forget the 96 people who died.

I think that the families, in trying to cope with this disaster, have had the support of all decent minded people across the country. I think that's probably what matters most: that people understood that the behaviour of Liverpool fans in helping each other was, as I think the judge said, 'Magnificent'; that it was wrong for people to blame, as some did, Liverpool fans on that day and it's right that the Freedom of the City has been given to the families of Liverpool fans on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of this disaster.

I think people have learned first of all not to rush to instant judgments and some of the people who did rush to instant judgments have been proven wrong and that's why the Liverpool people are so respected throughout the country. The work that they did to help each other on that day and subsequent events when people had to help each other through the difficult times is something that will never be forgotten.

Let's never forget the fans who cruelly lost their lives on a day when we know the people of Liverpool were trying, if they were in that ground, to help each other and that's the spirit of Liverpool.

85. Nick L, Supporter, Australia

I wasn't around in 1989. Nor am I really around today, considering I live on the opposite side of the world. But Hillsborough, the disaster, the tragedy, and the subsequent compassionate response from fans, will always strike a heart chord with me. Training at the LFC Academy two years ago, on a football tour of the UK and Spain, I had the privilege of experiencing the 20th anniversary of the disaster.

The simple way in which fans on the day went about business in a most reverential, respectful and mutually compassionate nature was purely a marvel. It seemed to me to embody the core essence of the solidarity of the club. I've never had the opportunity to be at Anfield on game day, but I, as much as anybody, know that each of the 96 fans that lost their life that day live on in the hearts of the millions of fans around the world.

To the 96, and those considered their loved ones, I extend a hand of respect, love and recognition. Know that every man, woman, boy and girl walking the world with a red heart, is walking the road to justice alongside you. Because of this, know that you will forever and always, never walk alone.

86. Matt Owen, Community Manager, Liverpoolfc.tv

The chances are you're reading this on a computer or even a phone that would've seemed the stuff of science fiction to a 16-yea- old lad in 1989. In this era of Smartphones and Twitter, communication takes place in an instant and the world is a much smaller place. GPS, SMS, Email, IM make friends and families instantly accessible.

On that 15th April 1989, a mobile phone was unheard of, certainly amongst me and my friends. They went to Sheffield that day and I stayed at home, with Grandstand and the radio coverage to look forward to. As kick off approached I was envious of my friends at the ground but looking forward to hearing about another Liverpool victory later in the day.

Slowly the news began to emerge and it became obvious that something was terribly wrong. The initial reflex action of the broadcasters was to suspect crowd trouble but it was soon obvious this was something very different.

From that point on, the day became about an agonising race between the television and radio which slowly unfolded the full horror of events and those few phone lines linking Liverpool and the North West with Sheffield, carrying the news that families and friends were desperate to hear. Lines that all too quickly were swamped with survivors making their calls to the desperately worried people back home.

It was a few hours later before I got the good news. I called my mate's neighbour to make sure I didn't tie up a precious phone line and found out they'd managed to get in touch. My friends had been incredibly lucky, the quick thinking of a fellow supporter had saved them and they were on their way back.

It was already clear that many wouldn't be getting that good news; but who could have predicted the awful aftermath and the shameful cover-up that denied the families and survivors the closure that was their right? I still had a lot of growing up to do but I don't think any of us even began to realise the full enormity of the impact of Hillsborough until many years after.

I've since met some of the remarkable people that have fought the lies and the cover-ups, seen how ordinary people can do quite extraordinary things. I wish their actions hadn't of been necessary but out of the immense wrong that was that day, their determination and courage remains undiminished and a source of inspiration.

Today when I think of Hillsborough I think of those long, awful hours of uncertainty, the sense of relief, and of those who never got the good news. I think of that world of phone boxes, crossed lines, closed minds and closing times. It seems a long time ago, but somehow the rawness hasn't faded. I'll meet one of those friends later today and go with him to the game but we won't discuss that day.

87. Grant Booth, Supporter

To me Hillsborough is the reason I support this great football club. I am 17 and have been a Liverpool supporter since a day before my 6th Birthday (15th April 1999). I remember I was running around the front room being annoying as you are at that age when my dad shouted at me to be quiet, he was fixated on the TV.

It was Anfield during the remembrance service while a rendition of 'You'll Never Walk Alone' was being sang. We just sat in silence. After I turned to my dad and asked why all those people were there when there was no football game on and so my dad explained to me about the 15th April 1989. Even though I was at a very young age, I understood what my dad was telling me and since that day I've felt an instant affection for the club and for the 96.

Being from Sheffield myself, my Dad took me to Hillsborough when I was 11 to watch the derby and I just remember the hairs on the back of my neck raise on end for the whole time we were there. As I got older and started to fully understand the accusations that had been made about our beloved club, I fully understood how important and just how much we deserve justice for the 96. Also just how important it is for fans like myself, the next generation you could say, to never ever give up the fight for justice and more importantly never forget the 96.

88. Christopher Whittle, Supporter

It means absolutely everything to me. It is my life, and it has controlled my life since the 15th of April 1989. I was in Pen 3 of Leppings Lane, caught up in the horrific crush. I suffered cracked ribs, a bruised chest and back, and breathlessness. I also fell to the floor, but luckily for me a fellow Red, pulled me up. I had never seen him before or since, I have always wondered if he made it out of there, the killing fields of Hillsborough. Another fate befell me that day, from those moments as I battled for life. It was the start of my battle with PTSD - or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the terrible psychological condition which has affected my life for 22 years. As I wandered like a zombie on that pitch, shaking violently like an autumn leaf in a storm, unable to speak, my live was changed forever.

I know a part of me died that day, I became a different person. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the panic attacks, low self esteem, intense anxiety and paranoia. My love of football started to diminish, although I kept my season ticket for another couple of years. I stopped going to Anfield in 1991, and apart from the odd game, up until 1999. I managed to cope with football up until 2001. My battle with PTSD was ongoing and I suffered another setback, which meant I stopped going to games from 2001 up to 2010, towards the end of last season. As I write this, I can just about cope, but that is through help from various people, fellow survivors such as John Herbert and Dean Harris, and Anne Williams, who lost her son, Kevin, at Hillsborough, and who wrote that wonderful book 'When you Walk Through The Storm'. Talking with these people is the best counseling and the best therapy that you can receive. I now work for Anne's campaign/support group HOPE FOR HILLSBOROUGH. I did a sponsored swim last September where I raised £300 to help with court costs in future legal proceedings. I also accompanied Anne to London to confront the Secretary of State for Culture, Media & Sport, Mr. Jeremy Hunt MP, about his disgraceful slur regarding Hillsborough last summer. In June, I am holding a fundraiser for my 50th birthday, to raise funds for HOPE FOR HILLSBOROUGH. I have come on leaps and bounds as regards PTSD during the past year, and it's all down to not facing my problems alone, and being around these wonderful people and the LFC Family. For so many years, I bottled it all up about Hillsborough, pushed it away, was in self denial. The worst thing that I could have done.

I am now writing a book about my own personal experiences of Hillsborough, the disaster itself, the legal battles, the cover ups and the lies, my life since and my battle with PTSD - let us hope that I find a publisher! I also like to write poetry. I would like to conclude with this short poem:

NO WORDS

No words, however few
Can express the hell of that April afternoon
Lives lost, spirits broken, hearts torn to shreds
96 dead, that was the carnage of Leppings Lane
Can anyone outside our LFC Family really understand our pain?

They lied, they hid the facts, they covered up
Those South Yorkshire boys in blue
Just to save face, to protect, and pass the blame
That's it - we'll blame the fans, it's the easy way out
We'll make up stories - no tickets they had, the violent, drunken louts
These callous lies and vile myths, what can be said?
NO WORDS can possibly explain the hurt, the anger, the frustration it caused

22 years of injustice and lies
Hide the facts, no truths exposed
A lot of people were in on the act
To screw the 96, the families, and those that lived
Those names they just roll off the tongue
Margaret Thatcher, Bernard Ingham and Douglas Hurd
Not forgetting Wright, Murray and Duckenfield of course
The South Yorkshire liars who have no shame
The coroner Popper, in with the West Midlands lot
No thought, no care, just get the job done
Not forgetting Mackenzie of course, those vicious lies in that gutter rag
All of this goes to prove what we knew
But NO WORDS can explain how we got screwed

All we ask for is JUSTICE be given
It's our right, it's the truth
We all know that
Will it ever come our way?
We just have to hope and continue to pray
JUSTICE FOR THE 96 is the cry each year
But NO WORDS can express our pain, our fear



89. Steve Hothersall, Radio City

I wasn't at Hillsborough; I was a teenager at the time living away from Liverpool, watching the scenes unfold on the TV. It would be easy to say that in the weeks and months that followed the tragedy, I understood, or even appreciated the nature of the injustices that happened that terrible day - but the fact is that I didn't.

Ten years later I started working as a journalist at Radio City 96.7, and one of my first jobs was covering the Hillsborough Memorial Service at Anfield - it was a truly humbling experience. In the days preceding it I interviewed mums and dads who had lost loved ones at the FA Cup semi final. I'm not sure what I expected - but what I found was families who spoke with dignity and strength, sometimes fighting back the tears to tell their story, but all exuded pride in their loved ones, and in their city. Each had a different story, but all had a common grief.

For the last decade I have interviewed these people on a regular basis - Phil Hammond, Trevor Hicks, Margaret Aspinall to name but a few. I never take this for granted. They continually educate me about the injustices of what happened at Hillsborough. I feel it is my responsibility to share this knowledge with our audience, not only with those who lived through the tragedy, but also a new generation.

It may be 22 years since 96 football fans lost their lives, but this anniversary is as important as the first.

90. Stephen Medlicott, Supporter

Today I'll shed a tear for the injusticeness called life
And for the guilty feelings that I returned to see my wife
For the 96 victims, you're held deep inside my heart
You'll never walk alone, we'll never be apart

But we need to remind the people of the disaster on that day
Unless you believe the papers, in which case I have nothing more to say
We were stripped of our own dignity and questioned as a man
As the rest of nation read, he's just a Liverpool fan

Well, let me tell you something, from someone who was there
As they had driven in the final nail, and no one seemed to care
We were left to defend our lives, by helping one another
Solid like a family, like a sister and a brother

I have never been a soldier or sent into a battle
The only weapons we had that day, were a hat or scarf or rattle
The enemy on that day, were dressed up all in blue

With the incompetence of leaders , who just didn't have a clue
To the police, FA and media and all the powers to be
You created pain and torture and put the blame on me
THE TRUTH in big bold letters , a blatant damning lie

Please can anyone tell me, why our people had to die
Some people will never understand, the quest for the untold truth
The need and desire for JUSTICE , for every man ,woman and youth

You labeled us as animals and football hooligans too
But now you've read my story, tell me who's been kidding who?

91. Stephen Davies, Supporter

A lot of emotions well up when I'm asked the question, 'What does Hillsborough mean to you?'

There's the anger so many of us share at the institutional neglect which had been allowed to build up over decades, resulting in stadium conditions which were unsafe for crowds half the capacity. The same anger directed at the authorities on the day, compounding the unsafe conditions with what should have been deemed criminal neglect as they watched their laissez faire attitude to safety tragically unfold in front of them.

There's also hurt at the scandalous lies told in the wake of the disaster by the likes of The Sun as they rushed to cover up the real reasons for Hillsborough and then refused to apologise in the wake of all evidence to the contrary. That hurt remains to this day as Kelvin MacKenzie remains smugly indignant to the suffering of the families and friends of those who died.

In my own case there's a mixture of relief and guilt. The blessed relief comes from knowing a last minute decision meant I missed a game I was due to attend so was spared the horrific conditions and scenes others were forced to endure. The strange sense of guilt arises from knowing the two friends I regularly attended away games with did travel and stood at the Leppings Lane end. Both survived, one dragged onto the top tier, the other over the front fence but both remain scarred with the experiences of the day. But above all this there's something you might not expect.

Pride.

I have pride in the fans on the day that fought so fiercely to try and save the lives of their fellow supporters. Pride in the dignity of the families in the aftermath of the disaster, and the way they have carried themselves in the 22 years since. Pride in the likes of Steve Kelly of Through the Wind and the Rain, whose writing in the years following the disaster was so crucial in focusing on who was responsible for what happened. There's pride in the author Alan Edge who harried any politician or journalist who dared to casually cast aspersions at our fans and city.

Then there's the pride I have in the forensic work of Professor Phil Scraton, whose academic analysis of the causes of the disaster have contributed to both improvement in crowd safety and the growing acceptance of the real Truth. Pride in the work of Jimmy McGovern whose 1996 dramatised reconstruction of the events of the disaster did so much to change the nation's opinion of the events of the day.

But mostly there's pride for the HFSG, the HJC and all those who fight for Justice to this day. You deserve all our support and respect.

92. Matthew Cain, Supporter

Hillsborough, for me, is a story of contradictions.
Hillsborough: a single word. The most passionate of responses.
The cosy reality of a matchday routine. The cold chill remembering those who walked before me.
The optimism of youth. The wrenching tragedy of so many young shattered lives.
The simple reality of disaster. The inconceivable complexity of losing a loved-one.
Intimate, private grief. The most cruel of public tragedies.
The dignity of the families. The shame of so many who should have known better.
A communal act of remembrance. The personal need to not dramatise death.
The burning desire for justice. The aching need for resolution.
Extraordinary efforts to confront the lies. The timidity of those incapable of searching the truth.
My admiration for the families. My shame at the authorities.
My welling of pride as the Kop articulates that chants for Justice. My disgust that they have to - 20 years on.
My pride at the club's annual remembrance. A dark cloud, cruelly mocking the absence of silver lining.
You'll Never Walk Alone; a passing aphorism. A lifetime of meaning.

93. Jeff Gammon, Supporter

To me April 15th brings both great sadness and joy. The 15th April 89 will live with me forever. As a lifelong Liverpool fan I was 15 watching the horror unfold with tears in my eyes. As the years passed, every anniversary I thought about the tragic losses and of all those people whose lives would never be the same again. Then on the 15th April 2006 my wife gave birth to beautiful twin boys which have made this date even more important to me as the LFC family grew by another two, hence the great sadness and joy of this date. Never wilt in the fight for justice for the 96. YNWA

94. Karen D'Arcy, Supporter

Hillsborough to me means loss, devastation, injustice... the word alone brings back haunting memories of that fateful day, of the lies that were told and believed by many. Yet it is not just negative things that come to mind. Hillsborough also means support, commitment, pride and an unyielding bond between a community that will never give up on their fallen comrades, never! I'm proud to say that I am a Liverpool fan and Scouser, and I am proud to know what our fans did for each other that day. For me, it was those who pulled people to safety, who ripped apart the hoardings to make stretchers, who carried the injured to safety and treated people they'd never met in an attempt to save them... it was those people who were the heroes that day. Their bravery is inspiring and I have nothing but respect for them and pride to know that they belong to our club. So Hillsborough, in a single word for me, is a bond.
RIP 96 - You'll never walk alone

95. Alf, Supporter

The darkest day in the History of Liverpool Football Club.

96. John Scully, Supporter

Hillsborough encompasses almost all emotions. Here is a short poem I have written displaying my anguish over aspects of the disaster.

Sarah

I did not know her
Yet she almost makes me cry
She lay in a makeshift morgue
When it should have been a hospital ward

So there was no nurse to offer her care
No family present to stroke her hair
No flowers, no grapes, no Lucozade
No one to comfort if she was afraid

No one to comfort if she was afraid
I wonder if her consciousness strayed
And just for a second a word she'd eek
A peer from an eye - a finger tweak

But no one was there
No one was there

No one - but ONE - perhaps we don't understand
Perhaps there was ONE who held Her hand
Who closed her eye - and heard that sigh
Then lifted her soul - up upon HIGH

A well worthwhile read, really heart-breaking stuff. 

Thank you for posting HR.

A very tough read that. Thanks for posting mate.

Super read that,very emotional stuff.

Taken from another forum via The Times.

Tony Evans on Hillsborough


The last time I was here, there was fear in the air.

Looking down at the turnstiles from Leppings Lane, there was a tumult surrounding a tiny tunnel, a filthy, evil plughole sucking all life towards it and extinguishing the breath of all who were pulled into it.

And it was dragging us towards it. We knew what was coming but could not break the crushing, malignant force. I'm here often, the last time about two weeks ago. In a nightmare.

Two decades ago, there were no bad dreams, just a sunny spring day and an optimism that was curiously out of kilter with the decade for Scousers. In 1989, with my mate - also called Tony - I came down the hill laughing and approached the crowd outside Hillsborough with confidence.

There were a lot of people eager to get into the game. Kick-off was looming and agitation was growing. But we worked the crowd, exploiting its pressing and ebbing, to gain yards. We had experience in this sort of thing - veterans in big crowds since junior school. We had been caught up in this sort of congestion countless times throughout the years, so we were soon at the turnstiles.

Then the first unusual thing happened. An exit gate suddenly opened and there we were, inside the ground, our tickets redundant. "See you later," I said. "Tomorrow," he replied. Then he walked down the tunnel.

His next words to me came some 36 hours later: "Have you ever felt someone's ribs breaking under your feet?"

Why did you go down the tunnel? The question came last week, after an emotional visit to Hillsborough, this time in waking hours. "I think," Tony said, "I caught a glimpse of the pitch. That was it. I knew it was the worst place in the ground. But I saw the pitch. You know what it's like when you see the pitch."

When gate C was opened on the orders of the chief superintendent, David Duckenfield, a man in charge of crowd control for the first time on FA Cup semi-final day, April 15, 1989, thousands of fans spilt into the stadium bemused and clutching tickets. The only entrance to the viewing areas visible as they surged in was the tunnel. It led to two pens that were already horribly overcrowded. Now they were about to become fatally so.

"As soon as I was in the tunnel, I knew there were problems," Tony said. "There was no going back. Just too many people. I kept telling myself to be calm, not to panic. I knew that if my head went down under the level of the crowd, I wouldn't come back up. But the pushing just carried on.

"Then I was out of the tunnel. I thought it was over, just for a second. Then I knew it was worse. Much worse."

People were still trying to force their way through the underpass, believing, like Tony, that the sunlight and terraces meant safety. Instead, horror waited. "I'd been turned around, facing away from the pitch, so I didn't know what was happening behind the goal. It was hard to breathe and stay upright, but it had gone past the point of struggling and moving. My elbow was jammed into a fella's neck and he was pleading with me to move it. He kept saying: 'I can't breathe, I'm dying.' But I couldn't move it. Then he stopped talking. His head went under."

While Tony was fighting for his life, I was watching from a seat in the stands, trying to comprehend the enormity of what was unfolding. Most people around seemed, at first - like the police - to assume it was a hooligan incident. Then the sights became uglier. A young lad walked around the pitch, holding his arm up under his elbow. The forearm was broken at a neat right angle. Two fans were pumping at the chest of a big man wearing a red shirt. They gesticulated at police to help, but the officers stood by, seemingly paralysed. Then one of the would-be medics pulled up the red shirt, exposing a bare belly, and covered the man's face. It sent a shock wave through the seats.

I had done some CPR training. As the boys on the pitch began to rip down advertising hoardings to create makeshift stretchers, I ran around to the tunnel again, hoping to help.

The exit gates were all open at the Leppings Lane, but a line of policemen stood still, on a diagonal, as if to stop anyone leaving. Near the tunnel, under the stairs to the upper section, people lay on the floor. For some reason I thought they were sunbathing. Then I realised they were dead.

How long did it last, I asked Tony. "It seemed ages. Hours," he said. "Probably minutes. Then the crush eased off and I was pushed back towards the tunnel. There were three fellas there. Looked like they were in their 50s. We used to call big fellas Dockers. You'd say, 'The size of him. He's a Docker.' Well these were Dockers. That's the only way I can explain it. They were grabbing people, giving them a leg up and throwing them up to the stands, where people were pulling them up. One did it for me. Then I was looking down at the chaos."

Outside, trying to stay calm, I asked a policeman a simple question. "How many?" His only reply was a huge, racking sob. Unable to control myself, I ran away up the hill crying. Almost 20 years on, I'm in the same spot. Still crying. Looking at that tunnel. It's taken almost that time to stop running.

Inside the ground, Tony was making the transition from victim to rescuer without a second thought. "I started pulling up people; dragging them out. It went on for a while and then there didn't seem any more need to be there. I walked out, saw some buses and got on one. There was only me and an old woman on it. Then I got the train back to London, where I was living. Everyone around was normal."

But Tony was not normal. Some weeks later, he began to lose weight in a drastic manner. He saw his doctor, an ancient Irishman, who could find nothing wrong. The doctor asked his usual question: any serious traumas lately? Tony could not think of any. At home, he mentioned the exchange to his girlfriend, now his wife. After a moment or two of disbelief, she suggested that Sheffield may have fit the category. He was genuinely shocked. Hillsborough happened to the dead, injured and their families. He was just there. The doctor explained in blunt terms. "He said 'We call it the weeping willows'," Tony recalls. "You can't cry, so that's how it comes out. You're weeping through your a***."

So how do you let it out? How do you let it go when the lies persist, the fingers still point, 20 years on, against every shred of evidence? Despite the Taylor report. When, increasingly, opposing supporters sing: "You killed your own fans," and otherwise sensible people repeat the accusations that ring across two decades with the hollow resonance of a great lie. When the coroner ruled that all of the dead were gone by 3.15pm, but Anne Williams has evidence that her 15-year-old son, Kevin, asked for his mum almost an hour later. When Andrew Devine, deprived of oxygen in the crush, remains in a vegetative coma, being cared for by ageing parents whose life was destroyed at the same time as their son's.

You don't. You go back to Hillsborough, like I did last week, and cry for the dead, the crippled and their families. But you also weep for the fools who believe "The Truth", those who think that my friend and I were wilful killers.

And hope that justice will one day be done. That no one else has to live through something like this at a football match again. Because even us lucky ones have to dream.

First tear of the day right there.

Heard them say on the radio yesterday that vital and significant information has been uncovered already. Long, long, long overdue but it's on it's way.