Despite the shade of the overpass, we can feel the heat radiating from the pavement all around us. It’s 98 degrees. The sun’s already put in a long, desperate day, firing the pavement like clay in an overheated kiln. Above us, a steady whoosh of traffic stirs a bit of air but drops an invisible layer of ash-fine dust that settles in the shadows of these pylons and accumulates over time.
Andy Larsen throws a leg over his bicycle. He wraps his fingers around a ski pole that has never seen ice or snow. In its new life, this winter sports standby has been sawed off and shoved into PVC piping to form a mallet.
Larsen twirls the mallet and explains the first rule about bike polo: Don’t be a jerk. Except that’s not the word he uses. Bike polo has roots in the British isles. But in its contemporary American form, it’s definitely a street sport. There are certainly no penalties for using colorful language, and, Larsen explains, “Trash talking is generally encouraged, as long as it’s in good fun.”
Larsen formed Baton Rouge Bike Polo earlier this year. After learning the sport in New Orleans, he decided he’d start a brand-new league in Baton Rouge so he could save on travel time and gas money while growing the sport. Now, a regular group meets on Sunday afternoons to become more nimble at riding and swinging the mallet.
Big-city bike polo players in spots such as New York and Chicago spend the week polishing their skills as bike messengers. In Baton Rouge, players come from all walks (or wheels?) of life. Some have cycling backgrounds, while others are new at riding. Most don’t wear spandex. Helmets are optional.
The Baton Rouge players traveled to a tournament in Atlanta in June, and players from Florida and other nearby states have come to play here in Baton Rouge, too.
By one o’clock on a recent Sunday, a motley group of guys has gathered under the I-110 near the intersection of America and East streets.
Larsen and the other players place four cones to make goal posts, two on each end of the shaded parking lot. They lay down two-by-fours where there aren’t any curbs to keep the street hockey ball from rolling out of bounds.
It’s game time.
Players split into two teams of three and toss their mallets into a criss-cross pile. Each rider plucks up a mallet and hoists it. The ball is tossed into play.?Larsen recommends not bringing your $2,000 Trek to play bike polo. It’s best to have a rig you can fix cheaply, since the clank of metal on metal is common during even the friendliest of matches. Riders in Baton Rouge show up on “beater” road bikes, fixed-gear style bikes and even mountain bikes.
Players can brake and bolster themselves on their buddies or mallets at a bike polo match, but if players put a foot down, they’re expected to ride over to a large traffic cone on the sidelines and tap it as a penalty.
Riders score by whacking the ball between the cones. It’s important to hit the ball with the small end of the mallet. Hitting it with the long side is called a “shuffle” and doesn’t count as a score.
Many of the local players are still learning, so the games are slower than they are in big cities, where the fast breaks can be vicious. Larsen tells the story of a player who got “core-sampled” through the lung at a tournament in New York. Here in Baton Rouge, beginners are welcomed with friendly advice and encouraged as they master the art of balancing on a bike at a crawling speed—something that’s far trickier than you’d think—as well as sudden, leg-searing accelerations and steering the bike while carrying a big stick.
Player David Hayes coaxes the ball. Standing mantis-like on his pedals, he pounces, then strikes the ball with a “thwack!” It skitters between the cones despite the crash of a group of riders who descend upon it at once in attempt to stop it with a mallet or a set of spokes.
“Go-aaal!” barks Larsen. His voice echoes against the pylons. Everyone’s wearing a wide grin, like happy Labradors. Even the losing team.
Once a team reaches five goals, the winner is declared, mallets are tossed back to the pile, and everyone takes a water break before getting up and playing again.
Mark Lawrence, who works a desk job during the week, wipes his brow with his forearm.
“It’s just fun,” he says. “A lot of cities, the players are just random people. But these are my friends.”
For more information log onto brbikepolo.blogspot.com.
