Jerkmeyor and myself, the Coach, being around to lend a hand in putting the course together, had laid some devious plans with which to foil all attempts at going fast while on course. However, these plans were not destined to hatch. Regardless, we made sure that each of the wet spots would be touched by all tires. It was fortunately not a bumpy course, just soft. Softer than Criss Angel being jerked off by the Olsen Twins.
As we lined up on our start line, Myself, the good Mr. Forrest Taft, Tropical Storm, and myself were pitted against the likes of Kirby (Kurby?), the esteemed Mr. Dan Bruns, former beard-doper Robert Mayfield, recent ally D-Wayne, Matt L, and he who does every race, among others. We were off down the pavement, and it wasn't long before the SS man-train was sorting itself out fairly quickly. I was surprised to pull past Mr. Shoemaker in the first lap, and once again, he reminded me that he likes fucking crotches. I totally agree. Then again, maybe he was just cursing my name? Hard to tell, what with the deafening sound of his wrists snapping. Dwayne was very audibly going anaerobic right behind me, and I was worried that he was going to do what he's done a few times before, which is pull around to become the locomotive of the man-train, only to un-hitch me, leaving me to drift down the tracks, a tanker car soon to be the caboose. Instead, I was surprised to find that I unhitched him from my train. The Dark Horse winner of the SS race, Dan Bruns, didn't just win, he mouth-violated of SS class. When he passed me within the 45 seconds of racing, it was the fastest, most demoralizingly fast pass I've ever had. I almost started weeping uncontrollably right there. A lot of ups and downs in that race, and I managed to have some interesting back and forth with a Big Shark rider on a Felt Breed, or "he who does every race." I found that he'd put time on me on the straights, but then could do little else other than cause me to hit my brakes more in the turns. The jerk still beat me, despite wholesaling at the barriers. Sideline motivation came in the form of Gino Felino and Jerkward Toscani, who rode their jerk-asses up to watch the race and drink beers.
We then proceeded to follow official cyclocross guidelines by changing out of our kits, pillage the cooler for some PBRs, and cheer Professor, Devin, Jeff, Matt James, Scott P (who seemed to ride pretty damn well), and some other crunk-ass jerks who were all in attendance for Professor's newest lecture, entitled "How to Win Your A-Race - By a Fuckload." Professor, Devin and Jeff broke off the front for a while, until a split developed, separating Professor from Devin and Jeff, the two of whom made a very cute couple. Congrats to Professor for winning both this race and the Bubba Points Series! (Can you believe that dude is on our team?!)
Next weekend will be a whole new ballgame, as the Missouri State CX Championships in KC will be going down, and the StL Wrecking crew needs to take care of some business, knowing that they have some serious business going on over there.
What's Up Tyrone,
-Casey F. Ryback