Nene Derby: Full Stream
Words: Tom Reed
Images: Tom Reed
From bank to bank the waterstrife is spread
Strange birds like snow spots o'er the huzzing sea
Hang where the wild duck hurried past and fled
On roars the flood - all restless to be free
Like trouble wandering to eternity
The Flood. John Clare. 1830.
The River Nene goes winding through Northampton, on its way to Peterborough and out to sea at the Wash.
The waterway rolls fat over the banks in December and gives its name to a local grudge match, that might not live up to the Tyne-Wear derby but is known to rise.
The continental locals of Northampton pronounce the river as “Nen” to rhyme with Seine and to call it “Neen”, as they do in Peterborough, is simply obscene.
Peterborough, are allowed a poetic grievance, having birthed the great poet John Clare at nearby Helpston, whereas Northampton put Clare in an asylum and it was there that he eventually died in 1864.
The Soke of Peterborough was part of Northamptonshire until 1965, which is the best explanation to counter the misconception that Peterborough United FC’s rivalry is with Cambridge United.
The Nene Derby was made in the skinhead and casual eras after the 1974 “Battle of Abington Park” where the youth of the shoe town made use of their boots to kick a mob of fans of “The Posh” up the arse.
Old-school Northampton lads will tell you that “Boro” had the upper hand in the park that day and so the “Teyn” boys decided that it wouldn’t happen again, bringing decades of tit for tat rucks and rolling into each other’s backyards.
Being game is most important in the Nene Derby, turning up and doing your bit, even when the chips are down and that was to characterise Monday night’s incarnation
Northampton Town’s manager Jon Brady had just resigned amidst another injury crisis, with “The Cobblers” down towards the bottom of League 1.
Peterborough United were hardly pulling up any trees themselves, facing the perpetual problem of an underperforming team who get altitude issues when they climb too high.
“The market square is cobble stoned” sing the Cobblers faithful and the town’s historic piazza has just been remodelled into one of the finest in the country.
Some of the local are suspicious of the space on the square though, for they knew where they stood with the phone unlocking stalls and the bric a brac and the fruit bowls.
Still, the Christmas lights twinkled and the local Phipps beer poured satisfyingly as the Northampton lads with a few miles in the tank did a walk to check for any Posh coming in with the river.
“I came with my mate who’s a Peterborough supporter” said one Cobblers lad at the Sixfields stadium.
“I’ve told him, I hope he dies twice already tonight”
“Once when he picked me up, and again when he went round to the away end, but he has to drop me home first, then he can die.”
That sort of muddied morbid pettiness characterises this derby, with a low level irritation between the two that is best solved by one of the parties carking it.
“Bobby Barnes’ a tatter
He wears a tatter’s hat
He plays for Peterborough and he’s a fucking twat”.
Goes an old Northampton ditty about a forward who played for Cobblers but was bought by Peterborough for a pittance in 1992 when Town were on the bones of their arse.
Old wounds fester with this one and Northampton’s Cameron McGeehan was to open up a new graze on 28 minutes, prodding home at the back stick from a Mitch Pinnock corner.
If the floppy haired McGeehan looks like an extra from Made in Chelsea, it’s not a million miles away as the midfielder is married to Tiffany from the E4 reality drama.
McGeehan floats in and out of matches but zeros in on goalscoring opportunities like a Chelsea resident on a spiced pear mojito at Beaufort House.
Posh had an equaliser just short of half-time and their fans popped a couple of blue pyro from the South stand but the away side carried a frailty which wasn’t useful in the scenario.
As the cold wrapped round like a wet sheet, Peterborough’s Ricky-Jade Jones should have won the game but somehow Starlinked his shot with a finish from eight yards that Elon Musk would have taken interest in.
The ball never hit the stand on the angle, but entered another dimension, leaving tap-in prince McGeehan to prod home for the Northampton Town win with seven minutes left to play.
McGeehan’s fingers to lips celebration to the Posh fans who has been singing “Feed the Cobblers” to the tune of Do They Know It’s Christmas was the perfect response
Northampton had taken the “bragging rights” more valuable than gold, frankincense and myrrh and no-one had died which is nice.
“Noel Noel, that is the name of that bastard Cantwell” sing Cobblers fans about a man who briefly managed the Posh in the 80’s, to the tune of the first Noel.
The river rolls on and so does this derby.
You can sit and have your lunch next to a statue of John Clare on a bench at Northampton’s Guildhall.
Would he have been a Cobblers or a Posh fan or would “Northamptonshire’s peasant poet”, whose fragile mental health was coloured by the forces of nature be bewildered at how a player can send the ball into orbit from eight yards?
Tom is Terrace Edition Editor and can be found on X: @tomreedwriting