Murder on the Pitch

They're Two Kinds of Tears

 Ellis and Daniel were drinking the tea now like a liquid cardboard – stale and sloppily created, it was sitting on the coffee table in front of them for the last 30 minutes or so their attention to the game and the Marsden commentary accompanying it.

As the ref blew the whistle the two (temporary) friends though hallucinatory "clinked" their paper cups as if they were fine china made from Villeroy & Boch. The porcelain and high-quality paints of flowers echoing a sense of tranquility and English aristocracy were now replaced by the more commonplace 8oz. White paper cups mass produced in many factories around the globe, in this case, India.

"Cheers lad. To English football!"

"Cheers Elly!"

The two celebrated like long-since divorced friends who have reunited. They have grown closer over the last 96 or so minutes (longer considering breaks and halftime).

"What a game," Ellis said

"I know,"

"That's Tenacity. Rowland almost lost it a few times there."

"I know."

The television showed a relieved Gregory Keyes his hands trembling and covering his eyes the type of emotion where you've seen something so emotional were you just have to cover them.

"What a day for Rowland!" Marsden said

"Daren Yugo the face and heart of Rowland down on all fours a lifetime's work of resentment, sweat, and heartache all flush out!"

Teammates hug tightly similar to a soldier reuniting with family. Lifelong fans of Rowland crying.

Off-screen the men dressed in black bring a stage out onto the center of the field for the trophy ceremony.

A man who years later would be named: Oliver Pritchard, 31, who was employed as a contractor for his father-in-law at the time and currently nursing a drunken stupor after drinking several beers in the concourse jumped onto the field

"As Rowland gathers near the center of the pitch about to be handed the Trophy the Prince of Wales. It seems some delinquents have stormed the pitch! The police are caught in a daze, and now hundreds are following like a swarm!" Marsden said

Back in the 1980s, there was a term for this called "Hooliganism" Because of this several clubs instituted several effects to limit the effects some were good some caused disaster. In this case, the idea of the 1980s hooligan at a futball event was considered an afterthought – an idea that would stir laughter if brought up in a room.

"What the fuck is Declan doing?" Ellis yelled at the TV

Declan Page was the police match commissioner the officer in charge all orders were to be made directly by him. Declan Page, 58, is a stout man, taller than he should be, knowledgeable than he looks, skin as sickly as a decades-old white bed sheet. In an Inquiry headed by Lord Justice Rhodes about the incident weeks later, he said:

"...the first fan ran through 2 officers at the 117 section, he smelled of inebriation as I was told afterward but a third stopped him before reaching the Sideline. However, the three officers in that corner were then bombarded by the hundreds of people who followed suit wanting a piece of what I presume the urge of memorabilia. Sod of the Wembley turf. As the 117 section emptied it then started to spread before we could even get a grasp of what happened..."

Fans gathered in all colors of shirts and skins. They were smiling laughing – taking digital photos as if tourists were on a weekend-long holiday at a touristy locale. The camera kept cutting to a different group of people and police in their neon garb trying to stop the masses from coming but to no avail – they were limited to 50 to 1.