Hillsborough could forest fans have done more?

[alabamared]

It upsets me thinking about it. It upsets me hearing my dad talk about it, which he still does. It upsets me that football supporters in those days behaved very badly, and some still do. The best thing Forest can do now is to continue to support LFC and the HSA in all that they do. The HSA is not just for LFC fans either. The next thing that Forest fans can do is not be intimidated by the minority of fans of LFC who behave badly, and to behave impeccably themselves. Not just the sign on song either. I am told that back in those days Forest fans were not exactly angels. Let's put the blame where it belongs, that's the Police, the FA, Thatcher's government, Sheffield Wednesday and their 'safety certificate', and, most importantly, the fans of both clubs who were boozed up and looking for a fight.
Stay classy Forest.

You weren't there.

 

[Statto]

I can’t believe that the same Liverpool fans weren’t at Hillsborough the previous season
for exactly the same occasion,Rocka (maybe some arrived without tickets then as well).
The difference was the organisation-I went with my brother and we arrived in our seats at
around 2.30.It was patently obvious something was seriously wrong as there were bare
gaps on the terracing at the Liverpool end whereas the previous season the terrace was evenly packed by that time.
No one has ever asked the question WHY there were massive spaces on the terracing at 2.30?
The enquiry seemed to concentrate on the crowd surge just before and after the game started.
The organisation was clearly sadly lacking-which shouldn’t have been the case given the
previous season went smoothly with (as I said) almost certainly the same people present.

From what I've seen and read (since I was only 5 years old at the time) the issues were:
- there were transport issues, can't remember if there was a train late/cancelled or roadworks on the M62, which meant some fans got there later than they had planned
- there were no doubt some fans in the pub as well, as there usually is even now with most teams

So it's likely that there they simply misjudged or were delayed outside their control & ended up outside the turnstiles, which was why the pens weren't full

The issue then came from the steps taken to get the fans into the ground.

Liverpool had that end the year before, as you mentioned, and were regulars in the latter stages at cup grounds and presumably had Hillsborough regularly visited as this was and still is the away end.

What had happened before is that the police had closed off the tunnel with an obstruction such as a police horse when the pens were deemed full enough which redirected entering fans to the side of the ground.

However Brian Mole had - as is well publicised - moved on to other force and Dukinfield was in control of the match having never been to or policed a football match before.

The build up of the people outside the ground was higher due to the traffic issues (and possibly some fans w/o tickets) meaning they wouldn't be able to get people in to the stadium in time for the 3pm kickoff, in fact despite the steps taken the crush actually occurred a few minutes in.

The rest is well known - they decided to open the gate and not direct people away from the central pens (which was commented on tv how fuller they were compared to outside) meaning fans weren't directed through to the less crowded areas (and didn't know it).

Seem to recall the transport issues being mentioned by Scraton or in one of the documentaries that was done about 7-8 years ago after the 2nd inquest.

 

[Cureboy]

I was 8 at the time and can vividly remember running into the front garden where my dad (a Villa fan) was mowing the lawn in a hurry so he could watch the match...he asked me how the football was going and I'll never forget my words to him were "theres people dying on the pitch Dad" he proceeded to tell me I was talking rubbish...that's all I remember from it!

Probably my earliest memory being a Forest fan though.

Done alot of research into it since and like every tragedy it's a series of events that leads to the catastrophy...but no, nothing Forest fans could've done. Ridiculous to suggest so.

 

[Wes' Organ]

I am not sure talking does help. As an ex infantry soldier have done two tours of NI in the '70s (and a couple of other scraps) I can tell you with some degree of certainty that talking about these things really doesn't help at all. You need to learn how to pack these things away and partition them in your mind, then and only then can you move on.
In general it is the people who wren't there who want to talk about it.

One of my best pals did 2 tours too, I had known him for 10 years before he mentioned it.

 

[Carlos]

I am not sure talking does help. As an ex infantry soldier have done two tours of NI in the '70s (and a couple of other scraps) I can tell you with some degree of certainty that talking about these things really doesn't help at all. You need to learn how to pack these things away and partition them in your mind, then and only then can you move on.
In general it is the people who wren't there who want to talk about it.

Absolutely this ^

You never truly "get over" trauma, you instead learn how to cope with it and the effects it has on you mentally and physically.

It being brought up over and over again just opens up old wounds that didn't need it. There's nothing new to be said about this particular topic that hasn't already been said 1000s of times over.

 

[RedHelly]

I saw NO boozed up Forest fans. All the pubs my pals and i tried to get in near the ground, were full of Liverpool supporters. Due to that fact, most NFFC fans were in the ground well before kick off. I myself certainly saw NO evidence of NFFC fans looking for a fight.

What about fans of LFC that turned up without tickets?

Think carefully where you put the BLAME, IF you were NOT there on that fateful day.

That's dead on mate, a lot of scousers left it too late to get into the ground for kick-off because they were stuck, not in traffic, but in the pubs.
The ones who behaved properly were the poor, innocent, souls who got in on time and were crushed by drunken Liverpool fans pushing to get in before kick-off.
I wouldn't mind if a plaque is placed at the WFCG to commemorate the innocents who were killed but it should in no way exonerate Liverpool fans as a whole.

 

[HBB]

I can’t believe that the same Liverpool fans weren’t at Hillsborough the previous season
for exactly the same occasion,Rocka (maybe some arrived without tickets then as well).
The difference was the organisation-I went with my brother and we arrived in our seats at
around 2.30.It was patently obvious something was seriously wrong as there were bare
gaps on the terracing at the Liverpool end whereas the previous season the terrace was evenly packed by that time.
No one has ever asked the question WHY there were massive spaces on the terracing at 2.30?
The enquiry seemed to concentrate on the crowd surge just before and after the game started.
The organisation was clearly sadly lacking-which shouldn’t have been the case given the
previous season went smoothly with (as I said) almost certainly the same people present.

I was there the previous year and I clearly remember seeing Liverpool fans being lifted from the bottom terrace to the upper tier - there were too many there that year and I remain convinced that having got away with it that year more turned up that fateful day to get in again and did, admittedly through poor planning and policing, but they shouldn't have been there. We were also subjected to significant abuse and threat on the way to the ground.

As for the day itself, by brother was there and remembers seeing the same lifting of fans to the upper tier and then like it was yesterday he remembers when they started to bring the dying and the dead and lay them out in front of the Forest fans. It was terrible, epecially to see youmg kids among them. The thing that really gets him though is even then, when it was clear what was happening, there were LFC fans who had also climbed out of there end and were running down to the Forest fans, taunting them and looking to fight.

An awful, awful that simply didn't need to happen.

 

[Flaggers]

I might just post the piece I wrote on this day 15 years ago, then lock this thread.

I'm currently in the pub so it'll have to wait.

 

[Carlos]

I might just post the piece I wrote on this day 15 years ago, then lock this thread.

I'm currently in the pub so it'll have to wait.

Grab me a pickled Egg with the next round please mate, I've not had one in ages

 

[Erik]

I hate these threads.

I hate seeing them and remembering. I hate that it opens doors I don't want opened and that once they open they automatically open others that I don't want opened either.

A lot of totally innocent people died that day, and an awful lot more totally innocent people still carry the scars from it.

The one thing I'll give the Scouse lot (f***ing shock horror here as I give them f*** all usually) is they just have a thread where you post a full stop to remember. It stops the bickering and threads such as this repeating over and over.

.

 

[Lakane]

What the living f#@k is this crap about. People who weren’t around during those times have absolutely no idea what being at football was all about especially when it came to some of them Stanley knife wielding,mugging , horrible tossers. Some folk just can’t help stirring up made up shit nowadays can they.
Ask yourself something, imagine it was us at the leppings lane end do you think most of them on the day would have shown any loving towards us because we certainly did towards their suffering.
Even when the tragedy was starting to unfold and they started to come on the pitch a couple of hundred of them who came on from the seats at the side and obviously unaware of what was happening actually started to charge towards our end only to be stopped by a few old bill on our penalty area. I’ve always been surprised people forget that. RIP the innocent proper football fans who lost their lives.

 

[Red Ray's Redlist]

It was nothing to do with the fans apparently so if it were Forest in that end we would have seen the same number of casualties.

I've had that argument with a lad I was at uni with. It just falls on deaf ears. There is a kind of Scouse exceptionalism that means they see the scrum outside the ground as their extra passion, and Forest would've just queued up patiently because they don't care as much. Same with ticketless fans. It's because they care more. So it can't be mentioned as a factor.

 

[tomw94]

I was not there but my Dad and Uncle were. They say their standout memory once they arrived in Sheffield was their surprise at the amount of Liverpool fans that seemed to be everywhere.
Make of that what you will.

 

[Berkshire Red]

Put simply: Clough wasn't completely wrong.

 

[Mr. Blonde]

I am not sure talking does help. As an ex infantry soldier have done two tours of NI in the '70s (and a couple of other scraps) I can tell you with some degree of certainty that talking about these things really doesn't help at all. You need to learn how to pack these things away and partition them in your mind, then and only then can you move on.
In general it is the people who wren't there who want to talk about it.

My Dad who was in the forces and who is sadly no longer with us was there with me and my sister. He would happily discuss things he'd seen in the army if asked but the one thing he never would talk about was Hillsborough, not even to us

I think in his own way he was trying to deal with it for many years afterward and still possibly up until the day he died

It sounds ridiculous but I remember quite clearly that silly Thunderbirds song by Fuzzbox being played over the PA prior to kick off that afternoon which was one of my sister's favourite songs at the time and we were singing it over and over before events unfolded

To this day if I ever hear that song I'm transported straight back to that day and that moment and find it extremely difficult to listen to

 

[Flaggers]

At about this time of day 15 years ago, I unlocked the memory box, typed this across 2-3 hours, then posted it and closed the memory box.
Gonna open up the memory box, post it again and close the memory box, hopefully for ever, but I sadly doubt it.

Was messaging my sister (she and my Dad were in the South Stand at THAT end of the pitch) the other day. I never reaslised how it had affected my Dad.

I have many questions. I have many views and thoughts.

I am more than happy that the 97 poor sods who perished were, clearly, not to blame for their own deaths.

What follows are my memories and thoughts, and, respectfully, I don't want to take questions.

(with, and without apology).




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


No arguments, no recriminations.



Today, just memories.



















On this day twenty years ago, I stood with some friends on the Spion Kop at Hillsborough.



From a cold, misty start in Nottingham, it turned quickly into a beautiful day. A gorgeous, sunny, warm, blue sky day. After last season's disappointment, I looked forward to a positive result today.



Pretty much first into the Spion Kop when they opened the gates at 12. Noticed that when the 5 of us arrived we outnumbered the stewards by 4.



Gets to 2 o'clock, and it's getting busy in our end. 100 yards away, it appeared that most Liverpool fans hadn't arrived yet, since there was plenty of concrete visible in the left and right sections of the "away" end.



"International Rescue" by Fuzzbox played on the Tannoy. It got busier and tighter in our end. Liverpool fans were still to arrive by the looks of things.



I remember our fans - me and friends included - chanting "What's it like to have no fans" and similar...it was clear that few of the dedicated Scousers had arrived, such was the empty space visible either side of the goal at the other end.



But there comes a point when having stood in, and looked at terraces for many years before this day, you realise that the middle section opposite you is rather densely packed.

Meanwhile where you are, you're having trouble getting the Polo mints out of your pocket, owing to the press of people round you. Stood in FRONT of a crush barrier (thank you, Dad, for teaching me THAT one early in my terrace life), you're uncomfortably squashed.



The players emerge, the teams are announced over the Tannoy, and you're ready. I can barely move, such is the weight of people round me. At the other end, it's apparent that a large number of Liverpool fans are going to miss at least the start of the game cos there's still acres of terrace concrete visible from our end.



The game kicks off. Early chances cause the usual swaying on the terraces. The crush barriers divide the flowing waves of humanity into horizontal blocks. 'Twas ever thus.



Forest force two corners in the opening couple of minutes and the expectation grows, only for a Liverpool break to dampen the spirit. A shot from Liverpool's Peter Beardsley goes narrowly over the crossbar, and the usual surge behind the Scouse goal.



Only this one doesn't end horizontally. For a moment the people stop flowing forward, then the horizontal line breaks forward in a curve.



Around this time, we can see Liverpool fans in the upper tier seats reaching down and pulling fans up from the terrace below - presumably, we think, to afford them a better view.



"What a bunch of w*****s!!" cry 20,000 standing Forest fans.



A few Liverpool fans start climbing over the front fence of the terrace and jump on to the area behind the goal. "What a bunch on w*****s!!"



More fans lifted up, more fans over the fence.



A policeman runs onto the pitch and says a few words to the referee, who leads the players off the pitch.



















It is six minutes past three o'clock, on Saturday the 15th of April, 1989.















In my pocket is a small transistor radio. I manage to get it out and turn it on to Peter Jones who's doing the commentary from this game on Radio 2 (is now Radio 5Live).



They are as bewildered as we are. Overcrowding. Fighting. Pitch Invasion. They don't know.





Ten or fifteen minutes later, with seemingly hundreds or possibly thousands of people straning to listen to my radio's little speaker, somes the awful report that..."we have unconfirmed rumours that three people have been seriously hurt in a crush behind the Liverpool goal".



The chanting from the Forest end dies down, an ambulance appears from our right, and as the number of Liverpool supporters on the pitch grows, a line of policemen is deployed to separate 'them' from 'us'.



We watch helplessly as injured people are brought towards our end of the pitch by fans and police, and laid down in the penalty area in front of us to recover. We can barely move in our end. My friend next to me was a qualified First Aider - his parents both Doctors. Even if he'd been able to get to the front of our end, it was clear that no-one was being allowed out of our end for any reason.



On my radio, the awful news breaks that..."...perhaps one person may have been killed and several others injured in a crush...but these are unconfirmed reports".



We stand and watch as more and more injured fans are laid out to recover in the penalty area before us.





To my dying day I will remember a Liverpool fan in a white shirt being carried by 6 people, on a ripped-down yellow advertising hoarding. His black jacket was draped over him. As the carriers crossed the half-way line, the jacket slipped off and fell to the floor.



His bearers stopped, and carefully placed the "stretcher" on the ground. They picked up the coat, and with great dignity placed it carefully over the poor bugger's head.



He was then carefully and respectfully picked up and carried to the area in front of us, and carefully placed on the ground, his coat moved to cover his head.







I think it was at that point that the full enormity of the situation dawned on all of us.



That guy was dead.



Dead.



And he had been placed with the 40-50-60-or-so of the other "injured", "recovering" people.



They were dead too.



All of them.



Dead.



And there we were chanting abuse over their heads for the last half hour.



Dead.





All of them.





Meanwhile the radio kept on with the doom-laden reports of "perhaps three people have been killed...." For once in my life, I knew better than the radio.





Come 4.15 or so, finally, FINALLY the PA cracks into life. "This is Kenny Dalglish."



Fifty-five thousand people in the stadium. Apart from some distant cries from the other end, you could have heard a pin drop.



"This is Kenny Dalglish. Clearly a major disaster is happening here.... " The rest of the speech is immaterial. It was met with warm applause from all remaining fans. He asked us to be patient for a while as the emergency services dealt with the injured, and that shortly the exit gates would be opened, and would we all please make our way calmly out of the ground and go home.



The radio is still telling me that perhaps 3 people have been killed, but this isn't confirmed.





Half-past four, the exit gates are opened, and 20,000 shocked, stunned, quiet Forest fans make their sad, disbelieveing way to their cars, buses, vans.



On the radio, I think Peter Jones had realised what had happened. Barely able to restrain his own tears, he told a stunned nation that..."a young lad, about 9 years old has just come up to our commentary position, and asked if he can use our phone to call his mum, because he has lost his Dad.



Of course he can phone."















"BBC Radio Sheffield, the news at Five O'Clock.



South Yorkshire Ambulance Service has confirmed that seventy-two football fans have been killed at this afternoon's..................................."



















We were at the traffic lights, in front of probably ten thousand Forest fans, all going home. I think most of us had that radio station on.

I got out of the car, and tried desperately to breathe in fresh air.



As I looked down the road, I wasn't the only person throwing up.







Not quite sure how we got home that night, but I remain grateful to my friend Sunil for getting us home.



A bit of tea, and news and Match Of The Day on TV. No music, no fanfare. Just a dark screen, and a few still images:



Fans sitting, shell-shocked.

Ambulances.

People hugging.

People crying.



Metal fencing.







A crush barrier, broken, bent forward in a curve.









*******************************************************************************************









Ninety-five fans died that afternoon.

Fans like me.

In the ground early, in order to get a good place to stand.

Killed by the unrelenting weight of humanity crushing the life and breath out of them.



The ninety-sixth victim, Tony Bland, died about three years later when his life support machine was turned off.







*******************************************************************************************







In loving and eternal memory of 96 poor sods who went to a football match, and never came home.

A crush barrier, broken, bent forward in a curve.

 

[redforest]

At about this time of day 15 years ago, I unlocked the memory box, typed this across 2-3 hours, then posted it and closed the memory box.
Gonna open up the memory box, post it again and close the memory box, hopefully for ever, but I sadly doubt it.

Was messaging my sister (she and my Dad were in the South Stand at THAT end of the pitch) the other day. I never reaslised how it had affected my Dad.

I have many questions. I have many views and thoughts.

I am more than happy that the 97 poor sods who perished were, clearly, not to blame for their own deaths.

What follows are my memories and thoughts, and, respectfully, I don't want to take questions.

(with, and without apology).




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


No arguments, no recriminations.



Today, just memories.



















On this day twenty years ago, I stood with some friends on the Spion Kop at Hillsborough.



From a cold, misty start in Nottingham, it turned quickly into a beautiful day. A gorgeous, sunny, warm, blue sky day. After last season's disappointment, I looked forward to a positive result today.



Pretty much first into the Spion Kop when they opened the gates at 12. Noticed that when the 5 of us arrived we outnumbered the stewards by 4.



Gets to 2 o'clock, and it's getting busy in our end. 100 yards away, it appeared that most Liverpool fans hadn't arrived yet, since there was plenty of concrete visible in the left and right sections of the "away" end.



"International Rescue" by Fuzzbox played on the Tannoy. It got busier and tighter in our end. Liverpool fans were still to arrive by the looks of things.



I remember our fans - me and friends included - chanting "What's it like to have no fans" and similar...it was clear that few of the dedicated Scousers had arrived, such was the empty space visible either side of the goal at the other end.



But there comes a point when having stood in, and looked at terraces for many years before this day, you realise that the middle section opposite you is rather densely packed.

Meanwhile where you are, you're having trouble getting the Polo mints out of your pocket, owing to the press of people round you. Stood in FRONT of a crush barrier (thank you, Dad, for teaching me THAT one early in my terrace life), you're uncomfortably squashed.



The players emerge, the teams are announced over the Tannoy, and you're ready. I can barely move, such is the weight of people round me. At the other end, it's apparent that a large number of Liverpool fans are going to miss at least the start of the game cos there's still acres of terrace concrete visible from our end.



The game kicks off. Early chances cause the usual swaying on the terraces. The crush barriers divide the flowing waves of humanity into horizontal blocks. 'Twas ever thus.



Forest force two corners in the opening couple of minutes and the expectation grows, only for a Liverpool break to dampen the spirit. A shot from Liverpool's Peter Beardsley goes narrowly over the crossbar, and the usual surge behind the Scouse goal.



Only this one doesn't end horizontally. For a moment the people stop flowing forward, then the horizontal line breaks forward in a curve.



Around this time, we can see Liverpool fans in the upper tier seats reaching down and pulling fans up from the terrace below - presumably, we think, to afford them a better view.



"What a bunch of w*****s!!" cry 20,000 standing Forest fans.



A few Liverpool fans start climbing over the front fence of the terrace and jump on to the area behind the goal. "What a bunch on w*****s!!"



More fans lifted up, more fans over the fence.



A policeman runs onto the pitch and says a few words to the referee, who leads the players off the pitch.



















It is six minutes past three o'clock, on Saturday the 15th of April, 1989.















In my pocket is a small transistor radio. I manage to get it out and turn it on to Peter Jones who's doing the commentary from this game on Radio 2 (is now Radio 5Live).



They are as bewildered as we are. Overcrowding. Fighting. Pitch Invasion. They don't know.





Ten or fifteen minutes later, with seemingly hundreds or possibly thousands of people straning to listen to my radio's little speaker, somes the awful report that..."we have unconfirmed rumours that three people have been seriously hurt in a crush behind the Liverpool goal".



The chanting from the Forest end dies down, an ambulance appears from our right, and as the number of Liverpool supporters on the pitch grows, a line of policemen is deployed to separate 'them' from 'us'.



We watch helplessly as injured people are brought towards our end of the pitch by fans and police, and laid down in the penalty area in front of us to recover. We can barely move in our end. My friend next to me was a qualified First Aider - his parents both Doctors. Even if he'd been able to get to the front of our end, it was clear that no-one was being allowed out of our end for any reason.



On my radio, the awful news breaks that..."...perhaps one person may have been killed and several others injured in a crush...but these are unconfirmed reports".



We stand and watch as more and more injured fans are laid out to recover in the penalty area before us.





To my dying day I will remember a Liverpool fan in a white shirt being carried by 6 people, on a ripped-down yellow advertising hoarding. His black jacket was draped over him. As the carriers crossed the half-way line, the jacket slipped off and fell to the floor.



His bearers stopped, and carefully placed the "stretcher" on the ground. They picked up the coat, and with great dignity placed it carefully over the poor bugger's head.



He was then carefully and respectfully picked up and carried to the area in front of us, and carefully placed on the ground, his coat moved to cover his head.







I think it was at that point that the full enormity of the situation dawned on all of us.



That guy was dead.



Dead.



And he had been placed with the 40-50-60-or-so of the other "injured", "recovering" people.



They were dead too.



All of them.



Dead.



And there we were chanting abuse over their heads for the last half hour.



Dead.





All of them.





Meanwhile the radio kept on with the doom-laden reports of "perhaps three people have been killed...." For once in my life, I knew better than the radio.





Come 4.15 or so, finally, FINALLY the PA cracks into life. "This is Kenny Dalglish."



Fifty-five thousand people in the stadium. Apart from some distant cries from the other end, you could have heard a pin drop.



"This is Kenny Dalglish. Clearly a major disaster is happening here.... " The rest of the speech is immaterial. It was met with warm applause from all remaining fans. He asked us to be patient for a while as the emergency services dealt with the injured, and that shortly the exit gates would be opened, and would we all please make our way calmly out of the ground and go home.



The radio is still telling me that perhaps 3 people have been killed, but this isn't confirmed.





Half-past four, the exit gates are opened, and 20,000 shocked, stunned, quiet Forest fans make their sad, disbelieveing way to their cars, buses, vans.



On the radio, I think Peter Jones had realised what had happened. Barely able to restrain his own tears, he told a stunned nation that..."a young lad, about 9 years old has just come up to our commentary position, and asked if he can use our phone to call his mum, because he has lost his Dad.



Of course he can phone."















"BBC Radio Sheffield, the news at Five O'Clock.



South Yorkshire Ambulance Service has confirmed that seventy-two football fans have been killed at this afternoon's..................................."



















We were at the traffic lights, in front of probably ten thousand Forest fans, all going home. I think most of us had that radio station on.

I got out of the car, and tried desperately to breathe in fresh air.



As I looked down the road, I wasn't the only person throwing up.







Not quite sure how we got home that night, but I remain grateful to my friend Sunil for getting us home.



A bit of tea, and news and Match Of The Day on TV. No music, no fanfare. Just a dark screen, and a few still images:



Fans sitting, shell-shocked.

Ambulances.

People hugging.

People crying.



Metal fencing.







A crush barrier, broken, bent forward in a curve.









*******************************************************************************************









Ninety-five fans died that afternoon.

Fans like me.

In the ground early, in order to get a good place to stand.

Killed by the unrelenting weight of humanity crushing the life and breath out of them.



The ninety-sixth victim, Tony Bland, died about three years later when his life support machine was turned off.







*******************************************************************************************







In loving and eternal memory of 96 poor sods who went to a football match, and never came home.

A crush barrier, broken, bent forward in a curve.

View attachment 38326
View attachment 38327
View attachment 38328

I think that sums up pretty well my memories of that awful day, in particular not being allowed out for over an hour. It now seems appropriate to close this thread.

 

[Strummer]

I think, it’s time to let it go now.