Prologue, Tuesday August 26 from special correspondent Graham DowdenA sea of clouds. At ten thousand metres over the Great Australian Bight en route to Perth from Sydney, all there is is clouds covering sea. Sun and clouds and the noise of the engines and the taste of the last cup of airline coffee.After the clouds thin, land appears, a network of lakes and bores and canals and wide square green fields, and not long after the engines turn down their song for the long approach into Perth. On the ground a sudden shower has lifted up all the scents of the earth, rich and sweet, and new trees bloom at the entrance to the terminal. Anyway, the Italian pursuit squad run a few tight hard rounds, hammering the track as they come off the back bend, then the Olympic sprint squad let rip until the last man comes labouring down the home straight in extremis. Two of the sprinters are riding frames with overlapped seat stays. Antonella Bellutti, this year's number one female track rider and a hot prospect for the pursuit and other events, runs a couple of hard laps on her Coppi, then the whole team rides around for a while then closes down. At the top of the first tier the whole track spreads out under the high curved iron roof. A line of flags of the world's nations, rows of green plastic seats, the circle of the boards with the four coloured lines: blue, red, black, and the pale blue inner band. A photographer sets off a flash from high in the rafters, pointing at the finishing line, workmen lower a gantry of lights down from the roof. Inside the lights are hard and bright, leaving no thing in shadow. The seats are empty so I take my only chance to sit trackside, right at the finishing line. Later in the day when the laptop has been delivered and the Zip drive has discharged its duty, I head out to reconnoitre the Midvale Speed Dome. Set in open land behind a college, it rises distinct, high and white, boldly fronted by four tall columns and the white banner of the 1997 UCI World Track Championships Thankfully, from the length of their handlebars, it seems that the ludicrous extensions and contortions seen in the last World's and Olypics are a thing of the past, and we can now look forward to a more even contest between individuals on the basis of physical ability rather than the latest adaptation of the handlebar. Which reminds me, thanks to Cycling Weekly magazine and the wonders of email, I know we can look forward to seeing the originator of the handlebar wars, with normal bars, riding as a member of the British pursuit squad. The air feels hot and cold. Tommorrow the storm begins ... The great Skybrook plan was long in consideration, minimal in planning, and sudden in execution: "I'll go to Perth to cover the World's for the internet". And in this age anyone can publish whatever they want, to the whole world, almost for nothing. Welcome to the internet newscast, where everyone is a reporter. The New Zealand pursuit team and the entire Italian team are out practising, apart from that a lone Dutch woman behind a motocycle, and a few Hungarians in tracksuits the centre. Shortly afterward the New Zealanders roll their monocoques to a halt and warm down on the rollers, leaving the Italians in full cry. Walking straight out the central set of doors, through the tall white pillars, down the 4 small steps, across one arc of the loop road, straight over the symmetrical grass mound with one lone pine in the centre, a fresh wind blows directly behind me, ruffling a narrow ribbon of orange in the east beneath a lowering sky. Wheels are taken off, there is a sudden shot of releasing air, then track is left to the workmen and its time for tea. All results and reports kindly supplied by Graham Dowden.. |