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Adelaide’s Bike Polo

Underground

Adelaide Bike Polo has been around for coming up on 3 years and seems to be well established among (self-addressed) bike geeks. 

It has a national network of teams with quite ridiculous names such as The Jizz Monkeys (Sydney), Phuq Styx (Brisbane), Godzilla Symphony (Perth), Majestic Pink Shafts (Brisbane) and the Lonely Mallet Club Team (Adelaide).

The people seem to have claimed a horseback riding sport of the upper echelons for their own, an independant flagship of mechanical steeds burning rubber on the hard-courts of Adelaide’s parks and underground carparks. This reminds me of attending The Marriage of Figaro at the Royal Opera House in London, in the middle between fatcats in their private swanky restaurant area and a dude with a shaved head wearing a Motorhead t-shirt, myself dressed like an indie slacker. Totally heart warming to see something often reserved for the wealthy becoming available to all.

Bike Polo has tailored guerilla-style equipment and specific bikes designed for optimum polo maneuvering, although any bike will get you on court. The mallets are cunningly crafted from sawn-off aluminium ski poles or golf clubs with a length of gas pipe screwed onto the end, the balls are common or garden street hockey balls. Portable wood and plastic edging completes the scene and contains the game giving it a semi-pro look. It would make a great Olympic sport and indeed was played at the Olympics in 1908, having been invented 17 years before in Ireland in 1891 by cyclist Richard J. Mecredy.

It has existed ever since, underground, seeking to reclaim its Olympic status once more. The adaptability and technology of modern bikes means that it has evolved considerably but it remains a jolly sporting game... a yell of ‘Polo!’ and the players gallop towards the ball at the centre of the court with mallets raised... and on this Sunday afternoon in August I bear witness to a few chaotic collisions that cause some pain but longer lasting laughs. Clearly the crashes are part of the fun.

In Adelaide folks gather twice a week to get their mallet on. For more info on the current Adelaide bike polo scene check out www.bikepolo.com.au/adelaide or leagueofbikepolo.com for international fixtures.

The League of Bike Polo has a network which covers the whole world. You could play in Cuba, Russia, Japan, USA, UK, Europe, Peru, Canada…Around the world in 80 Bike Polo matches anyone?

Dominic J Clark

Booby Tuesday and the Phantom Bouche

 

In an elegant restaurant car Booby sat staring dreamily out of the window, the French countryside racing by field after field, cow after cow, the dark green velvet curtains dutifully framing the ever changing landscape, alternately bathed in the shadows of rolling hills and the amber glow of a late summer sunset. She pressed her rich ruby lips up to the glass of chilled Chablis she held in her right hand and took a few gentle sips. A cool feeling moved down into her tummy and settled the warm orb of roasted lamb, pumpkin and seasoned potatoes. Contentment washed over Miss Tuesday and she became sleepy with the motion of the train carriage, the fine meal and heady wine. The white wasn’t a recommended companion to the lamb but slipped down keenly all the same. In her haze Booby began to drift and her eyelids became heavy. Little runaway thoughts bubbled up from the realm of dreams and soon she was lost and away with it all.

Suddenly she awoke from her daydream with a jolt. At the adjacent table somebody had knocked over a pepper shaker. Five sneezes in a row and Booby was fully awake but somehow something seemed amiss. A lingering flavour and chafed sensation about the mouth seemed to have come out of nowhere. She touched the area with her fingertips and sure enough a slight rash had developed. There was a taste of red wine, perhaps a Cabernet. While she dozed she had most certainly been kissed. Some cocky callous cad had stolen a kiss in secret and fled our dreamy heroine without a word. What manner of beast committed this crime? A crime of passion to be sure but from a courage-less wretch! She looked around the carriage and saw only casual innocent faces, chewing on champignons, raising glasses and absorbed in newspapers, not a guilty face among them. To her right an elderly spinster sat prodding at individual peas with a fork, intermittently attempting to carve pieces of lamb with a knife that looked like a broadsword in her frail hands.

Miss Tuesday felt violated and mystified. It didn’t seem worth grilling anybody, impossible to interrogate the whole train Poirot style. She decided to keep an eye out for a guilty face. Just then the door slid open and in walked Kevin the ticket inspector. His eyes met hers for a moment and his cheeks flushed deep red. But he had been so gentlemanly earlier after walking in on her in such a wild state. He slinked by and quickly disappeared into the next carriage. Booby rose feeling empowered now, full of energy and crimson cheeked. She felt over dressed and determined. A radiant instinct rushed through her body, her blood was up and she would pursue Kevin and find a way to unlock the mystery. She did not believe in karma or heavenly justice, the fact was there was mystery, a whole wide world bursting with it and she would investigate it now with innocence and lust and without imposing a pre-determined framework onto it. Booby Tuesday would let the earth and universe breathe, while teasing it ceaselessly.

Pear Partridge