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Arlington
Heights Classic / IL/WI District Time Trial Championships What we've got here is... failure to communicate. Some men you just can't reach. So you get what we had here last week, which is the way he wants it... well, he gets it. I don't like it any more than you men. Strother Martin(born 1919 in Kokomo, IN raised in Indianapolis) - Cool Hand Luke
After settling into regular life, Druber was invited by some high school chums to participate in a past time called slow pitch softball. Druber found the prospect of playing a game he'd previously associated with family reunions and church picnics for sport to be quite intriguing. The intrigue quickly wore off. After a half a summer Druber decided he had played his last game when the following incident took place. In a close game Druber was relaying a throw from the outfield to home plate as a runner was rounding third, the catcher was unable to handle the throw. In softball, the catcher is a position roughly the equal of the sand lot baseball right fielder, ergo the last player picked. The throw from my relay arrived a few split seconds sooner than the catcher anticipated. I vividly recall the catcher's eyes widening as the ball arrived. Seems he'd misjudged the velocity. He held both arms straight out in front of him as if about to be trampled by a heard of bulls in Pamplona rather than trying to catch a softball. The softball, ill named (I think the soft part is more descriptive of the players than the ball) torched directly between the catcher's outstretched arms, missing his mitt by only a few inches, impacting his sternum squarely with a hollow thud that could be heard at the adjacent softball diamonds. It sounded like a Tympani. The catcher fell backward in slow motion just as the base runner, a former high school wrestler who lacked the talent to play varsity baseball took his frustration over this fact out on the hapless softball catcher, the wrestler cum softball player arrived 4 steps later and creamed the balding, pudgy, bespectacled catcher into the dust at home plate. It was carnage. Grown men were worked up and a bench-clearing softball brawl ensued. It was stoopid. Druber was bewildered as he observed the misuse of testosterone. Former High School jocks and wannabe jocks, some out of shape, some who spent the winter in a gym just to be able to launch a ball off a bat just a few feet further, mixed in with the men who "just do it for fun". Men who spent the off season bargaining, bartering and trading teams in an effort to keep last year's champion from repeating. There was yelling, screaming, red-faced threats of ass whooping, wives were embarrassed and children learned aggressive behavior. All the while, the catcher - who's name I just now remember as Larry, was still laying on the ground, breathless with the beginnings of a basketball sized, green and yellow bruise growing on his chest. Druber remembers thinking "I can't believe these schmucks take this game so seriously." Druber hasn't set foot on a softball diamond since. Arlington Heights Classic The Village of Arlington Heights puts on a big money hugely popular criterium the first weekend of August. The course barely longer than ½ mile has 8 corners. It's technical to say the least. The Master's 40+ field vies for a $2k purse at 7:00 a.m. Druber's circadian rhythm causes him to take to 7:00 a.m. sunlight about as well as a Vampire does. I pull the sheets over my head and hide from the early morning rays light. When I say Vampire I refer to the Nosferatu variety as opposed to the Chris Walker type. I'd never be so presumptuous as to compare myself to Lance Armstrong. In other words, I'm not ready for bike racing at these ungodly hours. The only physical activity Druber wants to think about at 7:00 a.m. involves the happy and somewhat fairly frequent -despite my advanced age - phenomena of morning wood. 45 masters of all shapes, sizes and abilities lined up at the start. The HeadsMACK had rallied his troops to get 15 into the race, constituting a full 1/3 of the field. While cruising the course in warm-up Druber is welcomed to the race by the HeadsMACK who jokingly voices that he is "scared" by Druber's presence and that Druber will "only have 7 sMACKs assigned to his wheel". Druber simply wrote it off to the fact that the sMACKs were pummeled in the press the previous week, and were justifiably on the offensive. The race started everyone raced hard, no one crashed. After the finish, Druber was cooling down next to Lance Hinckley, chatting, exchanging compliments as Lance had really raced well on this early Saturday morning. The pleasantries were shattered when from a block away I heard the WI state 45+ criterium champion who rides for sMACK screaming "DRUBER!" "DRUBER!!!" "DRUBER!!!!" It was getting louder, which meant he was getting closer. The WI state 45+ criterium champion pulled next to Druber and began yelling "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THIS RACE!?" "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THIS RACE!?" "THIS ISN"T A REAL BIKE RACE!" "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" "YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED!" The WS45+CC proceeded to do the sMACK sponsors very proud and show the fine people of Arlington Heights that bike racers are Dickheads. He began to scream into Druber's ear "TAKE THAT NUMBER OFF" "TAKE IT OFF!" "THIS ISN'T A REAL BIKE RACE!!!!" "TAKE THE NUMBER OFF!!!" At that point, the WS45+CC, who'd just finished 8th spot in this race, began an attempt to rip the number off of Druber's jersey. I'm not making this up. He grabbed the number on Druber's jersey and began to pull and tug at it with red faced, foaming at the mouth fury. Druber remained calm, bemused really as this 160 lb musician was attempting to rip the jersey off his back. Those of you who have never met Druber up close and in person are advised that Druber is what Phil Liggett would refer to as "a great big bike racer." I'm no Magnus Backsted, rather more of an Uwe Peschel, certainly larger than your average cyclist. The last time Druber was the size of his attacker was in 8th grade. It had to have been a funny sight. I do so enjoy a good melt down. As justification for his assault, the WI state 45+ criterium champ referred Druber to his APRIL Truesport posting, recapping the Hillsboro Road Race. I copy and paste the offending statement below for reference: Some thought was put into opting for the Master's 35+ race. In each of the two previous years Team Turin entered the Pro 1,2 race. Last year, I was able to finish 10th in this brutal shell fest. The year before, I was popped like a fat tick before the end of lap 1. The thought of riding 3 laps with the masters however did not appeal. Being a proper bike racer, I am constantly able to persuade myself that I am years younger than I actually am. Besides which, aside from the fact that Masters races (outside of California) are not real races and do not merit a write up… The
WI state 45+ criterium champion, had taken personal umbrage with
and had been stewing on the above paragraph for nearly 4 months.
I guess the dam had to break at some point. I mean a person can
only take so much written abuse right? Aside from the fact that
the above statement was simply a wink at MKA (Southern CA master's
racing) and The Rev. Billy (time trials not real races) and in no
way intended to be directed at any Master's racer, much less specifically
to the WI state 45+ criterium champion, this was the raison d'être
for the foamy mouthed tirade. Conveniently ignoring that Druber
in the same paragraph refers to his own inability to recognize that
he's getting old and slow, Our Hero took the statement to mean that
Druber believes himself to be better than and above anyone who races
Master's races. To further take the imagined affront into the realm
of the ludicrous, the WS45+CC then adopted the classic projection
of the egocentric predicament. "Well, EVERYONE is insulted
by your column." Lance Hinckley was still riding alongside,
a witness to the ugly conniption. Lance piped in "I don't know,
I read it and wasn't offended. I thought it was pretty funny."
Here is some context. All season long, Druber has been engaged in the non USCF sanctioned Mid America Time Trial Series, currently leading both the Masters 30+ and 40+ series. How much more unreal can bike racing be? Since January, Druber has put himself through the pain and discomfort of riding two time trials per event in order to win both Master's categories. Druber wrote an entire Truesport piece on Time Trials and whether or not they are real bike races. Druber would be extremely conflicted or schizophrenic or if he truly believed: 1.
Master's races aren't real races. However, at this point, the WI state 45+ criterium champion was less interested in what Druber had to say than in his own sense of personal vengeance. I assume the bulk of his fury was built up during StuporWeak and during the ensuing week of columns and e-mail wars. Certainly it can be frustrating to carry on arguments, verbal or electronic with attorneys like The Reverend and MKA, who are trained, well paid and have proven successful in the art of evidence and debate. Druber, in the absence of a Labor rider, was ascribed attributes of an agitator by the WS45+CC even though I was not present for StuporWeak. S'MoresMACK became louder and more agitated as we rode our bikes around the course venting his rage at Druber to the point that the scene was beginning to embarrass his teammates. KronsMACK pulled the WS45+CC aside to quiet him down. The volunteer corner marshals simply shook their heads and smiled as if to say, "What can you do? Adrenaline should just be outlawed for some people." McGsMACK, FleckensMACK, KronsMACK all offered apologies for their teammate's behavior. Thanks men. No ill will or feelings are harbored. Back to the race…driving the point home and providing perfect context on the difference between real racers and weekenders, Steve Tilford raced with us. Steve covered all breaks; won all 6 primes in the 30 minute race then won the sprint for the V. As far as I know, no one protested Tilford's presence in the race, despite that fact that he's arguably the most complete and talented 40+ rider in the nation. Later in a calmer environment after picking up the prize $ I approached the WI state 45+ criterium champion for conciliatory efforts. Druber doesn't have enemies or hold grudges. We Mennonites are allergic to hostility. I offered to the WS45+CC that we shouldn't take stoopid sport so seriously that it turns us into frothing, invective spewing head cases. Druber explained that he was once a professional athlete. 7:00 Saturday a.m. bike races while difficult, are not professional sports. It's the equivalent of the Tuesday night softball double-header league. We're not putting bread on our tables. We're 40 year old men racing bikes. Stuff we used to do with the neighborhood kids on Schwinn Sting Rays. We're weekend warriors. This doesn't merit meltdowns. It doesn't merit scheming. God help you if the sole intent for you and your team showing up at a race is to keep another 40 year old man from winning a Master's bike race. The WS45+CC refused to be consoled. For some reason, he just doesn't like Druber. This is the same man who derisively told Druber after a race two years ago "You got lucky." I attacked a crit field uphill with 6 laps to go and pulled away solo during a race in Muscatine, IA. Like the Islamic radical need the West, like Limbaugh needs the left and MoveOn.org needs the right, everyone needs a villain. Druber is apparently for whatever reason, the WI state 45+ criterium champion's baddie. "Maybe you were a big jock (a word Druber refuses to believe he embodies) and a good athlete but I wasn't this is all I've got". Druber was saddened by these words. "This is all I've got." "Hey, are we okay?" No answer, just a shake of the head. "Okay, we don't have to be okay, just not hostile, all right?" Druber walked away and considers the matter closed. Bike racing is a passion. It's dangerous. It's damn hard. It's a lot of fun. People get hurt, some times badly. It's much harder than baseball ever was. We train, we diet, and we're consumed by the passion. I don't discount this and I don't discredit this. I celebrate this sport and participate with a lot of enthusiasm. However, it's still a hobby. There is a reason you don't find reports and photos of Masterss races in VelowNews. Later that afternoon in the real race, we raced very fast, many guys crashed including my team mate the Asian Invasion. He went to the hospital for Xrays of his knees, which thankfully turned out negative. Endeavorer Frank Pipp won and I'm not making this up, as he gave the arms up V, he ran over a sewer cap which twisted his handlebars, snapped his fork and he elbow checked the asphalt 50m after the line. The crowd was aghast. After Frank got off the ground and the crowd realized he wasn't injured, they started laughing. I spoke with Frank yesterday and he found the whole episode slightly embarrassing, yet humorous. IL/WI District Time Trial Championships Ferchrissakes, talk about unreal…Slightly less than 40k, 10-15 mph wind, rolling Southern WI terrain, excellent roads and 85-degree temps. Want some impressive numbers? Listen - I'll review the fastest times of the day and the categories. 4th fastest time: and in my mind the most impressive - Gordy Paulson. WI. 53 years old. 2003 USCF Master's National Road Champion and bronze medalist in the TT behind some guy named Bostick. These both being fictitious titles of course since it's both a TT and a Master's event *wink* 51:20. Wow! 3rd fastest time: Nick Reistadt, WI Endeavor. Category 1. Nick Recently won the final stage of Superweek, Whitefish Bay Pro 1,2 real race. 51:17.61 2nd fastest time: Druber. Cat 1. Fantasy weekend warrior. PROUD to be imaginary Master's Time Trialist. Also, thankful for the officials 300th of one second slower click of the stopwatch button. 51:17.58 Fastest of the Day: Hushpup Schroetlin, IL who's girlfriend displayed True Love by driving 400 miles round trip from Arlington Heights to Decatur and back to retrieve the Time Trial machine and a fish -n- more meal for her man. Druber reminded Jeff at the start line of Arlington Heights Crit that the District TT was tomorrow and he didn't have his rig with him. 50:46 If I woulda' said nuthin I'd have been the champ, but I wouldn't have prevailed against the best. I'm gonna start eating Hushpuppies before TT's.
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