Downtown

• Thanks for all the various flavors of Hyde Parkers, Tatito spouses, neighbors, and advocates for coming out to support our racers at the inaugural Chicago Criterium. Team TATI entered the M5, W4, Masters 4/5, and M4 races. First up was Brian Hague, AKA Jesse Williams, riding solo in the second M5 heat. The field of 50 was unsurprisingly stacked with eleven xXx racers, including CAT 5 ringer David Moyer. As the boys came around on the warmup lap, I instructed Brian to mark David for the entire race and to not pursue primes. As the riders rolled off the line, a masters xXx racer came sidled up to me and sneered, "Clips & straps. Really?" I shrugged. "He's a triathlete. It's what he's comfortable riding in. And this is, um... CAT 5." Moyer ended up winning the race, but our boy wonder still managed a top 5 -- despite losing track of the laps, sprinting for the line with 2 to go, solo bridging back to the front, lacking any teammates to speak of, and pulling the winner around for three laps on the foolhardy advice of yours truly.

  Liz So donned her new stealth black IBEX kit in the W4 race, and lined up between a Cutting Crew and xXx rider in order to blend into the background, like a ninja on wheels. This was an odd race. The usual ringer juniors were still racing Superweek, and a couple of stronger 4s had recently upgraded -- so at first blush, it seemed like a soft field. In fact, the ultimate winner was a super ringer from New Zealand (after winning all 4 primes and the race, she went on to do well in the P/1/2/3 category). Nevertheless, Liz struggled mightily for position, and finished with a strong mid-pack placing. And no crashes or wobbles!

  Francisco and Patrick would race the Masters 4/5 category, right after yet another sketchy M3 race that finished with a scary crash in the final sprint. Again. The guys were actually working together mid-pack for much of the race, until a couple of riders went down right between them. One hit Patrick's rear wheel hard, shaking his nerve, but fortunately he squeaked away. Francisco wasn't so lucky, going down with a resultant apricot-shaped bump on the temple a a bit of blood on the cheek. Fortunately, our clavicle-impaired Spaniard seems to have escaped with bones intact -- his resolve shaken, his bicycle broken, but his future oh so bright (he is, after all, going to be working here in the city next year!). Patrick ended up finishing in the top 20, and so in an odd way -- our little squad was actually racing to plan thus far.

  And then Liam showed up. "I crashed on the way here," he informed us -- as if we couldn't tell from the bloodied shin and mangled wheels. Was this an omen of some sort? Should I advise our little elephant to sit this one out? "Why don't you rest under the shade for a while and we'll talk later." I said. As I began to true his wheels, more news trickled in. Francisco would not be racing 4's, so we drafted UCVCer Rob Fairbanks to pinch hit. "I haven't raced since Monsters," he said. "Poppycock!" I waved my greasy hand in the air. "You'll do fine. Just sit on Patrick's wheel and then lead Jesse out. It'll be great."

  I was a little worried for Jesse, in this, his debut race as M4 leader. His lady was in attendance for the first time. He was sporting a new pink cap. White track mitts. Orange Kanye glasses. Orange kicks. But for hours, he'd been skulking around the course with troublemaker and style maven Malinowski. Would his head be in the game come race time? And what were we going to do without Dan as lookout/sheepherder/enforcer/leadout man? The pressure was on.

  As the race approached, I checked in with each of the riders. Bernard was looking queasy but oh-so-fast on the Pin shod with Carbones. Patrick was looking fatigued. Liam was looking bloody and a bit shaken. Rob looked thirsty. And Jesse looked like he was en route to a *really* good frat party. We'd better revise the plan, I thought.

  We decided to let the inevitable Super-4 break occur, but ride near the front to avoid crashes. No counters. No bridging. No attacks. No primes. And, well, I guess that part worked for the most part. The pace for most of the race hovered around 49km/hr, shedding a dozen riders immediately. I was proud to see the entire crew keeping pace, albeit scattered throughout the pack. Soon enough, Liam moved up on the outside to take Jesse's wheel. They rode together for a bit, with Jesse moving behind Liam, but the herding role being unfamiliar made it difficult for the right chemistry to occur.

  And so on the next lap, Jesse left Liam's wheel on the outside, and attacked along the inside of the straightaway. With one to go, Liam crashed a bit, and by this time, the pack had been crushed by the blistering pace. Jesse did ultimately place well, but didn't have anything left to take back spots on the final sprint.

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