The families of those Liverpool fans who lost their lives in the Hillsborough disaster in 1989 finally received some form of justice with the release of papers which show that South Yorkshire Police covered their tracks and shifted blame for the tragedy on to fans this week. I thought I'd re-publish the short piece I wrote on the home of my beloved Owls in ShadowPlay #22.
Hillsborough, Sheffield Wednesday
A spiritual home of sorts some of the best afternoons of my life have been spent in the blue plastic seats of S6. All those names, few of quality calibre, to pass before my eyes on the programme – some heroes Carbone, Di Canio, Hirsty, Pressman, Brunt, McGovern, MacLean and some error-ridden but loveable – Bullen, Peaks, Di Piedi.
A few times I’ve looked at the Leppings Lane end from the Kop and thought about all those people gasping for air down there and I’m appalled at myself for coming to this place for something so futile. But it’s an age gone by and soon I’m up and complaining about a foul throw or a bad pass and I realise it’s just a place of passion.
It can be difficult sometimes when 99% of the population associates a place you cherish with something so horrific that the over-played images of that day remain unbearable.
Offhand comment you may think but really, as with many disasters, some bad decisions, some indecisive ones, and the passion, which allows football to be the great game it is, prove some of the causes. Rest in peace to those who lost their lives.