Crutcher’s Corner | Old Bulls & Young Calves
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PHOTOS | Stag & Bird
I’ve been racing in the pro class for 17 years. We know the saying “be the hero long enough to see yourself become the villain”, and its general application toward a lot of things as all great proverbs. In the last few months, at a time of my own personal renaissance, there have been so many moments of reflection that have spooky similarities to the guys that I used to race. Many moons ago I was the pup on the way up in the local scene, banging bars with some serious heavy hitters far senior to my junior self.
Circa 2004, when I made the decision to move up to the A Class, I stepped into the ring with money-day hitmen like Brian Stone, Andy Bowyer, Nick Metcalf, Ben Heibel, Adam Zarda, Robbie Smith, Casey McDowell, Carl Hansen, Chris Ritter, the Merrill brothers, Corey Smith, Ryan Howe, and a litany of others capable of cleaning me out on a whim. That list has more Loretta’s, Arenacross, Missouri State, and other regional titles than I can count. Moving up to A was like walking into a pissed off hornet’s nest with Aria’s “Needle” to defend myself. Them old boys don’t like kids still on dad’s allowance taking their cash. But before Enticer coined it, I was still gonna send it.
I staked my claim and after some initiation and hazing, a couple of those guys took me under their wing. The local pro class does have a fraternal order to it, a camaraderie of competition. Even the boys in the back of the pack are fully capable of dropping the hammer and clouding up the start for a few laps, serving the people’s elbow into a paying position. We have damn good clean fun out there and that’s something a few of the older guys taught me when I was coming up.
Zarda once dished some knowledge to me in a far more, um, lewd version of the following: Two bulls stood atop a hill overlooking a herd of heifers in the valley below. The young bull turns to the chief bull, and says “Boss, let’s run down there and *get* one of those heffers!” The old, wise bull laughs and without breaking his gaze over the herd, stoically speaks “No. We will walk down and *get* them all.”
One of those guys I mentioned above, Bowyer, left the Midwest for the continuation of his career in the industry to write for Racer X’s legendary column Rev-Up, then took on the media management and broadcasting role at Feld for Supercross. In a story better told by Andy, he talks of passing the torch in an elegantly masculine way. Eventually, the young bull becomes the old bull and the flame is carried on. You should take the time to read it by clicking here.
This weekend during Round Five of the Missouri State Championship at Challenge Trax, I realized I am now the old guard. It’s one of those things where you’re sitting on the gate looking left and right at your competition, and see the separation in age. You chat with them and realize there are a few that haven’t been alive as long as you’ve been riding for money. In Moto One of MX1, new talent Colin Marler gave me a run for my money. I was fending off with every cagey Vet move I could perform. We had an eight-lap drag out with some of the closest racing I’ve experienced in a month of Sundays. The kid is 16 years old, and while I knew I was racing Colin, it felt like I was racing myself of that age. Easily chalked as one of the more stressful races for this new-age old guy.
Come Moto Two of MX1, we lined up next to each other and had a jovial conversation, which was a hell of a lot of fun. However, we still had to trade blows on the track. Sportsmanship fist bumps and good lucks were traded before engine fire. As we went under starter’s orders, I pulled one out of the bag that Travis Merrill taught me- bump elbows with your rival on the line. I gave Colin some slices of my ulna as the revs went up. As soon as we gated, I moved to the left and performed a textbook pinch for a drop to checkers win.
Between MX1 and 25+, I had a clean sweep day. That’s my third sweep weekend of the year, of which is a record since I’ve been riding the money classes. As I reflect upon the weekend, and where I’m at as a whole with my racing performances, I’m white-knuckling the proverbial torch.
