August 19, 2015 § 16 Comments
Mark was one of the best elite amateur bike racers Southern California has ever seen. Today he has a particularly nasty form of leukemia.
I remember the state road race a few years back in Bakersfield. Mark, who dominated in every discipline in the sport, had been injured and was far from fit, but he decided to do this grueling race to help out his teammates. He attacked on the first lap and stayed away until the final lap, when the other teams had to throw all their weapons into the fray to reel him in.
The moment he got caught, teammate Roger Worthington went with a counterattack and finished third if memory serves. That was pure Mark — thrilled to sacrifice everything he had for his buddies.
Mark’s friends and erstwhile teammates from Labor Power have rallied ’round, but no matter the support and love, it’s ultimately a battle that Mark has to fight alone. To no one’s surprise, he’s giving it everything he’s got, which is ten times more than anyone else.
Here are some thoughts from three of his closest friends.
From Roger Worthington, teammate, team boss, friend:
Few riders typified the combination of Labor generally abhorred prettiness. Our mantra was “Gritty Not Pritty.” Then came G-Spot. G-Spot did use cocoa butter. He did shave his arms. He did refuse to wear his Labor Stars and Bars because it was the wrong shade of blue. So why did Labor rally around this erstwhile Pritty Boy with the boyish smile and monster legs? Because he may have been pretty but even more so he was gritty. We’re talking all caps GRITTY. He’d go off the front. He’d bang with the baddest. He protected his mates. He feared no one. When nutjobs all about were losing their mind, he’d keep his cool. And no matter how hard, or cold, or hot, or nasty, he wouldn’t complain. This is the character trait that’s serving him now as he’s battling cancer. Just as my money was on G-Spot coming out of that last corner, it’s on G-spot now as he takes on a force a thousand times nastier than a bar-banging scrum. He’s focused. He’s resilient, and in his words, “It’s all good.” We believe him, and we believe in him.
From Charon Smith, friend and understudy:
Mark Scott … I’m not sure where to begin because he has been such a big part of my development as a rider and racer. I have raced with so many talented guys and have had the pleasure of being teammates with talented racers, too. Mark in my eyes stands at the top of the mountain simply because he was the guy who wasn’t afraid to reach out like a father leading his child through the valley and pointing out all the small details that a child would overlook or couldn’t see simply due to lack of experience and knowledge. He taught me how to stay calm, relaxed, and how to always stay in the moment. He would say read the race, monitor the situation, and that everything you do as a racer should have a purpose. Over the years I have stored these things in my hard drive, you will rarely see me doing something just to do it in a race to look good, because it is never about the look but always the process and the finish. Often I see guys doing things in a race that don’t benefit the team or themselves, but they do it because they like to show their strength. Mark would never do that. “Everything, all the time, has to have a purpose.”
In our race meetings Mark would always lay out the plan and he did it with such calmness it made you feel like everything was going to be fine and so often it was; he could control and dictate a race single-handedly when he put his mind to it. I recall him doing things in a race to cause a reaction so he could get the field to react so he could set up the situation he wanted or needed to give our team an advantage. Over time I learned to sit back and watch him work his magic and I was always smiling because I knew that what he was doing was to set us up for the win.
He would often grab me and say “Get on my wheel!” It was like I was out on a leisure ride and not in a race. It’s a hard and delicate job towing a sprinter around, very few riders can actually do it well. Some guys just speak your language on the bike and words are not needed. Mark and I were this way off the top but this simply came from his gift and his huge heart. He could win races but he was not interested in that, he was more interested in molding me and shaping me because he saw something that I could not see.
I recall speaking with Dave Worthington after Mark became ill and he said “You know here’s something I never shared with you. When you started winning I told Mark, ‘Charon is there,’ and Mark replied “No, he’s not there yet there are still some things he has to learn.’ This moment made me smile because while he was teaching and showing me the way he had a bigger plan and vision for me and I never knew it.
That’s he was like a father leading his son through the valley. I recall the first race I did with Mark and he told me out of the blue “I am going to sit this one out.” I couldn’t figure out what he meant, but he wanted to slowly let me fly on my own, and whatever magic he had, it worked because I crossed the line first that day. Over the last four years I have averaged 10+ wins per year all while my teammates are winning as well. This was Mark’s teaching: always give and share the success. The good things that have happened to me and my team all come from the foundation laid by Mark. In our meetings, my ideas come from the plans and visions Mark embedded in me years ago. He also taught me to never allow anyone to try to break you. I’ll never be able to thank him enough. He may not know it but I think of him almost every day because I am on my bike almost every day and that is where we became so tightly connected.
Thanks for allowing me to share my feelings and words about my friend and Captain Mark Scott AKA G-Spot! GB
From David Worthington, former Labor teammate and friend:
Early on I was impressed how Mark could get his workouts in and still have the balance to give back and enjoy Life. So much resolve and charisma in this man. When he worked for my firm he lived blocks away so we rode together constantly. Even though I was in great shape and though I thought I was Bad to the Bone, I didn’t last three weeks on his training program.
I felt no shame sitting on his hip for 15-mile pulls in the headwind on Coast Highway. We forged a tight bond there, a trust that never flinched and always rolled over to race day. We raced as teammates from here to Wisconsin to Mexico, and made a lot of friends on the way with whom we still share laughs and unpurgeable memories.
“Here’s a cycling champion motor pacing me, the climber.”
“I knew at an early stage in our brotherhood, that the diva Mark Scott was a closer with the bite of a tiger shark and and the patience of Abraham and the generosity of a saint.”
“Many people have never seen ‘Brian’s Song,’ but I love Pic in that movie. Mark is a is a cinematic giant like the James Caan character, or that genuine earth shaker and world beater Cool Hand Luke.”
“Mark is oh so silky on the bike.”
“He’s generous and he has the secret, like a CSN song, his message is to love the one you’re with.”
“He doesn’t give a fuck about credit and relishes the hard work, the sweat the grit required to deliver optimal performance.”
“Work is his religion.”
“He’s not a cheater he’s a grinder with a sapphire smile, and if yf you moan about the burdens, the superficial loads of crap that everybody steps in, and you get too wordy about it all making no sense he may sorta brush the dander off the airspace and simply suggest, ‘Davie, you think ya might be over-thinking this thing?’ To which we pause and know … He’s right.”
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February 26, 2015 § 31 Comments
I can see Roger Worthington now, seated atop a golden throne which is itself perched atop a mountain of tightly bound thousand-dollar bills, staring out the giant plate glass window of his mansion in Bend.
As he casts his lonely eye upon the surrounding valley shrouded in snow, he cannot focus his attention on his immeasurable wealth, on his palatial eco-home that houses three people and has a carbon footprint the size of Beijing, or on his empire of craft beer, retail pizza establishments, and hundreds of thousands of acres of genetically modified hops.
Instead, as he scrolls through his Facebag timeline and sees the racing exploits of Charon, of G$, and of lowly Wanky himself, he can only grunt in discontent and snarl thusly on his feed: “Facebag, Facebag on the wall. Who’s the greatest masters team of all?”
In 2015, everyone seems to be vying for the title of America’s Greatest Profamateur Masters Racing Team. Is it Surf City Cyclery with its cadre of hardened killers, customized bike stands, personal masseuses and wrapped RV? Is it Monster Media with its gnarled and vicious national champions, its color-coordinated team bikes and its capacious custom canopy? Is it SPY-Giant-RIDE with its 80-man team, each rider armed with his own personal collection of fancy sunglasses, and its omnipresent armada of rolling wrapped team vehicles?
Alas and alack, it is none of these. The greatest masters racing team of all time was Labor Power. Driven by the power hungry and depraved mind of Max Kash Agro, this collection of weird, antisocial, and utterly bizarre misfits created the mold for the modern profamateur masters team and then smashed it, along with Max’s hip, irrevocably in 2006 — never to be recreated or even vaguely approached.
The story began in 1983 or 1984 as I was pedaling around the track at Camp Mabry in Austin, Texas, when I first met Roger. He had an orange Viner. He raced a bit but aside from being reputedly “mean as a rattlesnake” there was little to suggest that less than a decade later he would burst onto the scene as the millionaire financier of Labor Power.
By the time he had been evicted from Texas and relocated to his Shangri-La in San Juan Capistrano, he had already invented the key elements of the profamateur masters bike team: Fancy Euro car with a decal, garish team clothing, “deals” for the team members, and teamwork that even today few teams can begin to approach.
In keeping with Roger’s ethos of “winning isn’t the only thing, it’s what I pay you to do,” Labor Power put together a cadre of racers who still make themselves known as the elite of the leaky prostates. Chris Walker, Louie Amelburu, and Greg Leibert are just three of the old Labor Power crew who still dominate when they show up to race.
Others have gone on to their reward or faded from view: Chris Hipp dead, Dave Worthington retired, Mark Scott mostly retired, and Chris Hahn still racing but only when he feels like it. Among them, the stalwarts of Labor Power amassed a record that is truly beyond compare, and what’s more incredible, they did it without any real suspicion of doping.
Consider this: In 1999 the team scored 40 wins and 78 podiums, including two state crit titles and a silver medal on the road. The next year Labor Power upped their tally to 42 wins and 95 podiums including state TT and road titles, wins at the Cascade Classic, and victories in every marquee masters event in California. In 2001 the team notched 42 wins, a world masters road title in Austria, and a gold medal at the Pan-Am masters championships. In 2002 Butch Stinson alone earned 31 victories as the team rolled up a mind-boggling total of 120 wins for the year. With 103 victories in 2003, the team had nothing left to win. So, dropping down to a “mere” 37 first place finishes in 2004, Labor Power masters racer Chris Walker won the elite men’s national road race at age 42.
By 2005 the team was falling apart, and so was team leader Roger Worthington’s hip. Labor Power officially disbanded in 2006.
What possibly explains this run of dominance, stretching from roughly 1995 to 2005? First of all, Labor Power’s guiding motto was “Win.” The team would block and sacrifice if it had a rider in the break, but that rider knew that 2nd place was unacceptable. There were no glory breakaways with Labor Power, where a rider finished sixth out of six riders as his team sacrificed in the rear. If you were going to ride the break you’d better not only have a plan to win, you’d better execute it to perfection. The fear of failure was driven by the manic despotism of MKA, and it worked.
Second, Labor Power, with one or two glaring exceptions, didn’t take wankers. If you were a proven winner you might get a ride with Labor Power. There were no bro deals. If you rode on Labor Power it was because you were either a closer or you were a closer. People weren’t recruited because of their ability to help, or work, or fetch water bottles. They got a ride because they knew how to cross the line first.
Third, Labor Power intimidated. They invented the cycling blog when things were still done on paper. The created the first mad-man race reports. The fecund and off-the-reservation mind of Roger Worthington made fun of everything, lampooned the enemy, lauded himself, and backed it up with vicious-but-fair, take-no-prisoners race strategy.
Fourth, Labor Power was ugly. Their uniforms were designed by Chris Hipp, a guy who had zero artistic talent and several galaxies’ worth of racing ability. Matching Hipp’s bad art with MKA’s bad taste, Labor Power designed jerseys that are notable even today for their garish ugliness and brashly bad mixture of offending colors. Yet the ugliness had an effect: When you lined up against the twisted minds of Labor Power you not only had to deal with the yelling, the intimidation, the race savvy, the steely legs and the cunning minds, but you also had to try and un-see the awful combination of colors that makes Monster Media’s kits look almost attractive.
Fifth, Labor Power had fun. It wasn’t the fun of “we gave it our best,” it was the fun of a gang of blood-soaked Mongol warriors, dripping in gore and sated from the spoils of razing a village, beheading the elderly, and selling everyone else off into slavery.
Sixth, Labor Power had money. Roger, despite being one of the cheapest, most tight-fisted people on earth, knew that to run a masters bike team it would cost money, and to that effect he made sure that at the end of each year his racers received the tiny pittance in shared winnings that are enough to keep an elite old bike racer cozy and warm in a cardboard box. For the amount of money that masters teams spend today, Labor Power could have outfitted a small country of bike racers.
So the next time you’re feeling good about your race results, or you’re thinking that the team is on its way to a winning season, take a moment to peruse the details of what is unquestionably the weirdest, whackiest, winningest masters racing team of all time: Labor.
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March 24, 2014 § 3 Comments
In SoCal, the road racing season starts Jan. 12 with the Ontario Shitfest Grand Prix, and ends September 7 with the Droopy Breasts and Leaky Prostate Old Persons’ National Championships. That’s nine months of racing, about the same amount of time it takes to gestate a baby.
We’re fast approaching the end of the first trimester, so I thought it would be a great time to do a mid-season analysis of who’s doing what, when, how, where, and why, and maybe even make a few predictions for the rest of the season. It’s the time of year that you start to hear the rumbling and grumbling of “Are WE the next Labor Power?” And it’s as good a time as any to say, “No, you aren’t. You are to Labor Power what a dingleberry is to a dinosaur turd.”
To be clear, the bar set by Labor Power is unattainable, so quit trying to be its heir. What do I mean?
- Labor Power rode the ugliest kits ever. No matter how stupid and repulsive your outfit is, Labor Power’s was worse. If Roger and Chris couldn’t sublimate an abortion, no one could.
- Labor Power was the cheapest team ever. Your team spends more on water bottles than Roger spent on his team car, race entries, and kits. Labor Power was so tight with money that even bike racers considered them cheap.
- Labor Power won more races in a season than most teams today even enter. In 2002 they had 110 first place finishes in everything from crits to road races to stage races to track events to circle jerks. They were so dominant that if you finished 2nd or 3rd no one cared. At all.
- In 2003 they only won 103 races. Get it? “Only” 103. So quit bragging about your string of ten wins.
- In 2004, they won the ELITE men’s national championships with Chris Walker putting everyone to the sword. This isn’t the shrunken and leaky prostate division, folks, it’s the full-sized, covered-with-dog-hair testicle race. And Labor Power won it.
- From 2005 to 2007, the year that Roger imploded with a full brain-and-hip replacement, no one from Labor Power wound up in prison.
So just in case you’re wondering whether your string of seven or eight victories puts you in the “Labor” class, the answer is “No. It doesn’t. Not even close.”
Is there any hope for this younger, weaker generation?
Yes! Great things have been accomplished so far in 2014. Let me tell you about them.
- Jessica Cerra is the best all-around racer in SoCal, if not the USA. She wins hilly, windy, brutal road races. She wins four-corner crits. She time trials. Best of all, she’s always ready with a smile and encouragement before she tears your ego out and pops it in the shredder. Plus, she makes a mean Harmony Bar. Word on the street is that sooner rather than later she’ll be snatched up by a pro team.
- Rahsaan Bahati has confirmed (again) that he’s the fastest and best crit racer in America. 2014 has seen Rahsaan absolutely tear things up in the pro crits, and the only people who’ve been able to give him a consistent run for his money are Corey and Justin Williams. Over the last decade Rahsaan has remained the single best crit racer in America. And he still shows up on the local Tues/Thurs NPR in L.A. to smack down the locals. Sometimes, literally.
- Charon Smith’s legend keeps growing. What began as a wanker who couldn’t glue on a tire (crashing at Eldo thanks to a rolled front tire on the last lap) has metamorphosed into the most consistent winning masters racer in SoCal. Charon’s always there to encourage, to lift up, and to laugh — unless you’re muscling for the sprint, in which case you’re going to learn the disappointment of second place.
- Surf City Cyclery has put together premier masters crit racing club. Along with Charon we’ve seen Kayle Leogrande, Ben Travis, and other SCC riders keep a stranglehold on the SoCal crit circuit. Will they ever venture out from the safety of four corner crits? I’m guessing … no.
- Kings of the road? That title goes to Monster Media and the Troublesome Trio of Phil Tinstman, Gary Douville, and Chris DeMarchi. These three musketeers have dominated in the hardest, most grueling masters’ road races that SoCal has to offer, taking impressive wins at Boulevard, Punchbowl, and Castaic. If you plan to win a 35+ road race, take a ticket and stand in line. A long line.
- Biggest contingent of women racers? That’s Monster Media again, with Emily Georgeson, Patricia Calderon, Suzanne Sonye, Shelby Reynolds, and a host of other strong women riders taking wins and letting promoters know that women race and they race in numbers.
- Best all-around team? That’s SPY-Giant-RIDE, of course. Not just one-trick crit ponies, the SPY team has won races in every division from women’s to extremely old and mostly brokedown 50+ geezers. (That’s you, DJ.) With two big wins against the Surf City machine — Derek Brauch and Aaron Wimberley — SPY has also taken stage race victories in the 45+ division with Greg Lonergan, as well as stage wins with Kyle Bausch. However, SPY’s strongest division is the pack-fodder category, topped by Wankmeister, who is able to convincingly defend 52nd place against all comers. SPY’s dominance in ‘cross is also unparalleled, and SPY promises to again put riders in the top-1o of the hardest road event in America: The SPY Belgian Waffle Ride.
- The top of the mark in the Pro/1/2 division seems pretty much occupied by the Jakroo/Maxxis team. However, since they’re all under the age of 40 I don’t really pay much attention to them and assume that the weakest rider in that category is faster than me by a factor of ten.
- You’d be crazy not to acknowledge that the one team that is over-the-top in terms of filling categories with its riders and therefore PROMOTING the sport of bike racing is Big Orange. This South Bay conglomeration of wankers packs the fields in every division. Hats off to a club whose emphasis isn’t just on racing, but on encouraging people to get out there and have a go.
- Young punk getting outta town? That would be Diego Binatena, who, after an early season of consistent top-10 finishes and a few key victories has been invited by Team USA to storm the beaches of Normandy for a Euro campaign.
- The Ageless One: That would be Thurlow, still ripping the legs off of young, snot-nosed punks in the 45+ division. Rumor has it that The Hand of God a/k/a THOG is going to celebrate his 400th birthday this year, but we know that’s a lie. He’s older than that.
Did I leave you out or forget to mention you? Better fill out a “Hurt Butt Report” and submit it to Chris Lotts for public comment and review.
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