Hillsborough: A survivor's story

Apr 15 2008 By Damian Kavanagh, Liverpool supporter

I stood up and was on the grass right behind the goal. It was the first time I'd ever been onto the pitch at a match. I saw a young lady crouched down at the goal netting crying and went over to comfort her. "You wanted to get onto the pitch after the game anyway didn't you?" I said and she smiled. She wasn't physically injured.

There were people lying on the floor with others over them trying to revive them with mouth-to-mouth being given by those who knew how to do it. Some people had been sick. I saw one man whose trousers had been soiled.

I knelt down on the pitch myself and started to cry but stopped quickly and got myself 
together. I got grass stains on the knees of my jeans and so knew that the pitch must have been watered that morning. I started to look around for Bailey but was surprised that I couldn't find him. Despite knowing loads of people who had gone to the match that day the only person I saw on the pitch who I knew was Phil from work. "Are you alright mate?" I asked and he was OK.

The Forest fans were singing "There will be no Scouse in Europe" a reference to the fact that while the UEFA ban following Heysel was soon to be over for English clubs, we were still to serve a longer ban. I shouted "F**k Off!" at them but looking back they mustn't have realised what was happening down our end.

I noticed that some fans were carrying the injured on advertising boards to the other end of the pitch clear from the chaos behind our goal and presumably to where they would receive medical treatment. I asked one fella to do the same with somebody who was out of it but he said, "Let's get him breathing first."

I walked over to the side of the pitch and ripped up an advertising board myself, getting a small cut on the fingers of my right hand. The only other physical injury I got that day - which I didn't yet know - was a bruise on my back in the shape of a hand, you could clearly see the finger and thumb marks. This wasn't from being struck but was evidence of the pressure in the Pen.

I walked over to one man lying on the floor who was not conscious. I'm sure he was dead - in fact I know it in my heart - but you hear of people getting revived when all seems lost. A couple of young men were standing with me, including one policeman without his helmet on. For a second or so that lasted for ages we hesitated and so I dragged this poor Reds fan onto the board myself thinking "Come on mate, you can make it". He wasn't tall and seemed maybe just a little older than me, with dark hair. His mouth was open and his eyes were closed over. As I dragged him his trousers came down to just over his knees showing his underpants but this didn't matter. The young constable collected his helmet from the floor at this point and went off, leaving us to it. I got the impression he was relieved that somebody had taken over from him. He might have been going to assist somewhere else, I don't know; I just didn't get that impression. We carried the Reds fan as quickly as we could to the other end of the pitch, into the left corner with the others and left him for the attention of the St John's volunteers. If I'd known how to do mouth-to-mouth I'd have done it.