TDU AFTER DARK
What happens when the pro cyclists have laid their weary heads down to rest? We come out to play.
SECTIONS
I: TREK NIGHTRIDERS
II: DOWNBALL MATCH
The days racing had ventured down to Victor Harbor, leaving many cycling fans unable or unmotivated to make the trek significant devoid of any kind of on-road action, at least until late afternoon. What was less of a trek, in fact located right in the middle of the city, were the Night Riders.
I: TREK NIGHTRIDERS
The hard thing about the Adelaide CBD even on a Saturday night, EVEN in the middle of the Tour Down Under is that it remains quiet enough to host a bike race without much fuss. It also makes it harder to find the race, as banked up traffic doesn’t put you on to the scented trail of tight lycra and flexed calves.
We arrived at the hotdog circuit in the middle of the men’s race, catching them at a point in the evening where the turn for home came with a blast of sunset to the face. We crossed to the other side and began walking up towards the finish line, discovering it wasn’t actually a hotdog circuit, and seeing Jensen Plowright take his umpteenth dominant win of the summer.
With plenty of experience in attending, failing to attend and/or getting lost on Willunga Hill – we took the opportunity to use the evening at the bike races to say goodbye to our Adelaide and interstate friends, and thank them for hanging out for the week. Active group chats and exchanging of meme’s in the DM’s would have to do us til at least June when a possible reunion around the National Cyclocross series would bring us together again.
Just as the sun really started to go full nuke, the stacked women’s field of this Trek Night Riders race really started to turn it on. There were riders from Canyon SRAM, Trek Segafredo, Rally Cycling and Roxsolt Attaquer really lighting things up at the front, while a mix of solo team riders, and handfuls of amateurs were there making the race all kind of interesting.
Much like the final stage of the WTDU a week earlier, it was a breakaway, and then again a solo break that really excited the crowd into the closing stages of the race, a solo break that would manage to hold on to take the W, bringing a close to professional bike racing in Adelaide proper for another year.
II: THE DOWNBALL GYMKHANA
Like most street battles, things are organised last minute and through entirely guerrilla means. In this case we put the call out via Instagram stories mid-afternoon, once we knew that we were feeling limber enough, and that our friends at Hikari Media were feeling the same.
What was going down after dark, after the racing subsided, the press centre cleared out and the streets filled with punters was a coming together of two mid 2000’s classics. Part Wimbledon part Step Up, we were bringing downball to the streets, armed with nothing but a tin of fresh Wilson’s, a box of chalk and a one way street amongst the bustling O’Connell Street in North Adelaide.
Anyone could play, and while nobody took up the offer to join the 4 on the court and 7 in line, plenty took the opportunity to stick around and watch for a couple of minutes, let us know they loved the vibe, or just straight up call us losers.
Even with the invite, to join the Soup and Hikari media there was still a buy in required – a small investment in yourself. The purchase of a single donut from the 24 Hour bakery next door was all we asked of players.
This simple buy in could be gifted if you were ever-so-kind, but we encouraged players to consume it themselves as we drew up the court in the middle of the side street adjacent to the bakery. A few games in we realised that our bodies would soon be crying out for more donuts and other pastries. In line and while spectating from the gutter we compared nutritional benefits of certain baked goods, the ideal metabolic window in which to consume a quiche Lorraine (3am), and which refreshing beverages would best wash everything down (Powerade, Nippy’s).
Then, as the clock approached 11.30pm, we switched on the timer for 3 minutes and opened up a live stream for the final push to the line. Accounting for stoppages, whoever ended up in King come the clock striking zero took home victory, with penalties handed down for time wasting and tanking.
It was with less than a minute left that the frenetic pace of the game and the atmosphere in this tiny side street got way too much for local passers by. People briefly paused their walk to the local pub to catch a glimpse of the fast paced action, the sledging, the brief donut breaks while the tennis ball was retrieved from traffic. The final few serves would go completely uninterrupted thanks to a car crash taking place at the opening of the street, our street.
With the clock striking 11.30 and a ball going long and out, the games came to an end, finishing with handshakes and last drinks. Insurance details were still being exchanged as we slinked off into the darkness of night, chalk drawings all that remained from the first of what will no doubt be many social downball gatherings.