Why They Should Be Recognized As Professionals

Americans often complain that French--or even Asian--waiters are "rude," or simply not friendly.

On the other hand, some gourmands will argue that the quality of a restaurant's food is inversely proportional to the friendliness of its service.  

I would agree with that second assertion, to a point.  I recall that the old Second Avenue Deli had, arguably, the best matzoh ball soup and pastrami sandwiches--and the rudest waiters--in Manhattan.  And I have been in many a restaurant--yes, even Italian and Indian-Pakistani ones--where I loved the food but the waitstaff weren't vying to be Mr. or Ms. Congeniality.

Now, French and even high-end Asian restaurants represent cultures very different (at least in some ways) from those that gave us the various ethnic restaurants found in New York and other American cities.  But I have always sensed that there is a certain kinship in the attitude of waitstaff.  

In France, and perhaps to a lesser degree in other European and Asian countries, being a waiter or waitress isn't something you do to pay for college or because you don't have the documentation or credentials for other kinds of work.  In fact, it isn't just a job:  It's a profession.

One almost never hears the words "professional" and "waiter" or "waitress" used together in the English-speaking world.  That, perhaps, is a reason why they are not given respect--or a living wage.  (As you may know, you don't tip a waiter in France: there's a service charge built into your bill.)  On the other hand, a waiter, like a chef, sous chef or anyone else involved in creating, preparing and delivering a meal, is expected to help create a dining experience.  So a waiter not only hauls trays and plates; he or she also choreographs the dining experience, ensuring that everything from the table arrangement to the wines are appropriate for the meal that is being consumed.

I think now of something a lawyer once told me:  "It's not my job to be my client's friend; I am here to be my client's advocate."  I think it's a fair summation of any profession. Yes, you want your lawyer or doctor or teacher or whoever to be courteous and respectful.  But it's not his or her job to be your buddy.  And that professional does not quit at a certain time of day.  Most important of all, a professional is always learning something new.

I know of bike mechanics like that. In fact, I go to a couple of them when I don't have the right tool(s) or simply don't have (or don't want to spend) the time to do something properly.  The mechanics I am talking about have been doing their work for years, or even decades, and because of their expertise, they work year-round in shops, even during seasons when other mechanics are laid off.

They aren't professionals just because they're getting paid to work on bikes:  They attain such status, at least in my eyes, because of the way they approach their work--and their relations with customers.   Their goal is to make your bike work, and to work for you.  Moreover, they understand how bikes and cyclists are changing--and remaining the same.

But almost nobody--at least in the US--thinks of being a bike mechanic as a profession.  Part of the reason, I suspect, as that most mechanics, save for the ones I've described, don't see themselves as practicing a profession.  It's a job--as, I admit, fixing and assembling bikes was for me at different times in my life--that will sustain you until you complete your degree or move on to something else in your life.

Also, a professional isn't bound by one employer or workplace.  As an example, a doctor doesn't stop being a doctor upon leaving a hospital where he or she worked--or if that hospital shuts down.  That doctor can work elsewhere, or set up his or her own practices.

Mechanics are going to need that sort of mobility.  With the rise of internet sales and bike-share programs--and rising rents--the existence of a bike shop is increasingly precarious.  But even if people buy their bikes from online wholesalers or use bike-share programs (instead of renting bikes from shops), someone will have to assemble that new bike, or fix it after it's been ridden through streets and over hill and dale.  Many cyclists don't have the time or inclination to make those repairs (or they're not allowed to fix share bikes).  So, there will always be a need, I believe, for mechanics.  And because bike designs, and the ways in which bikes are ridden, are changing, mechanics and other bike industry professionals need to keep on learning.

As I understand, those are the motivations behind the Professional Bicycle Mechanics Association, founded two and a half years ago.  As its president, James Stanfill, says, "Service is to me what we do for others, and for us mechanics, it is absolutely inclusive of all we, as an industry, do for others."  

 

  Many mechanics, and others in the bike industry, are already living and working by that credo.  So it makes sense to start a "professional association" (which is not the same thing as a union) for bike mechanics.  I mean, auto mechanics are recognized as professionals, as they should be.  So why not bike mechanics?  If nothing else, I think such recognition would help not only to bring more respect to the bicycle industry, but to cycling itself.

For Once, The Women Won't Be Thrown Under The Bus

Say what you will about Serena Williams' outburst, her style or anything else:  Women's tennis needs her more than she needs it.  I mean, when she retires--which I predict will happen some time after she breaks the record for Grand Slam singles titles--who will command the same sort of respect and attention she has?

(Now, I don't want her to retire any time soon. But I really want to see her break the record, especially because Margaret Court holds it.)

While the fact that she could break the record within a year speaks volumes of what a great player she's been, it also can't be denied that the state of the tour isn't what it was, say, thirty years ago.

Back then, Martina Navratilova dominated the sport in a way that, possibly, no other athlete dominated his or her sport.  Even though people expected her to win whenever she played, she faced some formidable competition from the likes of Steffi Graf and Chris Evert.  This is not to say that Serena's opponents are pushovers; I just don't think they quite match up to what Martina faced.

If you were to argue that the women's game was better than the men's, few would have disagreed.  That is the reason why most tennis sports and sports historians agree that Martina was the greatest female player of all time, and more than a few she was the greatest tennis player, male or female, who ever graced a court.

Once Williams retires, women's tennis will revert to the state of affairs that existed before Billie Jean King came along.  And broadcasters, sponsors and the general public won't be nearly as interested as they have been, let alone as interested as they were when Navratilova ruled.

Women's cycling, unfortunately, has had a parallel history.  I can recall a "golden age" for American women, which started roughly with Mary Jane ("Miji") Reoch's prime in the early 1970s and lasted for about two decades, at least until Rebecca Twigg's 1995 victory in the World Championships.

During that time, American male cyclists were on the rise, too:  Greg Lemond, after all, won the Tour de France three times in the late 1980s.  But, although he competed against some strong American male racers, the American women were, on the whole, more dominant and garnered at least as much attention.

Also, toward the end of that period, European women were ascendant.  In fact, a women's version of the Tour de France commenced in 1984 as a curtain-raising event for the men's race.  It ran in various forms, and under various names (the men's Tour organizers sued to keep the women from using "Tour" in the name of their race) for a quarter-century.  

It's telling that when American Marianne Martin won the first edition of that race, she and runners-up Heleen Hage and Deborah Shumway stood on the podium with male winners Laurent Fignon, Bernard Hinault and Greg Lemond.  While Fignon won the equivalent of $225,000, Martin was given $1000 and a trophy.

The women's race always had to scramble for sponsorship, even in the best of times.  So, when economic times got tough and sponsors had to cut back on spending, guess what they cut?  As best as I can tell, the men's Tour, as well as the Giro and Vuelta, are still going, even though interest in bike racing overall has declined.

The loss of the women's Tour-equivalent mirrors a situation found all over bike racing, and in sports generally:  When money supplies tighten, women's events are usually sacrificed.  While I don't think the women's tennis tour will disappear, I think we'll see a lot less of it once Serena retires--unless, of course, someone else comes along who's as dominating and compelling as she is.

Fortunately, though, one event is bucking the trend, if in a relatively small way.  The Colorado Classic has featured men's and women's races since it debuted two years ago.  Next year, however, one of them will be eliminated.

It won't be the women's race.

Why?  According to Ken Gart of the RPM Events Group, which organizes the event, the change will allow organizers to set up "one great race instead of two average ones."  Or, as Colorado Governor-Elect Jared Polis said, it could allow the event to turn into "the premier women's race in the Western Hemisphere."

The theory is that by putting all of the resources into one race, longer and more challenging courses could be set up.  Also, as Gart explained, "We love men's cycling...but our ability to impact men's cycling was very minimal."  

One could say he means that the best way to promote women's cycling is to not force it to compete with men's racing.  That might be true, but I think what's more important is that the women's race won't be an adjunct to, or "opening act" for, the men's race, as it was in the women's tour.  

That may well be what women's sports in general needs:  a way to make it interesting and worthwhile in its own right--as women's tennis was in the era of Martina, and women's cycling was in the days of Twigg--and not merely something designed to sink or swim in the trail of men's competition.

He's Back--And He Has A Story!

Kids always want stuff for Christmas.  When I was growing up, bikes were usually high on the list of things kids wanted "Santa" to leave under the tree.

That has changed.  The days when bike shops could round out their yearly profits with Christmas bike sales (mainly for kids) are long gone.  It seems that even department and toy stores don't sell a lot of bikes at Christmastime, as video games and other electronic toys top "wish lists" today.

Whatever we wanted as kids, our wishes change as we get older.  For one thing, those of us who cycle as adults usually buy our own bikes: We become more particular about what we ride, and it's hard to get someone else, even if he or she is inclined to give a bike as a gift, to buy the right one for our style of riding--and, sometimes, even our sense of style.

Then again, for most of us, Christmas becomes less about getting stuff.  If anything, we start to care more about other "gifts", which can include experiences or simply knowing that someone is alive and well.

I feel that way about Alan Snel.  I have never met him, but I enjoyed reading his blog Bicycle Stories.  

Nearly two years ago, he was struck and nearly killed by a driver in--where else?--Florida.  That driver didn't get so much as a ticket for leaving Alan with a concussion, spinal fractures and a knee that had to be drained of blood.  

He posted several times after that, talking about his move back to Las Vegas (where he'd previously lived and worked) and projects in which he'd gotten himself involved.  Then, after a post about the Interbike show in September 2017, there was nothing on his blog.  I'd hoped that his absence was a result of plunging himself further into the advocacy work in which he's long been involved.

Turns out, that was the case.  He's been writing a book about his road to recovery--which was fueled by his involvement in the budding Las Vegas sports scene-- and is now promoting it.  He even got time on a local TV station:



I'm so glad he's back.  He's been through so much. But, really, what can stop a man who taught his mother to ride a bicycle when she was 64 years old?

And what more should we want for Christmas than to hear a story like his?

(Ironically, when I saw this segment, it was preceded by an ad for a personal-injury attorney!)