Last Place Pro - Mt. Snow XC World Cup 1996

When we launched the all new Bikeman.com a couple months back we promised to post some of the more popular content from the old site.  Well here is the first installment, a 'Flashback Friday' if you will.  Back in 1996 when mountain bikes and mountain bike racing were on a meteoric rise, the Grundig World Cup made a stop at Mount Snow Vermont.  Our own Team Bikeman rider Brian McLaughlin participated in the Pro Men's XC event.  Brian wrote a great account of his experience so we're sharing it with you again. 

Some of you may not have even been born when this race took place but to get the full flavor you have to imagine the conditions and equipment of the day.  Mount Snow was a ROUGH track even on a dry day (and this was not a dry day).  We're not talking about the machine built courses of today's world cups.  This was old school New England roots, rocks and mud traversing up and down a ski mountain.   Add to that the bikes they were racing across this terrain.  They were considered state of art in the day, obviously since the best riders in the world were racing on them but we're talking about 26" hardtails with rim brakes (and tubes!).  If they had it, front suspension at most was maybe 63mm of travel and damping was to put it politely crude.  Basically think of an old bike somebody might pull out of the shed to tool around the neighborhood on, that's what these guys are racing.  Also bear in mind that back then a World Cup was a minimum of three hours, three hours of that punishment!

EuroSport had video coverage back in the day, only available by mail order on grainy VHS tape but it was coverage nonetheless and we were happy for it.  So read on and take step back in time.      

Brian McLauglin, Finisher number: 103
Mt. Snow World Cup Mountain Bike Race, June of 1996

Only a quarter of a lap to go but I hear the spastic groans of the lead moto sniffing me down as it tries to make its way through the slippery slop that is being referred to as race course. He gets closer and shouts something about getting out of the way and I will be taken off the racecourse at the end of this lap.

His manner suggest if he has a sense of humor it is well hidden at this moment so I don't give him any one liners, I will save them for the crowds. I am disappointed, not because the leaders have lapped me, after all these are the best in the world, I am disappointed because my three hours of fun and giggles were over. Yes indeed it was a good time. As a matter of fact I had more fun coming in last here than any of the races I have won.

First you have to understand what the course is like. It has 1300 feet of climbing per lap, all of which is straightforward climbing technique (heavy breathing and burning). The single track however was a bit unnerving; off camber, roots O' plenty, more rocks than you could throw a... rock at, and all of this was just the solid chunks of this mud stew. Did I mention that it rained all week? Now remember I live and train in these conditions but this course had me scratching my head.

Race day started off well, after all how often do you get to piss in the woods with Bob Roll? The skies play their part in the watering cycle making my ultra light Ti Smith and my ultra light body, five pounds heavier in less than 90 seconds. I'm sure there was a very poignant moral in this situation somewhere; the momentary natural "cycle", urinating with the semi-rich and famous, my mother's way of finally getting me to put on some weight, or maybe a nice rich mud color looks nicer than dust for the TV camera.

The race was an exercise in giggling. It was clear after the first three miles I was going to have to settle for a non-podium finish. It was also clear that this could be the ultimate race experience. If you have ever been a spectator at one of these races and stood at one of the "somebody goin'a crash here" spots (which is where 86% of the people stand) you know how hard it is to get a good view because everybody else has the same goal as you. Well I can tell you to be on the course and encounter one of these sections where the mass of humanity awaits your every move makes you want to do one thing... get off your bike and look around. Yes, there I was in one of the biggest races in the world with thousands of people watching my every move and I just had to get off my bike and become a spectator of the spectators. To my amusement everybody became very quiet when they saw me dismount and stare back at them. I decided that the only appropriate thing to do at this moment was to thank everyone for coming out today and I hoped they were having an enjoyable time. For some unknown reason this sent the crowd into a frenzy. This rush of noise kick started me and away I went down the nasty rocks and roots skipping and hopping like a kid on the last day of school. From that moment on I knew my mission in this race, because there were four other sections where the crowds were thick and we were doing four laps. I was in for a good time.

As I approached these sections I would dismount and just take a moment to tell everyone what they meant to me, or how much I was enjoying myself, or what a great group of guys worked at Bath Cycle/Bikeman, or on the spot product reviews. For some reason the crowd response would be so loud that the stubble on my legs would stand up. After the first lap they knew they had to politely yell and scream for the race leaders but it was I, the guy in last place, that they were waiting to see. This may all sound a bit implausible but the next time you are a spectator standing around in the mud and rain for three hours you may find your amusement level shift.

All this was in stark contrast to going through the feed zone where the official team managers were waiting for their stock options to roll through. These people would look at me stone faced. I would say, "Hello" as I passed through. No response. It was big business and big money looking at me over and they were not impressed, but that's OK the feeling was mutual. These guys need a little mace in the face to liven them up.

More fun started when I was caught by the leaders. Yes, Rune Hoydahl was in a different chain ring then I as we went up a slimy hill. I decided as each of the leaders went by I would see how long I could stay behind them. My ground rules were to make sure that I did not interfere with the race. In my more glorious days when I was the lapper not the lappee I always wanted a lapped rider to get the hell out of the way, now it was my turn to get the hell out of the way (another one of those "cycle" things). After all I have a job to go back to. For these guys this was very much a day at work.

Just as Rune and I crested the top, a couple of photographers started doing their finger dances. Flashes going off, clicking and whirling noises, all the time being careful not to get me in the frame. I thought maybe they wanted some nice glossies of me by myself, so I slowed a bit and told them to go ahead and snap a couple. They gave me the feed zone stare but with a touch of confusion thrown in as a drop of paranoia seeped into their system, maybe they were missing something. They lowered their cameras and stood at ease. I told them that I understood and continued on my merry way.

A few more Euros came gliding by. Some announced themselves, some were to shy but it did not matter because I was making damn sure I knew if someone was coming and safely tucked myself out of the way. I was also dismounting at the technical sections just to be on the safe side. This was about the time that Tinker, yes the “I’m going to the Olympics Next Month” Tinker, caught me on one of these nastier sections. I had moved well over and was dismounting when Tinker's rear wheel let go of its grip and he did a gentle slide to the ground. As I watched this I realized a few things; first, even these guys were having trouble with this section and it wasn't just me; second, if I hadn't dismounted I would have run over Tinker's head. That would have been a nice headline, "America's Hope for Olympic Gold Dashed by Unknown Last Placed Pro". My sponsors like getting press but I'm not sure I could explain the benefit of that situation.

It was educational to watch how Tinker handled his little spill. He simply got up and continued on his way, no words of frustration, no excuses, just back to work. Then on the other hand was Rishi Grewel's reaction when he fell. Grewel was out of my sight when I heard a barrage of verbal abuse being thrown at anything and everything the electrical impulses in his brain could connect to. It was a good demonstration of primal therapy.

The most polite person to pass me was David Wiens. It reminded me of what mountain bike racing was like in the early 80's. He said, "Excuse me" and "Thank you" before and after cruising by. Nice guy.

As I approached the finish line, all the clip board men were getting ready to pounce. I did not let them and made it very clear I understood my place and dismounted. I walked past the officials and through the fencing lead me into the mass of spectators. Once in the crowd I was just some tired muddy guy with a bike that people were trying to look past to see who was finishing next. Time for some food and a shower.

I am in the middle of my 11th year of racing mountain bikes. I have felt the pressure of being favored, I have tasted the spoils of victory, I have felt convinced that pushing myself so hard that having stars appear was a good thing. I have seen my racing career nearly drown by a serious case of phenomena, but coming in last place as a pro in the Mt. Snow World Cup has been a career highlight. "Cycling" is an impressive teacher if you are a willing student. I hope I have learned my lessons well.