BRITISH CYCLING MASTERS TRACK CHAMPIONSHIPS

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Gawd luv a duck! Ernill again !
BY ANDREA INGRAM

I knew things weren't going to go all my way when I spent an un-seemly amount of time stationary on the M1 en-route to Londinium. The National Masters had come around in what seemed to be about a week after last year's lot so I was bound for Herne Hill with a Schlapp-laden car. I like the old place since I used to live near there for a short time and rode the old track quite a lot. Now, some years on, the trip soon reminded me why had left.

Reaching The Hill, the sun shone and on time, the racing began. Wrinklies and their helpers dashed too and fro, leaping hither and thither as if to try and give the impression that time had stopped still. It hadn't, it just felt like that. The commentator, complete with bowler hat and pony tail, trotting out the same stories that he has done for that last 25 years. Or more! Still it kept us all amused while Schlapp riders took it in turn to be eliminated from the sprint rounds. To be fair - as I always am - Schlappdom had been doing ok until one rider took it upon himself to leave gap on the inside big enough to drive a London bus through - only to have a Scottish one come through instead.

Then another decided to lead out when he should have not and I was beginning to feel a tad frazzled. Two punctures and a lost cup of coffee later, I was about to throw myself off the edge of the grass verge. To cap it all, my star turn then got relegated in a controversial decision for something that was [obviously] not their fault. What was so blatantly unfair was that contemporaries of mine were winning so many medals they could probably start a war and award gongs to every participant. However, I did smirk as LeGro, fresh from his DSQ at my meet last week came away with a mere bronze. Meanwhile half-Schlapper Cronshaw [a Schlapette I suppose] saw gold slip away under his nose [at least that's what the distinctly-faulty line camera showed] as grasser Zashke snook past in what must have been the sprint of the weekend.

I sat and glowered - a rescued cup of delicious coffee in hand to accompany the rather nice sandwich from the cafe that had been thrust in my grubby little hands by my worried charges. I strode purposefully over to the Man in the Blue Shirt to vent my spleen, which by this time was rather too near bursting point for my own good. As you are probably aware, I'm not one to complain about judging [well, not more than once in a meeting anyway] but this [the blatant wrong relegation if you are losing track of things here] I could not leave. But by the time I got to the Man in the Blue Shirt I had calmed down so much I just couldn't see the point in saying anything bar pass the time of day.

I had made the mistake of walking too close to Geoffrey Cooke Esq. whose aura of positiveness and good-sense had infected my internal bile.

All of sudden things began to change for the better. Another Schlapp star shot through to take a gold medal as I sat and wondered what had happened. Then ex-bmx Schlapp refrained from doing a wheelie or sticking his foot out on the band and took a bronze medal at his first attempt [note to me; tell Jamie Staff]. Plans were soon laid to celebrate in true style in the local excellent RastaBucks - which we duly did consuming the usual bucket of something hot topped with cream [soya of course] 'dusted' with cinnamon.

Home to Richmond [we only mix with the best don't you know] and an awfully hot curry washed down with something nice -I can't for the life of me remember what it was - and the Eurovision song contest which was so obviously being judged by moonlighting UCI officials such was the final decision!

Day 1 glory seekers ....

Sunday dawned bright and sunny. The local wildlife coughed their first song and the car was loaded for trip to The Hill. Day two was never going to be a good one for Schlapps - time trials. Watches to the ready, the chance of a sly mover here and there made useless. Just brawn and brute power to win. How wrong I was again. Maybe I'd been spending too much time at road time trials recently. Maybe the Schlapps are mutating into testers!! OH MY GOODNESS, the embarrassment of it all.

Still, a few trips to the podium that afternoon soon put paid to any uncomfortable feeling I had. A slight rain shower gave the opportunity to my chums to break the club record for how many bodies you can get in a child's tent [6 - excluding a leg or two - but please don't tell Fred since he is charging per head for the use of his pride and joy]. It's funny how a rain shower gets people talking of indoor tracks. Why? We had just had 1 1/2 wonderful sunlit days where even the Commandants of the UCI had managed to redden their faces under the fierce rays. How lovely it is to be sat outside, fresh air to breath [well, as fresh as it comes in London anyway] and soft, lush grass to relax upon.

I found myself sitting among what seems to be a veteran war rally with my chums all bedecked in their campaign medals. Ex-bmx-Schlapp man had taken another gong - much to the delight of his Director Sportif. While new kid on the block - The Great Lummox I shall call him - made up for his misdemeanours in the sprint by striking silver in the time trial. Since The Great Lummox has trained for a mere week [Endurance training Monday & Tuesday, strength Wednesday & Thursday, power Friday and taper Saturday morning] I am gob-smacked! [reminder to self; tell Iain Dyer of new training programme]

Glory be.. more honours ...

Then wife of The Great Lummox trashes the field in the 500tt doing a PB to boot, and Partner takes her second stripy jersey of the day too. [Reminder to self; never, never bad-mouth a tester again]. I shall have to refrain from being dragged into these chains of coffee houses for a celebratory bucket of what my mother used to serve in dainty china cup [and with a saucer don't you know - what has happened to those these days?] since it gives me the most awful of nights. Even my stuffed bed-rabbit [called Wiesmier since you ask] seemed ill-at-ease and Monday came all too early for my battered and tired bod. Still, at least the sun was shining.

But more time trials !!!!! [At this thought I began to lose the will to live. A swift cup of reviving apple and ginger tea thankfully brought me back from the brink- which it turns out, was just as well since a podium trip or two made the day worth living for!]. Now, ask anyone bout the Schlapps and they will tell you they are a bunch of lazy sprinters. No longer! To my total bemusement, the Schlapps now have two national pursuit champs plus a further pursuit medal! It really shouldn't be allowed. Let me explain.

The Great Lummox (thats 'im pictured left) took it upon himself to qualify for a pursuit final - something he hadn't bargained on - after trolling round a huge gear for endless [and pointless] laps in the qualifying rounds. Tri-bars were at a premium and Mechanic/Director Sportif/Dogsbody ran from pillar to post trying to ensure the requisite bums were going to be at the requisite level to heads - or whatever this scaffolding is meant to do. As the tub had been punctured on the four spoke, the carbon front wheel we had with an inflated and excellently fast tub on was at a premium and being shared by three riders in the pursuit - luckily running in different heats.

By the time the medals had been won, the Mechanic/Director Sportif/Dogsbody was a quivering wreck barely managing to stay awake as riders rushed around preparing for the Scratch races. At least there here there was a chance to recover a little - that is, until the time arose when The Consoling of the Rider who Didn't Win was necessary. Once all was done and dusted [ribbons, medals, tea and cakes etc] it was just a case of fifteen trips to the car to load millions of wheels and tired riders before heading off towards home via a three hour traffic jam on the North Circular!!!

All in all, a splendid weekend was had by all - well, nearly all. No complaints at all - great event, great weather, nice riders, fast racing but a pity about that dodgy judging. Of course Austria should have one the Eurovison song contest!!!

Your reward for getting managing to get to the end without being hospitalised by damaging numerous funny bones is to see the links to the results for all the races at 'ernhill ...

.. we even had time for a competition to see how we could get in the tent ... answer above ....

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