Hillsborough - A Misplaced Trust & Justice

I haven’t posted a blog for a short while. I haven’t written about a non-Blades related subject for a long while. I have thought long and hard about posting this today but, after much consideration, I thought it best to be open, honest and truthful. Today has changed a lot of things for me. Most importantly, it changed my opinion of events in Sheffield just over 23 years ago.

 

I am a good lad, from a good family. Brought up with a strong moral code, I understand right from wrong. My parents taught me to respect the authorities, to do unto others and their property as you would want them to do to you and yours. This very same thinking is what I have tried to pass on to my children and hopefully they can live as happy, as successful and fulfilling life as I have to date but it is hard to feel quite the same about that code anymore.

 

Part of that respect was directed towards the Police. I grew up believing that you should be able to view the police as upholders of the law, there to prevent wrong-doing, to protect and serve the public.

 

I had grown up attending games with my Dad and, prior to that, my grandparents. We avoided trouble, sat in the seated areas and much of the problems of the time with policing of fans and hooliganism were unnoticed. Shoot and Match magazine, my reading of choice, did little to enlighten me of the issues. Out of sight, out of mind. Anyway, the police focused on the trouble causers – didn’t they?

 

Hooliganism was a shocking thing perpetuated by a mindless few that, which at its worst, you saw on the news. I remember visiting West Bar Police Station with the Boys' Brigade and seeing the collection of weapons confiscated at football grounds. I remember feeling shocked that such blades could be potentially used on opposition supporters and feeling thankful at the police doing their job and keeping me and other young fans safe.  

 

Moving forward to the 15^th April 1989.

 

 I remember watching and listening as the Hillsborough tragedy unfolded. I was 14 at the time, laid on my bed, with the radio on for updates of United's game at Northampton, alongside Des Lynam and Grandstand on the portable TV on top of the chest of drawers. Then, as Grandstand unexpectedly transferred to pictures from Hillsborough and John Motson attempted to describe the unravelling horror, the radio was off. United’s match didn’t matter anymore and I was trying to comprehend the catastrophe unravelling on the small screen.

 

That night I did my usual walk to the newsagents to pick up the Green Un. The front page image that greeted me was so graphic, so emotive it is indelibly burned into my retina. Young fans, a similar age as to what I was then, crushed against the fencing, gasping for breath, screaming for help. A shocking image that still feels wholly inappropriate now, even in an age where the boundaries of acceptability have been widely extended.

 

Young fans just like me that had gone to a match, who had stood where I would stand at Hillsborough and were now dead, through no fault of their own. Their final desperate moments captured by someone who could have helped but continued to do their job; taking pictures when people were having the life squeezed out of them. That newspaper image will stick with me forever.

 

Then the timeline of the day started to unfold, pieced together on TV, on radio, in local and national newspapers and, in Sheffield, from stories passed from neighbour to friend to colleague. These immediately started to paint a picture of problems caused by fans outside the ground, shocking behaviour in it. Stories perpetuated by 4 senior police officers feeding, what are now confirmed to be, lies to a Sheffield news agency. The "strenuous efforts" of the police and authorities to, in effect, deflect attention away from their failings successfully paid off.

 

I wasn't some sort of anti-establishment rebel in my youth, I trusted in law and order and a code of right and wrong. It was a case of; the police are telling us that is what had happened, therefore it must be right. The belief in the stories was perpetuated by anecdotal evidence from locals claiming to have witnessed events in and around Hillsborough that day. These stories still appear now in forum threads and discussions whenever the tragedy and the justice campaign are discussed.

 

Over the next few years I started to follow United away from home and saw first-hand the brutal and aggressive way in which football fans were treated at the time. Whether you were a designer clad casual, or a "shirter" (as I generally was), you were spoken to and approached with utter contempt. So incensed was I by my experience, I wrote an article for the Blades fanzine Flashing Blade about it. From bully boy tactics of the West Midlands force at Aston Villa, to the threats of Greater Manchester Police at City and aggressive mounted police outside the Goodison Park turnstiles, I was angry and upset at being treated so poorly.

 

Since then there have been many further examples, not least being filmed by police drinking outside a pub in Nottingham, not being allowed to leave for the ground in plenty of time for kick off and being held there until shortly before kick off when we were marched with the rest of the pub customers the long way to the turnstiles, filmed all the way.

 

Over the years I have heard first and second hand of the attitude of South Yorkshire Police towards fans at Bramall Lane and Hillsborough. I heard it and despaired, but it still didn't change my view on the Hillsborough disaster.

 

For the police to be treating fans with continued contempt is one thing, but to treat the death of 96 innocent people with such contempt in a deviously constructed act to cover their failings was unthinkable. How naïve I was.

 

Before anyone suggests otherwise; I didn't read tabloid newspapers, so the sensationalised headlines in The Sun were viewed as headline grabbing slurs, rather than anything of any substance. This wasn't some petty points scoring based on football rivalries, or an attempt to stigmatise the people of Liverpool and the club’s supporters. It was a viewpoint arrived at from a fundamental (misplaced) trust in our authorities and the locally shared opinions of those who were in and around Hillsborough that day.

 

You only have to look on Sheffield football forums and read twitter today to see the maelstrom of opinions the disaster generates and even after the findings were made public, many still do not concur with what the independent report says.  I have never expressed any opinions publicly, only within my circle of friends - some of whom agreed, others vehemently didn't. With such a sensitive subject, to do so would set me up for abuse and hassle that were just not worth it. Amongst peers my view was in the minority, locally it was much more prevalent.

 

Driving into work this morning I caught the end of an interview with the mother of one of the victims. She was hoping for truth and justice, but warned that people must be prepared for the fact that it might come warts and all. In my mind I agreed, I thought that yes the police and authority failings would be highlighted which was important, but Liverpool fans might be seen to remain partly culpable. A culpability that might not be welcomed. Today, the warts are firmly on the face of South Yorkshire; from the Police, to the coroner, from the council to the then administrators of Sheffield Wednesday Football Club. 

 

This morning we had the news on the TV at home and, before I was asked the inevitable question, I explained to my son, in simple terms, what happened at Hillsborough. Thankfully he hasn't asked anymore since and I haven’t had to explain the context of the story. That strong moral code and respect for the work of the police force has been irrevocably damaged today. I would like to think that this is a one off incident, but I can't. Not when this malevolence towards the general public is on such a horrific scale. Detailed and damning in black and white. How much more have they lied about and got away with?

 

Today the Hillsborough Disaster has been shown to be far more than a human tragedy. Culpability is widespread and with many parties to varying degrees, but the confirmation of the wicked and disgraceful cover-up of police and authority failings is soul destroying. They are the sort of illegal and corrupt actions you might expect of a tinpot dictatorship, not from the guardians of law and order in our country. If this was an accident in a factory or business people would be facing criminal charges and I can only hope that it will follow here

 

Credit to all those who pursued Justice for the 96. They were right to. I was naively wrong and I am sorry for that.

 

Until today, I never quite understood what Justice they were after. What would it achieve? In reality, what good it would actually do? I understood the importance of the Coroner’s cut off point of 3:16 and could see why that caused much upset when evidence was demonstrating that lives could have been saved after that time and that the cause of death could not have been applied to all. Beyond that? Now it is more than clear to me and hopefully the criminal justice should soon follow.

 

They shouldn’t have had to wait 23 years for their beliefs to be confirmed as fact. They deserved the truth much sooner, the British public deserved to know the truth rather than let these lies be perpetuated into something many, myself included, believed in. If the MPs, the local authorities and the police are all demonstrably lacking credibility in modern society where the hell are we all heading? Who can we believe and trust? The answer in this case was the people I had turned a deaf ear to for 23 years.

 

May the 96 rest in peace

My Favourite Blade (Number 10) - Mick Rooker

I have had this submission in my email inbox for a few weeks. It was always my intention to finish this run of the My Favourite Blade series with it, however holidays and other happenings at Bramall Lane meant that it was delayed.

 

Sadly that delay means that this post has taken on additional resonance. To those of you who are not Blades fans, the name Mick Rooker might not mean too much to you. However, to Unitedites, he is just one of many people behind the scenes who are the glue which keep the fabric of our club together. Sadly that is no longer the case. Following a series of redundancies, Mick is no longer working for United.

 

Whether that was voluntary or imposed we don't know; it is none of our business. What is has led to is an outpouring of anger and frustration (towards the club) and thanks (for Mick) on internet forums. Forums that Mick was one of the few Blades employees to visit, often with advice on away travel, helping someone out with a ticket issue, a raffle prize or just general everyday advice.

 

Former players such as Brian Deane and Alan Kelly have taken to twitter to comment on how sad it is that Mick has left United. To them he was not just a colleague, but a friend. For many it was a friendship formed as Mick took on a role best described as an unofficial concierge as they adjusted to life in Sheffield.

 

These are dark times at Bramall Lane and having been affected by redundancy myself, my thoughts go out to all those who have lost their jobs at Bramall Lane, through no fault of their own.   

 

Below is Giacomo Squintani's thoughts on Mick, unedited for recent events. Reading back the last paragraph, you can only wish that the executives at Bramall Lane had heeded his advice. Bramall Lane will be a lesser place in Mick's absence. I will add my favourite memory of Mick in the comments below. Feel free to add yours, it will only highlight what the club has lost - a little bit of heart and soul and a great deal of goodwill and personality. 

POSTSCRIPT: Shortly after this was posted, Mick took to the S24SU forum to announce that following a lengthy telephone conversation with Kevin McCabe he was to continue at the club "being Mick Rooker". A little bit of me would like to think that the fan reaction on twitter and forums played a little part in the club's about turn.

 

When Ian put out the call for Favourite Blade memories, my mind immediately went into overdrive. Edwards, surely? Or Colin Morris? Or Alan Kelly? Hmmm… somebody will beat me to them. Maybe Glen Cockerill, who showed me what it meant to make the ball do the running and the talking months before I saw Brazilian legend Zico take that art to the highest level? Not many Unitedites mention him, but Cockerill left his mark on me. Or maybe John Burridge, whose antics amused me as a kid in the Bramall Lane stand just about as much as his saves impressed me?

 

Within minutes, I’d decided not to bother. All bar Kelly were amongst the first footballers whom I’d ever seen and who deserve credit for me falling in love with football. But I only ever saw those guys in August, as between September and June I lived in Italy. I could not sit down and type away of special seasons or even of special matches, as those rarely take place early on in the season. As for Kelly, it was a given that someone would sing his praises, the top performer and gentleman that he was/is. So I’d just sit back and let the likes of @unitedite, @8LAD35 and @ThomasCarter83 sing the praises of Edwards, Morris and Kelly respectively – and I’m glad I did, given the top job they all did.

 

I asked my Mum to put pen to paper, if only for selfish reasons: I wanted to glean her view of who first got her heart pumping at The Lane back in the 1950s. Apologies for the assumption, by the way, that one’s “favourite Blade” is a childhood hero, but I think the evidence of this series supports it… Anyway, she said she found it hard enough to muster the willpower to write the shopping list, let alone a blog entry, so that plan went out of the window. In the meantime, Ian joked whether I’d asked my own Mum to write about me, given my stint in shirt and suit at Bramall Lane. And that got me thinking…

 

…you know what; my Favourite Blade is not Glenn Cockerill. Or Keith Edwards. Or John Burridge, enjoyable though his “Budgie” autobiography is (not much mention of his time at The Lane, mind!). My all-time Favourite Blade is not a player: it’s a shirt and suit chap. My Favourite Blade is…

 

Mick Rooker

 

 

 

Now, that is likely to prompt one of two reactions:

1. Who? Was he before the War?

2. Top lad is Mick!

 

Michael D. Rooker has never played for Sheffield United. He has the passion, but not quite the physique or technique. No doubt you’ve walked past the Pools Office at Bramall Lane, or Promotions Office as it’s now known (for a while Mick resisted the change, purely because he couldn’t see the point in spending money on a new sign!). Well, Mick is the Promotions Office Manager. “Blades Revival”, “Blades Superdraw”, “50/50”… all that stuff is Mick’s. He’s been drawing money out of your bank accounts for years! Most importantly, though, Mick is a true, lifelong Blade, fortunate enough to work for the Club he loves.

 

He is one of the unsung heroes of the “Family Club” – ‘unsung’ by those who haven’t met him, anyway! If you’ve ever needed something and have asked Mick, odds are he did the best he could for you. He understands what it means to be a Blade and treats fellow Blades as fans first, customers second. I’m sure @thecase1907 won’t mind me sharing that Mick helped him out with getting hold of a signed United shirt to promote sponsorship when he ran the Edinburgh Half Marathon earlier this year. Plus Mick does sing his own praises. Not a modest lad, our Mick. Nor should he be: for all his love for the club and his empathy towards fellow Blades, he’s good at what he does and delivers off the pitch. I know he does, because he’s told me. That’s why I sometimes use the hashtag #mickrookerismyguru on Twitter – one that Brian Deane, Alan Kelly and Tony Agana have all endorsed!

 

“But… didn’t he go to Hull and back?” I hear someone at the back object. Indeed. It was a time of turbulence at The Lane (not that that narrows it down!) and both Mick and Andy Daykin headed East to Hull City. Was that because his love for the Blades had declined? Not at all, it’s because he loved United so much that the only way to save that relationship was to step away for a while. I don’t know whether he expected to return as quickly as he did, but I’m sure he was delighted at the opportunity to do so and to find his relationship with his lifelong footballing love all the better and stronger for it. Ignore that little fling in Humberside and Mick’s been at Bramall Lane for twenty-five years. Think about what our club has gone through since 1987 (“Fit and Proper?” being a good place to start if you need reminding) and you soon realise that that takes something special… and Mick’s special alright!

 

By nominating Mick, I’m also nominating a torchbearer for all professionals behind the scenes. When clubs go up or down (and United is one example of a club that doesn’t generally hang around in any one division for too long!), we instinctively think of the players whose CVs have glory or disappointment added to them. As the EPPP takes hold, holding on to players on high wages becomes increasingly tough for relegated clubs, and our hearts often go out to those released. But if they’re good enough, someone will come in for them. What about what goes on behind the scenes, in the clubs’ offices? Budgets are often driven by what takes place on the pitch, yet they are not confined to those who take to the field.

 

In April 2011 at the Madjeski I bumped into a former Promotions Department employee, at one of the season’s strangest games: on the back of one point in thirteen away from home under Adams, we came back from 2-0 down to win 3-2 against one of the Championship’s high flyers. I have since felt guilty that I didn’t make a game or two earlier on, as clearly I was the key to our success that day… Anyway, that former employee of Mick’s had left following our failure to climb back into the Premiership. Those were the days!

 

It hit me then, albeit not for the first time, that similar tales affect hundreds of office staff at football clubs up and down the country whose clubs go down and up. Professionals for whom there is no public transfer window, who will only stay in the game if there is an opening within driving distance. It reminded me, once again, how critical the guys and gals behind the stage are in enabling on-pitch success, yet how dependent they are upon whose goal that football ends up in.

 

And that’s why my Favourite Blade is Michael D. Rooker, Esq. Because we’ve shared great times and because, once the adrenaline-rush of match day has calmed down, he’s a sensitive lad with whom you can have a reight good chat. But, beyond all my own personal reasons, rooted in the specific context of my personal relationship with him, because Mick exemplifies all that is good about working for your club; because he goes into the office every morning (well, most mornings) with the same fire in his belly as the likes of Vinnie Jones, Brian Gayle and Paul Stancliffe took to the field – only he’s been doing it for twenty-five years. Could you have put up with the shenanigans at S2 for twenty-five years? Trust me: if you could bottle Mick’s passion, his commitment and sell it to players who’ve just arrived at your club, you’d make a fortune.

 

There you go McCabe, there’s a plan… you could roll it out across the entire United family, from Hungary to China to… wherever. Any club, anywhere, needs a Mick Rooker. We’re just lucky enough to have The Original.