You have a fantastic memory considering you were 11 & 12 years old at the time. I was 11 when we beat United 5-1 at Maine Road in 89 and remember it kicking off. I don’t remember being aware of people’s accents - Mancunian or otherwise - on the way to the ground though.Heysel and Sheffield are two subjects I rarely speak about publicly as the memories and emotions from two horrific days NO person should EVER have to experience are still as raw as if they happened yesterday. Time ISN'T a great healer when you've lived through events like those. But THERE'S so much ignorance surrounding both from opposition supporters, many of whom look to 'point score through death', as is their low life want, that I felt compelled, for anyone interested, to recount my personal account of the tragic events in Brussels 35 years ago today.
Apologies in advance for the length and anything lost in emotion-
Con il cuore pesante, per il 35 ° anno, Liverpool ricorda. Dio riposi.
With the help of Google translator, 'With a heavy heart, for the 35th year, Liverpool remembers. God rest.'
Heysel really starts a year prior. May 30. 1984. Rome's Olympic stadium. Home of AS Roma. Liverpool FC, going for a remarkable 4th European Cup triumph in 7 years to complete our first ever treble. Into the lion's den of an uber hostile 'home' stadium for a final. Rome's final! They just couldn't lose with 60 thousand or so screaming, passionate Romans outnumbering the equally passionate Liverpudlian contingent 5/6- 1. But lose they did as one of the all-time great L'pool teams did what most no other team in the World could have done at the time and beat the Italians, in their own back yard, to bring that glorious trophy home again after a tense penalty shoot-out with Brucie and his spaghetti legs unnerving Graziani and the great Roma legend Bruno Conti. For a wide-eyed 11-year-old Liverpudlian at his first European Cup final, this was heaven. I hadn't been exposed to much live football back then on two counts. One, we didn't have the money. Times were REAL hard back in the '80's when Thatcher took special delight in trying her best to destroy one of the very few City's that actually stood up to her. And my mum being scared witless for her son's safety with all the aggro and violence that went hand in hand with football at the time at EVERY club. But this was a European Cup final. The biggest game of all. To complete a magnificent treble in Fagan's first season. And with my dad working the trains for British Rail (before Thatcher privatised the railways and that great British institution went), he had dirt cheap travel and his lad wasn't going to miss this one. (However much I remember he and me Ma arguing over it.). 'We'll be sound' he told her. 'Europe's different. The Italian's aren't like us.' So the boat-train was sorted, I jibbed out of school for a few days, and I left the country for the first time in my young life the most excited I'd ever been.
Turns out me Ma was smarter than me arl' fella as the Romans didn't take too kindly to losing their own European Cup final. As we came out of the Olympic Stadium, it was like a funnelled tunnel to the car park. Which was basically an ambush gauntlet as the Italians had massed and everything rained down. Bottles, stones the whole works. The Carabinieri were as useless as they've always proven to be in many more future visits to Italy who thought it prudent to just fire tear gas into US which just added to the mayhem. I don't mind saying I was in tears and the most scared I'd ever been in my young life with me dad and other guys trying to shield any kids against the wall. People were hiding behind cars from the indiscriminate attacks and we managed to get onto a coach, even though we were due to be on a train, to get out of the way of the carnage. Always stuck with me seeing the older adults coming on the coach with blood streamed faces wondering what the heck had just happened. SO much different from earlier in the day when everyone was singing and dancing in good-natured unison with local Roman's anticipating the match. I remember that coach then running a similar gauntlet of bricks and all sorts bombarding it as it weaved it's way back over the Tiber through Rome. Storie's on the ferry home were of Lazio fans (I didn't even know there were two teams in Rome and had to ask me dad who Lazio was?) coming out on the streets to protect L'pool fans from the attacks. I never knew at the time but our great secretary and administrator, Peter Robinson, raised serious concerns about the segregation and security measures on an advance visit to Rome which fell on deaf ears. And I believe that was the last time UEFA ever left security arrangements down to the host City and took it upon themselves to organise the game. But after what happened 12 months later that was hardly a good thing .....
When you win the European Cup, as you know, you then get the honour of playing the following season for the European Super Cup against the winners of the second European major, the UEFA Cup. Now the Europa League. Back in 1984, it was an annual game between the European Cup winners and the now-defunct European Cup Winners Cup holders. Who that year just happened to be another Italian team, Juventus. (There had been a LOT of trouble the CWC semi-final in Turin in 1984 also between Juventus and Manchester United, with Utd lads being legged all over the place in similar, vicious attacks.). Back then, this was played over two legs. home and away. But through a combination of bad weather and cup replays, LFC had a heavy backlog of fixtures. So finding two dates in the schedule was becoming very problematic to the point a one-off game in Turin was decided on in January. Again, following on from what had happened in Rome the previous May, tensions were running REAL high between the Italians and Liverpool fans. There weren't too many reds that made that trip to Turin. But those that did got a similar treatment to what happened in Rome and story's came back of some proper vicious attacks as fans left the Stadio Communale. (Juve won the game 2-0 but Liverpool were now painted as the 'enemy' in Italy.).
So when a few months later the European Cup final in Brussels paired Liverpool against Juventus yet again, the scene was already set. There were scores to settle. What had happened the last two times the previous 12 months was fresh in peoples memories. Face to face with the Italians once again, similar wasn't going to happen. And not only Liverpudlians were thinking that way. In some inane, fucked up British sense of pride, scores against the Italians were there to be settled and Heysel was the unfortunate battleground .....
May 29, 1985. Liverpool FC's fifth European Cup final. Looking to retain the European Cup for the second time. Against the Italian Champions Juventus. In the Heysel Stadium, Brussels. A ramshackle, crumbling stadium nowhere near fit enough to host such a game. Set against the backdrop of REAL high tensions between Italian and English supporters. In a VERY accessible City, Brussels, that was just a ferry ride away across the channel in Belgium. What could possibly go wrong ......
After what happened in 1984 in Rome, as you can imagine, there was NO way me Mam was gonna' allow me to go to this one. She didn't even want my dad going but knew there was no way of stopping him watching his beloved Liverpool FC in another European Cup final and a few days away with his mates. For want of a better expression, as luck would have it, my mum was in the hossi for a week or so that May having an op. And both my dad and my cousin took advantage, unbeknown to her, as I was supposed to be at my cousin's being looked after whilst she was in the Royal; managed to get tickets for us all and I was going to Brussels to watch the mighty reds do us proud in Europe again. (The repercussions when she found out after were NOT pretty but that's another story.).
We went on a coach on the day to Brussels at some ungodly hour. I remember it being pitch black when we set off and sleeping all the way down the coach to the ferry. What always does stand out was my dad was FAR more nervous than a year before on the trip over the water. And as we had some breki on the packed ferry, there were a lot of unfamiliar accents that was real novel to me as I was just used to the familiarity of all my own little World back home with all my mates and teachers/ parents talking Scouse. The mood was far more cautious than the journey to Rome in '84. It was a gorgeous sunny day when we got the Continent, and that continued all through. The coach dropped us off in Brussels late morning, and we all walked down the Grand'Place which was full of reds with hardly any Italian's anywhere. Everything seemed more relaxed with the bigger lads then and they were all drinking and singing, whilst I was sat in awe drinking a coke soaking it all in. Then as the afternoon went on, things started to turn again. The mood got more edgy and my dad was trying to get our Tony to come up the ground early with us so we weren't split up. There was a few scuffles that had broken out. Some lads in Union Jack t-shirts singing 'En-ger-lund, En-ger-lund' songs with 'F-off yer cockney wool ****s yer!' and the like said to them as inter-club scuffles broke out. All of which was totally foreign for a L'pool game that I'd experienced. Then a shop window went through and lads with their rewards and Police after them were running in all directions. That was when we decided to get up the stadium. I remember me dad having a real argument with some fella' the tram as he was trying to keep me from getting squashed as this fella' was banging on the window over my head and singing. And then we got to the stadium which was absolute carnage in itself. (A ground Peter Robinson had appealed to UEFA to change on THREE separate occasions down to the dilapidated and unfit state of the venue for such an occasion.). We lost my cousin as there was a small group of Juventus fans and Liverpool fans squaring unto each other and he went straight over there before the riot Police came charging through on horseback. (Scary in itself as I nearly got trampled in the melee.). The Police were pushing and hitting people at the turnstiles, so my dad pulled us back and we walked around the end we had tickets for. Now this was just an outer breeze block wall, and as you walked round, there was, I shit you not, a HOLE in the back wall of the terrace that had been just kicked in which people were going through with the police trying to stop them. We got caught up in that throng and went into the stadium through that. A hole in a wall through the ruble. Which beggars belief to what we experience now. I still to this day have two complete, unchecked tickets for that game. Mine and me arl' fella's. They have 'Section Y' marked on them. Which was around the terrace to the other corner were the wall gave way. This was a couple of hours before kick-off and things were real uneasy. With missiles going backwards an forwards to our right between the L'pool and Juventus sections but far enough away from us for my dad to start feeling better. 'Don't worry mate. They won't get to us. Our lads will take care of it. Yers excited about seeing the redmen win another European Cup?' He got me an orange juice in the early evening sun at the side after we'd been stood there for what seemed like forever, and there was a big commotion and you could see the L'pool fans and Juventus fans running at each other either side of the fencing separating the sections. I don't remember a bang of such, but I do remember a big cloud of smoke the opposite corner during all this which I presume now was when the wall went. We never knew about the deaths until we got back to Ostend for the ferry home the following morning. To all intents and purposes, this was just a running battle that was sadly the norm on the terraces back then. I remember my dad getting real antsy when Juventus fans started streaming down from the other end around the running track trying to get into our section, with one firing a GUN in the air stood in front of us. He tried to get us out of the ground at that point (he'd never seen a gun in his life and that did it for him) but the Belgium Police were just battering anyone that tried to get out back in with their sticks. It was just surreal. And very frightening. Then it gradually began to calm with the Liverpool captain Phil Neal coming on the mic appealing for the fighting to stop. And then the game finally starts. It's unbelievable to look back and think it could even of been played with 39 people dying, or worse already dead; but we honestly didn't know about any deaths. And when the players are out playing and there's a trophy's at stake, all that matters is the game. How could there be anything serious outside of some fighting if the game was allowed to be played?
But there was. And 39 people (32 Italians, 4 Belgium's, 2 French and 1 Northern Irish lad. Another example of other fans base ignorance on the subject. '39 Italians Can't be Wrong!' If yers gonna' sink to abusing us over death, as least get yer facts straight ay!) tragically lost their lives with scores of others seriously injured. I remember after the game the Police presence being real heavy and aggressive and everyone thrown onto a line of coaches. Which they didn't allow any lights on and made us close all the curtains which was strange and just added to the rumours of 'Why?' It was a very sombre, quiet coach drive back through Belgium. Then when we got back to Ostend, people spitting on us as and armed Police shepherding everyone onto the ferries. I was crying asking 'Why do they hate us so much Dad? We haven't done anything and the Juventus fella' had a gun!?' He couldn't explain ..... Little did we know and it wasn't until we were on the ferry and seen the English papers that the enormity of what had unfolded began to resinate and the absolute shock and disbelief spread.
There's a lot been written about Heysel. Most born out of complete ignorance from other clubs fans who weren't there. And don't misjudge that for one moment as any kind of excuse of validation to condone our actions in that terrible day. I was 12 and in NO way involved in any deaths. But it's something that's haunted me ever since that L'pool fans were in large part to blame and 39 people lost their lives. Having then suffered the trauma of Hillsborough 4 years later that did seriously affect me psychologically, and still does to this day, it just brings home what happened in Brussels all the harder. But within that acceptance and guilt for our actions, you can't escape all the mitigating factors that lead up to what happened. The build-up in the previous meetings between English and Italian fans and all the attacks on Italian soil. UEFA disgracefully holding such a showpiece occasion in such a run-down, joke of a stadium that was literally crumbling to bits against all calls for it to be moved. (Not only was there that hole the back wall. You could literally pick at the terracing and break it off. I know as I was small and sat down on it for a time doing just that!). The other English club fans that were there to 'do the Italians.' The elements from Turin that were just as aggressive as the English. And a Belgium Police force completely unprepared with dealing with football violence.
We served our punishment with the European ban that was extended longer for Liverpool. (Thatcher had been looking for any and every excuse to hit football fans hard for long enough down to the weekly violence up and down the land and Heysel, along with a weak-willed FA and Graham Kelly at the time, gave her the perfect excuse to cure the perceived 'Engish disease' once and for all.). 14 people served time of the 26 the Belgium authorities prosecuted. But none of that is any compensation to the 39 family's that lost loved ones who will never return from a football match. I fully understand to this day the hatred in Turin toward my City and football club.
Hillsborough remains the worst day of my life and the worst Liverpool Football Club has ever experienced. And for even darker reasons, our share in the blame of what transpired that fateful May day in 1985 will also live with those of us that were there forever with a deep sense of guilt and sorrow.
It's with a heavy heart that for the 35th straight year on this date I say-
Liverpool ricorda. Dio riposi.
End of the day both sides wanted it that night. Can’t blame Liverpool for everything as the Italians were well up for it aswell . The stadium was piss poor and should never have fit enough to host that game and to put juve and Liverpool next to each other was a major error. Also Liverpool fans got rinsed in Rome when they beat Roma a few years earlier so that stuck in the minds aswell . As for jewellers being done well it happens . I went to the forest - Liverpool semi final 2 years before I the 89 tradegy and the scousers were jumping the turnstiles and kicking the gates in that year so to say they cause is disgraceful as they were as much at fault as were the obIt has always pissed me off that the 'inadequate' stadium gets the blame. That report posted earlier from one thug shows the truth. Thousands of drunken, aggressive, nay violent nasty people terrorised an entire city, peaceful Belgians, Juventus fans peaceful or not and then attacked them causing 39 people to die.
They stole from off licences, they attacked a jewellers, they attacked anybody they wanted to and then blamed everybody but themselves. It is always someone else's fault.
Heysel and Sheffield are two subjects I rarely speak about publicly as the memories and emotions from two horrific days NO person should EVER have to experience are still as raw as if they happened yesterday. Time ISN'T a great healer when you've lived through events like those. But THERE'S so much ignorance surrounding both from opposition supporters, many of whom look to 'point score through death', as is their low life want, that I felt compelled, for anyone interested, to recount my personal account of the tragic events in Brussels 35 years ago today.
Apologies in advance for the length and anything lost in emotion-
Con il cuore pesante, per il 35 ° anno, Liverpool ricorda. Dio riposi.
With the help of Google translator, 'With a heavy heart, for the 35th year, Liverpool remembers. God rest.'
Heysel really starts a year prior. May 30. 1984. Rome's Olympic stadium. Home of AS Roma. Liverpool FC, going for a remarkable 4th European Cup triumph in 7 years to complete our first ever treble. Into the lion's den of an uber hostile 'home' stadium for a final. Rome's final! They just couldn't lose with 60 thousand or so screaming, passionate Romans outnumbering the equally passionate Liverpudlian contingent 5/6- 1. But lose they did as one of the all-time great L'pool teams did what most no other team in the World could have done at the time and beat the Italians, in their own back yard, to bring that glorious trophy home again after a tense penalty shoot-out with Brucie and his spaghetti legs unnerving Graziani and the great Roma legend Bruno Conti. For a wide-eyed 11-year-old Liverpudlian at his first European Cup final, this was heaven. I hadn't been exposed to much live football back then on two counts. One, we didn't have the money. Times were REAL hard back in the '80's when Thatcher took special delight in trying her best to destroy one of the very few City's that actually stood up to her. And my mum being scared witless for her son's safety with all the aggro and violence that went hand in hand with football at the time at EVERY club. But this was a European Cup final. The biggest game of all. To complete a magnificent treble in Fagan's first season. And with my dad working the trains for British Rail (before Thatcher privatised the railways and that great British institution went), he had dirt cheap travel and his lad wasn't going to miss this one. (However much I remember he and me Ma arguing over it.). 'We'll be sound' he told her. 'Europe's different. The Italian's aren't like us.' So the boat-train was sorted, I jibbed out of school for a few days, and I left the country for the first time in my young life the most excited I'd ever been.
Turns out me Ma was smarter than me arl' fella as the Romans didn't take too kindly to losing their own European Cup final. As we came out of the Olympic Stadium, it was like a funnelled tunnel to the car park. Which was basically an ambush gauntlet as the Italians had massed and everything rained down. Bottles, stones the whole works. The Carabinieri were as useless as they've always proven to be in many more future visits to Italy who thought it prudent to just fire tear gas into US which just added to the mayhem. I don't mind saying I was in tears and the most scared I'd ever been in my young life with me dad and other guys trying to shield any kids against the wall. People were hiding behind cars from the indiscriminate attacks and we managed to get onto a coach, even though we were due to be on a train, to get out of the way of the carnage. Always stuck with me seeing the older adults coming on the coach with blood streamed faces wondering what the heck had just happened. SO much different from earlier in the day when everyone was singing and dancing in good-natured unison with local Roman's anticipating the match. I remember that coach then running a similar gauntlet of bricks and all sorts bombarding it as it weaved it's way back over the Tiber through Rome. Storie's on the ferry home were of Lazio fans (I didn't even know there were two teams in Rome and had to ask me dad who Lazio was?) coming out on the streets to protect L'pool fans from the attacks. I never knew at the time but our great secretary and administrator, Peter Robinson, raised serious concerns about the segregation and security measures on an advance visit to Rome which fell on deaf ears. And I believe that was the last time UEFA ever left security arrangements down to the host City and took it upon themselves to organise the game. But after what happened 12 months later that was hardly a good thing .....
When you win the European Cup, as you know, you then get the honour of playing the following season for the European Super Cup against the winners of the second European major, the UEFA Cup. Now the Europa League. Back in 1984, it was an annual game between the European Cup winners and the now-defunct European Cup Winners Cup holders. Who that year just happened to be another Italian team, Juventus. (There had been a LOT of trouble the CWC semi-final in Turin in 1984 also between Juventus and Manchester United, with Utd lads being legged all over the place in similar, vicious attacks.). Back then, this was played over two legs. home and away. But through a combination of bad weather and cup replays, LFC had a heavy backlog of fixtures. So finding two dates in the schedule was becoming very problematic to the point a one-off game in Turin was decided on in January. Again, following on from what had happened in Rome the previous May, tensions were running REAL high between the Italians and Liverpool fans. There weren't too many reds that made that trip to Turin. But those that did got a similar treatment to what happened in Rome and story's came back of some proper vicious attacks as fans left the Stadio Communale. (Juve won the game 2-0 but Liverpool were now painted as the 'enemy' in Italy.).
So when a few months later the European Cup final in Brussels paired Liverpool against Juventus yet again, the scene was already set. There were scores to settle. What had happened the last two times the previous 12 months was fresh in peoples memories. Face to face with the Italians once again, similar wasn't going to happen. And not only Liverpudlians were thinking that way. In some inane, fucked up British sense of pride, scores against the Italians were there to be settled and Heysel was the unfortunate battleground .....
May 29, 1985. Liverpool FC's fifth European Cup final. Looking to retain the European Cup for the second time. Against the Italian Champions Juventus. In the Heysel Stadium, Brussels. A ramshackle, crumbling stadium nowhere near fit enough to host such a game. Set against the backdrop of REAL high tensions between Italian and English supporters. In a VERY accessible City, Brussels, that was just a ferry ride away across the channel in Belgium. What could possibly go wrong ......
After what happened in 1984 in Rome, as you can imagine, there was NO way me Mam was gonna' allow me to go to this one. She didn't even want my dad going but knew there was no way of stopping him watching his beloved Liverpool FC in another European Cup final and a few days away with his mates. For want of a better expression, as luck would have it, my mum was in the hossi for a week or so that May having an op. And both my dad and my cousin took advantage, unbeknown to her, as I was supposed to be at my cousin's being looked after whilst she was in the Royal; managed to get tickets for us all and I was going to Brussels to watch the mighty reds do us proud in Europe again. (The repercussions when she found out after were NOT pretty but that's another story.).
We went on a coach on the day to Brussels at some ungodly hour. I remember it being pitch black when we set off and sleeping all the way down the coach to the ferry. What always does stand out was my dad was FAR more nervous than a year before on the trip over the water. And as we had some breki on the packed ferry, there were a lot of unfamiliar accents that was real novel to me as I was just used to the familiarity of all my own little World back home with all my mates and teachers/ parents talking Scouse. The mood was far more cautious than the journey to Rome in '84. It was a gorgeous sunny day when we got the Continent, and that continued all through. The coach dropped us off in Brussels late morning, and we all walked down the Grand'Place which was full of reds with hardly any Italian's anywhere. Everything seemed more relaxed with the bigger lads then and they were all drinking and singing, whilst I was sat in awe drinking a coke soaking it all in. Then as the afternoon went on, things started to turn again. The mood got more edgy and my dad was trying to get our Tony to come up the ground early with us so we weren't split up. There was a few scuffles that had broken out. Some lads in Union Jack t-shirts singing 'En-ger-lund, En-ger-lund' songs with 'F-off yer cockney wool ****s yer!' and the like said to them as inter-club scuffles broke out. All of which was totally foreign for a L'pool game that I'd experienced. Then a shop window went through and lads with their rewards and Police after them were running in all directions. That was when we decided to get up the stadium. I remember me dad having a real argument with some fella' the tram as he was trying to keep me from getting squashed as this fella' was banging on the window over my head and singing. And then we got to the stadium which was absolute carnage in itself. (A ground Peter Robinson had appealed to UEFA to change on THREE separate occasions down to the dilapidated and unfit state of the venue for such an occasion.). We lost my cousin as there was a small group of Juventus fans and Liverpool fans squaring unto each other and he went straight over there before the riot Police came charging through on horseback. (Scary in itself as I nearly got trampled in the melee.). The Police were pushing and hitting people at the turnstiles, so my dad pulled us back and we walked around the end we had tickets for. Now this was just an outer breeze block wall, and as you walked round, there was, I shit you not, a HOLE in the back wall of the terrace that had been just kicked in which people were going through with the police trying to stop them. We got caught up in that throng and went into the stadium through that. A hole in a wall through the ruble. Which beggars belief to what we experience now. I still to this day have two complete, unchecked tickets for that game. Mine and me arl' fella's. They have 'Section Y' marked on them. Which was around the terrace to the other corner were the wall gave way. This was a couple of hours before kick-off and things were real uneasy. With missiles going backwards an forwards to our right between the L'pool and Juventus sections but far enough away from us for my dad to start feeling better. 'Don't worry mate. They won't get to us. Our lads will take care of it. Yers excited about seeing the redmen win another European Cup?' He got me an orange juice in the early evening sun at the side after we'd been stood there for what seemed like forever, and there was a big commotion and you could see the L'pool fans and Juventus fans running at each other either side of the fencing separating the sections. I don't remember a bang of such, but I do remember a big cloud of smoke the opposite corner during all this which I presume now was when the wall went. We never knew about the deaths until we got back to Ostend for the ferry home the following morning. To all intents and purposes, this was just a running battle that was sadly the norm on the terraces back then. I remember my dad getting real antsy when Juventus fans started streaming down from the other end around the running track trying to get into our section, with one firing a GUN in the air stood in front of us. He tried to get us out of the ground at that point (he'd never seen a gun in his life and that did it for him) but the Belgium Police were just battering anyone that tried to get out back in with their sticks. It was just surreal. And very frightening. Then it gradually began to calm with the Liverpool captain Phil Neal coming on the mic appealing for the fighting to stop. And then the game finally starts. It's unbelievable to look back and think it could even of been played with 39 people dying, or worse already dead; but we honestly didn't know about any deaths. And when the players are out playing and there's a trophy's at stake, all that matters is the game. How could there be anything serious outside of some fighting if the game was allowed to be played?
But there was. And 39 people (32 Italians, 4 Belgium's, 2 French and 1 Northern Irish lad. Another example of other fans base ignorance on the subject. '39 Italians Can't be Wrong!' If yers gonna' sink to abusing us over death, as least get yer facts straight ay!) tragically lost their lives with scores of others seriously injured. I remember after the game the Police presence being real heavy and aggressive and everyone thrown onto a line of coaches. Which they didn't allow any lights on and made us close all the curtains which was strange and just added to the rumours of 'Why?' It was a very sombre, quiet coach drive back through Belgium. Then when we got back to Ostend, people spitting on us as and armed Police shepherding everyone onto the ferries. I was crying asking 'Why do they hate us so much Dad? We haven't done anything and the Juventus fella' had a gun!?' He couldn't explain ..... Little did we know and it wasn't until we were on the ferry and seen the English papers that the enormity of what had unfolded began to resinate and the absolute shock and disbelief spread.
There's a lot been written about Heysel. Most born out of complete ignorance from other clubs fans who weren't there. And don't misjudge that for one moment as any kind of excuse of validation to condone our actions in that terrible day. I was 12 and in NO way involved in any deaths. But it's something that's haunted me ever since that L'pool fans were in large part to blame and 39 people lost their lives. Having then suffered the trauma of Hillsborough 4 years later that did seriously affect me psychologically, and still does to this day, it just brings home what happened in Brussels all the harder. But within that acceptance and guilt for our actions, you can't escape all the mitigating factors that lead up to what happened. The build-up in the previous meetings between English and Italian fans and all the attacks on Italian soil. UEFA disgracefully holding such a showpiece occasion in such a run-down, joke of a stadium that was literally crumbling to bits against all calls for it to be moved. (Not only was there that hole the back wall. You could literally pick at the terracing and break it off. I know as I was small and sat down on it for a time doing just that!). The other English club fans that were there to 'do the Italians.' The elements from Turin that were just as aggressive as the English. And a Belgium Police force completely unprepared with dealing with football violence.
We served our punishment with the European ban that was extended longer for Liverpool. (Thatcher had been looking for any and every excuse to hit football fans hard for long enough down to the weekly violence up and down the land and Heysel, along with a weak-willed FA and Graham Kelly at the time, gave her the perfect excuse to cure the perceived 'Engish disease' once and for all.). 14 people served time of the 26 the Belgium authorities prosecuted. But none of that is any compensation to the 39 family's that lost loved ones who will never return from a football match. I fully understand to this day the hatred in Turin toward my City and football club.
Hillsborough remains the worst day of my life and the worst Liverpool Football Club has ever experienced. And for even darker reasons, our share in the blame of what transpired that fateful May day in 1985 will also live with those of us that were there forever with a deep sense of guilt and sorrow.
It's with a heavy heart that for the 35th straight year on this date I say-
Liverpool ricorda. Dio riposi.
the number of times they run across the open terrace is shocking. years later phil neal asked for payment to talk about the tragedy.
Still don't get wtf Roma the year before had to do with anything...End of the day both sides wanted it that night. Can’t blame Liverpool for everything as the Italians were well up for it aswell . The stadium was piss poor and should never have fit enough to host that game and to put juve and Liverpool next to each other was a major error. Also Liverpool fans got rinsed in Rome when they beat Roma a few years earlier so that stuck in the minds aswell . As for jewellers being done well it happens . I went to the forest - Liverpool semi final 2 years before I the 89 tradegy and the scousers were jumping the turnstiles and kicking the gates in that year so to say they cause is disgraceful as they were as much at fault as were the ob
Have you seen images of the 'well up for it Italian fans' ? Ironically, if they had been well up for it, it probably wouldn't have happenedEnd of the day both sides wanted it that night. Can’t blame Liverpool for everything as the Italians were well up for it aswell . The stadium was piss poor and should never have fit enough to host that game and to put juve and Liverpool next to each other was a major error. Also Liverpool fans got rinsed in Rome when they beat Roma a few years earlier so that stuck in the minds aswell . As for jewellers being done well it happens . I went to the forest - Liverpool semi final 2 years before I the 89 tradegy and the scousers were jumping the turnstiles and kicking the gates in that year so to say they cause is disgraceful as they were as much at fault as were the ob
I think Liverpool fans wanted retribution for the kicking they got in Rome the year before, and were happy to exact revenge on any Italians.Still don't get wtf Roma the year before had to do with anything...
the number of times they run across the open terrace is shocking. years later phil neal asked for payment to talk about the tragedy.