My Bike Went To Puerto Rico. But My Soccer Ball Didn't.

This morning in my local post office, one of the clerks was chatting with a customer.

"So, are you following the Copa America?"

The customer shook his head.  "In Puerto Rico, no soccer.  Just beisbol."

It had never occured to me before.  Soccer--or what the rest of the world calls "football"--has never been very popular in Puerto Rico or, for that matter, the Dominican Republic or Cuba.  Or Haiti.  On the other hand, lots of young people play--and lots of people, young and old watch--the game in Jamaica and Trinidad.

Although futbol has grown steadily in the US--newscasts routinely feature the results of matches--interest in the game seems to have bypassed Puerto Rico, at least for the time being.

The customer added this observation:  "In Mexico, they love futbol."

His observations are accurate.  In fact, Mexico even hosted the 1970 World Cup tournament, which attracted practically no attention in the US.

It's as if Customs and Immigration were stopping every ball floating across the Rio Grande or rolling across the line in the sand that separates California, Arizona and New Mexico from the country to which they once belonged.  Hmm...Would Donald Trump try to stop the "beautiful game" from invading America's heartland?

Now, one could argue that the reason why baseball gained such popularity in La Isla del Incanto, but soccer didn't, was the influence of the US, which colonized the island in 1898 as one of the spoils (along with Cuba and the Phillipines) of victory in its war against Spain.  Speaking of which...the Phillipines have never been known as a soccer powerhouse.

I mention the conversation, and my musings about it, because it got me to thinking about why certain sports, including cycling, become popular in one place but not in another.

From "My Bike Went to Puerto Rico", in  Bicycling

Bicycling has been both a popular spectator and participant sport (and recreational activity) in most European countries, and in England, practically from the time bicycles first appeared.  Until World War I, it was at least a popular in the US.  Right up to the six-day races of the 1930s, some of the best racers in the world were American, and at least until Babe Ruth reached his prime, cyclists were among the best-paid athletes.

The decline of cycling in the US, particularly in two decades or so after World War II, has been attributed to increased affluence-- which put the price of automobiles within reach of most working people and families--along with the construction of the Interstate highway system and cheap gasoline.  It took longer for affluence to come to Europe, and even after it did, the price of cars and, especially gas, remained prohibitive for many people.  

So, bicycles continued to serve as a primary means of transportation, and even recreation, in Europe, particularly among the working and middle classes.  Also, my tours on the continent were made possible, in part, by well-developed systems of secondary and tertiary roads through the countryside and small towns, especially in France, Belgium, the Netherlands and England.  Much of the United States lacked such routes; in fact, in some remote areas (for example, in the Rocky Mountains and the deserts), the interstate highways were the first roads to be built.  So, while Americans were taking to the highways for their vacations, Europeans continued to pedal the paths of Provence and byways of the Black Forest.

It's been said that because Europeans vacationed as well as commuted on their bicycles, they appreciated the physical effort and discipline it took to ride long distances, day after day, and that is why they continued to support bicycle racing.  Meanwhile, in the 'States, kids pedaled to school or the park, and their bikes were discarded as soon as they got their drivers' licenses.  So, they couldn't understand, let alone care, about grown men (or women) riding hard and fast every day for three weeks, only to win or lose by seconds.

Those explanations make some kind of sense, up to a point.  For one thing, it doesn't explain why the British developed a cycling culture--and racing scene--that was, at least until the 1960s, almost entirely separate from that of the Continent. (The Brits tended to focus on time trialing more than stage races.)  Also, it doesn't explain why other countries where people were, arguably, even more dependent on their bicycles than Europeans were, never developed a significant racing scene.  I'm thinking about countries like India and Pakistan, where the main sports seem to be cricket, rugby, field hockey and the ancient indigenous game of kabaddi.  Additionally, I'm thinking about China, where there are more bikes and people riding them than in any other place on earth.  Although races have become more commonplace in recent years, Japan, with about a tenth of the population, still has more events and competitors.

I understand that more cycling events, including tours and races, are also winding their way through Puerto Rico.  Although cycling might well be more popular than soccer on the island, it remains to be seen whether it attains the status that it has even on the mainland US, let alone that of beisbol.

Carrying Our Flag

Today's post won't have any double-entendres.  Or even any single ones.  In other words, it will be completely unironic--and short.

As you probably know, it's LGBT Pride Day.  I have marched in a few parades past, but I didn't this year.  To tell you the truth, I've never cared for it.  For one thing, I hate being forced to walk slowly in a stop-and-stop fashion in a crowd. Also, the noise gives me a headache. 

But I was involved with an event en route--specifically, between the Stonewall Inn and the Christopher Street Pier, where the march ends.  Specifically, I was preparing and serving food (chicken, pasta salad and burgers, mainly) and greeting people.  Though I'm pretty introverted, I prefer that to actually marching in the parade.

So...I'll just share this image from the march:

P.S.  The Stonewall Rebellion is one of those historic events I would have liked to see:  It's a great story.   I was ten years old when it happened, but, at the time,I knew nothing about it:  nobody in my conservative blue-collar (mostly Italian and Catholic)  neighborhoorhood in Brooklyn talked about it.  At least, I don't recall hearing anybody talk about it.  On the other hand, I heard all about Woodstock!

Don't Mess With....My Hair!

He was a young guy, in really good shape.  She was the attractive young woman who dated him...though, not for very long.

So what, exactly, was the "deal breaker"?  No, one didn't find out the other had a spouse and family in another country--or was an axe-murderer.  And no other "dim, dark" secret--like the one that led to my other blog--was revealed.

By now, you've probably guessed that I was telling one of my stories, in third (rather than first) person.  So...do you want to know why I broke up with her?

All right...I'll tell you anyway.  She wouldn't go bike riding with me.  In fact, she wouldn't ride a bike, period.  

OK.  This is nothing new. I'm sure some of you are, or have been, in relationships with people who don't want to get on the saddle and pedal.  Perhaps you, too, ended a relationship with a person for that reason. Or, maybe, you've found a way to accomodate your differences:  You go for your rides while your beloved does something else.  Afterward, you wine and dine together and, to burn up those calories, engage in another kind of physical activity--one that generates more wattage than a dynohub and LED headlamp! ;-)

Now, being as young as I was, I had almost no concept of compromise and no skills in mediation.  (I still don't have much of either, I'm afraid.)  So there was simply no way I could come up with a solution--even to keep such an attractive young woman at my side and keep up the appearance of being a macho heterosexual male.

But even if I were more adept at the art of negotiation, I wouldn't have wanted to come up with a way to keep us together.  You see, what really bothered me was the reason she wouldn't ride:  She was afraid that it would mess up her hair.

I kid you not. (When was the last time you heard that?)  She always kept herself perfectly coiffed.  (Later, another partner would keep me perfectly cuffed.;-)) Of course, when I met her, that was one of the first things I noticed:  her nearly perfect chestnut mane.  Still, I told myself, it was entirely frivoulous and pointless (I actually used to say things like that to myself!) to devote so much of one's attention to such a thing--and to deny one's self other pleasures and experiences in the service of such devotion.

Now, many years (decades, actually) later, I can say this:  I wanted her hair.  And I wanted permission to be so fussy about it!  Yes, I was jealous.

Anyway, I hadn't thought about her, or the story I've recounted in a long time--until I saw this:

If you don't live in or around Roanoke, Virginia, you might not know that such a rack was actually built.  Its creators--the design team of the Knowhow Shop--say it was inspired by this question:  "What would I lock my bike to if I were really small?"

I wonder whether any of them had a girlfriend who wouldn't ride because she was afraid that it would mess her hair.