Sporting heroes and legends

(WARNING: This post is a long meaningless blithering of over 1,000 words. It contains nothing of any particular interest to cycling fans or students of fine literature. Just a shameful attempt to take a short and self gratifying stroll through memory lane peppered with the bitter residue of regret.)


I have just finished reading Cadel Evan's book 'The Art of Cycling', which is essentially a journey through his career as a professional cyclist with a few personal episodes along the way. If you're into cycling. Read it! The book I gives a pretty good sense of what it took for Cadel to go from an eager kid on a bike to an elite sportsman. He was fairly candid about difficulties he had within the the world of professional cycling however there was an element of restraint which I think allowed him to remain diplomatic in his treatment of some fairly contentious issues.

The cycling story was interesting but it wasn't what really got me in. Like any (auto)biography I wanted to get to know 'the man' (Or woman if it were a woman's autobiography... which it wasn't). The final chapter really endeared me to Cadel. His attitude and humanity make him a truly inspiring role model.

I'm no cycling expert so will leave all the technical analysis and sporting commentary to those who know that business... What I want to talk about is closer to home. Why Cadel Evans, is an elite cyclist and why I am not!

As I read I noticed convergences between the author's story and events in my own life. I doubt I'll have enough time to treat this topic effectively since I've just written only a few paragraphs and I'm already becoming weary of my own voice. (In drawing comparisons between the great sporting hero and I, this story could end here... I'm a lazy hack, he is a living legend!enough said!)

My new favorite bike parked beside a gully crossing

So I'm reading about the author's early life and I discover that although he was born in Katherine NT (as NT News liked to brag about while he was racing) he left the NT when he was quite young and moved to Plenty, Victoria! I have lived in the NT for 20 years now but where I grew up was in the Northern Suburbs of Melbourne, Plenty was my neck of the woods! I was surprised to learn that the fella who had become a national bicycle racing hero, had actually grown up in the very same neighborhood as I. Even though I'd probably heard it via the media, reading Cadel's account of growing up in my very own stomping (well to be precise stumbling ) grounds, brought it home to me, that as youths we shared some similar experiences, knew some of the same people, inhabited the same familiar spaces, but with a 7 year age gap... and a monumental psychic gap!

In hindsight when all is said and done, and the trophies have been (in Cadel's) case won, we can look back and say He was destined for greatness. But for me NO this is not the label they'll Dyno tape to my shoebox tomb when I have passed! 

I am sure as young people we look to the future and wonder if we might some day do something great with our lives... My Grandfather was a great athlete, a runner, I have his genes and may have had the potential but fast forward 30 odd years and you will see that potential equates to nothing. One must take action. By some twist of fate coupled with a bad attitude I dragged my arse bitterly and reluctantly through the minefield of lost opportunity and wasted potential only to arrive at middle age to discover greatness was not my path. 

My bike again (These are the only photos I have on hand)

 It can be exciting and somewhat confronting to read the story of someone who made the effort and achieved success. Reading Cadel's detailed explanation of how he did it was just a little confronting with regard to short cuts I'd taken to nowhere. The opening pages of the book lead me to wonder about the proximity to opportunities, chance of success, is there a formula for greatness or was I predestined to failure?

Some interesting similarities or paths crossed between but never intersecting: 

• Cadel mentions buying his first mountain bike from the bike shop in Greensborough 

I bought my first mountain bike from the bike shop in Greensborough... mine was the cheapest possible a Malvern Star, really heavy bike, lasted about 2 months before it was stolen from outside Andre's SSW, in Watsonia, where I worked at the time. I accidentally left my bike hanging from the rack over night on pay day. I distinctly remember walking to the bottleshop down the road, drinking at the abandoned house next to the supermarket.... waking up at home late for work without my bike and having no idea where it had gone... took me a week before I remembered! Thus severely hindering my asperations to become a long distance rider of that particular mountain bike.

• Cadel used to ride around Hurstbridge, nutfield Plenty and along Plenty Road

I too rode my mountain bike through Hurstbridge and Nutfield all the way to the Mernda cattle yards and home when I first acquired my mountain bike... Had a few too many at the Mernda pub and nearly forfeit my life by the side of Plenty road when swerving uncontrollably into the middle of the lane while cattle trucks were attempting to pass... Plenty Road is not known for it's wide verges!

• Cadel used to ride with proprietor of Walker of Walker's Wheels bicycle shop in Montmorency

Well I am proud to say that after several long years hiatus from regular cycling I finally got a job at Australia Post and became the bicycle postman (postie) on Montmorency round 14. Monty posties had to peddle the toughest hills in the region! Others rode motorbikes but we were committed to bicycle delivery. Of course I was in it for the fitness but I suspect others were unable to ride a motorbike for fear of having to remain below .05 blood alcohol content. Anyway I digress. One of my favourite places to stop for a mid delivery tea break was in fact the establishment of Mr Marcus 'Wheels' Walker! Yes! There were always a bunch of apprentices hanging around the shop and Marcus was always up for a yarn or to give some advice on maintenance. (He thought our clap-trap postie bikes were hilarious!) I didn't hang around the store for too long because I felt it was unprofessional to drink beer from a paper bag in front of impressionable young people. But if I had hung around long enough I may have actually gotten to meet the young Mr Cadel Evans! Could have even gone for a ride with him, if I'd taken Marcus up on the offer of a decent bike.

Finally and I think this is the one which probably pronounces the major differences in life trajectory between Mr Evans and my slovenly self.

• Cadel mentions riding single tracks through the Plenty River Gorge area, specifically around Blue Lake and I think Janefield. 

I practically lived in that gorge! I spent most weekends walking, hunting, fishing, drinking and even riding in that exact same area! At times when the river was up, and I had access to an old bike, my mates and I would attempt to ford the river at pebbles crossing and stay on our bikes as we were washed down stream. This is probably the most likely place I would have bumped into Cadel while he was engaged in his exhaustive mountain bike training regimens! It is possible we were there at the same time and I missed him. Unfortunately on the rare occasion while rambling in the Plenty River Gorge I did find myself overcome by a severe case of dipsomania compounded by symptoms similar to unconsciousness or as some would say passed out cold in a gutter! I do recall rousing in some of the most picturesque gullies in the catchment of the glorious Plenty Gorge. It is absolutely plausible that Cadel could have actually bunny hopped his bike right over the top of me as l lay paralyzed in a gutter beneath him.

Gutter drunk... Face down in a ditch... This was the ditch.

Hence I propose to you the reader that I too could have been classed as a cycling legend! 

IF ONLY: I had been more adequately prepared, If bad fortune had not deprived me of my wheels or the capacity to stand upright after a heavy session, I may have met and joined with the young Master Cadel Evans and possibly even bested him at his beloved cycling sport. Further it was only through my predisposition to the dropsy juice and possibly a less than obsessive interest in physical training, that I did not in fact also become a bicycle racing legend!

THE END!

(Apologies to those whose names I have used in this gratuitous piece of drivel. I hope I have not defamed them in any way. The purpose of my writing this is as a means of showing appreciation for the effort and dedication made by some while lamenting my own wasted opportunities. But in truth I have No regrets and total respect for those who put in the effort it takes to be a sporting legend!)

Long grass sinking

Long Grasser by Geoff McKenzie

There's a freedom you can't buy and a slavery you can't buy your way out of

There are a 1,000 sails calling me to sea and a crack in the earth keeping me here

I hug the earth

A bed of cans and foil plastic pillow

drinking sinking, no sailing today

That Broken Jaw Street

This week I learned something new...
While attending a public forum held by the Uniting Church Northern Synod I discovered that Darwin is the Broken Jaw capital of the world!

The public forum was about the effects of alcohol on our society. At this forum I discovered that I'm not the only one who has questioned the meaning of the phrase "Antisocial behavior", which is constantly touted by politicians and media... When I first heard this phrase used I naively assumed it would apply all kinds of behaviors that are considered to be 'anti-social' or diminish the safety and freedom of others.... I thought it would definitely apply to the drunken aggressive louts who sprawl out of clubs and swilling joints, or maybe the marauding groups of teenagers who threaten folks who are unlucky enough to be outdoors when they pass. However here in the NT the Phrase is actually code for a particular group of people.

Here in the NT if you hear the phrase Antisocial behavior don't assume that it is referring to any particular behaviour at all. Although there is a local assumption that it is code for Public Aboriginal Drunkenness, I believe it is actually interpreted to mean the presence of Aboriginal people gathered in Public places! Paradoxically if you are an Aboriginal person and happen to be sitting under a tree with your friends and think that you are engaged in a 'social' activity you could find yourself receiving government sanctioned harassment from the police!

I saw a great example of Antisocial Behavior laws being enacted down at the Nightcliff foreshore a few months ago! It was a busy Sunday afternoon at the Beachfront Hotel. I was playing with my wife and kids at a playground near the rapid creek footbridge just opposite the Hotel and there were several small groups of Aboriginal people sitting quietly in the shade of various trees around the park. The hotel was hosting a 'Bikini Bucking Bull' competition and the place was overflowing with drunken men and women all gathered to watch young women bounce around on one of those electronic Bulls in their bikinis! It was a rowdy and drunken scene. semi naked people were spilling out onto the footpath there was a lot of bad language and it was getting a bit rough. we decided to take the kids to a quieter park when three police cars and an ambulance turned up. The ambulance went straight to the Hotel where intoxicated people were being treated... I'm not sure if their injuries were caused by fighting or the electronic bull... The police cars however did something strange... Instead of attending to the messy scene at the hotel, they drove into the park. About 6 officers approached the groups of Aboriginal people sitting in the park. They turned out their bags, searched their belongings for alcohol and told them to move on!
If you have any question about what Antisocial behaviour means check out the Alcohol restricted areas along Nightcliff foreshore on Australia day! There is an obvious assumption that restrictions apply only to Indigenous people. If a bunch of white folk choose to take their Eskie down to the foreshore to celebrate their Australianess by getting drunk and eating sausages with sauce, nothing could be considered more acceptable or social... police will just cruise on by. However if the cops come across a group of Indigenous people doing the very same thing on the very same day... How is that interpreted?

It's alright if you're white but "If you're Black you'd might as well not show up on the street
'Less you wanna draw the heat" (Bob Dylan - Hurricane)


While at the forum I also learned that I live in the Broken Jaw Capital of The World! Apparently predominantly caused by alcohol fueled violence! (predominantly caused by non indigenous drunken behavior)

It is a busy time for me at work at the moment and a big part of my job involves running errands and escorting visitors around. Sometimes I have to help people find relatives who have come to Darwin and are possibly in the Long Grass or living on the streets. After the forum one of the ladies who was attending from Derby W.A asked if I could take her to "that Broken Jaw Street?"
I wasn't sure at first what she was referring to but then I figured it out... There is one street in Darwin that is renowned for the antics of intoxicated people with bad attitudes, it is a place of drunkenness which often leads to the violence responsible for the over abundance of Broken Jaws our town appears to be famous for.

My friend's reference to the street was quite prophetic so from now on I think it's time to re-name Darwin's Mitchel Street! Let's call it like we see it! The "Broken Jaw Street" sounds right to me. Actually maybe we should rename the whole tourist precinct? Just as a certain neighborhood in San Francisco known as the "Tenderloin" is considered a somewhat dangerous place, maybe we should now refer to the Darwin Tourist precinct as "The Broken Jaw"!