Justice for the 96

It was a wonderful day on the 15^th of April 1989, a great day for a football game. We (Liverpool FC) are playing Nottingham Forest FC for the FA Cup semifinal on a neutral ground that belonged to Sheffield Wednesday. The stadium was called Hillsborough. On that fateful day many Liverpool fans went to see their team, but 96 of them never came back home. This is a fictional story about one supporter.

I woke up today dreaming of reaching the final to the FA Cup, but Nottingham could well be a considerable obstacle. Nevertheless I have great confidence in my team. We are the envy of the world after all. I got up, showered and got dressed, wearing my Liverpool shirt, and ate a meal. I'm ready to go now with the guys, I hope I'm not late, or actually I hope that im not too early. My wife gave me a warm kiss and a hug and told me to take care, while my mum sat there smiling and drinking her tea. I go over to her and give her a kiss on the forehead. Just before I stepped out, my wife ran after me with my Liverpool scarf that I forgot lying on the dining table. She wraps it around my neck and I give her another kiss goodbye. As soon as I'm out I see my friends waiting in the car right in front of my house waiving their scarves and already singing our club's songs, I get in and join them immediately without saying hi. We drive to Hillsborough laughing and singing on the way, we can almost feel that today is a very special day. As soon as we park our car and come out we are joined by other bands of friends walking their way to the stadium. Some are already buzzed with drink to set their moods high, while some do not need any drink to feel excited, like me.  It looks like half the population of Liverpool is here to watch the game, and I wouldn’t blame any of them. How are all those going to fit in the stadium, I have no clue. As soon as we reach the gates of the stadium we hear people angry that the police have told them to turn back and leave all because they haven’t got any tickets. Normally there would be a chance to buy tickets from the stadium itself, but the police today are really acting like idiots. Luckily we show them our tickets and go inside.

We go in just in time for the start of the game, and we start to wonder that the stadium is already full, so how are those waiting outside will get in? Suddenly and without warning we feel that people are being pushed inside more and more and we feel the push on us as well. I look to the back and see that thousands are being let in. Don’t they realize that this side is already full? What are they doing? The small push becomes a shove and then it becomes a squeeze. I get pushed all the way to the front where the cage is standing. I start to feel the crush of thousands on my body, and the air starts to get squeezed out of my lungs. I scream to my friends but I can't see them anywhere. People all around me start to panic and scream to those at the back to stop. It's no use; no one can hear our desperate shouts. I try to climb the cage but my legs feel like a ton with the weight of all these thousands coming down on me. I can hear my heart pounding in my ear and my breathing is getting weak. I can hear the cries and shouts of so many people around me. I can see tears running down some of their faces while some are screaming their lungs out trying to find their loved ones. I can see that those in the middle are being raised by the supporters on the upper level, but still we at the front feel the crush on our bodies. I and several men at the front try to break the cage or shake it loose but it's no use, it's not moving. Whoever built this cage must have had elephants in mind, it's impossible that it was built to safe to humans. I'm starting to lose breath fast, and my hearing becomes distorted. The view around me is gradually getting darker. I can hear my heart pounding out of my ear drums and I scream one last time to save us, but to be honest I don’t think I could have heard my own voice. I feel another push but to the sides and I open my eyes to see that a cage came down to my left, but it's too far for me. I feel weak and my legs crumble like chopsticks holding up an ox. I feel people's legs kicking me trying to reach that opening to save their lives. I try to reach out with my hands but no one look at me. Someone just stepped on my belly, another has kicked my nose, and I can feel warm blood coming out of my nose. All I can see is a forest of legs all rushing to reach an exit, and not minding me lying there desperate. I try to take a breath but to no use. I feel people stepping on me but I can't feel any pain anymore. It's getting darker, and colder than normal. I can feel it now. I close my eyes and let go. The last image I can see clearly is me in the dining room with my wife and mum.

I wrote this story as a way to communicate the tragedy of Hillsborough to the world. Along with the 96 who passed away, there were more than 700 injured at that fateful day. Instead of writing a report on the disaster I thought that a fictional story based on these events would better draw a picture of how such a disaster should not be taken lightly. The oldest who passed away was 67, while the youngest was only 10.  They will never be forgotten in the minds of Liverpool FC supporters and football fans in general.You can find out much more just by searching the internet and many videos in youtube as well. RIP96

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTDiyX3fEQs