A column from British Cycling President, Brian Cookson.

��the first of a new column in which British Cycling President, Brian Cookson, gives his view on issues of the moment, reflects on our sport, or just tells us what he has been up to.

Reading Tony Bell�s column in Cycling Weekly was a double pleasure for me. I�ve got to say I always enjoy his column � this week is especially funny � but this time something struck a particular chord with me and got my memory going, Tony�s story about Steve Fleetwood.

I too remember the Fleetwood brothers of Liverpool, both excellent criterium and flat road riders. Steve rode for many years in Holland, then a couple of years as a professional in Great Britain. The last I heard he had given up the bike and was training to become a teacher. I don't know what happened to Les - he used to win every amateur criterium going in the North, but never really performed to his potential at national level. It was seeing Steve�s name again that reminded me of a funny and personally pleasing incident from the past.

As a humble third category rider, I was once in a break of six in a 3rd category/Junior road race, including two very promising juniors - Steve Fleetwood and John Harrison (now better known as Mr Lusso Clothing). After covering 45 miles on the road, the finish of this race involved turning right and entering Weeton Army Camp, near Blackpool. As we approached the finish, all of a sudden John Harrison peeled off the front of the break, and turned into the wrong entrance to the Camp. Naturally, as he was an ace sprinter, the rest of us put the pace up so he couldn't get back to us.

We turned into the correct entrance and made another right turn on the camp roads, heading to the finish about 400 meters away. For some reason there were a number of white lines painted across the road, about every hundred metres or so. As we were sprinting, all of a sudden Steve Fleetwood threw his arms up in the air in victory. Only problem was, that was not the finish line. The finish line, oddly enough was where the judges and other people were standing and where the chequered flag was flapping in the breeze!

Hardly able to stop laughing, the rest of us carried on the sprint and, well, modesty prevents me from saying who won. OK you prised it out of me, it was me!

The other funny thing was that this was the first race I had ever taken my new girlfriend to, and she was sooooo impressed! Many years later she is less impressed with my cycling exploits, but still married to me. Aaah! A happy ending to my first column. See you out on the bike perhaps.

Brian Cookson

� British Cycling 2002/2003

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