The Nene Derby: Old wounds — Terrace Edition

Words: Tom Reed

Images: Tom Reed

Not all derby matches are in your face, on the constant.

Some bubble under for years, waiting to explode like a shook can of Stella.

Some say that Northampton Town vs Peterborough United isn’t a derby at all, mainly due to the two teams playing each other so rarely.

But they’d be wrong, because when the Cobblers and the Posh face off, old scars from lingering wounds, are quick to be reopened.

To understand English football you have to go to its towns and see its grudge matches.

It’s called the Nene Derby because of the name of the river that meanders between the two populaces in that East Midlands hinterland before Anglia really kicks in.

This isn’t a derby match of constant social media memes and hatred for commercial gain. It’s an ill will collected in underpasses and pubs taken and all out war in public parks.

The 1974 “Battle Of Abington Park” sealed it, when 500 youths from Northampton and Peterborough spilled out onto the public space after the match, to carry out “personal duels” in a show of local pride and steel toecaps to the bollocks.

Northampton Town v Peterborough United. The long standing derby.

There's history there. It goes back decades.#ntfc #pufc pic.twitter.com/TmkDbFOjrG
— What A Load Of Cobblers (@walocmag) August 18, 2023

That’s why Peterborough were out early in Northampton Town centre on Saturday, drinking in audacious fashion in old-school Northampton locals pub “The Bear”.

Football rivalries have a warped tit for tat hospitality that comes tinged with violence, you come to ours, we’ll come to yours and the antagonism is fed by a refusal to back down.

Some younger Peterborough fans consider Cambridge as their derby match but, for the older ones, games against Northampton come with a Stone Roses soundtrack and this is the one.

In a Posh-Cobblers derby in the 2000’s a fan from each side met in the road outside the Cherry Tree pub, there were no punches thrown, with both deciding to headbutt each other and both landing on their arses and picked up by the police.

A beautifully stupid interaction which sums up the magnetic pull, of fronting the other side.

©Tom Reed/ Terrace Edition. Northampton Town centre.

Word soon got round Northampton that Posh were in the Bear and in dribs and drabs, amongst the Saturday shoppers, the locals came in ones and two to try and get through the police lines and shake their dear friends by the throat.

They were repelled of course by the most well equipped of all firms in hi viz, with Northampton gents in very good shoes and with very good tans, returning from their holidays to give six fingers gestures to the lads from the Fens they consider to be inbred.

NAT graffiti in the subway to Northampton’s Sixfields ground, alludes to a casual past that hasn’t gone and the Northampton Affray Team lads who might or might not be ghosting around the site.

At Carr’s bar, named after Northampton’s 1986/87 Division Four winning manager Graham Carr, who is also father to the famous comedian Alan, the locals take up every bit of space with their pints of local brewed Carlsberg.

This is a communal show of strength in a public place, with biceps being clenched with every raise of beer to mouth, if you have’t got an NN postcode you’re not getting in. There’s a guy dressed in a natty claret bowler hat with a butcher’s coat, to which the words “Shoe Army” has been printed.

©Tom Reed/ Terrace Edition. Northampton Town FC.

A nod to the continuing heritage of Northampton as a manufacturing centre for the finest shoes in the world.

Peterborough have sold out the away end and their fans filter in to the compact ground with an expectancy of good play, with their side winning three out of three so far in League 1.

While Northampton fans have constructed an idea of Peterborough fans as fen dwellers and simpletons from the marshlands, Posh look down at Cobblers as inferior on the pitch, having dominated the win statistics over the years.

Yet on derby day, the claustrophobia of the occasion squeezes the potential for free-flowing football. Posh manager Darren Ferguson got pelters from the West Stand Northampton faithful from the off, home fans hung over the hoardings to guide the linesmen towards giving the right decisions and the away end bounced in blue.

Meanwhile, among the organised chaos, a match was taking place and it was not the time for over analysis of tactics and statistics, for this was a game when a match-winner would emerge somehow through the mess of the occasion.

A St John’s Ambulance medic chatted animatedly that it had kicked off outside when some Posh fans had come down the infamous Sixfields hill, building momentum for a not so rapturous reception.

“When I was young, I had no sense, I bought a flute for 50 pence, the only tune, that I could play, was fuck the Posh and the IRA” sang the Cobblers lads and lasses stood as close as possible to be within eyeball distance of the Posh contingent.

Strangely enough, the song is linked to the Provisional IRA bombing in Northampton in 1974, the same year that it kicked off in major fashion in Abington Park.

Soccer is nothing without its sociology.

In all truth, Peterborough were the better side, looking to boss possession and unpick Northampton’s solid defence. After only three minutes, the young Cobblers keeper Thompson decided to fart around his goalmouth, losing the ball and with the resulting shot skied by the Posh attacker when it was easier to score.

This set the scene for the game being taken by a player that could pull up his socks, ignore the noise and be clinical.

Of course, in this raucous derby tussle, nothing went to plan, and it was a gloriously shit-house last-minute winner that sealed a fucking beautifully received win for Northampton Town.

Having survived Posh’s forays at goal, the Cobblers came on strong at the end, forcing a weak clearance which was headed towards Mitch Pinnock with his back to goal 25 yards out.

Pinnock, once said to be compared to a young Liam Brady, when schooled at Arsenal, couldn’t have seen the goal he pumped the ball towards but, whatever the case, the effort had Posh stopper Nicholas Bilokapic flapping and taking that backward step the fans never would.

A low growl reverberated across Sixfields as supporters first thought the ball hadn’t gone in, only for the goal to be given and all hell breaking loose.

Pinnock delivered an Elvis karate kick to the corner flag, a steward in orange did the soft shoe shuffle to try and stop Northampton fans celebrating on the pitch, which had turned into the Magaluf strip at 2am.

The better team had lost, Northampton fans couldn’t give a toss as a feeling of pure joy swept across a ground that has seen too many bad times.

The Nene had run claret and it was the Cobblers’ fans turn to give it the big ‘un and grab those greedy, selfish bragging rights that will sustain them until the rematch in January.

After the game, a fat blue line separated the two sets of supporters.

Old and young Northamptonians stalked their opposition.

One of football’s oldest derby matches had been reignited, order had been restored in amongst the disorder.

“Better luck next time cunts” yelled a lad in Weekend Offender, no more than 16.

Back at the Bear, the regulars, the old skins and the teddy boys were ready to make sure the Posh weren’t coming back in for the night.