Riders Ready

The Two-Handed Book - a book review

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 16:39:33 PST

I am quick to say that I have only dabbled in the world of Triathlon. Geez, even THAT's a stretch; I did the cycling leg of a relay once. I didn't get wet, nor did I run two steps. Basically, I rode a time trial with other stuff going on and magic marker on my arm and leg.
Now I have to say that I'm at least considering the idea of doing a full one. (No, not a golf - surf - ride tri - an idea of mine that never caught on. I've done several.) No, a real one.
I don't recall the exact page number, but it was somewhere in the reading of Jef Mallett's "Trizophrenia" (please pronounce it like schizophrenia > Trits-oh-phrenia) that it struck me: this sounds like fun - by it's most odd and twisted definition.
Jef is a brilliant guy who isn't afraid to use the most obscure historical, scientific, or literary fact to make a point in a humorous way. His intelligence is what makes his Frazz comic strip so successful. (For example, he gets fan email from domains such as mit.edu, stanford.edu, and rpi.edu. I get email from gmail and yahoo.)
(I'm totally making some of that up. I don't get fan email.)
The wit keeps you on your toes as you read "Trizo". I marvel at how clever he is. We both name Bill Bryson as our favorite author, and I can totally see the influence. I can also see the uniqueness of Jef's writing. Good stuff.
Also keeping you on your toes - more accurately, your fingers - and the reason I call it a Two-Handed Book is because it takes two hands to read it. One hand holds the book while your other hand holds your place as you jump up and down the page to catch all of the footnotes. There are several. And they're hilarious. Worth the effort, for sure.
In a strange way, the jumping back and forth between footnotes and text is a lot like - I imagine - being a triathlete jumping back and forth between all three disciplines. Lose track of one, and your race will suffer.
There's a lot in this book. Yeah, you'd expect that from a book that covers three sports, but much more than just an explanation of what the sport is. It's a close examination of the three mindsets of an athlete that's not content with just one discipline.

I don't know who did his artwork, but it's a total rip-off of Roadie. That's all I'm going to say about that.

I haven't picked which triathlon I'm going to do this summer. I'll keep you posted.
Read the book. Pick your event. And let me know where it is.
I won't be there to watch it. I just want to know if you're able to rise to the challenge.

Red Carpet II - I have more to say.

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 07:39:59 PST

Thank you for pointing out my omissions. I guess I got tired of writing during the previous post and just cut it short without really hitting the highs and lows. I have to return to the topic and include them for the benefit of my non-cyclist readers who shouldn't be deprived of the opportunity to marvel at the hideous designs that somehow made the jump from sketched to stitched.
Let's start at the top by starting at the bottom.
Say hello to the Footon-Servetto-Fuji team.

Wow. Where do we begin? Well, that foot logo should be placed squarely on the arse of the person who approved the design. If I were on this team, I would put all my energies into winning my country's national championship (even if I had to bribe the competition) just so I wouldn't have to wear this thing. I need to revise something that I said in the previous post. I said, "The funny thing is that when you get 160 of these jerseys together and mix them all up, they all look great."
Not with this one tossed into the mix. That's like adding cilantro to tiramisu.

Is this the 2010 Milram jersey? Really? Well, I guess when your sponsor deals in flavoured curds, cheese, as well as buttermilk and whey drinks, you're going to have stuff like this happen to your jersey.

Here's the 2010 Astana Jersey looking much less K-Marty and much more toddler pajamas-y. They're the national colors of a country I probably won't be visiting. (Who knows, maybe my boss, Mr. Mayor, will develop a Sister City relationship with a suburb of Astana.) Me? I'm much more likely to be found eating flavoured curds in Germany.

I like the colors. I was never a fan of the old CSC jersey (I'm definitely in the minority there, I promise.), so I'm glad to see Saxo Bank has taken them in a totally different direction.

Team Sky from G.B. Everyone thinks they're going to come out and kick some butt. We'll see about that.
I've heard some negative things about this design already. I happen to like it. Simple. Bold. And hopefully it will erase from our memories the image of the old EDS track team that used a very similar design. By the way, are they still in jail?
Some might suggest that there's something sinister about the heavy use of black. I suggest that the heavy use of white is nothing if not weak. Case in point (from a few years ago):

Granted, this came from a team that was left in the lurch when they lost their title sponsor. This was almost a new twist on the blank slate "Your Logo Here" campaign. Eventually, Columbia stepped up with cash and changed the design accordingly.
We can't complete this look at jerseys without revisiting some other classics from the past.

Castorama is (was?) a Euro version of Home Depot. Somehow, they felt that overalls would work well on a cycling jersey. They were wrong. This one lasted just one of two seasons which is what happens to silly designs. (Are you listening Footon-Servetto-Fuji???)

Here's the Panasonic jersey that I referenced in the previous post. It's a classic much like the 7-Eleven jersey. Two requirements that I can give for a classic to become a classic:
1. It doesn't change much from year to year, and it lasts many years.
2. They won a lot of races.
Case in point...

They won tons. They didn't change the jersey much. A modern classic.
Check me on this one. Wiki says that MAPEI stands for "Materiali Ausiliari Per l'Edilizia e l'Industria", Italian for "Auxiliary Materials for Construction and Industry". During the 1995 Tour DuPont, I had an employee tell me that it stood for Mortars, Adhesives, Polymers, Epoxies, Industry". In your face, Wikipedia!
To summarize what we've learned here:
- Flesh-colored jerseys should be outlawed like the EDS team.
- Cows should be black and white. Never blue.
- A classic is less about the design and more about the wins.
- Wikipedia can't be trusted.

Cycling's Red Carpet

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 06:20:26 PST

Tuned in too late to catch the Red Carpet portion of the Grammy telecast on Sunday, but I can guess how it went: a flamboyant male TV host with pink hair coloring rips on some, kisses the butts of others, and generally holds court on all of the women's dresses. I thought they all looked fine. Who am I to judge fashion? Have you seen what I wear? And if Pink wants to dip herself in water and hang near-naked from the ceiling by a silk thread? I'm cool with that.
Let me assure you that if cycling had a Red Carpet, cycling fans would be quite vocal about who was hot or not.
Jersey design is a topic that nobody really talks about, but everyone has an opinion on at every level of the sport. Believe me, if your club jersey is funny looking, EVERYBODY is talking about it. Just not to your face. And if you happen to slip through the fashion wormhole and come up with a cool design, you'll hear about that.
I have a John Deere kit that I got from a team in Athens GA that makes straight men downright giggly.
Everyone has their favorites and least favorites. Here are some to ponder.

My all time favorite is the Alfa Romeo jersey from the 1980s. For me, this conjures up memories of Dan Franger/Matt Eaton/Tom Broznowski/Jeff Rutter in the Wheat Thins series. Those were the days. I was just getting into the announcing racket when this team was active.

The one that gets the most first place votes is this classic 7-Eleven jersey. Sells well on eBay. I can't even begin to name the riders who wore this one. Too many. Oh, I COULD name them all, but you don't have time.

My other all-time fave is this French-based Mondrian-esque creation that was THE jersey in 1985-86.

Just before the La Vie Claire team ruled the world, the Renault team was the cool one.
I'm skipping the Peugot kit and the Panasonic kit in favor of this favorite. Just the color of it says unconventional. I've been waiting to start a team of my own just so I can resurrect this shade of green.

I was working a race in Lancaster PA in 1990 when our host drove us past a bike shop that had one of these hanging in the front window. We stopped. I bought it. I still have it. No ma'am, it don't fit me no mo'.
OK, so let's bring out the current jersey designs. Like 'em or not, we're stuck with them all season.

A lot of people LOVE the argyle of the Garmin-Transitions kit. They sell a lot of them at the Expo area. There's not that much change from previous year's design save the "Transitions" sponsor name on the chest. When they first came out with the argyle motif, people snickered. The team rocked, and now argyle is the new houndstooth.

Aside from the flip flop in sponsors (HTC will appear over Columbia in '10), this team changed little in their kit design. They're down to just four American riders in 2010. (2 men, 2 women) But they still have the Manx Missile Mark Cavendish which made this jersey the fastest one on the road in 2009. It'll appear in a lot of race finish photos - usually with a guy with his hands in the air.
I'm not crazy about the faux abs painted on the front, but do you think I'm going to take that up with Stapleton?

Bold. I like the darkness. It reminds me very much of an old local jersey in the Detroit area. (The background looks like Lake Superior, but I'm told it's a pond out west. The kind you can't drink.) This team kind of exploded this year - in a good way. Going big was in their strategic plan. This is the year that they really made the jump by signing several big names in the game. This jersey design is also a striking move. I would say it's much more bold than....

...THIS. When Radio Shack announced their involvement in the Lance Continuum, everyone wondered what the jersey would look like. The mistake these people made was to believe that a big name and a big budget would mean a big design. So far, the reaction to this ... dare I call it a design?... has been luke warm. I've always been against the use of grey in a cycling jersey. Who wants to match the color of the road? Of course, some will love it because of who is wearing it. It's not in my top five. You can form your own opinion. Perhaps it'll last as long as their batteries. I'll give you this: it's marginally better than...

a-sta-NA. Did you know that, in Kazakhstan, they pronounce it with the emphasis on the NA? Weird, huh? Look at me stall for time while I try to find something nice to say about this KMart looking jersey. ... ... ... I got nothin'. Never liked it. Can't lie to ya.

At the Tour of California Expo area, the team camp with the busiest souvenir booth was Rock Racing. Always 10x as busy as Garmin or any of the others. Contrary to what you might think, people weren't standing in line waiting to buy a Team Type One jersey. I can't figure out why. Rock Racing was the hot item last year.
I haven't seen Rock's 2010 design yet. I think they're more concerned with getting licensed to race than designing a winning jersey. We'll cut them some slacks.
Get it? Slacks?
Rock Racing is sponsored by Rock 'n Republic Jeans.
( long pause )
OK
...moving on...

OK, this is the last one. Cervelo. Distinctive, I guess. People like it. Basically, it's the logo for the bike manufacturer placed on a black jersey. Easy to find in the peloton. Cycling fans recognize it quickly. This design would probably make me look thinner, so I should probably be a big fan. Unfortunately, I'm just big.
As a cycling fan and race announcer, I've seen a LOT of jerseys. Tons. And as a club member, I've tried my hand at jersey design. It's not easy. What looks good on paper doesn't look good on a body. Some jerseys have been memorable (GS Mengoni, Saturn, Subaru Montgomery, Wheaties-Schwinn, etc.) Some have been forgettable (Sunkyong AKC, Montgomery Bell, Monex, ScotBiKyle, Kelly Benefits, first year of USPostal). The sponsor's corporate colors and logo have a lot to say about it. And the final product is usually the result of a focus group committee that met through internet conference calls comprising of people that have never been to a bike race.
Singularly, we can scrutinize them like dresses on the Red Carpet. The funny thing is that when you get 160 of these jerseys together and mix them all up, they all look great.
I guess we should just be thankful not to have to see George Hincapie dipped in water and hanging near-naked from the ceiling by a silk thread and singing.
Have a favorite? Post a comment?
Can't get that image of George hanging in the rafters out of your head? Sorry.

Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 17:58:54 PST

"Too much bloody perspective." (<<< another line from that classic movie Spinal Tap.)
We go about our lives quite routinely. Everything in its place and time. I wake up at 7:50a. I run through the shower. I sit on the kitchen counter eating Grape Nuts (which are neither grapes or nuts). I arrive to work, usually late but before the boss. I work. I come home from work, I go to the gym, I come home, I write (or I stare at blank pages). I cook some sort of edible substance that passes for food. I look at my bike sitting on the trainer begging to be ridden. I look away. I laugh at how much money I spent on the trainer. If it's Thursday I watch an hour of TV. I go to bed.
We take it all for granted. Groceries. Book stores. Bike shops. Sushi at that place downtown.
This week, I'm forced to take time off for reasons that aren't really important, but it involved anesthesia, an incision, and a gown - not in that order. As a result, I'm sitting on my arse watching Netflix and staring at blank pages. My training regimen derailed, I'm looking at a gaping hole in my training calendar.
This is the time of year when every serious Roadie should be hitting it hard in preparation for the upcoming season. There's an adage that says, "Winter is for fitness; Summer is for fun." Well, it's winter, and I'm having neither fitness nor fun. And like any typical Roadie, I'm imagining/fretting that every other racer is becoming Arnold freakin' Schartzeneger during this 'off season' and will crush me like a worm at the first race of the 'on season' which begins seven weeks from now.
I've had some friends complain about catching a cold that puts them out of action for a few days.
Well, all it takes is one quick look at any news outlet for a dose of perspective: Haiti.

(photos of the people of Haiti taken by my brother, David)
I've never really been in an Earthquake (see story below). I can only imagine what it's like to have your house shaken like a polaroid picture and discarded. In Haiti, routines will take many months to restore... if you live.
Snap back to reality. My four days on the couch are embarrassingly minor when compared to 4 days trapped under the rubble that was once your house.
It shouldn't take a major catastrophe to remind us of these things.

My one and only experience with an earthquake: San Francisco, 1994. I'm in the hotel lobby at 5am to catch a shuttle to the airport. As I'm checking out, the man with a heavy accent behind the counter asks me, "deed you feel air-di-quate?"
I thought he said, 'did I feel adequate?' as in, did I sleep OK? Hmm that's a funny way to ask it, but I got it. I try hard to understand people who speak funny, so I was happy that I figured it out quickly without making him repeat it. I dismissively said, "Yeah, Everything was fine."
No, he asked it again with emphasis on the Air-di-quate?
Long pause.
Ooooh, earthquake! Yeah. No, I didn't feel it.
Apparently, it was the kind of shaker that rousts everyone from their room and into the hallway.
I slept right through it, and now must rely on my imagination to know how horrible it must be to literally have your world come crashing down around you.
A week off the bike is no big deal. Even in February.

Zirbel

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 11:37:32 PST

So here we are again with a rider that everyone liked getting dragged into the torture chamber. The news came out recently that NRC Champion Tom Zirbel's "B sample" tested positive for a big fancy pharmaceutical word: Dehydroepiandrosterone. That confirms the negative result on his "A sample" which pretty much seals his fate for the next two years: his name will be surrounded by question marks; his life will be surrounded by nothing that looks like a bike race. Nobody in this sports wins an appeal against USADA, so the rider with one of the best attitudes and brightest futures will likely serve a two year suspension.
His accomplishments from the past season are for nought despite his protestations of innocence.
(Photo by Dan Socie - Zirbel riding the Grand Rapids Criterium)
And every columnist/reporter/observer is saying the same thing: how can this happen? How can a professional athlete make a conscious decision to ingest a banned substance? OR, if it was unintentional, how can a professional athlete not know what he's putting in his body? They're also asking "Why Tom Zirbel, of all people?"
There is a supposed financial reward if you don't get caught, but the amount of testing these riders go through in - and OUT - of competition makes it almost impossible to slip through the cracks. (For example, if you win-place-show in a big race, you'll be ushered straight into the Medical Control RV that's parked a few feet away from the podium. Nobody hides from the testers if they're carrying a silver medal at the national championships.) And the risk far outweighs the reward; you'd have to be an idiot to think you could get away with it. (Zirbel has even said as much.)
So into the torture chamber he goes. In his prime at the age of 30, Zirbel will miss two valuable years of peak earnings. He will give back his silver medal and NRC title. He will live under the shadow of doubt as cycling fans ask: did he or didn't he?
If he did, shame on him. If he didn't, shame on the flawed system.
And that's a question that should get equal footing. What if he's telling the truth? At what point do we re-evaluate the system to ensure that it's not broken? That so many people are questioning the outcome of these tests heightens my curiosity.
Why, even four years after the fact, are so many people in the cycling world still not believing that Floyd was guilty in 2006? And why do people stop talking altogether when Lance's name is mentioned?
The whole thing is curious.

"It goes to eleven."

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 11:52:45 PST

Another famous movie line from yet another famous movie that every decent upstanding American has seen countless times...
In this instance, it applies to eleven speed shifting.
I'm just putting this out there now: I'm never switching to 11-speed.
I see no compelling reason to switch. Why bother?
In the comment box,
1. Convince me otherwise in 25 words or less.
2. Name the movie referenced in the Post Title.
3. Tell me how many times you've seen the movie.
If you haven't seen the movie yet, I laugh at you with vigor.
Last minute addition:
4. Tell everyone your favorite quote.
Here's mine: "I envy us."

"Put THAT In Your Book"

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 19:12:35 PST

Quick. Name the movie.
I'll give you a minute to think about it. Here's a hint: Costner imitates a buffalo
I've been repeating that line a lot lately as I put together a story for the book that I'm currently working on. The ideas come when when they come. I don't really control them. They come to me. I say to myself, 'put that in your book'. I collect them in a mental sack and type them up when I get to my keyboard. Some of them come to me just as I'm going to sleep. Some come to me when I'm at the gym. I love when an idea comes to me during a staff meeting at work. My co-workers see me frantically jotting down something in my notebook, and they assume it's work-related.
It's work. And it's related, but not to them.
So what kind of book is it?
It's not a how-to book.
It's not a history of cycling book.
It's not a war-stories book.
It's definitely not a sequel to Roadie.
It's a 'tweener. It's aimed at the younger reader from 10 to 15 - a tough market that VeloPress has yet to crack with any measurable success. And I think I'm the one who can do it, even if I don't have any characters who are vampires.
I'm happy to report that I'm finally rolling on it. I sat on three of four pages for several of months as I was developing characters, carving out a story line, and inserting a lesson or two. I'm up to 40 pages now and have the outline laid out for almost the whole story. I'm still leaving room for plot twists and character revelations. And I hold out hope that I'll stumble upon a workable conclusion sometime between now and when I finish the damn thing.
No, I'm not going to divulge the plot line here. It's about bike racing. That's all you get right now. What you can do for me in the meantime is start making a list of every kid you know in that age range, and get ready to buy them a book for Christmas 2010.
I hope to have it completed by March for a Fall release...that is, if VeloPress likes it. If not, I'll have 250 pages of electronic recycling material.
Dances With Wolves. The title of this post. It's a line from that movie.
Put THAT in your book.
Ironically, somewhere in that same scene, the same character delivers this classic line: 'why don't he write?'.
He don't write because he's probably trying to come up with a storyline.

Side note: Dances With Wolves is the same basic premise as Avatar: soldier goes out to the frontier to study the locals. Becomes one of them. Fights against his own army. Dances With Wolves had better music. And as you know, music is a drug.

Music is a Drug.

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 18:15:42 PST

This is a post about music, and it comes with a sample or two for you to listen to while you read it.

If you attend special events of any kind, you may have an opinion of what sets the good events apart from the not-so-good events. Traffic, parking, security, and clean bathrooms are the basic items that MUST be addressed in the plan. Then we add the items that add value: food vendors, attractions, information, and ease of movement.

One sign of a well-though-out event is the use of music. It's usually the last detail to get attention during the planning phase, yet it's a key component in the overall tone of the venue. It is, to be sure, the soundtrack for the event. Poor music choices won't kill an event, but a good music track will make it so much better.

Anyone who produces/manages a special event needs to devote time to this art. Any good bike race announcer will put a lot of thought, time, energy, and MONEY into the music they play during the bike race.

The challenge is to find good music that helps set that mood without drawing attention to itself. OK, I'll admit it, we're pulling a Disney and working to manipulate our audience by using the subliminal effects of music. If we do it right, people won't even notice what we've done. If we do it wrong, the event misses an opportunity.

You can't simply throw together a mix CD of popular music. There's much more to it than that. For example...

We'll start at the end of the race: the link at the top of this post is the song I like to use during the last lap of the race when things are at a fevered pitch. It's called "The Race" by Yello. It's a different arrangement than the one I used, but you get the idea.

This year, I've taken a page from Brad Sohner's book and started using Thunder by David Robidoux. That's right. I stole his thunder. It's written for NASCAR, but it fits the mood of cycling. You'll have to search for it on iTunes.
I'm open for suggestions on which music to add to my race library for the coming year, but be warned: I already have an extensive collection of field-tested family-friendly race-approved music, and I have off-the-beaten-path tastes. So if you're going to make a recommendation, it can't be too mainstream.

Mainstream music usually comes bundled with its own agenda or pre-assigned meaning from too much exposure on the radio. The obvious choice of popular music may not work at a bike race. For example, if it was used at the Olympics, we won't touch it. We aren't the Olympics.

As I said, Thunder is a NASCAR song, but it also happens to be obscure enough that the bulk of our audience probably won't draw the connection. It works.
( Photo caption: although I'm talking to Davis Phinney, I'm never beyond arm's reach of my sound equipment located right behind me. There's nothing worse than having the music end. (And I mean that in a philosophical way, too.)

Classical music works well if it's not really well-known. Beethoven's 5th? Not so great. Mendelssohn's 4th Symphony 4th Movement works really well. It worked really well in the truck drafting scene in Breaking Away. (If you're listening to the first clip, you'll need to pause it.)

Other types of music that don't work: heavy metal, rap, and certain types of techno.

We (Brad and I and others) also avoid matching words to fit the action. It's too easy. Too simplistic. Don't bother suggesting "Start Me Up" by the Rolling Stones at the start of the race. That's been done at NBA games for years without any creativity whatsoever.

We'll also avoid cliches, so I can promise you that you will never hear Queen's "Bicycle Race" coming out of my speakers.

And if you ever want to insult a race announcer, take a stack of unlabeled homemade mix CDs up to the stage and say, "Your music stinks. Play these." Hoo boy! That's a dandy way to make friends. (Actually, we have a pretty effective counter-tactic in our bag of tricks that you will NOT appreciate, so maybe you'd better not try this one.)

(Phot caption: Look! There's Price Stevenson running the music for Jeff Roake at the 1995 DuPont.)

{Random unrelated thought: for reasons I can't really explain here, I probably won't be playing Coldplay's Viva La Vida at a bike race in the near future. Maybe next year. We'll keep our fingers crossed.}

I think announcers have the best job because we get to talk about a cool sport all day long. But the hidden thrill is when we emulate the great sound track artists of cinema... Ennio Morricone, John Barry, Jerry Goldsmith, Michael Kamen, etc... but in real time. That's magic.

OK, now pause the music that's playing now, and get ready for greatness. To wrap up this edition of Play That Tune, I have one more song for you. Here's the piece that I use at the very end of the day when I end the show. After thanking the sponsors, I sign off with this one. It plays while I pack up my belongings and head to the car after accepting the accolades of all my fans and admirers. (Come to think of it, it's usually a pretty quick walk to the car.)

This rather simple song, to me, IS bike racing. I've played it at almost every single race I've worked including the Olympics, USPro Championships, and the first Tour de Trump. Great great tune.

Thank you, everybody. Have a safe trip home.

Interview with a Common Man

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 18:57:47 PST

I worked with Todd Koltes during the summer of 1994 when I was doing play-by-play for the National Cycle League on ESPN2. I think we had a total of 7 viewers. None of us ever got paid. It was a dream job.
I reconnected with TK during the Dahlonega stage of the 2006 Tour de Georgia. Just to show that we're all alike, see how much you have in common with this Pittsburgh native.

1. The first question I always ask someone from Pittsburgh (because they always have an answer): exactly where were you when Franco Harris made his immaculate reception? (Franco was the owner of the Pittsburgh Power in the NCL.)
Well, unlike most true Pittsburghers, I won't confess to actually being at the game. (There were by some estimates, 250,000 people packed into Three Rivers Stadium for that game) I was a bit young at the time to remember. One story that stands out for me was one day, at the time I worked for Franco, he was doing interviews at our office for local news channels on an anniversary of the famous catch. The mystery surrounding the play was if the ball actually hit the turf and it was an actual catch. He told the reporters that he enjoys the mystery and controversy of the play, and that he would never say one way or the other if the ball bounced. After everyone left, I sat in his office and said, 'ok Franco. The camera's are gone. Just tell me....I'll never tell'. He looked at me for 5 seconds, laughed and said, "riiiight!!! Like I'm gonna tell you something I have never told anybody before"! I was a bit humbled by the fact that the great Franco Harris would not share his secret with me. Oh well......The mystery persists.

2. Glad we got that out of the way. You raced in the 1980s and 1990s. What was your favorite part of the sport? If you're not racing anymore, what part about it do you miss the most? What parts DON'T you miss?
I loved the beauty of the sport. That is what attracted me to it. I suppose the culture of it, too (Or counter culture, some might say). I most loved the tactics of the sport and teamwork, despite being an individual sport. Speeding through the corners elbow to elbow trying to get in position at the end of the race. Being such great shape. Comraderie with teammates on rides and traveling to races. I guess I DON"T miss the long solo training rides in the miserable heat or freezing cold.
This is the key question: 3. You're now a pilot for Delta. What comparisons can you make between racing bikes and flying commercial airlines? In other words, how did bike racing prepare you for pilot-hood?
Well, piloting certainly doesn't require the physical tools. Unfortunately it's quite the opposite. Lots of sitting on the rear and eating airport food. I would have to say it takes a lot of discipline and commitment to compete at a high level in cycling as well as becoming a pilot. There are so many years of training, tests, check-rides and evaluations. Most people that set out never make it all the way. Studying days on end for checkrides is a lot like setting out for a century.

4. When did you become a pilot? What made you choose that field? And as a pilot, during the flight, what is the most exciting moment?
I think I always wanted to be a pilot, I just really never knew the road to take to get there. I always loved airplanes, and when I was a kid my Uncles company had a small twin engine plane that I got to ride in up front when he went to a couple business trips. I was hooked. It wasn't until years later when I decided to go for it and make it happen. Franco also told me to strive to do what you want in life and go for it and not make any excuses. So I signed up for lessons and kept getting my ratings back from 1995-1998 until I got my commercial license and flight instructor ratings. In reality, flying mostly is sort of tedious. Exciting moments are usually in bad weather, landing in heavy rain, snow or fog. The heart rate there can get pretty high, like the end on a 2 minute power interval! I have had a couple wake turbulence events that get you going, too.

5. You've been to more cities than a Cat 2 racer. Which spot in America do you always want to go back to with your bike?
Everytime I am in Northern California I dream of having the bike! Utah looks pretty awesome, too! I lived in Dallas for 3 years, but didn't care for that much.

6. What's your favorite cycling destination? Don't say Monaco. I know that's a lie.
Well, I have to say the French Alps! My favorite rides of all time were Alpe d' Huez, and Mt. Ventoux. You would be familiar, because you were on both of those rides with me! (That's us freezing with Mark Cesar on the Ventoux. I can still fit into that jersey!) Closer to home I have to say I have a couple of rides in the North Georgia mountains used in the Tour de Georgia that I LOVE riding. Great roads and climbs!

6a. How many bikes did you own at your peak? And which one was your favorite?
Hmm. I never had a big fleet. I guess 4 was the most. 3 road bikes and a mountain bike. My first Carbon bike was a Giant our team got from our bike shop sponsor. I really though that one was cool.

7. Who do you like in the 2010 Tour? Can you catch a hop over to catch the last few stages?
I would love to. I keep telling myself one of these years I definitely will. Probably not 2010. We just had a baby girl in July, and she will only be 1. I think Contador will surely be tough to beat. It will probably be a duel between Contador and the Schlecks again.

8. Is Jake on ABC's The Bachelor crazy? He eliminates the USAF Captain right off the bat? What's up with that?
HA! Jake works at my company and I know him. I have actually flown a few trips with him when I was a First Officer. Good guy! I hope he finds a good one! Not sure about the USAF pilot. I thought he should have kept her around for a while!

Just thought I'd give you a peek into the normal life of a guy i know.
I'm working on a theme here. Stay tuned for future posts.
Now go ride! Or ski.

Polar Ride 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 12:22:39 PST

By the time I was able to muster the confidence to shoot while riding one-handed on slippery roads, the pack of riders had thinned out to a lead group of about 12 riders. I'm sure the FRCC website will have photos of the entire group, but I missed it.
A wind chill of 10 degrees. Icy roads underneath a sloppy layer of snow. 100 riders of all abilities.
A typical Polar Rhino Ride presented by the Flying Rhino Cycling Club.
It was an idea that was just crazy enough to work. Now it's in its 20th year.
I saw riders of age 10 or 11, and riders in their 70s. That's a cool way to start the year.

Sweetness.

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 09:40:40 PST

Hot on the heels of creating the perfect winter riding machine (see below) and declaring it The Ultimate Winter-Killer, I immediately hung it on a hook and went up north without it. Old habits die hard, I guess.

I CANNOT understand why more people don't do this in the winter? I'm completely baffled.

The Ultimate Winter-killing Machine

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 18:32:19 PST

Behold, the single-speed mountain bike with Finland-made studded tires on the front AND back. It's +20-year-old frame replete with 1980's paint scheme snatched from the hook in the basement and put back into action.
I can now ride in any conditions.
I can now ride throughout the winter.
I can now put myself at incalculable risk by venturing out onto roads made of solid ice where cars have absolutely no turning or stopping power.
I can now, finally, experience true cycling burn-out by spending entirely too much time on the bike.
And just so you don't think I've been diddling away my hours between Xmas and New Years putting off the real job at hand: writing book #2, here are two more single-speed creations making use of older framesets that were also banished to the basement hooks years ago.
That's a Zinn Morgul-Bismarck purchased at the Turin Bike SHop in Evanston on 3 June 1989 for $600. (I was in town for the Sundance Grand Prix event at the Northbrook Velodrome. Pursuit specialist, Mindy Mayfield, helped me decide on that one. The salesman dissed her because she was a girl, not knowing that she had recently won a bronze medal at the World Championships. We never said anything to him.)
The last one is the first one I ever bought: The Motobecane Grand Touring purchased on 5 May 1981 at Marquette Mountain Ski Area. Cost me $480. That's the one that I reference in Roadie in which my Air Force
cohorts thought I had lost my freaking mind. I put more miles on that bike attempting to distance myself from the same USAF cohorts. (For this rebuild, I specifically chose the ugliest handlebar tape in the world because a friend of mine recently went through an ordeal unable to match the white bar tape with the white accent in the bike's logo. In honor of her ordeal... )
What's notable in this whole post is not that I've finally followed the single-speed trend (x3), or that I have been avoiding the task of writing a book, or that all of my bikes are finally functional (though decidedly not fast), but that with astounding clarity, Roadies can recall exactly where and when and for how much they bought each bike.
In the comments box below, I invite you to list your bikes, the dates and places of purchase, and cost.

Note: There is an unwritten rule in the cycling world in which all demonstrative photos of a bike must be shot in front of a white garage door (closed) with the drive-train facing the camera. In case you were wondering why all three bikes were shot "a la mugshot".
/object>

Pain in Small Doses

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 09:23:17 PST

While out on a ride on Saturday, the thought struck me: this hurts.
And in case you wonder what cyclists think about while out on a 4 hour ride, here's a glimpse:
After that initial thought of "this hurts", all of those monster training rides that I've been on throughout my career came flooding back to me: they hurt, too. Some of them have been all-out death marches. Some of them have left me so hurt that I had to sit down while in the shower. (Now THAT'S what I call a great ride!)
Seriously, we push ourselves so hard in the name of fitness. It borders on wrong. What do non-athletic people do? What would it be like to be able to walk into work on Monday with no soreness anywhere in my body? What would it be like to not wake up in the morning and take ten minutes to walk to the bathroom. (I exaggerate, of course, but getting old still sucks.) What would it be like to go to a restaurant and order ANYTHING off the menu and not worry about how many miles I'll have to ride to work those calories off? Those people never feel the pains that I felt yesterday. My neck was on fire. My legs were screaming. My hands were numb. It was also 27 degrees, so I had to battle yet another source of discomfort.
The health experts say that if I sit in front of the TV and eat garbage, I'll eventually become a candidate for a heart attack. What does a heart attack feel like? Is it equal to the sum of all of the pain I've brought upon myself on these monster rides? Did I perhaps avoid one large payment in exchange for several - and I mean SEVERAL - smaller payments along the way?
Or could I have been watching TV and eating garbage the whole time thus avoiding this perpetual feeling of being hit by a falling tree?
I look outside at a cold landscape now and think, 'Do I get dressed and do it all over again today?'
Probably.

Wx

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 18:31:56 PST

It's winter. It's 20 degrees out there this morning. We awoke to find a thin layer of snow on the ground. The Wx forecasters were predicting... here's the direct quote...."we can look for a dusting or maybe up to an inch of snow by morning".
Aren't we splitting hairs? Do we need to be so precise? Can't we just lump the two together? Can't they just say, "we can look for JUST enough snow to mess up the roads and make it dangerous to ride a bike." because that's all that matters to us.
Don't get me started on Wx people. They go a little overboard with their delivery in other areas. You know the scene:
A man standing in front of a computer-generated map of, in our case, SE lower Michigan telling us what the current temps are: It's 28 in Lansing, 27 in Brighton, 28 in Ann Arbor, 26 in Flint, 27 in Clarkston, 28 in Pontiac, 29 at Metro Airport.
Really? Is that necessary? Can't you just say, "Eh, it's about 27 everywhere."?

Can anyone drive to those towns and feel the one-degree difference in air temperature? No. You're just filling air time until the sports guy is ready.
Alert me when it's 70 in Lansing and 20 in Flint. That's probably something worth noting.
And don't bother with the wind chill. That only applies to exposed flesh. It doesn't affect inanimate objects, and it becomes irrelevant when we put on a coat. Starting at around Thanksgiving, very few of us are leaving the house with exposed flesh.
Also, don't waste 10 minutes telling us what the weather WAS earlier today while we were in the office. We can't do anything about it now. It's what we refer to as 'h-i-s-t-o-r-y'. Onward and upward.
And my message to the general populace: if you live in the south, don't expect sympathy when you get nailed with a huge snow storm. We're not sympathetic; we're bitterly jealous. We know you'll totally misuse it. When we get a foot of snow, we groom it and ski on it. When you get a foot of snow, you squander it.
Getting back to the WX forecasters: you can stop trying to predict the amount of snow in the approaching storm. Your accuracy record is pretty bad. Detroit Lions Bad. Let's just leave it at, "Well, let's just wait and see what we get, shall we?" Because if you do it that way, you can stand in front of a map tomorrow and say, "They got 3" in Lansing, 2" in Brighton, 2" in Ann Arbor, 3" in Flint, 3" in Clarkston, 2" in Pontiac, 2" at Metro Airport, and a dusting to an inch in Rochester damn Hills!

Note: Hours after I wrote all that, it was pointed out to me by Sammut that the weatherman mentions all those towns simply because the towns like the publicity much like racers like hearing an announcer say their names over the P.A. That's a brilliant explanation. And I'd like to just add that Bradley, Jason, Kelly, Ray, Mark, Jeff, Ricardo, Scott, Frank, Joy, Jef, Dave, Renee, and Liz-Jen have nothing to do with this post.

Getting on board the CX train

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 08:27:58 PST

I'm trying to get "into" cyclocross. Seriously, I stand on the periphery contemplating the idea of thinking about the notion of actually doing it. It's hard because... it's hard. I mean, it's a hard sport. There's no place to hide. You can't cover up your spotty training methods by tailgunning on the back of the field. How do you think I survive most road races? By sitting in the back and sprinting at the end. Hello??
'Cross racing is an all out effort and an entirely new set of skills. And it's a whole new stable of toys that goes against my anti-hoarding tendencies (see below). It also comes at the time of year when I'm pretty much sick of the bike. I usually pull back on the stick in October and November. By December, I've made the train-sition to skiing and the gym. But there's something about the CX scene that intriues me. It intrigued me enough last weekend to take my camera out to shoot a race at Springfield Oaks.
(Parenthetically, I've been going to Springfield Oaks since it was built in the early-70s. There are more memories at that park than I can remember. Wait... is that possible? Like the time Jim Patnode got his Black Angus stuck in mud on the way to the 4-H auction. Or the time Tom Sennett streaked at the fireworks show and nobody noticed.) Here's the latest memory: watching grown men slip in the mud and fall on their arse.

The guy with the trombone was playing all the pep band hits of the 90s including Frankenstein, Eat 'em Up, and Charge.
The racing looks like something people do to ... I don't know... stay in shape or something. So we'll see how it goes next September when everyone is pushing me to race a 'cross race. (Don't worry. I'm well aware that they're only pushing me into it so that THEY won't be the last rider to finish the race.)

The Thundering Hoard

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 13:57:38 PST

I live in your standard American "Pleasant Valley Sunday" neighborhood. It's well-kept. Normal Rockwell would approve.
As I drive through my neighborhood, I love looking in people's garages. It's probably wrong to do, but I can't help myself. And I only glance inside when I'm driving or riding through the neighborhood. I don't specifically walk the streets looking into people's garages. That would be weird. It would be fun, but weird.
I'm fascinated by how much STUFF people have in their garage. Boxes and strollers. The brightly colored Fisher Price toddler cars. Mowers. Golf clubs and bikes and bike trailers. Gardening tools. Garden hoses. But mostly boxes. Tons and tons of boxes. I'm amazed at how many of my neighbors can't fit their cars in their garages due to the piles of stuff.
As I was formulating an opinion about it - OK, judging it - I saw a promo on TV for an A&E series similar to "Intervention" (in which they address drug and alcohol addictions). The new show is called (and is focusing on) Hoarders. So I immediately went to the online pantheon of knowledge, Wikipedia, and started my exploration.
It's a serious affliction.
You never hear people say, "Gosh, I love all this junk!" or "I just wish I had more stuff lying around!"; you hear just the opposite, yet almost ALL of my neighbors (informal survey) have tons of STUFF stacked floor to ceiling. I wonder, at what point does it go from just poor organizational skills to an OCD-type problem? And do cyclists suffer from it?
Here's Jef's illustration from "Roadie".

We laugh about how many bikes a Roadie will own despite being able to ride only one at a time. While it's true that we need different types of bikes for different types of riding, we also tend to hang on too long to too many.
When a cyclist dies and their wife asks us to sort through their cycling stuff, we get a true peek into their life. Sometimes, the amount of Cyclephernalia they've accumulated is mind-boggling, yet we understand. We're all that way. One of my friends had 22 Rubbermaid tubs filled with cycling stuff dating back to 6-speed. It took me months to scatter it to the masses. Another rider in our area had 22 high-end bikes in his collection.
We save our old bikes because we tell ourselves that we'll make a "single-speed" out of it someday, or maybe we'll make a "townie" or a "fixie" out of it. And they hang on the hooks like meat in a locker. Again, bad org skills? Or "a collection"? Or OCD?
I recently made a move in the right direction, I feel, by resurrecting two of my old bike frames that I haven't used in a while. They'd been hanging on a hook in my basement since the elder Bush was in office. In my book (Roadie. Available at Amazon or VeloGear.com - get yours today.), I go so far as to declare that I'm holding onto one of them for sentimental reasons. What a bunch of hooey! No more! I refuse to hoard. From now on, if I can't ride it, I'll make wind chimes out of it.
Did you hear me Motobecane? I said I'll cut you up into varying lengths, hang you on my front porch, and let the wind make music out of you!!
(Carbon fibre bikes are exempt due to their non-resonant nature.)
I am pushing back the encroaching tide. I have been, and will forever be, able to park my car in my garage with ample room on either side. I will not lose ground.
Fellow Roadies, I encourage you to take a good long look at your hoarding tendencies and ask yourself, "Do I really need to hang onto this stuff?" Chances are: no.

Of course, my garage is perfect ... once you get past the display of nine functional bikes, and as long as you duck under my scull. And please try not to knock over the golf clubs. And don't trip on the ski equipment. I've been meaning to tidy all that up.

Reflections on an Iceman

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 17:29:31 PST

The 20th running of the Iceman Commeth Challenge is behind us. Here are my observations:
Long ago, I made a promise to Skip Obermeyer that I would follow his Rule of Music: play a wide enough variety of music to annoy every member of the audience.
Check that one off the to-do list.
I played the Libera Me movement from Verdi's Requiem. And no one complained. Only one person commented on it: "I sang this in college!"
My point is, pretty much anything goes at a mountain bike race. If they let me play Verdi, they're an OK bunch.
I had a lot of fun at this year's Iceman. It's a great way to end the season (even though 'cross continues to bound along for another few weeks).
This year's event was energized by the addition of 2000 more riders. Promoter Steve Brown lifted the restriction of 2500 entries, and the people came in droves to Traverse City. Now let's just understand why the event exists in the first place: to bring people to Traverse City at a time of year when things are pretty slow in that resort town. This year's inclusion of 2000 more maniacs created an instant family-friendly air of Woodstock. Every other car in town has a rack full of bikes. Every restaurant is full. Hotels and bars are jammed.
Yes, there were glitches, and there were some traffic jams on the course, but the overall feedback was that everything worked. The city of Kalkaska was thrilled. Riders were also happy. And that bodes well for the event that's entering it's third decade on the calendar.
For those of you who don't know what it is, it's a 29-mile long point-to-point mountain bike race through Michigan's northern woods. It rolls over old logging trails, snowmobile trails, and single track and dumps itself into an RV park on the edge of T.C. Michiganders look for any reason to go to Traverse, and this is a good reason.
I was assigned to the finish line in the Timber Ridge RV park. In the morning, it's a pretty quiet place. There are about 300 riders ready to tackle the shorter circuit course at 9am while the longer races leave Kalkaska in waves. Having never really seen a mtb race, I can only guess that this is what most of them look like. Most promoters would call 300 riders "a successful event". Just wait a few hours.
When the short races wrap up, the longer races start rolling in. Then it's a parade of enormous proportion for the next 5 hours as wave after wave of age group and ability come to the finish. Some of them on foot.
Each year, we get a handful of finishers who were forced to run the final miles of the course carrying bikes with horribly disfigured derailleurs and broken chains. Many of the riders have dirt on them. Some have blood. Most have smiles.
One of the best parts of being the announcer for this event is seeing everyone that I've seen all summer one last time before winter chases us indoors, meeting new people from all over, and reconnecting with riders who I haven't seen in ages. For example, Mike Lantz from Indiana and Chip Ellison from Cincinnati. Seriously, it had been YEARS.
The crew that puts this event on deserves 4500 heartfelt thanks. And Steve "Iceman" Brown is one of Michigan Cycling's champions for keeping this thing on a positive upward climb.
The family vibe is alive and well. The party vibe is stoked by a busy beer tent. The brotherhood/sisterhood of cycling is strengthened. Events like this one are what make this sport awesome. On your left is a photo of the East Bay taken from the Grant Traverse Resort. For those of you who aren't aware, Traverse City is one of the things they don't want you to know about Michigan because we have enough damn tourists here already, thank you very much. Wait a minute, WE'RE the damn tourists! Hmmm.
At the end of the event, everyone goes out into T.C. and celebrates the end of training season. And they all make pledges to work harder next year to do better.
We'll see.

Iceman Report coming soon. In the meantime...

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 09:19:24 PST

I'll get around to writing down my many observations about the monster mountain bike event called Iceman. I promise.
In the meantime, the delay can be blamed on Book #2.
I'll only say that writing Book #2 is totally different from writing Book #1.
Book #1 was written without ANY research, ANY notes, ANY outline, ANY planning, or ANY forethought. It was almost entirely off the top of my head. If you have dreams of writing a book, don't do it this way. It's not the most efficient way to go about it. (But since I wasn't worried about efficiency, it worked for Book #1.)
Book #2 is underway. Like Roadie, it's not directed at cyclists. You'll understand when you see it. I can't go into it.
For now, all you need to know is that I've spent the past few months laying all the groundwork so that no all I have to do is fill in the gaps with the story. I don't have a working title. I don't have a character's name. But all that can come later.

And that's why the Iceman report is late.

Lights

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 17:08:01 PST

I'm normally one who embraces change. But every now and then I'll see small things that have changed, and I'll turn into my "cranky old man" persona and rail against the change.
And let me preface this by telling you how SMALL these things are in the Big Picture.
1. Fig Newtons: they changed their packaging so that it's re-sealable. Why? They went 100 years (I round UP) with the same sleeves of cookies. Why the change now?
The new packaging is slicker. It holds in freshness. But it also makes it harder to get the cookie out. Crumbs everywhere.
And I suspect that there are fewer cookies in the new packaging. I didn't COUNT them, but something tells me that they did it to skimp a little. No problem. I expect that sort of stuff.
You know how the sleeve of cookies had them all in a row? Except for sometimes you'd get one cookie that somehow got turned 90 degrees in the sleeve so that it wasn't like the others? I loved it when that happened. It indicated that one cookie had personality. In a machine that produces consistent results, having one cookie act differently than the others indicates that it had the desire to be different. That's pretty cool. And on further review, frightening. I guess I don't really want my food to think.
Anyway, they changed the packaging.
2. Michigan State Police flashing lights. Forever, the MSP light was a single revolving light on top of the blue car. Today, that light is an LED beacon that flashes.
Small, I know. Big deal.
But there's something very Wal-Mart about it. Like it came from the Christmas display. Chintzy. Fake.
The old red light would shine out across the land and travel in a circle coming back to your eye at regular intervals. It was authoritative. It meant business. It was great when it was behind someone else, not you.
I'm sure we're just lucky to have one MSP car patrolling the roads of Michigan nowadays after all the budget cuts.
3. Televised football with a zillion graphics on the screen.
Do we need the yellow line to tell us approximately where the first down marker is? Really? I mean, it's not exact, so what's the point? I can add 10 to any other number in my head and get an approximation.
Is the score necessary if it hasn't changed in the past few minutes? (I know why they do this. It's so that the guy with the dish can surf across the channel and not invest 30 seconds in the game to find out the score.)
4. I can't think of anything else right now, but I'm sure there's more.
I'll get over it. Kvetching about the small stuff allows me to ignore the big stuff.
Have one of your own? Feel free to leave it in the comments box.

The Other Side

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 14:30:01 PDT

For the first time in more than 18 years, I've been.... um.... how do I say this?... It's um ... I suppose I should just come out with it... um... Geez, this is harder than I thought it would be... I've been... um... OK, here it goes.... in 3...2........1.... I've been riding around on a mountain bike.
And the gods haven't smiled. The chain broke twice in one week. The first time it broke, I was just a mile from Kinetic Systems Bike Shop where, if you ask real nicely, they offer roadside assistance - as long as it's within a mile of the store. I mean, let's be realistic.
The second time it broke, I was in the middle of Bald Mountain Rec which isn't the most difficult trail system in Michigan, but it's remote enough to require a good long walk to civilization.
Yesterday, after putzing around on dirt roads and rail trails AND after replacing the chain, I hit the single track again. It was... how do I put this....?
It was O.K.
I can totally see the allure. It's a rush. To quickly process the information of the trail as it comes flying at you is a trip. I can feel what it did to my body; I appreciate the workout. There's a challenge around every corner - especially if you don't know the trail as was my case. The turns were so tight I swear I saw my own rear end on several occasions.
But...
You knew I had a big but, right? Well here it is:
After riding frantically for 30 minutes, I had only covered a few hundred yards on the map and my top speed was 12mph.
The thing I like about road riding so much is the speed and the distance. I like having to unfold a map to show where I went. I love the speed.
I haven't caught "the bug" yet. It was a fun diversion. I'll incorporate the MTB into my winter workout. I may even ride it to work more often. (Seriously, this is my commute---->)

I'll hit more single track this fall and do my part to bridge the gap between Roadies and whatever they're called.
So to make a long story short, I've entered the realm of mountain biking. Let's hope this gives me something to talk about at Iceman next month.
And stay tuned. I found a good deal on Time Trial bikes.

TBR

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 09:34:34 PDT

In some sports, there is a phrase that covers a lot of unexplainable situations. For us, it's this one: "That's bike racing!"
We use it to reason away anything that we have no control over.
A crash happens right in front of you and ruins your chance of winning? That's bike racing!
You do the lion's share of the work in the breakaway only to get beat by a wheelsucker in the sprint? That's bike racing.
You get a flat tire at the point in your training ride where you were about to turn around and have a big tailwind home? That's bike racing. Technically, it's not, but it might as well be.
You finish one place out of the money? TBR.
You drive 6 hours to get to a race, spend $120 in food, gas, hotel, and you win $12 for 4th place? TBR.
Where am I going with this?
To the American League.
The day after the one-game-playoff game between the Twins and Tigers that went 12 innings, everyone in town (Detroit) was lamenting all the missed opportunities and the missed calls by the umpires. They were complaining about the Tigers' inability to get a runner home from 3rd base with one out. They were railing on the right fielder who muffed two plays.
Listening to the sports radio shows on my drive to and from work, I heard one complaint after another about all the that the Tigers did wrong. Each one was missing the point: it's a game. People are human. People act differently under pressure. Things happen.
They were completely missing the fact that it was an amazing game. This single game had every ounce of excitement that you could pack into the sport. Sure, things went wrong. People missed catches and failed to get hits at the right time.
But you never hear baseball fans say, "Well, that's baseball." It's not in their lexicon.
To them, it's always someone's fault. Trade them. Fire the manager. Put them on the bench. Do something to them for not winning.
If cycling has taught me anything, it's to understand that no matter how hard you work at something, you'll never fully control it. Find the beauty in what's happening around you because really, that might be all you get.

Rio vs. Chicago. Seriously?

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 16:23:03 PDT

It's been just 12 hours since the announcement that the 2016 Olympics are going to be held in South America, and I'm already sick of hearing all the political malarky about it.
And since this topic deals with politics, I will state up front that I consider myself a staunch Independent.
Yes, I believe that Obama should have flown on Air Force Freakin' One to Copenhagen to make a plea on behalf of Chicago. To not go when the other three leaders were going would have been a major snub that would have echoed for years. Had he been successful against the odds, we would have eaten like kings. The economic impact of a the Summer Games is incalculably worth it and efforts to attract it can't be phoned it. That's how the game is played. It's the cost of doing business.
I've heard people spouting crap about the economy being bad and that he wasted money that should have been spent on fixing health care. We're America. We can still afford to fly a plane to Denmark. Get over it. If you want him to fly commercial and sit in Coach, write your congressman.
And now critics are saying that he failed as a president because Chicago didn't get the bid. They don't understand how the Olympics work. Chicago never had a prayer. They were outgunned by Madrid and Tokyo who also didn't have a chance; the Olympics were loooong overdue a visit to South America.
The Games have been in North America, on the other hand, in every decade since 1960.
1960 - Squaw Valley
1968 - Mexico City
1976 - Montreal
1980 - Lake Placid
1984 - L.A.
1988 - Calgary
1996 - Atlanta
2002 - SLC.
And will be in Vancouver in 2010.
Chicago probably had a fabulous proposal. Chicago is a GREAT city. It would have been amazing to have them on the Great Lakes. But you had to know that the IOC was anxious to take their party to Brazil, and Brazil was ready. Heck, as soon as I heard that Rio was one of the finalists, I knew where it was going. It was obvious.
So let's stop blaming the Democrats or Republicans or whoever we can blame for all the mistakes that caused America to fail. And let's stop second-guessing the President's Euro-trip. Even though it was a foregone conclusion, he had to go.
Now, if you want to know how crazy I really am, hear this: Who do I believe needs to start bidding on the Olympic Games? Detroit. Laugh out loud. Go ahead. It sounds crazy if you place it in the context of Detroit 2009, but if you look 11 years into the future, you have to believe that this city will be in a better position. Face it, it can't possibly be any worse than Atlanta was when they were first awarded the bid for the '96 Games. Atlanta was a pit.
OK, maybe 2024.

Roadie out in front.

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 17:09:21 PDT

No, I didn't take this photo. I was never this close to the front of the peloton.
This was taken by one of the pro moto photo bikes in the caravan. They're a bunch of cool guys who have one of the funner jobs in the race. Jon Devich shoots for various publications and cyclingnews.com. (I don't think he's aware of how close we came to taking him out during Stage 6 when we crested a blind hill and found him and his driver stopped in the middle of the hill. The "photo bikes" will stop abruptly in the oddest places as they are dictated by the scenery. Other caravan vehicles must adjust their driving accordingly. We adjusted. Disaster averted.)
So a big thanks to them for capturing this prize for me.
Caption: Pro peloton tries to read over Jon's shoulder with little success.

El Diablo In Cornfield

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 07:08:01 PDT

This post requires some explanation:
We've found that there are different types of fans along the route of the Tour of Missouri. Generally, we can categorize them into two main groups: fanatics and casuals.
Fanatics know the sport inside and out. They will drive long distances (sometimes driving 'cross country and sleeping in their cars) to watch the race. We've seen them along the route all week. They're from all over. For example, the Irish couple from Vancouver who we met in California. Oran and Jo. They've come to Missouri to live the life of a true race fan. (we saw them at SIX different locations today!)
Casual fans are the ones who live locally. Usually they just step out of their house to see the commotion. They may have a peripheral knowledge of the sport from what they've seen in the media, or they may have only heard about this thing is going to pass by sometime today. They may know some of the names of the game, or they may not know much at all. They may have Norwegian flags; they may be taking a break from working the fields. Generally, they're just curious about this thing coming down their road.
The Casuals make up the largest percentage of the crowds. We've seen entire towns standing along their Main Street waiting to see the spectacle. It's a very cool thing. We enjoy teaching them about the sport and the event through our massive sound system on wheels .... presented by Michelob Ultra, in case you couldn't tell.
Often times, we'll see a mixture of both groups mingled together along a stretch of road. And usually, it's like this: the Fanatics are standing right next to the road dressed in something that says cycling on it, and the Casuals are sitting on lawn chairs back away from the road. Or maybe they're leaning against their cars.
So today, we happened upon a group of people out in the middle of nowhere on County Road Z. Far from anything, and waiting for the parade to pass by. Four guys wearing overalls sitting on those big giant hay bails (Casuals). A woman sitting in a lawn chair (Casual). And a delightful girl named Annie dressed up in this costume (Fanatic):

In an effort to unite the two groups - the obvious Fanatic dressed as El Diablo and the obvious Casuals dressed in overalls - I started to explain to the farmers the concept of El Diablo and where that comes from. In short...

I'm happy to report that I was mistaken. They all knew the story. They were ALL true cycling fans who had been to France and had seen the Tour and already knew the drill. They weren't Casuals. They were local Fanatics. Awesome! Here in the middle of America surrounded by corn fields and International Harvesters was a group of cycling fans who were tickled to have the biggest bike race come right down their road.
If you want to question cycling's popularity, look no further than Z Highway in Missouri.

A New Announcer

noreply@blogger.com (Jamie Smith) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 07:11:04 PDT

The Bike Race Announcer's Union allowed a non-Union announcer to take the stage at the Tour of Missouri yesterday. Here's how it sounded/looked:

I'd love to hear him provide the announcing for a criterium.