Music Night

AN ARTICLE BY SUPERSUB

It just so happens, that the Music Night this week, falls on the 15^th April.  I hate this date.  It still kicks after 33 years & I often just feel like getting blotto & playing Resident Evil 4 all day & blocking out the rest of the world. Seems daft in a way, but I’m probably not the only one.

There’s no need for me to go into any details here…What happened – Who was responsible – The actions/inactions of those involved etc etc We all know what happened that day & beyond but, today, what I’d like to do is to introduce you to someone who, for the purposes of this, I’ll call Dave.

Dave was someone that we always bumped into at the match from 72/73 onwards.  He stood in the same area of the Kop that we did & he was the archetypal cheeky, cheery Scouser stereotype. He could take care of himself too (as he showed a couple of times at moody away grounds), but he wasn’t interested in the fighting (unless he had to). Like us, he just wanted to watch the reds play, wherever that might be.

We’d see him in town quite a bit too, on a random night out, or before a home match, in one of the pubs in St John’s, across from Lime St Station.  Usually the Penny Farthing, or The Sportsman, the one with with the upside down racing car stuck to the ceiling.

He was always fun to be around & our lives were better for having him in them, albeit often fleetingly.  I, for one, always looked forward to catching up with him. He was a right laugh.

He’d turn up next to us on the special goin to somewhere like Leicester, Derby, Wolves etc.  Always cracking the same, crappy jokes, but there was summat about the lad & whenever he was around, people smiled.    I can still remember being sat outside a bar in Paris in ’81, when Dave came running past, followed a few seconds later by two blokes who looked very much like waiters, shouting what sounded very much like swear words in French.  They had no chance….. He was like a Scouse Road Runner was Dave…beep beep.   Plus, he couldn’t speak French.

We, unsurprisingly, bumped into him in the stadium later where, ticketless, he’d climbed over any number of barriers & played hide & seek with various police & stewards. When he told us about the bar/café that he’d done a runner from earlier, we told him that we saw him getting chased by a couple of waiters & that was the funniest thing in the world to him. 

Fast forward eight years.

Dave was at Hillsborough in ’89, he was in one of the central pens and, though injured, he wasn’t hurt too badly (not physically anyway). When he was seen in town a while later, by one of the lads from down our way, he just ignored the lad & “scurried along” when he shouted out to him, which was very much not like him.    As far as is known (from someone who knew him better than we did), Dave never went to a football match again.  Seems like he started drinking quite heavily & getting into some heavy drug sh!t (H was mentioned) & he was (according to what was said), living in some “dump” over the water & was not in the best of health by any means.  There was some talk a few years back, that he’d died from an overdose, but that’s not something I know for sure.   This information has been pieced together from various snippets of ‘gossip’ over the years, but it’s probably accurate enough.

The reason for writing this…??   There are SO many ‘Daves’.

If Dave has passed away, there’s no way that his death would ever be (officially) connected with Hillsborough.  There’d be no banners with ‘98’ on them, despite the fact that the overwhelming evidence would suggest that his life changed on the 15^th April 1989 & not for the better either.  As did the lives of so many others.

Grief needs something tangible to focus on imo so, whilst at this time of the year we, quite rightly, turn our attention to the 97 people (that we know of) who lost their lives because of what happened that day and also quite rightly, our hearts & thoughts go out to the friends & families of those 97, we should also never forget that Hillsborough affected many, many people, in many, many different ways.  Far too many to count.

All those lives irrevocably changed, on a warm & sunny Spring afternoon in Sheffield.  There are many ‘Dave’ stories that we’ll never get to hear about.  (One of the lads from our way hit the bottle big time & that didn’t end well. He’s still around (just), but his missus & kids couldn’t take it & he eventually ended up on his own and I’m pretty certain that he’s never been back to a football ground since either). Everyone who was there that day will have a story to tell & many of those stories don’t have a happy ending & only those that knew them, will know their story.

But I don’t want this to be a downer as such.  As the day/evening/night draws on, the music will flow as usual & the cabs will be ready & waiting as usual. We carry on.

Nothing more for me to say really, except here’s one by The Bangles.   Spin it…..(as Red would say).