Just got in from the Vigil at St Georges Hall.
Under the cloud of lies and attempts at turning the blame on the fans that so closely followed the disaster no former memorial has ever felt like a real one, for me anyway. For years i've attended the services at Anfield and whist we were always there to pay our respects to our fallen brothers and sisters there has always been a bitter taste in the back of your throat knowing that whilst you stood there a lot of people still believed the lies. People still questioned the families search for Justice. We didn't, we always knew the truth but we knew attempts had been made to write history in the form of bodged inquests, dishonest tabloid headlines, flawed Judicial enquiries, rumours of blame in those that had to live with surviving the event and doubt in the minds of a lot of the nation spun from the stereotyping of a whole city based upon the wrongdoings of a few. I've heard it all over the years. "Scousers were always forcing the gates open at grounds" "What about Heysel?" "Why don't you just let it go?" "There's been an Inquiry is that not enough now?" "It's like a blind man in a dark room looking for a cat that isn't there".
Tonight was very different. In some ways it felt like the first proper memorial because we all stood side by side in solidarity in the knowledge that the truth was finally out. I stood next to a man who was just as big as me, just as ugly and just as old as me, who like me was there with his kids. Looking into each others waterlogged eyes and smiling we shook hands. There was no need to speak. No need to exchange stories of how our own individual lives had been changed by the 15th of April 1989 you never have to explain that. Generally you know if you're there at such an occasion everyone has their story. People have asked me over the years "Did you know anyone who died at Hillsborough?" I've always given the same answer. Everyone I knew when I was 20 years old knew someone that had died at Hillsborough. I've always dealt with my grief quite privately. For ten years after the event I couldn't even bare going to the match let alone talk about the disaster. My best mate still can't stand/sit on a terrace at a football match and was even too upset today to attend tonight's Vigil.
To be the sibling, wife, husband, father, mother, grandparent, grandchild, cousin, friend, workmate of someone who either died or survived on that day has been a like having to live a life with a little ever constant niggle in your head. That niggle has always been that you know history's account of those events is wrong.
Today for many of us that niggle has been proven to be just and at last there's some vindication in your heart for not erasing that niggle from your mind and forcing yourself to live with it for 23 years.
I took my two youngest children tonight. I've never talked to them about my own personal experiences of Hillsborough. I don't really talk to anyone about that. I have though brought them up as reds (Much to my own bluenose families dislike
) and explained why we have the eternal flame on our crest and they have both been with me to the match and visited the memorial before the game. I've explained to them why we sing "Justice for the 96" on the Kop and why as a Red they are part of one big family of Liverpool fans.
I took them tonight though, not because I wanted them to experience the night as a fan but because I wanted them to learn that if something is wrong you should never give up on putting it right. As we were coming through the tunnel on the way home my 13 year old daughter made me choke when she said.
"It's a good job they never gave up Dad"
Job done.
As a fellow urbanite I ask you to look at the pictures of the 96 on the following link.
They weren't ticketless drunken fans. They weren't hubcap robbing scum. They weren't the people who forced their way into games, they weren't responsible for Heysel, they were 96 individuals that went to a football match to support a football team and never came home.
http://www.liverpoolfc.com/history/hillsborough