Category: Cyclo-cross

Paddy whacked

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments
There was a hint of fall color in the trees as I cycled across the creek toward Palmer Park.
There was a hint of fall color in the trees as I cycled across the creek toward Palmer Park.

I rarely applaud the thumping of a Mick by a Limey, but I was happy to make an exception in the case of Brian Cookson vs. Pat McQuaid.

Fat Paddy pulled every dirty trick he could find from his size-5 cap during his frantic campaign to retain the UCI presidency. But when Cookson finally said, “All right, we’ve had enough of this,” and moved that the UCI Congress proceed to a vote, that august body handed said hat back to the blubbering bog-trotter and showed him the door.

Now, I rarely pay close attention to the racing side of our sport unless some silly person is cutting me a check. So I have no idea whether Cookson will be able or even willing to make all the changes that even a casual look-around deems necessary.

But at this point it seems to me that electing a blow-up plastic sex doll would be preferable to another term for Fat Paddy, unless that term were to be served in the H-Block.

Thus I celebrated the omadhaun‘s ouster with a short ride on a cyclo-cross bike with UCI-illegal tires. Póg mo thóin, Paddy, go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat! 

Missed him by that much

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 28 Comments

God is trying to get Paddy McQuaid, sending a flood to bugger up cyclo-cross worlds in Kaintucky, but the fat bastard keeps bobbing and weaving, ducking the punch.

Word is that Sunday’s races have been shoehorned into Saturday’s schedule, so come the Lord’s day we’re unlikely to enjoy the sight of Fat Paddy sailing down the Ohio River on a raft composed entirely of his own bullshit, more’s the pity.

Just one more reason I’m an atheist with a Zen streak.

• Late update: My fellow Bibleburger Casey B. Gibson is shooting worlds for the VeloNews mob. Here’s his latest gallery. The sandbags are going down and the water is coming up. Good times.

No more Mister Nys guy

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 7 Comments

Some heavily marinated frites-eating knucklehead thought it was amusing to toss beer on Sven Nys at the Azencross today.

Said knucklehead thought otherwise after the Cannibal of Baal — who was having a very bad day on the job — dropped his bike and ducked through the course tape to have a pointed discussion with him, just before a less restrained individual flew past to flatten the beer-pitcher.

Nys returned to the course, jogging with his bike, but eventually abandoned in disgust. Two crashes and seven dousings with beer apparently were enough for one day. Afterward he tweeted: “Throwing beer each lap is a bit much, so I got it into my head to go & ask why. A little bit of respect, please.” Word.

Next stop, Palookaville

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments

It must suck to train and race all year, dreaming about a strong ride at ’cross worlds — maybe even a top 10! — and then watch the Belgian national team gobble up the first seven spots like a beered-up fanboy snarfing down frites.

And if it sucked to race for those final three top-10 places, it sucked even more to watch.

• Video for those who can bear to watch it

Zdenek Stybar and Radomir Simunek fell out of contention faster than a Mexican national fleeing Alabama. And they were the only contenders in the dunes of Koksijde. Everyone else? Bums, with a one-way ticket to Palookaville.

They aren’t, of course. Bums, that is. But damme if that ain’t how it looked on TV. I don’t recall even seeing a non-Belgian after the first couple of go-rounds, unless you count the finish, where one of the course’s 22 cameras kept tallying the body count.

Between sit-down interviews with the top seven, who were showered off and chillin’ in their post-race kit, Sporza would occasionally cut back to the line to show the poor shlubs finishing two or three days down on freshly minted world champ Niels Albert.

The first non-Belgian (Simunek) crossed more than a minute behind the last Belgian (Sven Nys, who groused afterward that this may have been his last worlds).

I know how he feels. There’s more action in the GOP pestilential contest. Well, more mud, anyway.

Cyclo-cross!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 5 Comments
A Mad Dog at Chatfield
I looked very much not like this during today's cyclo-cross workout at Monument Valley Park.

The thermometer seemed pegged at 30-something, with a stiff, cold wind out of the southeast. Not exactly ideal for a fat-burning spin.

So, having spent the morning watching the first half of the UCI Cyclo-cross World Championships in Koksijde, I decided to pull the bottle cage off my favorite Steelman Eurocross, pull on most of the kit in the winter drawer and do an hour of light ’cross over at Monument Valley Park.

Ho, ho. Was that ever a rude awakening.

Though I do most of my riding on one cyclo-cross bike or another, I hadn’t done an actual ’cross workout for almost exactly a year, since my knees started giving me trouble in January 2011. A month later I quit running and didn’t take it back up until mid-November.

Now I can jog for a half-hour without collapsing into a weepy puddle of beer fat and bone chips. But it’s a whole other game, running uphill in an ancient pair of Sidi mountain-bike shoes with 23 pounds of steel bike on one shoulder. It was slow and unlovely and caused me to gasp like a Republican presented with a proposal to tax the rich.

But you know what? It was also fun as hell. After about a half hour my chops started coming back to me (it’s just like riding a bike, surprise surprise) and I got a few of those looks from passers-by that I value so much (look at that crazy bastard running around wearing a perfectly rideable bike).

Now I’m drinking a well-deserved beer — nope, not a Duvel, a Mirror Pond Pale Ale — and looking forward to tomorrow’s elite men’s and women’s races in Belgium. Would it imperil my journalistic integrity to say I’ll be rooting for Bibleburg homegirl Katie Compton?