Good Ol' Arsenal - A tribute

You guys know I love biking. There is also another love in my life. Well , alot of love but also worship of an identity. And they are the Gunners !

Arsenal Football Club from North London , England. Established in 1886 by the soldiers of the Royal Army in London. Nicknamed the Gunners and the fans as Gooners.

My father is a huge Manchester United fan. He always told me stories of historic games when he would watch as a little boy in Iran. He tried really hard to brainwash me into being a Red Devil supporter but I just loved the cannon on the logo for Arsenal. Being a bitter rival to Manchester United and my father ... it turned out to be some kind of Star Wars episode.

In the shadows of Liverpool in the eighties and the dominance of Manchester in the nineties , it was tough to be an Arsenal supporter. With the likes of Ian Wright and Paul Merson not being able to compete on the same level , something had to happen. And it happened in the name of Arsene Wenger. A french coach with a stern look on his face. He had the eye for talent. Buying players for dirt cheap prices and evolving them into great players.

1995 - Signing of Dennis Bergkamp from Inter Milan. My favorite player of all-time.

He assembled a team that I will never forget. With the classy dutchman in forward... Marc Overmars, Emmanuel Petit, Ray Parlour , the young rising star Patrick Vieira in the middle...and of course the old-english guards in the back : Tony Adams, Martin Kewan, Nigel Winterburn and Lee Dixon . David Seaman inbetween the poles.

Players retired and some left to join other teams. But got one player that was all worth it. Down and out in the Italian League was a young great player, Thierry Henry. Arsene Wenger saw something special in him and signed him for nothing. Now Henry has the most goals in Arsenal history and one of the elite players in the world.

The undefeated season of 2004. 26 wins 0 losses and 12 ties. the undefeated streak reached a record 56 .

Us Gooners know about the European heartbreak. The farthest they have gone in the European Cup (Champions League) was the quarterfinals. Reached the finals of the UEFA Cup in 2000, but lost in penalties to a Turkish team.

But this year the Arsenal made it to the finals of the Champions League. Only allowing 2 goals in 12 matches , 995 minutes of clean sheets , beating Real Madrid - Juventus - and Villareal in the knockout stages. Meeting a sister club Barcelona in the final .

This game was going to be the greatest. Main word is WAS. The game started off quickly with Henry missing a fantastic chance to go on top . With the whole world watching this epic battle of David and Goliath, David being Arsenal and Goliath the Catalans. With a smooth pass up the middle from Ronaldinho to Eto'o , Jens Lehman brought down the stiker out of the box. I knew what the rule was but didnt think the referee would give such a rash red card in such a big game. The Red Card came out and the German goalkeeper who hadnt allowed a goal for 12 straight games was off . Leaving Arsenal with 10 men and a very nervous backup goalie infront of the world .

From then on I knew Arsenal couldnt play their fluid like progression to the goal. It was Barcelona with one man up attacking constantly.

GOAL!!! Selling a foul outside of the box, Thierry Henry found Sol Campbells trusty skull for a goal in the 39th minutes. What a turn of event!

Second half started like it ended in the first with Barcelona controlling the play and attacking. The young defenders of Arsenal were amazing. Until again , Ronaldinho made another great pass that flicked off of Henrik Larssons foot right to Eto'o again. With the unexperienced Arsenal goalie in the wrong position to block it was tied with 14 minutes to go .

Again , Barcelona attacked and attacked. A rogue kick from the substitute Belletti...striking the goalie on the inside foot ricocheting into the goal . Just like that Arsenal had lost it .

It was the game that never really happened . The great shoot-out between such classy teams washed away with a referee that later stated he had made a mistake with his call. All in all, its part of the game and thats it . Barcelona are champions , but I know Arsenal would have beaten them with fair advantages.

Sad part of it all was Dennis Bergkamp, my favorite player. This was his last game for Arsenal before he retires. If the game was still 11 on 11 , he would have been subed in the 75th minute. That never happened. With his student Van Persie on the sidelines , the future looks bright after him.

Also with rumors of Henry leaving for Barcelona all season ...today , Thierry Henry has signed a 4 year extension the the Gunners. He says its the fans that made him stay. It is true because Barcelona was offering double the money Arsenal was.

With the youngsters ... Fabregas 19 yrs old ... Senderos 20 years old ... Antonio Reyes 21 ... Flamini 19 ... Eboeue 20 ... the future looks strong and promising.

We will miss Dennis Bergkamp and the Highbury Stadium ...but I will never forget.

Good Ol' Arsenal , we're proud to say that name.

Nationals @ Fontana

The first national race came around right before my ass had healed from the previous weeks debacle at Firestone. Rode a couple of times to work just to see how I felt and it wasnt pretty. Going into the marathon race on Friday I knew it was going to be a long day, but was it ?

Chris Sharp ( Backbone manager of death) picked me up at the ass-crack of dawn (I dont mean Dawn Lyons crack, literally!) I was praying we wouldnt be able to make it to registration because the race itself started at 7:30am. Driving like a maniac and sweet talking like Barry White, he got me registered with 15 minutes to spare. The rookie I am, thought I didnt need to warm-up ... my first lap will be the warm-up. Big mistake! With Chris Eatough and Jay Henry on the line and Veeze Price giving me the horns of doom, I was ready to race.

Bang ! We were off in a flash. Luckily the hosts made us amateurs do 6 laps while the pros had to do 7. Fine with me at this juncture. My back started to cramp trying to keep up with the Pros, did I mention they are fast. I will be mentioning that couple of times throughout this blog. Luckily I got a flat 4 miles into the first lap. Racers passing me one at a time as i franticly change my flat. My back loosened up a bit jumping on the bike and started to see the riders that passed me . The last downhill section before the flat backstretch . POP ! Another one ! Its gonna be a long day. For your own information I have really bad achilles tendons because of xc running in high school . That 2 mile run to the tech area sucked royaly. But hey remember my goals ? no DNF no matter what.

Thanks to Chris meeting me at the tech area and dropping off some goodies to feed on. I dont need an actual person at the feed zone, I can manage myself. But those cheers and high fives are so wonderful. Also the random guy who helped also is cool in my books . Kenda Tubes kick ass, didnt have a flat after that. After all that chaos I felt good and charged the next couple of laps. Passed a few more racers and generally took time off of each lap. Everytime a pro lapped me I tried my best to hold on to his wheel but to no avail. Those guys are mutants. Did I mention very nice and supportive ? Yes, they are .

Highlight of the race came when I came passing through the start/finish line. The announcers were told of my nickname ; given by the Infamous Jim Roff. "Legend in the making ...Fuzzy comes through with high spirits after his miserable first lap". Now that was cool. The team waxing my body and all was also funny.

All in all I was happy with the performance. It was great to see other riders finishing behind me unlike Firestone when I sweeped the course. Gives me confidence and motivation to work harder for the upcoming nationals and championships. Like I always say ... I'm just a kid on a bike having fun. The smile on my face should be proof of that.

Thanks to Chris for driving me out there and cheering. Jim Wannamakebabies from Kenda. Those semi-slick Small Block 8's are so sweet now. Veeze Price for being so damn amped up all the time, you kick ass!

Special shout-outs :
Bert the Hurt for getting 17th out of 54 in semi-pro. Hes 87 years old.
Bert the Hurt for getting 1st in Super-D . He's 92 years old.
All the Pros that showed up and ripped it ! That includes Christie and Teri !
The Singlespeeders on Sunday! Milkman and Veeze for consuming more beers than they rode laps.
Jay for his 15th place DH finish , Kick ass !!!

Check out Jimbo's site . The Roff Report . Amazing stuff in Colorado!

My Wake-Up Call

It has been some time now since my last blog entry. Of course there is an excellent reason why I haven't. My brother finally moved out of the house! He bought his own condo in the rich region of Glendale. Movin' On Up ! Which means for the first time in my life I have my own room. Sadly he took the laptop with him and I'm too broke to fix the PC in the room. I am currently at work typing this. (Looks over shoulder to make sure no boss walks in)

As many of you know , this year I'm shifting gears...probably into the granny... and doing endurance/marathon events. Lets just say I got my cherry popped at the first event. Going into my first official event this year , which was the Firestone Walker race. I didnt know what to expect, but pain was in my mind. I had been training pretttty well but nothing can prepare you for race day competition. I wanted to start off slow and work my way into it. Total opposite happened. 7:50 am we started, with the Beginner class regular xc at 8am right on our heals. Plus the weather was awesome ; foggy and not too chilly. The course was hard-packed and very narrow singletrack which gave me the biggest grin. With this equation I went out in a brisk pace for the first 2 laps. Then the Sport class started at the same time as my 3rd lap started. Again got caught in the rush of the singletrack, occassionally pulling over to let over-eager amateurs that had way too much steroids that morning to pass me. 4th lap started off great because Teri joined me as she warmed up for her race. Also I chugged a beer at the start/finish line which hit me really quickly. On the first climb apparently I started to sing "Only the Lonely" by Chris Isaac. I dont remember this happening until I saw nutsack ! Riding on the singletrack along a wire fence and a steep drop on the other side , a bull was charging towards me and another rider behind me. He was pissed! Funny how quickly we could get sober when our lives are in danger. With just one way to go we jumped down the side and went around. I wasnt that horny anyway. HAHA. Last 2 laps were a blur do to delirium. The fog burned off and the heat took its toll. Occassionally getting passed by friends and fellow racers. The finish line was bare and deserted by the time I came through. But the peeps were there to greet me with props. I dont want your props , I want your beer ! HAHA. Hey, I finished the bastard. What didnt kill me will make me stronger, what almost killed me will make me walk with my legs spread apart.

The Highlight of the race was getting to ride with everybody. By that I mean the 8 hours I was out there Teri , Christie, Meggan, Bert, Papo, Vegas Bob, and other peeps passed me on their races. It was great to cheer them on a remote part of the course. I basicly had the front row seat to the races. Damn , that seat gave me the biggest sore ass ! Also Ryan Trebon, him and his 7 foot long legs came blasting by. But the amazing thing is how nice he was about it. Letting me know nicely that he was going to pass me when I had the chance , he passed by with words of encouragements. This guy gets paid to ride his bike, his job is riding a bike, he gets paid for good results. He has more mutual respect for the common rider than those jackass' in the amateur classes being idiots when they cant get around another rider.If you cant be courtious and remember what your doing, then you better smoke some weed to chill out and enjoy the riding or find your own way around us slower riders. Elbow ! Sorry , just had to vent that out a bit.

Thank you for the peeps for support out there. I heard all of your cheers and its hundred times better than any energy drink. I mean it.

Shout outs:
Christie for her 4th place finish in the pro race. Looked so strong.
Bert for qualifying for the National Chamionships with a top 10 finish in semi-pro.
Teri for having fun out there and a smile all the way through.
Glynn, the crazy Magpie from the UK on his first downhill race. And Margarette!
The bull with the biggest nads I have ever seen.

Special Shout-Out :
Rhoda for her good luck phone call before the race. I needed it and I used it.
Also the husband, Jim, for the passed 3 years of telling me to eat and drink during rides.

2006 Season Goals

Mary McConneloug @ Mammoth National Championships
Pic by : Greg "Negro" Pleis

Goals for the 2006 Race Season

1. Not to compete in more than 10 races. ( 20 races in 2005) Sorry Chris , I'm still tired.

2. Finish every marathon/endurance race entered. And that means "no-matter-what". Let it be a broken frame or a pulled Spiro T. Agnew muscle, NO DNF!

3. Enter a XC race with my Specialized BigHit Freeride bike. Thats 8 inches of travel with a triple-crown fork. 48 pounds , 2.5 tires, and alot of goodness!

4. Complete the "six-pack" at Firestone Walker Santa Barbara endurance race. If it wasnt hard enough to complete the whole 70 miles (6 laps), gotta chug a bottle of Firestone Walker Double Barrell Ale each lap. Thanks to Shortstack on that one.

5. SINGLESPEED !! At select Rim Nordic races, enough said about that. In memory of Jimbo.

6. Pedal to the top of Mammoth Mountain from the village (11,052 ft.). Who would like to join me? Thought so.

7. To have the meanest, toughest, loudest cheering section on the race course for the blokes racing. All must be wearing Futbol jerseys and yelling "Hooaahhh" . Drums are a plus. Air horns are welcomed. Beer is recommended.

8. Have Beer Pong tourneys @ select venues.

9. "Water-wars" during the races. I will be free-game for any other racer or spectator during my race. But you better watch out, I could strike back. Chris, no hiding behind Greg !

10. To have a great time , enjoy the races, drink the carbs, and dance the good-time-dance with the peeps!

Paying your Dues

It's happened to the best of us. Well, in this case only to us males. Landing on the top tube, futbol player blocking a kick, and of course the over-energetic rugrat you're trying to hug. Our testicles get a beating throughout our lives. For some its just an accident , but for others its a bulls eyes.

Growing up with Big Al and Stack, our crotches were the equivalent of that to the nuclear testing grounds in Nevada. Wrestling against a person that is twice your size and weight, wouldn't you go for the plums? Very affective when the person doubles over and starts squirming around the ground. Not to mention the automatic reaction of the hands grabbing the ping pongs that are temporarily crawled up in the stomach.

Then there is the worst kind of attacks, the hidden clandestine warfare. Just like a sniper waiting for the enemy to be in its most relaxed state. Out of nowhere the excrutiating pain of a coin nicking the right berry. This pain is not like the one getting kicked hard or a baseball bat swinging around with a double homerun , but this agonizing pain is sharp. You are still able to function but wondering what had happen. In many cases it was Shortstack with a pocket full of change. Let it be during lunchtime at school or at the bus stop waiting to go home. The precision of his flicks and the accuracy of the little penny or dime slicing through the air, directly colliding with the outside of my right nut is pure talent. I give your props.

Us three have known each other for years. Shortstack since I was 7 and Big Perm since I was 9. Due to rather ridiculous circumstances , we lost Biggie for 4 years. That left Stickity and I on our own for our graduation, experiences with cars, roadtrips, turning 21, and of course the groin assaults. Like all Disney stories, Big Worm came back to our lives happily. And for those 4 years of M.I.A , it is our duty as friends to bring you back to even terms.

With cupchecks and flying debris with love , welcome back Alex Nash !

Pic: 3/17/2006 - watching the NCAA Tourney in my room. Cupcheck administered by Stizle, pic by Fuzzy.

For the Non-believers

Joshua Tree , CA July 2002 -self portrait

When Fuzzy was in Fober's land...let my Fuzzy go.

Capitan

Navajo Lake , Utah - 2005 Pic by Fuzzy

"We go through our lives with our filters up, we never see the world raw."

The Roffs

Firestone Walker Santa Barbara Race - 2005 Pic by Stack

We miss you two so much! Always remembering the good times on and off the bike. You were our family home away from home , Stack and I appreciate everything you've done for us. Hopefully soon, a roadtrip of friends will be knocking on your door in Colorado taking you out for some drinks.

Past

Don't forget your past.

The Four Letter Word

Pain , physically and emotionally, is a four-letter word, literally and figuratively. For most well adjusted individuals, it bears a purely negative meaning , and ranks right up there with the other four-letter words that describe experiences most sane people would not willingly seek out. Pain is a state that average sedentary people try to avoid at all costs. But pain and riding , for better or for worse, are constantly linked together. You’ve got the sharp stabbing kind or the excruciating kind that causes you to scream in agony and visit the ER. Those types are never, never something good.

But the rush of going fast, taking chances and living to see the other side unscathed is nothing to write off. It is a key element of why we get out and pedal. And pain is a crucial factor of this aspect of the ride. An error in judgment at speed or in flight has its own consequences. And the unpleasant results inflicted on your body and the mental and physical scars that remain are harsh reminders of what to do and what not to do.
These hard lessons are only learned one way , and usually involve that aforementioned four-letter word , along with several others I cant mention.

On the other side of pain’s coin, theres the dull ache, the weary depletion of energy felt after a long day in the saddle. Even when you plan to ride to avoid this uncomfortable reality (climbing), pain, being the yin in the yang of pleasure ( descending singletrack ), will still enter the equation. We were planning to shuttle an epic section of trail a few weeks ago. While there was a shorter, more efficient (less painful) way to ride our planned trail, a few of us insisted on riding the 9-mile climb to the top. It just seemed like the right thing to do. After a few hours of hard riding, the long , steady climb in high altitude was the last thing my friend wanted to see. His every pedal stroke felt like wading through wet cement, and with each revolution the urge to curl up under a tree and take a nap grew stronger.

But after reaching the top, the final descent to the cars seemed sweeter ; the post ride conversation and trail-stories seemed richer. What is a ride without pain ? There has to be some discomfort, some good old-fashioned pain, involved in each one, otherwise, its not really a mountain bike ride. And “ride,” after all, is a four-letter word.

Inspired by Jim Roff

Solstice

The cold chill of winter is upon us. Freezing to the bone on the way home from work, I longed for those warm days and nights. Summer has always been my favorite season. When I was a child, I never went on any fancy vacations with the family, but that didn’t put a damper on things. Summer still meant freedom and adventure. It meant being able to ride your bike from dawn to dusk, exploring as much of my little corner of the world as my two wheels could take me. For a few short months, there was no responsibility of classes or homework. It was all about where I was going to pedal next and what I was going to discover when I got there. A time where the Verdugo Hills were my Alps.
As I grew older, my primary mode of transportation changed. Internal combustion stretched the boundaries of my world tenfold. It let me cover ground faster, and see and experience more than I ever could have imagined in my post-training wheel days. But the more intricate the form of transport, the more complicated it becomes. Maintenance, insurance and the cost of operation are necessary evils. And that’s when the simplicity of two wheels, two pedals and one chain came calling again.
Combining a bike with a fossil fuel burning vehicle then became an ideal means of escape, and summer was the best time to put responsibilities on hold for a few weeks and hit the road. Loading up the Hyundai/Mitsubishi Precis hatchback, custom built chicken-wire grill built by my father ,praying with Short-stack , hoping the 4-cylinder box with no air conditioning makes it to Mammoth Mountain. Crammed in the back of the truck cab, Talin's gleaming smile as we headed towards Yosemite. She almost burned down Mammoth itself with a marshmellow fire-ball, hence the big smile. The memories I have of those adventures are some of my most valued possessions. A quest for adventure, armed with bikes, in the companionship of friends old enough to know better yet still young to care, gave me enough adventure stories to break down an entire generation of grandchildren to tears of boredom. The roads to singletrack in Washington , races in Arizona, the legendary trails of Utah and a few detours in Oregon are some of the highlights. Different friends bring different memories.
Lately, it seems like another stage of that cycle has hit. A handful of summers have since passed those daysm and it seems like my friends and I find the road trips fewer and farther between. Like riding your way into racing shape, the career, the relationship, the mortgage require time in the saddle, and we all know that theres only so much of that in a given day.
It may have seemed pathetic, but on my last trip to Mammoth Mountain with the team, I visited some of the same places I went on a previous mountain bike journey couple of years ago with three friends. The landmarks were still there – a fresh coat of paint on the greasy spoon, another owner running the same local shop- different yet the same. It made me realize that another summer will be coming soon, and maybe its not too late to get the band back together one more time. Off-key and a few beats behind isn’t an ideal way to spend a summer, so I wouldn’t recommend it, but whatever you do, make it count.

Flow Like Water

People think television is the root of all evil, devils creation to brainwash us. Others, to the contrary, think the glowing box is a wonderful source of entertainment and information. Smack dab in the middle of this curve are the people who realize that television isn’t the end-all, be-all, and that it can be both a temple of worship and shining example of blasphemy , depending on the content beamed forth. Personally , I think I fall into the latter category.
I realized there are many more constructive things to do with my time, yet I’m still drawn to the television like those people who crane their necks and slow to a crawl checking out highway wrecks. I have yet to develop the self-discipline to deflect the tractor-beam-like pull of the TV, but at least I feel like I watch “quality” programming. Call it rationalization, or even denial. You can even call it no big deal, since the majority of people in this country are glued to the glowing screens anyway. But the point is that during one of my “quality” television-viewing sessions, I saw something that changed the way I look at biking. It was a documentary in the life of martial arts master and movie star Bruce Lee, call A Warrior’s Journey.
True , I could have spent those two hours actually pedaling instead of vegetating, but in hindsight, I feel it was time well spent. The highlight of the show for me was when Bruce Lee was being interviewed about his theories on fighting techniques. Having studied philosophy in college, Lee had a creative analogy to describe it. He stated that the goal was to be like water, since it has flow, a continuity of movement. Water conforms to the shapes that contain it , and it moves smoothly around or crashes over objects in its path, depending on their shape. It constantly adapts its path to follow the most continuous one.
Although Lee was describing methods for optimizing flying kicks, rapid-fire punches and sparring with opponents, it’s a theory that applies just as naturally to riding. As strange as it sounds, when tackling a tricky rock garden or a tight, boulder-strewn technical turn, imagining how water would flow through the area somehow helps the two wheels beneath me float safely between the jagged granite slabs and carve the proper radius through the next turn.
But for some inexplicable reason, when I think about the ideal application of the water theory, as applied to bikes, I envision a ribbon of perfectly buffed singletrack. I see the rhythm of moving from twist to turn, shifting weight and lean angle from left to right; tire’s side knobs grappling the terra firma, teetering on that razor’s edge between the limit of adhesion and imminent disaster; pumping from apex to apex, momentum pulling me toward the next corner like a big rubber band. Continuity of movement, TV not included.

Inspired by Stickity-Stizle

Envy

Riding up to the redlight, I couldn't take my eyes off the brand-new Porsche Turbo 2 in the car lane next me . As I admired the well-polished shine, I thought of an article I'd read recently, flaunting the car's razor-sharp handling and breakneck acceleration. "If only I were driving that car," I thought to myself, $115,000 price tag in mind. As I pulled alongside, I glanced through the jet-black tinted window. The driver, clad in suit and tie, was screaming into his cell phone. I wasn't surprised until our eyes met for a brief moment. Across his face were looks of awe and envy. Here I was, upset with the traffic lights, impatient on getting to my favorite trailhead, irritated with the fact that I had to ride my mountain bike on the asphalt -- and this rich guy was jealous.
The light soon changed and our paths separated. As I made it to my destination, I thought about my morning and my life compared to the businessman's. I was flowing through the hills, screaming down steep descents and around tight singletrack; the guy in the Porsche was most likely still in traffic, still arguing on his phone and dreading another day at work. The mountain bike has given me a deep tan, well-toned legs, a healthy heart, and a stable, sound mind. The businessman's high-paying job has probably rewarded him with high blood pressure, carpal tunnel syndrome and the need for a weekly couch session with a top-dollar psychiatrist. His jealousy became clear: In a way, I was the wealthier. After all, his super-chic Porsche Turbo had to be rounded up, just like all the other cattle, from gate to gate in gridlock traffic.
As cyclists, we've all made a decision. We've made the choice to take care of ourselves and enjoy life. We're portrayed in countless advertisements, from deodorant to pickup trucks. The reason? We represent a healthy, independent lifestyle. The sense of freedom and adventure we experience as we ride is something money can't buy. This feeling can only happen when you swing a leg over the toptube, clip in and take off.

The Good Life