AS LIVERPOOL fans around the world mark the 20th anniversary of a disaster that changed the face of modern football, my mind is cast back to an unforgettable day in the spring of 1997.

The sun was out, and so was Sheffield Wednesday's army of football fans, who approached Hillsborough for the final Premier League game of the season against Liverpool, a sold-out affair.

I was amongst them, alone and ticketless at ground zero, where 96 souls had died tragically eight years earlier.

The match itself, a 1-1 draw that condemned the Reds to a place in the Uefa Cup instead of the Champions League, was unremarkable. But my encounters with rival fans on that day would become an integral part of my upbringing as a football supporter.

Whilst loitering outside the stadium, I approached an Owls fan, more in hope than expectation that the middle-aged gentleman would have a spare ticket.

To my surprise, he did. And to my astonishment, he gave it to me for free.

His son was unable to make it to the match, he explained. And when I pointed out that I was a Liverpool fan, as evidenced by my red scarf and replica jersey, he replied: "It doesn't matter, son. We're all family here."

His words rang true even in the stadium, where I was seated amongst the home fans. Sure, there were the good-natured jibes about Liverpool's fall from grace as an footballing force, but there was little abuse, verbal or otherwise.

It might be argued that Sheffield Wednesday and Liverpool were never great rivals to begin with, and that the tragic events of '89 on the same ground have muted the ill-will that exists between opposing supporters.

But there was mutual respect and genuine sportsmanship, commodities which are sadly missing in many other football stadiums around the world, up until today.

From the San Siro to Anfield and the Nou Camp to Ibrox, vile chants and petulant acts of violence between rival fans have blighted the modern game. Back home, even the National Stadium saw clashes between fans at the Singapore-Vietnam Suzuki Cup match last December.

As recently as last month, when Liverpool visited Old Trafford for their crunch Premiership tie against Manchester United, the behaviour of some supporters was nothing short of disgraceful.

Sickening songs about Hillsborough were sung by the home support, while the away section piped in with unprintable taunts about Munich, the scene of a plane crash which claimed the lives of United's golden generation in 1958.

An idiot wearing Liverpool colours even brought an inflatable airplane to the stadium.

The rivalries between Mancunians and Scousers predate their football clubs, but when supporters resort to defiling the dead to raise the hackles of their 'enemies', there is something wrong with our humanity as fans. 

The legacy of Hillsborough, or any other sports disaster for that matter, should be a unifying force for fans everywhere - not a divisive one.

As much as rivalry is the most tantalising spice in football, the line between that and tasteless hatred should never be crossed.

Bill Shankly's famous remark about football transcending life and death is great for the quote collectors, but for me, the words of that kind gent with a spare ticket 12 years ago will always ring louder.

We are family, after all.