The trouble began in Section Y on the northeast end of Heysel Stadium in Brussels. In the stands thousands of fans were waiting for the opening of the European Cup Final between Britain's Liverpool and Italy's Juventus of Turin. About 45 minutes before the scheduled 8:15 p.m. kickoff, the mostly young Liverpool fans began to taunt the Juventus followers. Emboldened by alcohol, many backed up their insults by hurling rocks and bottles over the wire fence that separated them from the Italians. Suddenly, as if acting on some invisible signal, the screaming British crowd exploded across the standing-room terraces. They swarmed into the adjoining section, heaving rocks and bottles. The human tide crushed and maimed people in scenes of sheerest horror. Television cameras provided watching millions with close-up pictures of fans caught beneath a human pile; of hands held out in vain supplication; of the injured and dying crying out pitifully for help.
By the time the riot had subsided and the wave of raw violence had passed, 38 $ people lay dead; more than 400 had been injured. Amid the scene of death and destruction, people wandered aimlessly about the field, injured and in shock. "I've seen too much," moaned one bloodied Italian fan, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I've seen death."
The 30th annual playing of the European final was one of the bloodiest sporting events in modern memory. It outraged Europeans and raised agonizing questions about why Europe's soccer stadiums are increasingly coming to resemble gladiator pits. The behavior of the English fans, who were blamed for starting the riot, resulted in much soul searching in Britain about why a land famous for patience and civility produces the most violent soccer crowds. A shocked and angry Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher declared that the country was "worse than numb" over the riot. Said she: "Those responsible have brought shame and disgrace to their country."
The rampage began as 60,000 spectators were filling the 55-year-old stadium, five miles from the center of Brussels, to witness one of the premier events of the international soccer calendar. An estimated 400 million viewers in Europe and Africa were tuned in for what promised to be a feast of first-class football, as soccer is known outside North America. Many of the Liverpudlians, dressed in the bright red colors of their home team, were gathered in Section Y, separated by a flimsy wire fence and a stairway from the mostly Italian spectators in Section Z, an uncovered sloping stand. The Liverpudlians, many of them drunk, began pushing against the fence. Suddenly, weakened by the weight of several hundred heaving bodies, the divider collapsed. "It was like watching guerrillas in a battle," recalled Giampietro Donamigo, an Italian fan. "They came forward in waves toward the fence, throwing bottles . . . Some answered back with threats, but most of us were terrified. We tried to move away."