There is a semi-secluded, 14th-century church, situated somewhere between the River Derwent and the A6 road, in the green-and-pleasant county of Derbyshire (Figure 254.1). The Matlock-to-Derby railway line runs directly adjacent to the western wall of the churchyard. A ten-minute walk away, an unstaffed, two-platform station lies at the end of a quiet footpath on the banks of the River Ecclesbourne, which flows into the Derwent less than half a mile away.
Figure 254.1: This old country church lies just off the beaten track.
Copyright © 2024 Paul Spradbery
Unless there is a church service or other event in progress, its small public car park lies empty. It is possible to spend an hour or so, admiring the woodland and rolling fields, without seeing another soul, and the incessant birdsong is interrupted only by passing trains.
The city of Derby is, by rail, just seven minutes from here. Hence, it is a convenient place for anyone who hates urban driving (e.g. myself) to leave the car, before strolling along the riverside to catch the train.
I parked there on Saturday. On the station platform, my younger son and I waited, along with two other boys wearing white football shirts, for the hourly service to the city. A half-mile walk from the city station is Pride Park, home of Derby County Football Club since 1997.
The club’s post-war history has been largely unremarkable, apart from a glorious period in the 1970s, when, in the face of stupendous odds, it won the league — twice. It also reached the semi-final of the 1973 European Cup (now UEFA Champions League) and, on 5th November, 1975, thrashed the mighty Real Madrid 5-1. How many other ‘unremarkable’ teams have ever done such a thing?
Half a century ago, players such as Kevin Hector (1944-), Dave Mackay (1934-2015) and John McGovern (1949-) (Figure 254.2) became household names. It was, however, the club’s charismatic and controversial manager Brian Clough (1935-2004), assisted by Peter Taylor (1928-90), who deserves more credit than anyone else. An awkward but mercurial Yorkshireman, Clough took Derby from the bottom of the second division of English football to first division champions during his 1967-1973 tenure. Those who considered his success to have been a one-off fluke were silenced when he repeated the feat within a decade, at the helm of local rivals Nottingham Forest, who were subsequently crowned European champions in 1979 and 1980. No manager, either British or foreign, has come close to emulating Clough’s achievements against such unfavourable odds. His flaws, well documented, could never lay a glove on his genius which was to make complex ideas simple, rather than the other way round.
Figure 254.2: Hector, Mackay and McGovern in their Derby days
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My son and I ate our lunch, sitting in the shade of a nine-foot-tall bronze statue of Brian Clough and his right-hand man (Figure 254.3). This focal point has adorned the northwest corner of the ground, named Unity Plaza, since 2010. Supporters older than myself, who could recall the halcyon days, took photographs; and young children, who could not, said with pride nonetheless: ‘That’s Brian Clough.’
Figure 254.3: In front of the iconic Pride Park Stadium, a statue, designed by British sculptor Andy Edwards (1964-), shows Clough (left) and Taylor holding the 1972 League Championship Trophy. Edwards was also responsible for the 2015 statue of the Beatles, which stands at Liverpool’s Pier Head.
Copyright © 2024 Paul Spradbery
Among a crowd of 30,247, we watched Derby beat Leyton Orient 3-0 (Figure 254.4). Short of disaster during the coming fortnight, the club will win promotion to the Championship, coupled with additional revenue and all else that goes with it.
Figure 254.4: In the aftermath of the Hillsborough Disaster (1989), all-seat football stadiums became mandatory. Since then, many English clubs have moved from their original sites, all of which bore some degree of unacceptable decrepitude. Derby were one of the first to make the change, and Pride Park is one of the ‘oldest of the new’.
Copyright © 2024 Paul Spradbery
Within an hour of the match ending, we arrived back at the car. The noise of a large football crowd had been replaced by an almost indescribable calm. We opened the church gate and stepped carefully between a few of the oldest gravestones to a small, unpretentious memorial adorned by roses fluttering in the spring breeze (Figure 254.5).
Copyright © 2024 Paul Spradbery
It surprises me that no other football supporters park here before setting off for Pride Park. Perhaps they do not know where it is.
Copyright © 2024 Paul Spradbery
