In the second part of our serialisation of extracts from Stuart McCall's forthcoming autobiography he reflects on the horrific Valley Parade fire of May 11, 1985 when 56 people died in one of football's worst tragedies. What should have been a celebration party for winning the Division Three championship was quickly reduced to a nightmare. McCall's father was in the crowd that day and he tells of his anguish when he went to visit him and other victims in hospital.

A nurse led us to the ward and stopped between two beds, saying, "There's your dad."

I looked at the first bed, the one on my left and saw this poor man who was totally unrecognisable. He had blisters all over his face, a sight I will never forget.

I thought that was my dad and just screamed. A second later a voice came from the right, "Son, son, I'm over here. I'm okay." I turned and there was my dad.

He was lying there with both hands wrapped in bandages. His face was covered in orange ointment they had used for the burns and his head was bandaged at the top. But he was able to speak. I have never known relief like it. He needed skin grafts on his hands and head. It was a long and painful process.

The man in that bed on the left died a few days later, that was how close to home this whole awful business was to me.

All the other patients showed remarkable courage. I took the Third Division trophy in just as a gesture really. I was amazed that the sight of this piece of silverware could lift so many people who had gone through so much.

Apart from the strength of their families, what kept them going was their love for City. The thought of seeing us play in the Second Division gave them that extra target for recovery. There were powerful emotions, quite astounding.

One couple, Duncan and Muriel Firth, stick with me particularly. Tragically, Muriel died in hospital after an operation, but Duncan was a tremendously strong man and managed to cope. He got over his injuries and I have met him many times since. He was one of the first people back at Valley Parade.

The players went around all the hospitals. The response from the patients, who just wanted pictures taken with them, was unbelievable.

The chairman insisted we went to the funerals, but he didn't have to persuade us. I had never been to one in my life, but for the next few months they were regular events. I went to Muriel's, just on my own.

You try to block it out, but every time you hear of a disaster it all comes flooding back. To be in the middle of something as devastating leaves wounds and pictures that never go away.

Since then my dad has never been to Bradford. He was invited to the opening when we played an England XI but there was too much there to remind him.

One positive thing to come from the fire was the deep unity it created between the players, the club and the community. There was a desire within us all to repay those fans who had lost so much and gone through such tragedy. It brought home to me what football can mean to people.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.