January 10 - California, USA
Well, this is it. The big time. Professional cycling. Everything I've always wanted, and now I've got lucky. Great, except I'm lost in a taxi (sorry, cab in America), with some kind of deranged lunatic in front talking about throwing off the Communist spies. Not what I'd exactly expected.
After a 10 hour flight from London, with a baby somehow managing to keep up screaming for the entire trip, I touched down in California, ready to join up with my team, Health Net, as a neo-pro. I'd already been told a contact would pick me up at the airport. I arrived nervous, and it didn't help when someone covered my mouth, and yanked me into a dark corridor. "Are you the one they call Robinson?" He questioned.
"Yes," I stammered.
"I reckon your lying." he snarled. "Prove it!" He demanded. I handed him my passport.
"Documents can be forged," he told me. I'm going to ask you some questions. If you get any of them wrong, your going to end up like Johnny Jones." he threatened.
"What happened to him?" I was really scared now
"Well, nobody really knows. This just found half his head in a trash can."
He proceeded to grill me on every aspect of my life, and I was sweating nervously. This guy was a freak, but he knew everything about me. After ten minutes questioning, he seemed satisfied I was Chris Robinson, and proceeded to take me outside to his cab via the back entrance. He then set off with tyres squealing, and I was on my way to the Health Net HQ in Oakland. At least I thought I was.
Halfway through, and suddenly my driver, who wished to be known only by his code name, Red Fox Delta 1, asked me if we were being followed.
"I don't know." I told him
"This is a two man job, CR, you should be watching. Right, evasive action required!" SN then proceeded to drive erratically and shrug off these apparent chasers in a surprisingly good display of driving, all the while muttering about, "Those filthy Communists." 30 minutes later, and I'm now in the middle of nowhere, and my driver is a raving lunatic, with no idea if I'll make it to HQ, or if I'll make it alive. Send help if you get this, I can see the road sign, I'm on...
Edited by Crommy on 01-06-2007 21:30
Oakland, California
Well, after a 2 hour detour, Red Fox Delta 1 was certain we were no longer being followed, so the deranged driver finally got me to the Health Net HQ. It's a shame that as I got out of the car, with my new manager coming to greet me, the driver tackled me to the ground as he hadn't, "checked me out to see if I had managed to obtain any dangerous weapons during my time outside of the car," (all of 3 seconds), and apologised profusely to my new manager. So, here I was, with my new manager, my teacher for the next year or more, and he greeted me courteously.
"It's Chris isn't it. Welcome! Sorry about old Red there, he is a little bit erratic."
"A little bit?" I spluttered
"Yes, well, he used to be in the CIA, and it sort of hasn't worn off. Anyway, we keep him round, he is useful. Anyway, my name is Brian Stephens, and I'll be your manager. If you'd like to step inside, I'll talk to you about your role in Health Net."
He took me inside to his office, a cold, sterile thing, with no pictures. He seemed overly fond of the colour white.
"Now Chris, we're delighted to have you with us, our scouts have been adamant you'll be a great rider, and I've got full confidence in you. Your day will begin at 6.00 am every day. Sharp." He emphasised that last word. "You'll work hard for the next three hours, otherwise it'll be my boot up your backside." I grinned. A wrong move as it turned out.
"Do you think I'm joking!" He exploded. "If you don't train and give it 110%, you'll be out of this team faster than you can say Tour de France. I do NOT allow any mucking about, relaxing, taking it easy or easing off. Do you understand." He was right in my face now.
"Yes," I replied nervously.
He paused, looking at me intently. "I'll be watching you, Chris. I don't like you, but your rave reviews are what's stopping me throwing you out of this door right now. You better get your act together sunshine. You've gotta impress me quickly, because I want you to fail." And with those parting words sinking into me, he outlined the rest of my daily schedule, whilst I nodded, trembling. This guy was a firework waiting to explode, and I was a bloody kid with a lighter. This might not be the fun experience I thought it would be.
I stayed in a nearby hotel that night, as Brian didn't want my attitude to disturb the rest of the team until he had prepared them for it. Tired and lonely, I settled into a very cheap hotel room, with nothing to do but hope that it could only get better. Surely it couldn't get worse...
Edited by Crommy on 01-06-2007 21:30
Oakland, CA
So, I met the riders in the morning (very early morning) after a terrible nights sleep, and most of the seemed fairly hostile to me. It seems they took the boss's speech to heart, and really don't like me. They were exceptions though. Kirk O'Bee came forward and greeted me pleasantly, and already it seemed like he wanted to be like my tutor. Karl Menzies also greeted me warmly, and already I started to chat away with these two, finding they liked the same taste in music (The Killers, Guns and Roses), when Brian Stephens walked into the room.
"Right lads, onto your bikes, you know what to do!" He shouted, and that was my training begun. God it as hard work, and I wasn't the only one struggling. Nathan O'Noill was at the back with me as we laboured up some tough climbs. Encouragement came as expected:
"Come on you miserable girls, get a move on!"
5 hours later, and I arrived back at HQ absolutely exhausted, and collapsed onto a chair. The rest of the guys were chatting idly, looking as though nothing had happened. I couldn't even stand up. I will get better with time, won't I?
Oakland, CA - January 20
Well, 5 days of tough training has seen me struggle throughout, and just when I thought I could have a nice rest, Brian announced we had the team presentation in 1 hour. Just enough time to get cleaned up and into my suit, which Gordon Fraser told me I needed to wear. I arrived at our venue, and was immediately greeted by the angry face of Brian,
"Chris, what the hell are you doing? Why on earth are you not wearing you team kit. You are a disgrace, get changed now!"
So I had to run back and get changed into my team strip, and arrived just in time as they were announcing the riders. Just made it. Unfortunately though, psycho guy was doing security, and wouldn't let me in.
"No one is allowed in until after the event has finished," he told me emotionlessly.
"But I'm a rider!" I declared
"For all I care, you could be the Pope, your not coming in. Your not allowed in until after the event."
That's when I grew desperate, and tried the oldest trick in the book. Of course, this guy needed little suggestion to put him in attack mode.
"Look, a communist spy!" I pointed out to him.
"Quick get in, I've got you covered," he told me, "Get in. I'll take care of this filthy red scum." And with that I was in, as he cackled manically and began to question passers by.
As soon as I entered, I saw Kirk O'Bee off stage signalling to me to hurry up, and I joined him just in time to hear my name being called out.
"What happened?" Kirk asked.
"It's a very long story," I replied, as I nervously walked onto the platform as Brian told the waiting press and dignitaries about me and what I would do for the team. I was then forced to stand on stage for another hour, as the rest of the team was introduced, had a couple of photos taken of me with the team, then was allowed to go. A distinctly boring affair, but Karl Menzies, or the Big Unit, as he likes to be called livened it up with running commentary on the riders as they joined me on the platform. In that hour, I got to know who would be my friends, and who would strive to get rid of me. I wouldn't be having many friends.
Oh yeah, I've also managed to rent a flat. It's very small, but it's all I can afford, I'm not exactly rolling in cash at the moment
