Hello
My report is about the 2008 Japan Cup

October 25th was my birthday. I got up very early for the purpose of riding my bike around a crowded public park; dodging buses, charging through fading green lights, attacking- escaping- rejoining- repeat with the cycling pals. After exhausting myself in a fashion that would disgust and anger any of my experienced cycling friends I came home threw on the running shoes and did a 5k with my wife who needs some company. We spent the rest of the morning eating and drinking. I had mentioned with great knowledge to my on line friends, weekend cycling friends, my wife and anyone who would listen how Basso would get hiss Asso kicked and be lucky to limp in with the semi pro's at tomorrow's Japan Cup cycling race which I will attend.

After an afternoon of wandering the Jazz festival we ate another fine meal at a French eatery and finally I came home and packed and prepared to wake up at 2:30.
After my morning coffee and related morning activity I got a call from cycling friend Kishi. He was downstairs outside the building waiting for me in his little compact. I rushed down to find Kishi and other cycling buddy Inaba ready to place my bike on the roof rack and head off to Utsanomia to see the Japan cup, it was 3:20 am.
Not being a car owner I rarely get the chance to see the expressways of Japan. The car launched up a ramp and into what looked like an indoor car roller coaster. Every once in a while I'd get a view of the endless urban scape of Tokyo.

Arriving in the still sunrise we parked on a small mountainside road near the course. We unpacked our bikes while shivering and got on our cycling gear. We went up the steep main climb almost immediately. Kishi and I were climbing like normal but Inaba was on a mission and took off. The king of the mountain game was on right away. After dealing with that discomfort for a couple hours we returned to Kishi's car and cleaned up. We brought the bikes to Yama San, who had camped out next to the course overnight. He came with his family and shared the camp with nearly all the bike shops/ suppliers families from Tokyo. Among them old cycling pal Akiyama, who looked out of shape with a severe hangover. We set off to the start line to get a look at the cycling stars. Cunego and Tiranlongo were checking out the course and letting the fans get a photo op.

The start was classic Japan cup with a group of three from Japanese teams flying the coop to play the KOM game. Yoshiyuki Abe (Japan champ) and Shin-ichi Fukushima (brother of the infamous Koji) big fan favorites were represented so the crowd was going bananas.

Kishi got the scoop that the pro tour teams had met in the hotel the previous night and agreed to mutually enforce a calculation of three minutes for the break. Meanwhile Akiyama was checking out Utsanomia's answer to Belgian frites; gyoza, potstickers. He knows what attending a race is all about. However I indulged in takoyaki, fried octopus balls.

At lap six Abe and Fukushima dropped their third companion. We had moved to the KOM point which was as usual a freak pit.

Things got freakyer as on lap seven Fukushima was climbing alone. The crowd was going so freaky that it was hard to think. Shure enough, less than a minute after he crested the peleton was charging with Lampre leading. The multitudes of spandex costumed lampre lovers shrieked as Cunego's guys were looking back for his boss. He was there relaxed, with a relaxed looking Basso right behind... no way. The group passed over the top with banner wavers, costume wearers and screamers chasing them. But the crowd saved their largest cheers for the stragglers. Faces etched in agony with no choice but to appease their screaming adoring fans by pushing on.

We headed off to the finish line to see the last lap and sprint. We showed up just in time as a small break away group of four went up the leg breaker with none other than my pre race prediction for failure charging ahead with a look of hardly trying dragging my pre race favorites for success, Cunego and Visconti, behind him. He came right at me and I couldn't even reach for my cell phone camera. I just stared at him slacked jawed and yelled, "no f###### way!" Perhaps he heard me, after all he supposedly speaks good English, perhaps not. In any case Ivan Basso was running the show. I was pissed and indignant. Yelling in English how there was no way you could be out of pro racing for two years and be going toe to toe with other Italians who had just completed Tour of Lombardia, one of which won the race. I must have been tired, how could I really care so much? I did incorrectly compare Basso to AIG or Leeman Bros. earlier in the day while bored and trying to generate conversation. But now I was truly emotional. Do I really care? Eh, I'm a guy.
Anyhow, all was set straight as Cunego won the sprint and Visconti took second. Now we had to get out of there. Not to worry. Yama San knew a "secret" road. In fact the road was blocked off. No worries though as unassuming tiny Saito San slipped out of Yama's van and pulled up the barrier as we all went through. He hopped back in the van and we went down some old farming road. The tree branches hung low and Inaba and I leaned out the windows swiping them away in order to protect the bikes while Kishi drove carefully. After cruising through ancient orchards and farming villages we came out ahead of most traffic. Hitting the expressway we were treated to a swarm of motorcycle Yankees, who fashion their cheap rides with back rests that look like enormous banana seats. They wind out their motors in rythmic melodies as they split lanes or merely cruise the emergency lane on the left, don't question it, they're free baby.
I made it home more tired than I'd been in a long time.
Bye