Bathurst 2016 National Championships – Block 3 – was it just a dream, or was I probed?

The BMX National Championships in 2016 will go down in memory for some as the race that never happened. The cell mates of Block 3 never got to run their finals as BMX Australia pulled the event due to failing light and the chaotic scenes I witnessed in the staging tent were like a scene from the Eureka Stockade. It wasn’t until I saw a video posted of the crowd’s reaction that I realised just how high emotions were running that day and for a week or so now, I’ve been trying to make sense of why the reaction to BMXA’s decision to cancel the finals for Block 3 has created such a furor in our small community, if the reactions of those caught up in it justified, or if we should just accept it and move on. I’ve talked to my fellow riders, parents of racers in other blocks and officials who were volunteering that fateful afternoon. The only party I’ve not spoken to is BMX Australia, though at the end of the day, this account is totally from my perspective as a rider and racer.

If you’re reading this and haven’t been to an Australian Championships in a few years, say since 1982, then an explanation on how they run these days. The rest of you can skip part B and move on to part C. The Aussies run in a block format these days, with age groups, pros and cruisers split into blocks. All 20 inch age classes (with the exclusion of 14/15 and 16 year olds) run across three blocks on the Friday. Your motos, and finals are all completed before the next block begins. The pros run on Saturday with the 14/15/16s and cruisers on Sunday. It gives a different feel to when it was “final’s Sunday”, with Khalen Young commenting that he missed this format.

So what happened to Block 3, a block consisting of anyone 17 to 50+ racing in their respective age class? The day was fading away, the racing was running 2 hours behind because of the large number of crashes and delays, and the riders in Block 3 were getting a little anxious about what would happen to our racing. Now, we’re not talking about a club race here, it’s the national titles and whether you’re a pro, or 50+, the feelings are still the same. For those of us in the older groups, the atmosphere was already heightened by the number of ambulance transfers that day/week, nerves frayed as some had been at the track since 7am with their kids racing the earlier blocks. They had already ridden a roller coaster of emotions along with their kids and now they were preparing to race themselves. But would we race, or would we be coming back in the morning? Rumours ran through our lot. We watched the sun move further to the west towards Mt Panorama and waited for any communication from BMXA. Nothing. I find our team manager (the official channel) and asked the question if any announcement or discussion was imminent. The answer? “All systems go.” Righteo.

Practice was a gate and a roll through some 2 or so hours after our scheduled start, then an announcement…. “Listen up riders, because of the late start, your 3 motos have been cut back to 2, then into your quarters, semis and finals.” Jesus!  Okay, better nail that first race. Thanks for the heads up.

Two motos done and the 40-44 guys are into their quarters and I’m trying to read the sundial and wander over to check if by some miracle lights had appeared track side. Nope, no lights. Maybe they were removed because Full Throttle Aaron Nottle came real close to removing the portable set up with his head the day before when he decided to take a super inside line to the first corner.

The stagers call the semis and a little relief as my old sparring partner Brett Scruse is in the second semi and the first one has myself, Bathurst good guy, Greg Westman and last year’s winner, Steve “meccano man” Ewart. Semi-finals are possibly the hardest race mentally in BMX. You’ve worked your arse off to get here and you’re almost in an Aussie final! I nod to my mate Scrusey and say “see you in the final punk”. One thing I notice is the raft of “A” plates in the 45-49 semis including two 1As, with none in the 40-44 group. Though I spot Kamahl Lord and for some reason, everything is okay with the world for me when I see him in staging. It’s a familiarity that’s calming when I see guys like him still racing. He has the face of an old warrior for sure.

I chose lane one and pull the hole shot I needed to escape the pack and win my semi, riding the rest of the track with the conservatism of knowing I had another lap to do with the fastest old guys in the country. I close the throttle on the second last straight and control my finishing position. After all you just need to qualify not win your semi by a second or two. In hindsight, I was pretty fortunate not to shut it down completely and let Greg slide. Lane choice was already set by the last moto time (but maybe not, I never understand the UCI rules). I suck the air in at the finish line with relief knowing that I had made the final, I turn around to see who else qualified from my semi and watch Scrusey leading Brett Barnes down the 9^th straight to a win. We call the Sherpas and haul ourselves back up to the staging and watch those that didn’t make it pack up their gear and head off with disappointment etched in their faces. I feel for them.

Grabbing a drink and longing for a beer, we slide into the staging tent and I have a quiet chat with Scrusey about lane choice. Agreeing that we spread ourselves because things could get loose on the first jump so it’d be better if we weren’t too close. We laugh and go to move in towards the rest of the melee when the announcement is made.

“Due to the failing light, the final positions will be determined by your semi-final results” Or something along those lines. Then the raucous started and I admit joining in with calls of BS and why the hell weren’t we told before the semi that this might happen. No, the decision is final. We scramble for phones to check where we finished and I ascertain that both Brett(s) have beaten my winning time, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I realise I’m on the podium. For me, it’s a solid result personally. This is my last year in the 45-49 group and it’s been pretty good to me, winning three times, so not being given an opportunity to win isn’t a big deal. I look at Dean Sweatman, not so stoked. He’s a real competitor and he’s pissed off as he pulled a 4^th in the semi and realises it’s a 7^th or 8^th. I’d be pissed too.

Off to presentations and the atmosphere is pretty lackluster to say the least. WTF, the bar is closed! It just rubs salt into the wounds at the end of a day that still seems surreal. There’s no “I can’t believe how lose you were and still held it together to win” conversations that you usually hear. No one using sign language showing their mate the line they were trying take behind him in the last corner for a swoop (high-low kids). It was just dead. Zombies standing around, hollow applause, or none at all, as riders stepped up to accept their plates and medals.

Questions begin. How did we run out of light on a beautiful day, with daylight savings and in an era of BMX racing that sees a raft of guidelines determining the suitability of a venue to host national championships? One of the stipulations is that the venues have lighting to allow for racing at night and this being such a new facility, no permanent lighting was in place, and by Friday, the temporary lights had been removed. Hmmmm.

BMXA release a statement on Block 3, a statement of facts no less. No apology for what happened, just a statement declaring rider safety paramount. On a track that is arguably the toughest in the country and with two country hospitals full of BMX racers, that was a little rich. The racers in our block had taken a week off work, saved up to bring themselves and their families to Bathurst for a week and there’s absolutely no acknowledgement of fault and no apology from BMXA. Some got two motos and a shower. This for me, represented a total lack of respect for me as a rider, BMXA member and a racer that’s been involved in BMX racing for over 35 years.

Generating over 180 comments on a Facebook page that averages around 5 comments per post, there weren’t many complimentary messages following BMXA’s statement of facts. I manage a Facebook page with my mate Big Block with over 600 members from the racing community, both past and present, and the comments there were positively saint like compared to what I read on the BMXA page.  We approve nearly 100 new members over the weekend and we wonder if they’re joining to witness the bloodbath, or if they are informants from the Masonic Lodge.

I read comments on our page that we’re are whingers and we should just suck it up. I read posts in my feed that some racers don’t think they deserve their 1A because of how they won it. I shrug those off, my mum is still happy. I haven’t missed a podium at the Aussies since 2010 (except for Shepparton in 2014, Lee Egan scared the crap out of me, promising a return to racing and I stayed home in Queensland, hiding in a cupboard) and I’m confident that if we had raced, I’d be on there were the two Bretts as we were in 2010 in Cairns. But I still feel for those that didn’t get a chance to ride a final. It’s bloody hard to make it through, especially in the 40-44 group with the numbers they had. I feel sorry for those guys as they might not get another chance once they move up into the AA pro group of 45-49.

I also feel sorry for the officials and volunteers who bore the brunt of our collective anger, and subsequent vitriol in posts and comments on social media. Some copped it first hand at the track, so on behalf of my peers, I apologise for this behaviour. I’ve spoken to some involved on the day and they felt for us as riders, they wanted us to ride. Some were so shaken up that they may never volunteer again.

So what the hell went wrong? Does it even matter now?

A week later, one of the riders in my “final” receives an email changing his position from 5^th to 6^th due to a calculation error. I call him (well, I’ve called him plenty of names over the years). “Steve, is that post real or are you taking the piss? Yeah mate, it’s real”, and then explains the calculations. I think of the scene in Apollo 13 when they are calculating how to manually return the capsule to earth and decide not to bother to look up the rules and furiously check my email for the rest of the day for anything from BMXA and go drink a beer with a crew that support my riding. “Congrats man” say the boys from Ellaspede, “have a beer.  You don’t look that stoked to pull a 2^nd place mate?”

A few days later I flick a couple of messages to a mate whose kids rode outstandingly and without knowing the result, ask how his boy finished in the semi, 4^th. He then went on to finish on the podium in his final. I ask my mate, how would you have felt if the final places were decided on the semi, not having had a chance to run a final. A politically correct text returned… not great.

I contact a rider in the 30-34 class who’s vocalised his unhappiness on social media, asking him his feelings a week later. He’s still upset with his place. Mentions he returned to BMX racing after a break of a number of years. Actually trained to do well and was denied his chance to prove to himself that his hard work meant something. I feel bummed for him.

These two examples, combined with being there myself, help me understand somewhat why riders and spectators reacted the way they did, both on the day, and subsequently post-race. There were many great experiences outside of the racing that made the trip to Bathurst for me, a win in my personal ledger of life. Beers on Conrod Straight with BMX mates I’d hadn’t seen in years, kids racing around in the camp site at Mt Panorama, forming the type of friendships I was celebrating on Saturday night with the boys from BITD.

If only BMXA had said sorry to Block 3 for what had happened. Even with so many factors outside of their control, an apology would have gone a long way to sooth the feelings of being ripped off of the chance to shine like a pro. Sure we’re all adults and grown up, but we love to ride and race just like the kids do. I hope my friends (both old and new) don’t give up. This is after all, the greatest sport in the world. Even if we aren’t all #riobound2016.

About Bruce Morris #84

• Brisbane Australia
• BMX Racer – 35+ years
• Fitness Professional – 25+ years of operating gyms and training people
• Coach 84 BMX Training – Coaching the 30+ racers. Spanning performance, fitness and healthiness