- HOT TOPICS:
- The new VeloNews.com (BETA)
Will Frischkorn says yes, Paris-Roubaix is hell, but it's the energy that makes it special
Editor's Note: Will Frischkorn is a pro with the Garmin-Slipstream team. He is participating in Paris-Roubaix on Sunday. You can read his previous VeloNews.com columns here.
Yes, it’s hell, and when your teeth are chattering on the start line, then chattering as they get smashed bottom to top as you bounce atop cobbles, hell is the right word. However, what balances that and tips the scale in the other direction is the energy of these races; The energy of the peloton; the energy of the teams supporting us; the energy of the race organization; of the towns we pass through; but most importantly, what sets these races apart is the energy of the fans. These are races unlike others in the fan base they draw. They’re nuts.
Putting it out there right now, I’m not a sports fan. Never really have been. I’ll watch the Super Bowl, because, well, it’s the Super Bowl. The World Cup — same deal. MotoGP, F1 — both are pretty amazing. Tennis. Basketball. Pretty much anything other than baseball I’m happy to enjoy if in the right setting, with good friends and a drink in hand. I admire almost all of the athletes in what they do, but just don’t have the fan gene in there that drives me to follow teams, know stats, buy the hat and scream at my TV as if it is going to be heard. Going to an event, however, is different; there is that energy surrounding it, and with fan gene or without, that is unique and damn good fun.
Cycling is lucky to have an amazing group of fans, and those of all types. From those like I would be, out to enjoy the day and all that goes with it, to those that have photo journals, water bottle collections and signature books that run from before the war. Fortunately most fall in the middle. We’re also lucky to have a huge base of participant-fans; I’d have to bet that 75 percent of you reading this right now fall into this group. Especially in the US, most people that follow cycling also love to ride their bike. They love the freedom it gives, the feeling of railing that certain descent, and all of them know the pain that a bike can bring. They watch races with a certain kinship to the riders, many having ridden the same climbs we do in the races — just a bit slower.
At the classics however, that’s not so much the case. There are still a number of participant-fans out there — the ride the day before Flanders had thousands of people, out to tackle the same legendary cobbles and climbs that we do the following afternoon. However the proportion of super-fans, and scary-fans is unlike anywhere else in the world. The 60-year-old men that come running like school children to recess when the bus rolls to the start, their oversize cameras at the ready, backpacks loaded with team photo cards for you to sign, likely all the way from the start of your career. The families out 3 days before Roubaix, already out in their campers, staking claim to their spot on the pave. The masses at the presentation today who traveled the day before the race to see us for just a minute or two tops. These aren’t your normal cycling enthusiasts.
As you jump from the bus pre-race, eyes on the prize of the sign-in tent, a hand comes out with a card and a pen, then a camera, then the next, and next, and next, and next, and all of a sudden you look at the mob between the bus and the sign-on and start wondering if it’s actually possible to make it in time to roll out. After fighting through the mob into the relative sanctuary of the fenced start area and waging battle over the roads for hours on end, the finish arrives, and shortly afterward those that you missed before the start are there and eagerly waiting to attack. The kids that come running, yelling for bottles, and the scrum that ensues when a bottle or cap is tossed their way rivals a rugby match. Then the old man that comes up, bag stuffed with bottles and caps, begging for more, always “it’s for my son.” Sure pal. The tenacity is amazing, and they seem to have a sixth sense for knowing when it was a bad day, when all you want is to get to the bus and unwind.
We joke about these guys. Might even say something mean sometimes … But a few of these men are legendary despite it all. Skippy, an Aussie with particular gutspah, seems to move about from race to race as if he’s got a chopper and a jet at his disposal. But nope, just his bike, and the same kit he’s been in for the past 10 years. Nobody knows how he does it, but he’s there. Again.
It’s easy to sometimes lose track of the fact that our fans — maybe not Skippy, he hasn’t purchased anything new in years — are the reason that we get to race our bikes and get paid to do it. They are the reason that these races have been going for years on end and have the amazing histories that make them the classics they are today. Crazy as they may be, these fans are what give these races an energy unlike the others, and take them above being “just another race.”
I’m sure tomorrow morning — cold, anxious, and fired up for what lies ahead on the road to Roubaix — we’ll be a bit short, seem a bit like, well, ass holes, as we try to dodge those between bus and line. But in the end, every fan out there, from the two guys that tagged along on our ride today, eagerly waiting at the hotel gate and showing us a route through the countryside, to those back in the States following on the 'net or TV, needs a thank you from us. Without you, these races would be just like any other. Instead, these races like Paris-Roubaix are highlights of our year. And in turn we’ll go out tomorrow with that much more to give and make it a show worth remembering. Thanks!
