Grumpy Old Man

So Sunday I had my yearly bike racing temper tantrum. I've worked hard to get past the sullen and angry parts of my personality, and these days a meltdown is a once a year thing, but it still sucks to lose my cool. While I regret getting to the point of blowing up in public and the stupid childish stuff I said, I'm still pretty upset that I was (quite literally) shoved to that point.

In cyclo-cross everything is referenced by "how they do it in Belgium" and for the most part we try to do it the same way. After all, they are the best, and who doesn't want to emulate the best in some fashion - even (at least for me) to the point of trying to do it better. One thing I think American 'cross does 'better' than the euros is cheer for the riders. Sure there are tens of thousands of spectators at the World Cups and GVA races, but the lack of crowd noise is downright shocking to someone coming from the States. In Euro land, you cheer for 'your' rider and that's it. Offer some words of encouragement to someone else and the 'supporters club' looks at you like you have two heads. Here in the Americas we cheer for everybody. If you've got a number on your back your worth supporting.

But that's changing. The cheering has turned ugly. Cheering is no longer 'cool enough for cross'. It's heckling that's de rigure these days. It's not enough to get excited when a rider hops the hurdles, it's now ok to boo them when they don't. At Granogue last week someone lined up rocks across the course before the start of the Elite race. 85 of the countrys best 'cross riders came around a turn at full speed into a rock garden that wasn't there on the pre laps. The same thing happened at a Cross Crusade race in Portland last year. Out west cross fans have turned the 'euro style 'dump water on the cyclist' into 'throw a cup of beer on him/her'. Is a cup of piss next? Are cross superfans going to become nothing more than soccer hooligans?




That's the Saturn SuperCup, where, in 1998 I (along with almost everybody else) stumbled up a steep climb in a cross race. That day someone reached over the tape and pulled me up the hill.

Last Sunday, almost a decade later, when I stumbled on a steep hill in a cross race somebody reached over the tape, grabbed my wheel and pushed me backwards.