British lads who lived locally – three or four of the guys who were racing full-time in Belgium. They all met at Tim’s house and went out together. I thought it was good for the lads to be mixing with them, because I remember what it was like being out there on your own. Off they went, and when they came back, they were having dinner, and I came in and they were showing Joscelyn photographs of their cafe stop. I think it was on Cav’s camera. I walked behind them and saw the screen and said, ‘Hey, give us that camera.’ Cav looked at me, and I just saw on his face that something was not right. I asked them, ‘How was the ride, lads?’
‘Oh yeah, good.’
‘Where did you stop?’
‘Oh, we stopped after about two and a half hours.’
I looked at the phone and I looked at them and said, ‘Right, guys, where within half an hour of Tielt-Winge is a fucking nice big square like that?’ And they all just looked at me. ‘You lying bastards. Right, in one hour I want you with your kit on. Meet me out the front.’
I just did it off the top of my head. I didn’t know what I was going to do as it was about two o’clock. I was cursing. I couldn’t believe they had lied to me. All the effort and time you put into them, and they can’t tell you the truth. Jonesy was saying, ‘You can’t get them to go out,’ and I said, ‘You flipping well watch me.’ So we went out, and they did another three hours, and as I did after the race in Cornwall I made them do blocks of through and off. The next day, however, Cav won an under-23
kermis
in absolutely fantastic style – he got across to a break and took the sprint. Jonesy, who was the head coach, of course,was saying, ‘Really, I’m not sure you should be doing this; this is too much work.’ My answer was: ‘They had so much time sat on their backsides in that cafe, I think they’ve got plenty of energy.’ The point wasn’t that they hadn’t done the ride; it was the fact that they’d lied to me. If they had said, ‘Rod, we stopped after an hour and a half because the other British lads wanted to,’ I would have been annoyed, but I wouldn’t have made them ride again.
Another classic one came as we were driving home from a Premier Calendar: the Peter Longbottom memorial in late spring of 2004. The lads had done quite well – they didn’t get a result, but I thought they rode well together – and we were talking about the race when I took a phone call from Simon Lillistone: ‘We’ve got a problem. The owner of the house has had a complaint from the church opposite that there’s some kind of obscene drawing in the window.’ It was in the house where Matt Brammeier lived. With the lads listening in the back, I said, ‘You’re joking, Simon, you’re having a laugh,’ and I saw the lads going a bit quiet. I said, ‘What, a drawing?’ and all of a sudden I saw them snigger. I thought, ‘You little bastards.’ We pulled up outside the house, and they were all laughing.
My first reaction was, ‘Whoever’s done this, bloody hell, you’ve got a talent for drawing.’ There were two pictures: one was of a donkey with a great big knob, but the other one was horrendous – a big fat woman with her legs wide open and everything showing. I stopped myself from laughing and told them: ‘That’s horrendous. A house in a residential street, and you draw that. Who the hell did it, and why? You’ve got too much time on your hands.’ There was a disciplinary hearing with Simon and Dave Brailsford, because we’d also had acomplaint from the guy who owns the house. Dave gave them an earful. What I did was make them ride for a whole session – a full three hours – round the top of the velodrome.
That might not sound so bad, but riding round the top of the track rather than on the black line at the bottom means you’ve really got to concentrate. On a really good track like Beijing you don’t have abrupt transitions between the straights and the
‘Oh yeah, good.’
‘Where did you stop?’
‘Oh, we stopped after about two and a half hours.’
I looked at the phone and I looked at them and said, ‘Right, guys, where within half an hour of Tielt-Winge is a fucking nice big square like that?’ And they all just looked at me. ‘You lying bastards. Right, in one hour I want you with your kit on. Meet me out the front.’
I just did it off the top of my head. I didn’t know what I was going to do as it was about two o’clock. I was cursing. I couldn’t believe they had lied to me. All the effort and time you put into them, and they can’t tell you the truth. Jonesy was saying, ‘You can’t get them to go out,’ and I said, ‘You flipping well watch me.’ So we went out, and they did another three hours, and as I did after the race in Cornwall I made them do blocks of through and off. The next day, however, Cav won an under-23
kermis
in absolutely fantastic style – he got across to a break and took the sprint. Jonesy, who was the head coach, of course,was saying, ‘Really, I’m not sure you should be doing this; this is too much work.’ My answer was: ‘They had so much time sat on their backsides in that cafe, I think they’ve got plenty of energy.’ The point wasn’t that they hadn’t done the ride; it was the fact that they’d lied to me. If they had said, ‘Rod, we stopped after an hour and a half because the other British lads wanted to,’ I would have been annoyed, but I wouldn’t have made them ride again.
Another classic one came as we were driving home from a Premier Calendar: the Peter Longbottom memorial in late spring of 2004. The lads had done quite well – they didn’t get a result, but I thought they rode well together – and we were talking about the race when I took a phone call from Simon Lillistone: ‘We’ve got a problem. The owner of the house has had a complaint from the church opposite that there’s some kind of obscene drawing in the window.’ It was in the house where Matt Brammeier lived. With the lads listening in the back, I said, ‘You’re joking, Simon, you’re having a laugh,’ and I saw the lads going a bit quiet. I said, ‘What, a drawing?’ and all of a sudden I saw them snigger. I thought, ‘You little bastards.’ We pulled up outside the house, and they were all laughing.
My first reaction was, ‘Whoever’s done this, bloody hell, you’ve got a talent for drawing.’ There were two pictures: one was of a donkey with a great big knob, but the other one was horrendous – a big fat woman with her legs wide open and everything showing. I stopped myself from laughing and told them: ‘That’s horrendous. A house in a residential street, and you draw that. Who the hell did it, and why? You’ve got too much time on your hands.’ There was a disciplinary hearing with Simon and Dave Brailsford, because we’d also had acomplaint from the guy who owns the house. Dave gave them an earful. What I did was make them ride for a whole session – a full three hours – round the top of the velodrome.
That might not sound so bad, but riding round the top of the track rather than on the black line at the bottom means you’ve really got to concentrate. On a really good track like Beijing you don’t have abrupt transitions between the straights and the
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