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Hillsborough 15th April 1989 “The Guilt That Lingers”

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IN the 23 years that have passed since 1989 – at such a pace that it would seem like the interim years have somehow eluded me.

I have ruminated about that fateful day on many occasions, reflected upon my ignorant thought toward the effect it had upon me as a young man, how ultimately it would change my perspective not only on football and Liverpool, but my life itself – how I would go on to deal with my experiences, and relate those back to that day.

I have only ever written about Hillsborough on two occasions in all those years, mainly defensive articles, predominantly in reply to individuals who have taken it upon themselves to contemptuously deride the day itself – in magnification of printed words, or ramblings intent on riding on the back of rage fixated articles.

Liverpool people have constantly become targets with some hell-bent on portraying both supporters of the club, and residents of the city, with a media tar brush focused on painting them as constant victims – attention seeking that includes feigning and exaggerating both illness and its effect – in a pursuit of a sick-note from society.

It was very interesting to see for the first time to my knowledge this year, a debate how the club approach that day and its memories, whether to actually play a game of football that day. I was quite amazed and perturbed to read some Liverpool supporters themselves questioning the long-held opinion that is to NOT play on the anniversary – suggesting that perhaps the 96 and their families would more want a kind of memorial match on this day every passing year.

Imagine if you can at 6 minutes passed 3pm on the 15th April at a packed Old Trafford – Luis Suarez cutting inside from the left hand side of the penalty box, and left footed, curls his shot into the top corner of the Stretford End goal – Just how would you be celebrating that ? And, more relevant, how would the families of 96 innocent people be feeling at that moment.

I was 22 years old in April 1989, no longer a boy; unquestionably I was neither a man. I had no idea what I would become, like many young people of that age I had however convinced myself that I was indeed invincible, and could not care less where my life would lead me, or how I could facilitate the journey.

Bravado and self-confident I would stride through the mid-eighties – fight with the police on picket lines, battle against Thatcher’s Britain – obsessed with Alan Bleasdale. I purposely strode through my day’s carefree, fear having been abandoned long since.

When I see images from Hillsborough, stills of people fighting for their last breath, negotiating broken bodies in mis-held belief that they were aiding Emergency Services, when fundamentally they had in fact taken over those jobs.

As I watched from my vantage point which hours earlier I had specifically located, credence that this very spot would be exactly where I would view my heroes progress toward Wembley as they would proficiently deliver silverware once again.

The hijacked terrain amongst opposing fans where I would find myself, would indeed be an incredible vantage point – clearly we would see lifeless bodies who only moments earlier would struggle for their last gasping breath, laid out in some sort of macabre pageant for the deceased. In my mind I need not go so deep to envisage those sights once more.

I had only ever seen one dead person prior to Hillsborough – an old Catholic Nun at my primary school who would be 70 or 80 years of age. This day I would see possibly 30 more, supposed lifeless bodies in the space of an hour – middle aged men and women, interspersed would be the motionless bodies of children. I am at pain to call them dead as we all now know this may not have been the case, and the thought that we were indeed witnessing children dying, is haunting.

I would not lose my life at Hillsborough that day, nor would I lose blood relatives. For years I would feel guilty that I actually felt that I gained from that very experience, maybe a sick understanding of the true effects of that day. Down the years I have met people who in a sense “ dined out” on the fact they survived Hillsborough – I can say that, but not without remorse, having at times being guilty of that myself when I was younger. That is what we do as humans at times, am I sorry? Yes, most definitely. Maybe I am intent on finding a heavy stick to hit myself with, and should possibly not be sharing this.

That is maybe the point, you can’t change how you were many years ago, but you can regretfully take a look back, and attempted to put that right. I am far from perfect, but when I talk about Justice For 96 strangers I went to a football match with some years ago – I mean that.

My brother said he had not seen me cry since I was 8 years old, I suppose I was just that kind of kid, stronger than most. I would make up for it that day and subsequently over the next year with images of Hillsborough seemingly on a constant rewind in my head and on my television screen. I would never go back to Hillsborough after that day, and I believe I never will.

I don’t require a sick-note from society – I am not a victim of Hillsborough, I just happen to be someone amongst thousands of others that has a story to regale about that day – And I have also become tired at keeping that story to myself, and I refuse to feel guilty that my emotions or thoughts do not matter.

There are defining moments in all our lives, where uncontrollable instants will rocket you in a direction you were otherwise never to see, some would call it fate possibly a destiny. I changed after that day, at times not for the better, I would find perspective through its very experience. But that still gives nobody the right to tell me how I should spend the 15th April every year. I can decide that for myself.

You can find me on Twitter https://twitter.com/christobinsings

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I am a writer and sports jornalist with many passions of which Liverpool Football Club heads the list, having been a supporter since the 1974 F.A.Cup Final, I am lucky enough to have enjoyed much success through the subsequent years.
Currently I live in Nottingham & have a little soft spot for the worlds oldest club Nott's County who incidently I had trials with when I was 13, but then we have all had trials have we not!!
I am at my happiest when writing about Liverpool and football in general, I have an opinion which I want people to hear. I will always debate and converse, so dont be shy always get in touch. dont just spectate, participate.
I support both the Justice for the 96 campaign and also Dont buy the Sun, having written articles on both subjects.
Quote from my old school report " Christopher is an eye server " so i suggest you keep looking.

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