Singletrack Issue 127 | The Last Word | Accidental Punch-Up

Back in 2014, I was attending the yearly Interbike trade show in Las Vegas. It was an annual gathering of the bicycle industry from all over the US and the world in a town that, on first (and second looks) isn’t anything to do with what the bike industry is about. The place is a true concrete jungle, full of giant hotels, obscene overindulgence, Louis Vuitton outlet malls and gun ranges. 

In its defence, it has many hotels for every budget, an international airport and a number of large convention halls, so it made reluctant sense to have a bike trade show there, if just to remind the attendees to appreciate their home trees, fields and trails a little more when they got back. 

There was some bike riding there though. There would be early-morning road rides, there would be BMX dirt jump sessions over at T.J. Lavin’s house and, starting in 2007, there was an evening cyclocross race held at the Desert Breeze Park, a few miles out of town. This started as a pretty big deal, arriving just as the recent cyclocross boom hit America, but it took on another element when it became a bona fide UCI World Cup event. 

Americans love to overdo things, and their cyclocross spectating incorporates everything they’ve seen on Continental ’cross races, taken to 11 or 12 on the 1–10 dial. There is fancy dress, there are oompah bands, there are ‘Good jobs’ and ‘Awesomes’ and high-fives all over the place. And there are the handups. While technically not allowed in UCI events, it has become a tradition in the US for spectators to offer up dollar bills, drinks, giant marshmallows or even slices of pizza to riders as they go past. Often, a racer about to pull out (or be pulled) will take a swig, or pocket the money (or the pizza, or the rubber chicken) because hey, they’re not winning so they might as well.

Having a nighttime race in Vegas when the bike industry is in town encouraged some of the bigger firms to lay on some special trackside viewing areas for employees and guests, complete with beer and food. And, well, you can just guess how that went… We’ll see if we can protect some of the guilty, though they’ll know who they are… 

So, there I was in the ——— VIP booth, helping myself to the free beer and, having not eaten as I’d only just left the show, a dinner of plain tortilla chips. The mood was jovial and ———– had a viewing area that was literally trackside, just before a fast, sweeping corner. We got to enjoy, firsthand, these world-class riders thundering around this grassy course on a warm Vegas evening, close enough to touch. 

There was, as you might expect, a fair amount of drunken heckling from the ——– booth, trying as they were to outdo the ——- booth opposite with cheers and witty heckling. After a few laps of the pro men’s race, the beer handups started to be offered. Obviously the leading racers were too focused for that, but there was always hope of a backmarker grabbing one. (It’s a double-edged sword, as no one grabbing a beer at 20mph can do it without spilling most of the contents over the hander-up.)

—— (who was the ——- manager for ——–) at the time, was in the ——- VIP area with us. She knew the people from ——- well and was getting deeply involved in the heckling. Holding up an open can of beer to the racers, she spotted ——-, a pal and local ’cross and mountain bike star approaching in the bunch. And he saw her! He was looking right at the beer in her hand! And ——- knew that he was bound to take it from her… he loves beer! So ——- held the beer can up and out into the course, at ideal beer-grabbing height. 

Of course, ——- hadn’t seen the beer at all; he was setting up for the corner and 100% of his focus was on taking the fastest line through that corner. ———— hadn’t realised that and was still holding the beer up high as ——- closed in on the barriers on the corner.

Still holding that can of beer up as high up as she could, —— basically punched —– in the face with a full can of beer. 

I wouldn’t try it at home, as the beer in the can instantly vaporises into beer foam, which then covers face, glasses and lungs in a millisecond. ———– somehow still made the corner, finished the race and, after a bit of an apology, is still friends with —————.

And that was the last year they let the likes of ———-, ——–, ———- and me, near the course tape.