Here’s mud in your eye

Judas Priest. Today’s Superprestige cyclo-cross in Hamme-Zogge looked like a cross-country run through an open sewer in Hell.

If you missed the live streaming video, you can catch an edited recap at the series website. It’s worth watching, believe me. One of the running sections took a minute-fifteen to cover, and there was more than one running bit. Eight-and-a-half-minute laps. Filth everywhere. My kind of race.

World champ Zdenek Stybar looked like someone had stuffed him head-first down a septic tank, and Niels Albert wore a pained, muck-slathered expression that said, “Fuck this noise, I’m going to get a job in a nice dry factory somewhere.”

• Late update: Katie Compton and Tim Johnson both crushed it today in Fort Fun. It looked like a fun course, a little tackier than yesterday’s, which you’d think would favor a powerful dude like Ryan Trebon, as it clearly did KfC. But after a fast start the big guy popped like a nickel rubber and that was all she wrote. Meanwhile, Todd Wells screwed the pooch while bunny-hopping a barrier and was hauled away on a stretcher, which is rarely a fun way to leave a race. You get to be an old duffer like me, you git off an’ run them sumbitches.

5 Responses to “Here’s mud in your eye”

  1. 1
    Larry T.:

    Great stuff! Makes me want to fry up some frites and pop open a Stella Artois! Reminded me a bit of being at the Giro stage to Montalcino back in May, the last time I saw guys on 700c wheels looking that bad. As soon as PBS’ McLaughlin group is over we’ll take the MTB’s out and crash around for awhile in the 40 degree temps…fall is OVER here on the soon-to-be-frozen plains….but we’ll be escaping to Italy next week so it’s not too bad.

  2. 2
    rustlust:

    Patrick–Did I or did I not read a kick-ass race report written by the Mad Dog on the VN website this morning? Cuz, now your name is Dan Seaton and the report sucks sticky peanut butter mud! WTF, growl!

  3. 3
    Patrick O'Grady:

    Yup, I watched the race online and wrote up a report — ’cause nobody In Authority told me Dan was gonna be on site and cranking out words and pix. I coulda slept in, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, but nooooo. …

    Anyway, glad you liked it. I write a few stories every week but rarely use a byline. I’ve been at this since 1974 and don’t collect clips anymore. Plus if the story sucks nobody knows it was me. Heh.

  4. 4
    James:

    Awesome video O’G…..makes me wonder if these top o’ da heap guys will ever use discs. Seemed to be a perfect situation for it but I didn’t see any. And the Dutch commentary was awesome too!! Too bad that Pagey was the only ‘Merican racing though. If we want to do well at this then we need more guys/gals racing in the slop.

    Speaking of which: Nys needs to run more. That last lap gap he opened bypassing the pits was gone once the cross country race started. Of course once back on a bike the race was over, but still……..

    Thanks again for the head’s up! I appreciate it!!

  5. 5
    Patrick O'Grady:

    James, wasn’t that a killer race? I kicked the URL to a few people and they were all foaming at the mouth.

    Nys said something about not being much of a runner, but my Dutch/Flemish/ArgleBargle is weak, so I spared the VN audience a machine translation. I thought his bobble in the last sandy bit might have done for him, but camera angles are tricky … he won by what, four seconds?

    Races like that were the only kind I ever won or did well in, ’cause I ran so much. You give me a course that’s 75 percent footwork and I’m your man. Or was, anyway. Was that really a decade ago? No wonder I need a crowbar to slip into my bibs these days.

A word to the wise




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Words and pictures on the DogPage © 2010 by Patrick O'Grady/Mad Dog Media. All rights and most lefts reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, redistributed, laser-printed, photocopied, crocheted into a sampler, knitted into a sweater, tattooed on a floozy, spray-painted on an overpass, tapped out in Morse code, sublimated onto a jersey, shared in whispers in the back row of an adult theater, shouted from the rooftops, scored for tuba and banjo, translated into Squinch, or communicated via telepathy without the permission of and hefty payment to a heavily armed, whisky-addled cyclo-cross addict who knows your IP address. Bonehead shysters and the simpletons who employ them, take note: The opinions expressed on the DogPage contain toxic quantities of hyperbole, satire, parody and humor. Pah-ro-dee. Hyyuuu-mor. Acquire a sense of same or read at your own risk.