What a treat, I was going to be Robert Ford's teammate in a big Madison race! Robert, who had frustrated me in so many sprints, was finally going to be my teammate is a big way.
For the uninitiated, a Madison race takes place on a track and consists of two person teams. One person from each team is in the heat of battle at any given time, and when that person expires, the other teammate (who has been slowly riding near the top of the track) drifts down the track banking, and then an "exchange" is made. The exchange can merely consist of one rider drawing equal with another, but in order to conserve energy, the custom is for the tired rider (who is going about 30 mph) to catch the extended hand of the fresh rider (who is going 15 or 20 mph), and to throw the fresh rider into the race. In essence, the two riders exchange both their roles as well as their velocities. It requires concentration to effectively draft such a mess as there are usually several exchanges amongst the teams per lap. The guy who is six inches in front of you might be doing 30 mph this second might be doing 15 mph the next. Every few laps there is a points sprint in which points are gathered by the teams according to their active rider's position across the finish line on that particular lap. The sprint in the middle of the race and the one at the end usually count for double points. The finishing order is determined by a team's total number of accumulated points.
This particular event was held at the Hellyer Park velodrome in San Jose. It was 120 laps on the 336 meter track for a total of 40.3 kilometers and it took just over fifty minutes. There were fifteen sprints spaced eight laps apart. While most of the teams present were both balanced and experienced, I had lots of aerobic horsepower, little experience, and no sprinting ability, and Robert was just the opposite. Putting myself in Robert's hands, he decided that I would do no sprints, but would ride well more than half of the elapsed distance. This would usually be considered quite foolhardy as no one person could continuously sustain that level of effort, but Robert's judgement is this regard turned out to be quite accurate.
After the start, I was immediately impressed by the fast pace of the event. It seemed like all of the trackies knew each other, and a number of them wondered aloud about the green rider in their midst. Robert took total responsibility for the timing of the exchanges, and each time that I thought he might have made a mis-calculation, everything turned out just right. About a third of the way into the event, Robert informed me that I would be doing the next sprint. The net result was predictable; I went into the sprint in good position, but was passed by all but two of the slowest riders. I was gassed, and when I exchanged with Robert, there were about ten lengths between him and the back of the core of the pack. Robert wasn't up to this, and when he threw me back in, I had to close a gap of almost a third of a lap. I managed to do so but at great cost, and it took us quite a while to regain our stable equilibrium.
Having made a mess of things really gave me an appreciation for Robert's sprinting ability against these giants. Most of these guys were sprinting every sixteen laps (as they were taking turns), yet Robert was sprinting every eight and doing quite well. In order to compensate, Robert had me riding six of the eight laps between sprints. While this was very hard for me, Robert having to sprint twice as often as the others also was not easy. After the double points sprint at mid-race, it was clear that Robert was unable to do any more than simply sprint. I was alarmed at how heavy my breathing had become during the brief periods when I was resting and Robert was performing his craft.
With about twelve laps to go, the pace became extremely fast. I had never taken a turn at the front, and I sure wasn't about to do so now. We blew past a number of lapped riders like they were standing still. When Robert did the sprint with eight laps to go, he made a remarkable effort not only winning that sprint, but throwing me back into the action several lengths ahead of the rider in second position. How could he have had done that? What was he expecting me to do? After a lap, I was tucked in safely near the front.
The pace did not let up. The tunnel vision started to close in as I maintained my good position; the only traffic I had to deal with were the exchanges between Dave Gryls and Bruce Donaghy and between Tom Bartlett and Kent Bostick. I was watching the true masters at work. As the number of laps counted down, I started to think that I was actually going to be able to hang on to these guys. With two laps to go I felt that I was going to hand Robert the perfect slot on a silver platter, but he remained motionless at the top of the track!
There were two exchanges in front of me and now I was in with the sprinters. It would appear that I was going to toss Robert into the beginning of a white hot sprint! How was he going to do it? As we entered the home stretch with a lap to go, the lap bell was ringing like crazy, the spectators were screaming like crazy, and to my disbelief, Robert was resting and leaning on the fence while untying his shoes as if he was on some Jamaican holiday! As we began the last lap, through the tunnel vision I heard Robert yell (in his cutest high pitched Jamaican accent), "Everything, Mark! Everything!!!"
Whoa, how did I end up here? With Donaghy leading the sprint and Bartlett following, I knew that I was not going to last. I decided to stick to Bartlett like glue until my number was up. Well, my number was up as we came out of the last turn. The shadows spelled trouble and I stayed close to the pole line (meaning that nobody could pass me from underneath). Two guys were coming around me fast; I struggled and managed to hold one of them at bay as we crossed the line.
With my heart rate at about 210 after I crossed the line, I was not very happy with Robert leaving me out to dry like that. I felt that he could have sacrificed us a position in the results. When I asked him for an explanation, he explained that he had done hundreds of madisons, could keep track of the points in his head, and could calculate the results faster than the referees. Sure, Robert has three engineering degrees from UC Berkeley, but I found this too amazing to be true. Not only was Robert right about our points, he knew that the two leading teams couldn't be caught in points, and that the team behind us would have to win the last sprint (extremely unlikely) and that we would have to miss out on points in the last sprint in order for that team to surpass us. While I could hardly remember the day of the week, Robert knew the final results with seven laps to go! I think he left me in for the last sprint just so see how I would fare against the madison monsters, and it made me swell with pride when he expressed approval with my great effort. It had been an honor to have been teamed up with such a master of the track.