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New Age Mounts
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No horse food required for bike polo
By Rachael Daigle
Boise Weekly, November 7, 2007
If you knead the often-quoted maxim about necessity being the mother of
invention into a mold that already contains a diluted version of
Darwinian evolutionary theory as it might be applied to the sports
world, then something resembling bike polo is the likely result. The
modern modification of the ancient game came into existence long before
most of the game's current fans were old enough to even ride a bike,
but it's only been recently that the sport has turned shades of hipster
thanks to the bike messenger community.
Tug on the thread of urban bike polo and you'll find the other end
attached to polo proper, the so-called game of kings, which legend has
it, originated in Persia perhaps as early as the 6th century B.C. as a
means to train cavalry. The modern adaptation of the game was made
popular in India prior to British colonial rule, and since being
formalized by the British, has become a gentleman's game played almost
exclusively by upper-class sportsmen. However, since it's essentially
the horse that renders polo inaccessible and financially prohibitive to
modern players, some clever chap simply swapped out the four-legged
animal for a mechanical riding device on two wheels—the bicycle.
As for the "ah-ha" moment in polo history when pony riders became pedal
pushers, there's no consensus. An Irishman is often cited as the game's
creator; the French claim to have originated the game; in 1988, a
reporter for The New York Times credited a group of hungover Coloradans
with its creation; and some say it was British soldiers stationed in
India who first conceived of the game. Regardless, the game's
popularity has caught on just enough in the last century to warrant the
creation of several very officially named organizations in the United
States and abroad, which is why it's yet another mystery as to why the
game has heretofore been absent from the radar of Boise's rec-inclined
population. Absent until just more than a month ago, that is.
"Basically there's a couple different disciplines in bike polo,"
explains Charlie Flynn, official organizer and unofficial man-in-charge
of Boise 's newly formed weekly bike polo game. "There's an actual bike
polo association and they sell polo kits, but we're probably leaning
more toward the urban bike polo discipline." The urban offshoot, says
Flynn, is rooted in Portland and is the brainchild of bike messengers
wanting to blow off steam during a full weekend of serious (and
seriously fun) alley cat races. Compared to its stuffier kissing
cousins in the U.S. Bike Polo Association and the Bicycle Polo
Association of America, urban bike polo is like the cooler pickup
version.
"The biggest difference is the rules," says Flynn. "That and they're
quite a bit more organized as far as actual big events."
When world championship competitions are involved, nit-picky rules that
outlaw lefties and specify to the nanometer the playing size of the
field are presumably necessary. The list of rules by which Flynn and
company play is a slim selection of nine, which is fractional compared
to the novel-length rule book the BPAA abides by but mammoth next to
the short list of three rules set forth by the regional variation of
urban bike polo in Minneapolis (a group of real rogues who play with a
wiffle ball bat rather than a mallet).
Join the crowd of gawkers and groupies that forms around the makeshift
field at Camel's Back Park on Sundays and it's obvious there aren't too
many rules other than "circling out" and having a good time. As one
player goes ass over tea kettle after a failed attempt to sink the ball
ends in a collision with another player, there's a ripple of snickering
from the sidelines. Then there's an order to "circle out," or withdraw
from the play to complete a full 360-degree circle before returning to
play.
"You'll see a lot of people trying to get away with 270s," says Shawn
Fisher, who played one game last Sunday before volunteering to serve as
a sort of master of ceremonies, keeping time, counting the score,
calling players on fouls that required circling out and divvying up
mallets at the start of a new game. "Basically, you circle out after
you score a goal, drop your mallet or touch the ground."
Tools of the game are only a bike, a street hockey ball and a homemade
mallet, which the players in Boise have fashioned out of disassembled
ski poles drilled into a short length of PVC pipe (yet another
Midwestern variation uses soccer balls and mallets angled more like
hockey sticks).
On the field, six cyclists wield mallets while trying not only to
maintain balance but to remain in competitive position to hit the ball.
Unlike games in the BPAA or USBPA, whose games are four quarters in 30
minutes, an urban game is a 15-minute (or five-point) mash-up of spokes
glinting in the sunlight and sometimes gnarly crashes. Hands cannot be
used to block another player, but body-to-body contact is permitted, as
is "hooking" (using your mallet to pull another player's mallet out of
hand), throwing your mallet to block a goal and stealing (so say the
rules: "Stealing is a part of the game. What are we? Gentlemen?").
"A lot of people are still just trying to figure out [the game]," Flynn
says. "We're playing on the grass right now, but we're in the process
of looking for some areas that are concrete or asphalt. And that's
going to make people a little more tentative about how they challenge
other people on their bike."
Staging their weekly game at Camel's Back Park , notoriously popular
with mountain bikers, was part geographical convenience for the
players, but also part ingenious strategy to increase the game's
popularity. Both Fisher and Flynn say they get quite a few passersby
who want to join in for a game or two. Last Sunday, a father and son on
BMXs intently watched a game, and just as they rode off, a trio of
young mountain bikers pulled up, trying figure out just what was
happening, although none of them had enough faith in their biking
skills to try their hand on the field.
So far, the weekend games are still pretty informal. The group is
playing pickup games, tipping a few back and just having fun learning
to play and drawing potential players into the fold. But even as colder
weather approaches (which Flynn says won't stop them from playing), the
momentum is gaining as they look for a more permanent asphalt playing
surface to call home. Given another couple of months, increased
interest could lead to the formation of teams—maybe even leagues—and
thus continues the story of urban bike polo's evolution from somewhat
obscure roots.
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