By Maynard Hershon

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I'm reading Pablo Munoz's "Miguel Indurain, A Life on Wheels" (Mousehold Press, 1998), a biography of the quiet man from Spain who won five straight Tours de France.

Translated from Spanish, Munoz's telling of Indurain's years in cycling makes great reading. A quote in "A Life on Wheels" stayed with me; I thought I'd share it with you.

Munoz quotes Pepe Barrusco, who ran a club school for young cyclists in the village of Villava in northern Spain, where farm-boy Indurain was born and raised.

Barrusco is proud of his (mid-'70s) role in the club's school, biographer Munoz writes, and of the outstanding pupil (Indurain) who came out of it. Still, in talking about the era, Barrusco cannot conceal a certain amount of disapproval:

"In those days all of us connected with cycling knew Indurain; now, of course, everyone is a fan," Barrusco said. "But the real fans are those who went to watch those youngsters race in the juvenile events.

"I respect those who follow the Tour nowadays, but few are true fans," Barrusco said. "I realized that years ago. We put up a poster at races and passed a hat so spectators could contribute to the club's finances.

"Many of those who now call themselves fans," Barrusco went on, "used to stand back when the hat came around."

Barrusco was talking about life in a tiny Spanish village years ago. What he said still rings true though, doesn't it?

When he talks about people who "call themselves fans," he means us, doesn't he?

We're rabid fans. Some of us even race. We know we're not going to set the world on fire, not going to turn pro. We're going to local races and then going home.

We nevertheless act as if we're about to turn some corner into sudden stardom. We may not realize we act that way, but we do. We're as focused on cycling as if l'Equipe splashed our names across the front page.

We train, we eat carefully, we go to bed early. We're real athletes, we think. Why should we pay for bikes or shoes? Why should we help at races? Why should we think about the other guy? Let him do for himself.

Many of us, even if we don't race, spend thousands every year on cycling, on ourselves. We watch the Tour, Giro and classics on TV, plus buy the videos, but we never travel to see major US races.

We know what Laurent Jalabert eats for breakfast but we can't pick Saturn's Trent Klasna out of a lineup of skinny guys. Few of us can identify Saturn's sprint ace Petra Rossner or Canadian prodigy Genevieve Jeanson (Rona).

Hey, we never even go to local races unless we're racing. We don't go there to help or to cheer for our clubmates. We go for a training ride instead. We join a bike club because of what the club can do for us. We never think to ask what we have to offer the club.

If there are kids in the club or new riders of any age, do we try to help them?

Do we make our old bikes, no longer worth selling, available to the club as loaners for new riders? Why keep old saddles, eight-speed wheels and old-tech aluminum handlebars? Let someone have that stuff who'll use it. Hey, the next Lance Armstrong may ride your cast-off gear.

How about offering a new rider a lift to an event? Or buying him or her a bagel after a ride? How about making sure that new rider feels welcome and safe on your rides, making sure he or she knows how things work in your group?

If your club is like most clubs, one or two or a few people do the work. No doubt those people enjoy their roles, but why just sit back? Why not help?

There's an old movie about European pro road-racing called Stars and Water Carriers. Back when, all the teams functioned as the Postal Service team does now. There was a clear leader like Lance. The other guys (all great riders) understood that they were pros - but not stars.

They were paid to support the star, to bring him water bottles or tow him to the starts of climbs, whatever. Only the star expected to be catered to in that way.

Few of us are stars. We're fans, one-person fan clubs devoted to ourselves and a few heroes we'll never meet.

How much could it hurt to carry a little water?

END