It seemed like today's Superprestige in Gavere had more spectators than any race yet, perhaps the scene is just becoming more alive as the season rumbles on. I think there were over 10,000 people in attendance. Frite stands and beer tents were liberally sprinkled about in the woods across the hill which made for a fun spectating experience. The race course was unique in its hillside position, which provided ample opportunity for muddy uphill slogs and out-of-control downhill slides. The women's race was dominated by Katie Compton, who we were able to chant for on the last lap and congratulate in the parking area. She seemed pleased with the result and is optimistic about next weekend in Koksijde.
Strangely, having insufficient safety pins turned out to be the most expansive experience of the day, sparking a search mission of international proportions. First I went to Jonathan Page's RV and asked Cori, his wife, if she had any. I thought this was a good bet because they spoke English. Unfortunately Jonathan was out pre-riding and he was the one with the pins. Next I walked over to Belgian Klaas Vantornout's van but his mechanics said that I could not have any, Klaas gave out too many yesterday. Off to French National Champion Mourey's car. Parle vous Anglais? Non. After much pantomiming of pinning numbers on my back they set off searching the car. Either for a safety pin or a bra, I'm not sure which.
Ok, I needed a new approach. So I clumsily mounted one of Jon's bikes and rode over to the racer sign-in. In the US, the racer sign-in area is also known as the never-ending fount of safety pins. Apparently in Belgium this is not the case. But I did manage to enlist one of the race registration staff in the search and we set off to find... an ambulance? Yes, an ambulance. The staff was sure the ambulance would have some. When we got to the ambulance they laughed and shook their heads. Ugh. They laughed even harder when I tried to remount the bike and nearly fell in the mud.
A bit despondent at this point, I headed back to the parking area, but at least now I had learned the Flemish word for safety pins. I approached the first car I saw and asked them for Flemish safety pins. They don't speak Flemish, they speak German. Sh*t. So I say, "...safety pins, you know, to pin on the number," pointing to my back. Oh, yes of course they had some. Yay! I triumphantly rode back to the car with my handful of pins feeling like I had done a world tour.
One of the cool things about going around to races in Belgium is coming home at night to watch the race as recorded off the live televised coverage. Jon had such a spectacular crash that the EEN broadcast showed an instant replay and exclaimed, "((some Flemish I didn't understand)) Jonathan Baker ((more Flemish I didn't understand))" All I really understood was that the announcers knew Jon's name, which seemed flattering despite the crashy context. The whole family sat around watching the race until, somewhere during Erwin Verveken's interview, Leah had started taping children's shows. And that was the final scoop of the weekend's heaping helping of 'cross.
Strangely, having insufficient safety pins turned out to be the most expansive experience of the day, sparking a search mission of international proportions. First I went to Jonathan Page's RV and asked Cori, his wife, if she had any. I thought this was a good bet because they spoke English. Unfortunately Jonathan was out pre-riding and he was the one with the pins. Next I walked over to Belgian Klaas Vantornout's van but his mechanics said that I could not have any, Klaas gave out too many yesterday. Off to French National Champion Mourey's car. Parle vous Anglais? Non. After much pantomiming of pinning numbers on my back they set off searching the car. Either for a safety pin or a bra, I'm not sure which.
Ok, I needed a new approach. So I clumsily mounted one of Jon's bikes and rode over to the racer sign-in. In the US, the racer sign-in area is also known as the never-ending fount of safety pins. Apparently in Belgium this is not the case. But I did manage to enlist one of the race registration staff in the search and we set off to find... an ambulance? Yes, an ambulance. The staff was sure the ambulance would have some. When we got to the ambulance they laughed and shook their heads. Ugh. They laughed even harder when I tried to remount the bike and nearly fell in the mud.
A bit despondent at this point, I headed back to the parking area, but at least now I had learned the Flemish word for safety pins. I approached the first car I saw and asked them for Flemish safety pins. They don't speak Flemish, they speak German. Sh*t. So I say, "...safety pins, you know, to pin on the number," pointing to my back. Oh, yes of course they had some. Yay! I triumphantly rode back to the car with my handful of pins feeling like I had done a world tour.
One of the cool things about going around to races in Belgium is coming home at night to watch the race as recorded off the live televised coverage. Jon had such a spectacular crash that the EEN broadcast showed an instant replay and exclaimed, "((some Flemish I didn't understand)) Jonathan Baker ((more Flemish I didn't understand))" All I really understood was that the announcers knew Jon's name, which seemed flattering despite the crashy context. The whole family sat around watching the race until, somewhere during Erwin Verveken's interview, Leah had started taping children's shows. And that was the final scoop of the weekend's heaping helping of 'cross.
Comments
I'm bummed Jon didn't manage to get in the 'bonus lap'. I bet if he knew Sven was coming, he would have busted his ass just that little bit more getting up that hill.
The difference at the end was insane. At the bottom there were 4 + riders together. At the top, Nys was clear with the rest of the top riders in the world looking silly.