The
Flying Scotsman: Putting the Record Straight
Wednesday
29th November, 2007
by Alastair Hamilton
Let me first say this is firstly a review of the
Graeme Obree autobiography, the book - not the film - “Flying
Scotsman”, and also my version of the events at the world
cycling championships in Sicily in 1994.
I was the Great Britain team mechanic for those
championships, but Mr. Obree didn’t remember to mention this
fact in his book. You could call this the bitter out-pouring of a
man scorned, but rather it’s just my memory of what happened.
The
book is very interesting; it gives the reader an insight into the
thoughts of a top class athlete, a bit of a wacky one, but defiantly
an individual, a one-off.
Like all geniuses, Graeme doubts himself, thinks
he’s a failure to the point of trying to commit suicide on three
occasions.
His story is a compelling read in the same way
Lance Armstrong’s “It’s not about the bike”.
The difference is that Armstrong battles against
his illness (cancer) to win out in the end, Graeme has his illness
(bipolar affective disorder) with him all the time and possibly it
will win.
The
stories of his early years of cycling in Scotland brought back a lot
of memories for me, I am older and did my cycling from Glasgow, 30
miles north of Ayrshire where Obree started, but the experiences would
be the same for a lot of people. I don’t know if cyclists in
other countries have a thing called a “drum-up” (a fire
lit to heat up cups of tea) or not, but I’m sure suffering cold,
exhaustion and hunger is a universal thing with all cyclists.
Obree’s descriptions of how he built his
own frame and components are as fantastic as they are innovative.
A sad story of a bright flame that burnt very quickly. One of his
escapes from reality on a touring holiday to Spain, he visited a bullfight,
from his description of the fight and of how the bull was killed,
he didn’t understand it, but at least he visited one which is
more than most tourist would do. This is a very good book and a must
to read, except for one omission - me!
In
the book his recounting of the Worlds Championships of 1994 on the
Italian island of Sicily, Graeme said the manager was also the mechanic
- this is not correct as I was the mechanic for the track, time trial
and the road events which at that time were all held in the same place,
unlike now, as the track and road are in different venues.
All the team flew down except me and the masseur,
Gordon Johnston; we had a 3 day drive from England through France,
Belgium, Germany and Switzerland and to drive the full length of Italy
to the island of Sicily’s capital Palermo, a bit tiring but
a great 3 days that we managed to do in a day and a half on the return
journey.
Sicily is a beautiful place scarred with flower
wreaths on all the roads, not from accidents but from mafia killings,
which was a bit worrying. A judge had his house at the back of the
team hotel, he had armed soldier guards on sentry duty and when he
came home for lunch it was like a military operation with three cars
and 20 armed guards in tow. When some fireworks went off one night
during dinner, tourists stood up to look out the window while locals
hid under the tables.
The team was in Sicily a week before the championships
to get used to the track and everything, but no-one could get used
to the heat, even the Italians from Milan and Rome referred to Sicily
as 'Africa'. Most days were in the 40’s ºC with humidity
over 80%, all training and racing was to be done either in the morning
or evening, but the main problems were the UCI and the way they just
did not want Graeme Obree to ride.
We had three commissaries examining Graeme’s
“Old Faithful” every day to see if it conformed to the
rules. First the saddle was "too far forward", and then
it wasn’t "commercially available", as we had bent
it a little, I suggested turning the saddle round, pointing the other
direction, that didn’t go down well!
Then after I had asked one of the workers from
the track to bring his child’s saddle from home they just made
up a new rule on the spot to stop him.
During this time I also had to build up Chris Boardman’s
gold medal wining Lotus bike. I had to saw the carbon frame’s
built-in seat pin to the correct length and drill 2 holes for the
clamp; it has to be right first time as there is no adjustment. I
was sweating a lot, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.
Graeme had unveiled his new bars, which became
his superman position a year later. At the time he didn’t like
them, and they ended up in a Sicilian dustbin!
Boardman went on to take the gold medal and Graeme
was disqualified after a farce of a qualifying ride where he was 4th.
Fastest through an obstacle course of judges and commissaries.
The other rider I was looking after was Paul Curran,
who was riding the last ever Motor-paced world champs. His pacer was
the famous Joop Zijlaard - a real character, and in the qualifying
ride all was going well, Paul was sitting in fourth position and ready
to pass the Austrian pairing to go through to the final.
Every time they tried to pass, the Austrian moved
up the track to close the door on them. This happened three times;
on the fourth occasion Joop reached across and shook the handlebars
of the Austrian pacer, all at over 50 mph: frightening!
After the race some journalists came to talk to
Paul about his ride, and one of them asked him how much his bike was
worth. Under the circumstances (that that was the last ever motor-paced
world champs), I said “f**k all now!”. I don't think that’s
what got printed.
Not much else of any excitement happened at the
track except on the last night the local kids stole most of the car
wheels from the car park, then it was off to Catania for the time
trial.
We were going to be faced with the same problems
for Graeme as he was going to use “Old Faithful” again.
Chris Boardman had lent him his Look tri-bar and
stem set up so all should be legal, so we set off on a trial ride
on the course. Half way along a dual carriageway Graeme stopped for
some adjustments on his bike, gave me the bike and got into the car:
he had stopped right next to a decomposing dog that he and the others
had spotted earlier. Phew! That dog stunk!
Work had to be done to Graeme’s training
bike as the saddle kept slipping down, so a handy drink (I think it
was Aquarius) can was soon cut for a shim to fit down the seat tube
and then Graeme could go training up the smoking Mount Etna.
The time trial started with us in the team car
and all the press cars and TV motorbikes behind us. You couldn’t
see for vehicles and the noise was unbelievable.
As the ride went on Graeme went slower and one
by one the cars and bikes disappeared until it was only us and a commissar.
Chris Boardman won his second gold medal and we
had to move on Agrigento for the pro road champs and another cycling
Scotsman, Robert Millar - but that’s another story...
