I have always had a bit of an unfortunate habit of spitting in the stew and not being as enthusiastic about certain events and occasions as others tend to be and perhaps this is a character flaw emanating from a mildly cynical personality.
It hasn’t always left me as the flavour of the month in the spheres of influence which I have often found myself and so over time I have tended to withdraw from conversation where strong opinion is being put or great enthusiasm aroused over things which I find a little stolid. This has at times lead some of those who have been unfortunate enough to be in my presence to often regard me as a bit of strange cat.
I have always thought that it is better to say nothing when the conversation shifts to subjects I know little about. Forcing discussion over such could only lead me to say something stupid or regrettable.
Of course, with my family I observe no such boundaries and I am sure at times my forthright opinions, even if they are spurious often mean they are left shaking their heads at my blunt attitudes and opinions, especially when they don’t agree with me but I am confident they can’t or won’t get rid of me or push me to the outer boundaries of their lives.They seem to be happy to put up with me and my mildly eccentric manner. Maybe I am just a bad habit they can’t shake! No matter.
I have learnt as I get older not to push too far and the prevailing winds have become more obvious and I like to think I can detect a change of atmosphere when the conversation gets a little disagreeable and I can adjust my course and head for calmer waters, something which may not have been within the bounds of my personal abilities several years ago.
Something I do have some knowledge about, even if it is only familiarity gathered from the distant past as a competitive racer, albeit as somewhat of a hack, is the sport of cycling.
I was never really one to fit into the atmosphere that overlayed the sport, an introverted personality an antonym to the many braggarts and bold hearted lads who seemed to dominate the game. A microcosm of life perhaps?
Cycling I found was always, for want of a better description, a “buddy buddy” type of sport where the alpha male was in vogue and backslapping and blowing wind up the rear end of those who were perceived to be the elite was common place. And still is.
Perhaps that is one of the reasons I liked handicap racing. An egalitarian version of the sport in a country supposedly famed for it’s egalitarianess.
Of course it was never enough for the some of the supposed elite. They were sure handicap racing was the work of the devil and those on outmarks were never deserving of the prizes which were occasionally forthcoming to them because they didn’t train as hard as those on the marks of honour and weren’t good enough generally to shine their shoes. Or so some seem to think although this was not universal thought among the backmarkers.
My reply to this was always the same and is still pertinent today.If you don’t like it, don’t ride. We won’t miss you. A remark that always raised the ire of those for whom it was intended but there was never much of a retort in return. Perhaps my arrow was hitting the mark?
The sport has changed a little since those dim, dark days when I would struggle out of bed on a winter morning and reluctantly set off into the fog, out into the hills and valleys of the Tidbinbilla and Cotter regions, six hours on a Sunday, cut to half during the week in lieu of work, or when I could be bothered to get out at all!
The sport is at much more of an elite level now with Australia’s own World Tour team making it’s debut last year and being very successful in it’s first year in the big league with many major victories.
This team, Orica Greenedge, contains many, but not all of the nation’s elite professional riders and has a noteworthy relationship with the national association, a relationship which some, myself among them, find to be too intimate.
The national road racing title is held in Ballarat, in fact it was on yesterday and a good show they put on too although I am not a connoisseur of summer road racing. I strongly believe the Australian summer is, and should remain the domain of track cycling, a version of the sport which is being criminally degraded. But that is a conversation for another time.
The Orica Greennedge team turn up for the national title in strength. They had twelve starters yesterday and by that alone they were marked out as favourites, the local battlers being unable to compete against the talented and hardened professionals of the international peloton.
Inevitably, a Greenedge rider won the day and an impressive feat it was too. Luke Durbridge, a 21 year old Western Australian, already earmarked for great things, broke away early with some of the domestic riders, dropping his companions one by one until he soloed to victory by himself.
It was a great win although it didn’t take too much of a tactical brain to figure out that the domestic teams may not be able to reel Durbridge in after he and his companions were given a big lead. A tactical mistake by the lesser teams, playing right into the hands of the Greenedge hegemony. But they may not have been strong enough to battle with Greenedge nose to nose anyway.
Greenedge only had to sit on their hands. If the break is reeled in they have plenty of fresh riders to launch in a counter attack. In any case they will not chase their own rider. It worked out perfectly for them.
It’s not the sort of race which appeals to me. It’s akin, to these humble eyes, to the local bully turning up and slapping around the lesser lights, taking the prizes and the applause of the sycophants of the local press corps. Not my cup of tea but that is the format. So be it.
I think the thing which annoyed me was the grovelling appreciation of the television commentators, waxing lyrical about the ascension of the new champion, a talent to be sure but a bit soon to be making sweeping statements about what the future holds for a 21 year old.
It was a throwback for me to the old “buddy buddy”days, backslapping the big dog and telling him how great he is, conveniently ignoring the fact that he and the Greenedge juggernaut had defeated minnows on the day.
I think the new champion is an outstanding talent who rode beautifully but it was hardly a case of the re-birth of Eddy Merckx. It was an opportunistic win on a day everything worked out for he and his team.
I am not a great fan of the Greenedge set-up. I think it does nothing for local cycling and is a cause for conflict in the Australian cycling scene, with those Aussie professionals not privy to the Greenedge/National body coalition of thought being left to ponder their place in the national scheme of things. Cycling has always been a political sport and this new horizon just widens the fissure between those who want to be in the “establishment “ranks and those who want the freedom to do their thing professionally but would still like to be considered for national honours.
I would like to see Greenedge launch a local, domestic team with local riders contesting Australian races. It would surely narrow the gap, emotionally and figuratively between the big dogs of the international peloton and the locals and make for a more co-operative and friendly sport. But I won’t hold my breath.
So, I am perhaps falling back on my old cynical ways, cutting down the tall poppies and hoping for a victory of the underdogs. I like the old egalitarian ways. Perhaps I am a dinosaur.
I will still take interest in Aussie riders and wish them all the best in their overseas endeavours. But I would prefer to see a level playing field at home. But I won’t hold my breath.
Have a nice day.
It hasn’t always left me as the flavour of the month in the spheres of influence which I have often found myself and so over time I have tended to withdraw from conversation where strong opinion is being put or great enthusiasm aroused over things which I find a little stolid. This has at times lead some of those who have been unfortunate enough to be in my presence to often regard me as a bit of strange cat.
I have always thought that it is better to say nothing when the conversation shifts to subjects I know little about. Forcing discussion over such could only lead me to say something stupid or regrettable.
Of course, with my family I observe no such boundaries and I am sure at times my forthright opinions, even if they are spurious often mean they are left shaking their heads at my blunt attitudes and opinions, especially when they don’t agree with me but I am confident they can’t or won’t get rid of me or push me to the outer boundaries of their lives.They seem to be happy to put up with me and my mildly eccentric manner. Maybe I am just a bad habit they can’t shake! No matter.
I have learnt as I get older not to push too far and the prevailing winds have become more obvious and I like to think I can detect a change of atmosphere when the conversation gets a little disagreeable and I can adjust my course and head for calmer waters, something which may not have been within the bounds of my personal abilities several years ago.
Something I do have some knowledge about, even if it is only familiarity gathered from the distant past as a competitive racer, albeit as somewhat of a hack, is the sport of cycling.
I was never really one to fit into the atmosphere that overlayed the sport, an introverted personality an antonym to the many braggarts and bold hearted lads who seemed to dominate the game. A microcosm of life perhaps?
Cycling I found was always, for want of a better description, a “buddy buddy” type of sport where the alpha male was in vogue and backslapping and blowing wind up the rear end of those who were perceived to be the elite was common place. And still is.
Perhaps that is one of the reasons I liked handicap racing. An egalitarian version of the sport in a country supposedly famed for it’s egalitarianess.
Of course it was never enough for the some of the supposed elite. They were sure handicap racing was the work of the devil and those on outmarks were never deserving of the prizes which were occasionally forthcoming to them because they didn’t train as hard as those on the marks of honour and weren’t good enough generally to shine their shoes. Or so some seem to think although this was not universal thought among the backmarkers.
My reply to this was always the same and is still pertinent today.If you don’t like it, don’t ride. We won’t miss you. A remark that always raised the ire of those for whom it was intended but there was never much of a retort in return. Perhaps my arrow was hitting the mark?
The sport has changed a little since those dim, dark days when I would struggle out of bed on a winter morning and reluctantly set off into the fog, out into the hills and valleys of the Tidbinbilla and Cotter regions, six hours on a Sunday, cut to half during the week in lieu of work, or when I could be bothered to get out at all!
The sport is at much more of an elite level now with Australia’s own World Tour team making it’s debut last year and being very successful in it’s first year in the big league with many major victories.
This team, Orica Greenedge, contains many, but not all of the nation’s elite professional riders and has a noteworthy relationship with the national association, a relationship which some, myself among them, find to be too intimate.
The national road racing title is held in Ballarat, in fact it was on yesterday and a good show they put on too although I am not a connoisseur of summer road racing. I strongly believe the Australian summer is, and should remain the domain of track cycling, a version of the sport which is being criminally degraded. But that is a conversation for another time.
The Orica Greennedge team turn up for the national title in strength. They had twelve starters yesterday and by that alone they were marked out as favourites, the local battlers being unable to compete against the talented and hardened professionals of the international peloton.
Inevitably, a Greenedge rider won the day and an impressive feat it was too. Luke Durbridge, a 21 year old Western Australian, already earmarked for great things, broke away early with some of the domestic riders, dropping his companions one by one until he soloed to victory by himself.
It was a great win although it didn’t take too much of a tactical brain to figure out that the domestic teams may not be able to reel Durbridge in after he and his companions were given a big lead. A tactical mistake by the lesser teams, playing right into the hands of the Greenedge hegemony. But they may not have been strong enough to battle with Greenedge nose to nose anyway.
Greenedge only had to sit on their hands. If the break is reeled in they have plenty of fresh riders to launch in a counter attack. In any case they will not chase their own rider. It worked out perfectly for them.
It’s not the sort of race which appeals to me. It’s akin, to these humble eyes, to the local bully turning up and slapping around the lesser lights, taking the prizes and the applause of the sycophants of the local press corps. Not my cup of tea but that is the format. So be it.
I think the thing which annoyed me was the grovelling appreciation of the television commentators, waxing lyrical about the ascension of the new champion, a talent to be sure but a bit soon to be making sweeping statements about what the future holds for a 21 year old.
It was a throwback for me to the old “buddy buddy”days, backslapping the big dog and telling him how great he is, conveniently ignoring the fact that he and the Greenedge juggernaut had defeated minnows on the day.
I think the new champion is an outstanding talent who rode beautifully but it was hardly a case of the re-birth of Eddy Merckx. It was an opportunistic win on a day everything worked out for he and his team.
I am not a great fan of the Greenedge set-up. I think it does nothing for local cycling and is a cause for conflict in the Australian cycling scene, with those Aussie professionals not privy to the Greenedge/National body coalition of thought being left to ponder their place in the national scheme of things. Cycling has always been a political sport and this new horizon just widens the fissure between those who want to be in the “establishment “ranks and those who want the freedom to do their thing professionally but would still like to be considered for national honours.
I would like to see Greenedge launch a local, domestic team with local riders contesting Australian races. It would surely narrow the gap, emotionally and figuratively between the big dogs of the international peloton and the locals and make for a more co-operative and friendly sport. But I won’t hold my breath.
So, I am perhaps falling back on my old cynical ways, cutting down the tall poppies and hoping for a victory of the underdogs. I like the old egalitarian ways. Perhaps I am a dinosaur.
I will still take interest in Aussie riders and wish them all the best in their overseas endeavours. But I would prefer to see a level playing field at home. But I won’t hold my breath.
Have a nice day.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 