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May 29, 1985: An unforgettable night at Heysel
nickoldschool
Roar Guru
30th May, 2015
8
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nickoldschool
Roar Guru
30th May, 2015
8

On May 29, 1985, I remember feeling the excitement pumping through my veins all day at school. Tonight I was going to watch the biggest football game of the year, Juventus versus Liverpool in the European Champion Clubs’ Cup as we then called it.

There was no Euro nor World Cup in 1985, nope, this was going to be the highlight of my football year.

Western Europe is wonderful at this time of the year, we have daylight until 10.30pm, balmy late-spring evenings are expected, although not de rigueur, plus we kids know the long summer break is just around the corner: no school until September.

To make things even better every week we get European cup finals on Wednesdays, the UEFA Cup, Cup Winners’ Cup and the big one, the European Champion Clubs’ Cup. Best time of the year all right.

1985 was a particular year for us. France had just won their first major trophy the year before, the Euro 1984 that we, the French, organised. Michel Platini had become the idol of a whole nation scoring nine goals in five matches. Needless to say, most of us kids had also fallen in love with Juventus where he had been playing since 1982-83. We loved football, we loved Platini and we were going to love this May 29, 1985.

About an hour before the game, kick-off was at 8.30pm if I remember well, we started getting news out of Brussels. Incidents had occurred outside the stadium, some supporters who didn’t have tickets had tried to get in. Not much info but enough for us to speculate: English hooligans had to be responsible, as for us continentals hooliganism was a British-only problem in the mid-1980s.

At 8pm the national news started and straight away we were in Brussels which was unusual as football like every other sport in France rarely opens the news, politics do. Our commentators started talking about ‘some injured’, mostly Italians. The kid that I was didn’t think much of that: some ‘ritals‘ had probably been beaten up by some anglos, sad but what can you do.

Soon enough we started getting some footage of what was happening, what had happened and immediately the penny dropped: no brawls nor punches. No, what we saw was worse, much worse. Thousands of spectators were fighting for their lives in the two ends behind the goals.

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In the 1980s, terraces behind goals were all standing and often packed on big occasions. In a big 60,000 stadium like the Heysel, we probably had 10,000 standing spectators behind each goals, maybe more. ‘Injured’ became ‘possible deaths’, then commentators acknowledged that some had probably died. By 8.30pm we knew it was a tragedy although the TV broadcaster chose not to show the worst of what was happening, and rightly so.

Were we going to play? Yes, we were. Captains of both teams talked to the crowd, asking for everyone to stay calm and enjoy the night. At home, I almost believed them and yes, I got in match mode, barracked for Platini and Juve although I and many of my compatriots didn’t really understand Platini’s goal celebration.

Juve won 1-0. Thirty-nine people had died. This was the worst football night I had ever witnessed and still is, 30 years on.

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