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| As we pulled bodies from the crush at Hillsborough, the first lies were told | As we pulled bodies from the crush at Hillsborough, the first lies were told |
| (35 minutes later) | |
| It started before we were even dead. While we pulled crushed blue bodies from a sea of red and carried them on advertising hoardings to the field, the authorities were already giving statements to the press that we were drunk, unruly; that we robbed our dead, spat at the police, and pissed on the injured. | It started before we were even dead. While we pulled crushed blue bodies from a sea of red and carried them on advertising hoardings to the field, the authorities were already giving statements to the press that we were drunk, unruly; that we robbed our dead, spat at the police, and pissed on the injured. |
| The smell of sweat and urine from dead, dying and injured scousers didn’t stop us. We pulled lifeless children from the crowd and willed them to breathe. We hoisted unconscious bodies over high fences to safety, or to give them room to die. We gave the kiss of life to those who no longer needed it, and broke down the barriers that penned us in. We were livestock, faces pushed into the bars, searching for air to fill lungs that had no room to breathe it in. | |
| We were the lucky ones, those who were not corralled into the central area of the Leppings Lane terrace. We would only have a life of nightmares that wake us up on sodden beds, struggling to hold back tears, burying our faces in the dark, held tight to the breasts of our wives and husbands. We were left alive. | We were the lucky ones, those who were not corralled into the central area of the Leppings Lane terrace. We would only have a life of nightmares that wake us up on sodden beds, struggling to hold back tears, burying our faces in the dark, held tight to the breasts of our wives and husbands. We were left alive. |
| Even today still hear the chant of “murderers” at football games | Even today still hear the chant of “murderers” at football games |
| The broken and battered carcasses on the glorious green grass of Hillsborough were the ones who suffered most. And while they suffered, we were the ones who unknowingly gave the lie to the headlines already being written in London. We found our friends, treated wounds, consoled our families and covered the faces of our dead while ambulances were held outside the stadium for fear that what the police told them was true: the animals had broken from their cages and were out of control. | The broken and battered carcasses on the glorious green grass of Hillsborough were the ones who suffered most. And while they suffered, we were the ones who unknowingly gave the lie to the headlines already being written in London. We found our friends, treated wounds, consoled our families and covered the faces of our dead while ambulances were held outside the stadium for fear that what the police told them was true: the animals had broken from their cages and were out of control. |
| How readily the rest of England believed it. Anfield, our home, was swathed in funeral robes. The pitch was knee deep in wreaths and flowers. We draped our scarves and banners from the goal and from the barriers on those famous terraces. Where our family of 40,000 once cheered and sang, we now drifted soundlessly, sat where we normally stood, wrote poems, and sobbed as we left teddy bears for children who would never hug them. | How readily the rest of England believed it. Anfield, our home, was swathed in funeral robes. The pitch was knee deep in wreaths and flowers. We draped our scarves and banners from the goal and from the barriers on those famous terraces. Where our family of 40,000 once cheered and sang, we now drifted soundlessly, sat where we normally stood, wrote poems, and sobbed as we left teddy bears for children who would never hug them. |
| We mourned in our sanctuary while England whipped itself into a frenzied, frothing outrage at those thieving, murdering scousers. Police records were being rewritten. CCTV footage was being confiscated. We were told our dead belonged to the state until after they had been desecrated by autopsies in search of incriminating evidence. Our dead children were being blood-tested for alcohol. | We mourned in our sanctuary while England whipped itself into a frenzied, frothing outrage at those thieving, murdering scousers. Police records were being rewritten. CCTV footage was being confiscated. We were told our dead belonged to the state until after they had been desecrated by autopsies in search of incriminating evidence. Our dead children were being blood-tested for alcohol. |
| The stories in the press grew ever more obscene. We didn’t have tickets so we broke a gate down and poured in. The red horde trampled over our own children to watch a football game for free. We were no longer the cheeky scousers; we had shown ourselves to be scum. Oh, how the media loved it, and how England lapped it up. Our city was economically eviscerated, our heart and soul torn out, and now our reputation lay in tatters. Margaret Thatcher’s managed decline of Liverpool was complete. | The stories in the press grew ever more obscene. We didn’t have tickets so we broke a gate down and poured in. The red horde trampled over our own children to watch a football game for free. We were no longer the cheeky scousers; we had shown ourselves to be scum. Oh, how the media loved it, and how England lapped it up. Our city was economically eviscerated, our heart and soul torn out, and now our reputation lay in tatters. Margaret Thatcher’s managed decline of Liverpool was complete. |
| Once upon a time, four out of every 10 of the world’s ships docked on the Mersey. The world came to Liverpool, and scousers sailed the world. The term scouse came from Labskaus – a name German sailors gave to a thin stew made from scrag ends. To call a Liverpudlian “scouse” was to try to demean him – but we wore it like a badge of honour. | Once upon a time, four out of every 10 of the world’s ships docked on the Mersey. The world came to Liverpool, and scousers sailed the world. The term scouse came from Labskaus – a name German sailors gave to a thin stew made from scrag ends. To call a Liverpudlian “scouse” was to try to demean him – but we wore it like a badge of honour. |
| Related: Hillsborough disaster: deadly mistakes and lies that lasted decades | Related: Hillsborough disaster: deadly mistakes and lies that lasted decades |
| It’s not surprising that we tend to look out rather than in and perhaps this, rather than jealousy of the city’s successes, is why the country so readily believed we were a law unto ourselves. When we stood at Anfield, 40,000 strong, and sang You’ll Never Walk Alone, we sang it for each other. It became a song of struggle, solidarity and hope. A prayer to our patron saints who looked down upon us and blessed us. It wasn’t just a club anthem, it was our national anthem. The scouse diaspora extended around the world, but it was rarely welcomed in England. Not after the papers revealed the “truth” of the murderers of Hillsborough. | |
| Even now after the lies have been exposed, after the public apology, after being vindicated and praised for our actions on that day, we still hear the chant of “murderers” at football games. After Thatcher’s papers were finally declassified, revealing the scope of her plans to crush the city that stood up to her, we are still called thieves and bin-dippers. We still get told we revel in the morbid, “always the victim, never your fault”. | Even now after the lies have been exposed, after the public apology, after being vindicated and praised for our actions on that day, we still hear the chant of “murderers” at football games. After Thatcher’s papers were finally declassified, revealing the scope of her plans to crush the city that stood up to her, we are still called thieves and bin-dippers. We still get told we revel in the morbid, “always the victim, never your fault”. |
| Outside of England we are known for our musical heritage, our sport stars, our comedians, our poets, our writers, our altruism, our heart. Scousers are proud of our wit and humour. We are prouder of our political will to stand up for what is right. | Outside of England we are known for our musical heritage, our sport stars, our comedians, our poets, our writers, our altruism, our heart. Scousers are proud of our wit and humour. We are prouder of our political will to stand up for what is right. |
| After 27 years, the courts agreed that the burden of guilt that has lain heavy on 96 graves can finally be lifted. But we are scouse, not English; and we know who we are. We remember what happened that day. We remember who the animals were that day. And we remember that when we walk through a storm we hold our head high, and we never walk alone. |