Hillsborough disaster: It could have been you, me or any football fan

It is the 23rd April 1988, Celtic Park, Glasgow, Scotland, Glasgow Celtic in their Centenary year need to beat Dundee to clinch the Scottish Premier League. I had only missed one game that season, a midweek away at Aberdeen. This was a game to tell the grandkids about, a real “I was there when..” moment.

Unusually we left the Crown Bar near the ground around 2pm, at least 30 minutes earlier than normal as we wanted to get into The Jungle, the equivalent of the Kop or Stretford End. As we entered Janefield Street, a narrow street banked on both sides with low walls with high metal railings, we were worried that even 50 minutes before kick off we might not get in and would have to settle for the Celtic End behind the goal.

A hundred yards from the turnstiles the crush began - the crowd would surge, often prompted by the actions of a skittish police horse used to supposedly control the sea of humanity packed into the narrow access to the stadium. I was being lifted off my feet. This was normal - being crushed against the fence and walls to the rear of the Celtic End was just part of the matchday experience.

No-one felt any sense of danger. We accepted that this was what going to a big game at practically every stadium in Scotland involved. The idea that no-one in authority had a plan or any idea what they were doing never occurred to us.

We made it in by the skin of our teeth, just in time to see the big gate that closed when the Jungle was full shut behind us. Who cared, we were in! Everyone behind us would have to settle for the Celtic End. I remember looking across about 10 minutes before kick off and it was clear the End was dangerously overcrowded. Shortly afterwards, people were being lifted over fences and walked around the track to the “Rangers End” at the other end of the park, problem solved. I saw kids crying as parents walked them round but again, I never thought this was anything other than normal. Celtic duly won 3-0 and we all went home happy and, more importantly, alive.

Fifty one weeks later in Sheffield, Liverpool fans turned up at a game and probably experienced exactly what I described above - the crush outside the ground, feet being lifted off the pavement as you were propelled slowly towards the turnstiles. The buzz of a big game one step from Wembley would mean that the humour would be good despite the crush. Except this time something went wrong. The "plan" didn't work, the police panicked and 96 innocent souls were taken in one of the most horrific ways imaginable.

It must be difficult for those under 35 to understand what following your team involved in the 70s and 80s. Dilapidated stadiums built and maintained with scant regard for fans' safety, and authorities who regarded those who went to games as a sub-class who really didn't deserve anything better. Even the public transport that was offered to travelling fans reinforced the message that we were all on the lowest rung of society's ladder. When you look at the events of that day in April 1989 through that prism it is easy to understand how the decision - for it was a decision - was taken by the police and Government that the blame was to be laid at the door of those who suffered and lost the most, the Liverpool supporters.

As I write this, the feeling that this could have happened at any number of stadiums and involved the supporters of many clubs is hard to shake off. Underlying it is a sense of anger that the lie of what happened that day was allowed to continue for so many years, with Government and media complicit in the effort to keep that version of events at the forefront of many minds. It is to the eternal credit of the families, fans and people of the city of Liverpool that they did not bend for one second in their quest for justice. A campaign that transcends what is ultimately petty football rivalry.

As I reflect on football at that time something occurs to me, and that is that it didn't have to be like that. In the 80s there was one ground in Scotland where scenes as described were never experienced. Ibrox Stadium was the scene of an equally tragic loss of life 17 years earlier. As a result, the terraces were flattened and three modern stands with safe access and exits were built, years ahead of every other club in the country, motivated by an understandable desire to ensure no repeat of the events in January 1971. So there was another way, another match-day experience, but clubs and the authorities didn't feel we deserved it. Football was the game of the working class and it was a perception that made the smear campaign an easy one to sell, and it was depressingly easily bought by too many people.

Today we have safe stadiums, we have far more sophisticated crowd control and, for all the current faults in the modern game, that isn't one of them. It is just criminal that it took the unlawful killing of 96 people for that to happen. It could have been any club, any stadium, at any time. There was no plan. The police and clubs just rode their luck for years and the attempts to suggest otherwise are shameful.

After 27 years justice has been done. May the 96 finally rest in peace

Follow Jim on Twitter @BarcaJim