The Bigger Picture

At Anfield yesterday for the final game of the season.

While it was still mathematically possible, I think we all knew that the chance of winning the league had gone. The crowd was doing their best to cling onto the faint hope that Man City would choke, and the atmosphere around the ground as the bus arrived and then in the stadium before that match was a bit of a throw-back to the old days when you had to get into the ground early to get a good place to watch the game.

The game itself was unremarkable - we played well for about 10 minutes and that was enough to win the match. In the end it wasn't to be and Man City were crowned champions. They deserve it - they've played some great football too and over the full season were just slightly better than us. Not too sad though - this season has been a blast, and some of the football has been a joy to watch. Already looking forward to watching next season unfold.

So, to the picture... Shankly Gates covered in scarves, flags, shirts to commemorate those who died at Hillsborough. I remember standing outside a TV shop in York watching the pictures on the TV sets in the window, horrified at the images. As the news filtered through it just got worse and worse. It put me off football for a long time.

And so today I walk through the Victorian streets surrounding a famous old football stadium, with my elder son already at the age where he'd rather be going with his mates than his old man, my little boy's hand in mine, making our way through the crowd, all of us excited to be at the match, hoping for a football miracle. It could be 1989 in the terraced streets around Hillsborough. I'm happy and sad. Happy that they can feel the thrill of the big game, happy that they're there with me. But 96 people shouldn't die at a football match. Some of them were just like me, and some of them were no older than my boys. Some things are more important than who wins the league.