| Andre has been watching bike races on nearly every free day of his life since 1946. Think about it. He had already witnessed 20 years of racing before Eddy Merckx and Lucien Van Impe ever set foot over the pedals. He first watched the grandfathers of my generation battling in the streets of postwar Belgium.
Bike races were the Sunday leisure activity, and people never had to travel more than five or six miles to find the closest race. Cafes would bid for the starting line, sign in, and prize uitdeeling. Even the smallest villages held a race, often coinciding with the kermis, or city festival. Without holding a race, the kermis couldn’t attract a large enough crowd.
At the time, amateur kermiskoersen were 120-130 kilometers (75-80 mi) long (compared to today’s 100-120.) Professionals raced 180 kilometers. That was before they began cementing over the roads, and the majority of the city streets were cobbled. Every city had its own hero, and as he set off for a race with his rugzak slung over his back his neighbors would come along carrying spare wheels. Racers would often show up to races with a flock of 30 or 40 townsfolk.
Back then, only those capable of winning 20 times a year were paid, so racers relied on their “Supporters Club” to put food on their table. Fans could buy a supporters card for 100 Belgian Francs (roughly $50 in today’s dollars). A bar would be designated as the meeting place for the supporters. On a wall, a chalkboard would hang with the sponsors written in order of the highest paying. Many sponsors would pay a few francs or donate a tube every time their racer won. After each victory, everyone would gather at the bar to celebrate through the night. Afterwards, the racer would walk home with a wad of cash and a handful of new parts for his bike. At the beginning of each season, the supporters would get together and buy a new bike for their racer. In addition, they would have barbecues, and card playing parties to raise money. This allowed the amateurs and lesser known professionals to make a modest living while racing four or five times per week. Racing was a means of escape from poverty. It was the working class sport, while football was for the white collar kids.
Since the 1100s, the lion has been the symbol of Flanders. After a racer won the provincial or national championship, his supporters would paint a larger than life sized lion on the road of his hometown and the racers name underneath. “The Lion of Flanders” was born.
Although the races are fewer and the crowds are thinner than in the past, racing is still ingrained in West Flanders. The police don't allow people to paint the roads in honor of their favorite racers. Instead, shop windows and walls have murals of the local heros. There are still more races held in the 10 miles between Kortrijk and Roeselare than anywhere else in the world. Some of the first races in the late 1860’s were held in Roeselare and Moorslede, a small town a couple miles northwest of Kortrijk. 140 years later, racers fly by on the same circuits seeking glory or simply escaping life on the farm or behind closed factory doors.
Todd |