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Writer's pictureRoger Young

Where my bread was buttered


Late season stage race in Flanders with Luke Fetzer.

Memories of Belgium


Last week my anecdote began with me, a teenage American, having tea and chat in the office of one of the most important people in the sport of cycling. How did that occur? Long story which I will attempt to truncate.


The cycling culture in Belgium was (and still is) centered on the fans or “supporters” as they are called. As a local rider you have a cafe where your supporters gather to “share” whatever thoughts and emotions they want to express about you. When you win, your trophies go on display at your supporters cafe. Likewise there’ll be photos of you and other artifacts on exhibition. This cafe is also where fans meet and plan short trips to go and see you race, organizing car caravans, car loads of supporters with designated drivers so everyone else in the cars can drink to their heart’s content.



Anyway, as a young junior and amateur my supporters cafe was far from Belgium on Cadieux Street in Detroit, in a neighborhood with thousands of Belgian immigrants.


I was (one of) the adopted local riders the neighborhood supported - and when it came to racing in Belgium I went to stay with the family of the Cadieux cafe owner whose sister lived in the flemish village of Wakken. In fact most of the Belgians living in my neighborhood had families from Wakken and neighboring hamlets. Thus in the country of Belgium I had a built-in supporters club which included the mayor and most of the population of Wakken.





One wintery evening the mayor of Wakken called a meeting where hundreds of citizens gathered to plan a Christmas outing to Gent in order to cheer on the American boy who they’d watched winning races in Flanders the previous summer. Now it was the track and the prospect of a real festival! No kidding; they rented four tour busses and hired a dance hall (for the way home from the races) - and they bought almost 10% of all the seats in the stadium.



This brought the attention of the race director, Oscar Daemers. Oscar probably thought: "Are you kidding? A junior whom I don’t have to pay a contract for is bringing in a considerable percentage of the gate? What’s not to like?"


Mr. Daemers on the left with his back to us as he awards Tommy Simpson for a win in Gent

Oscar Daemers himself was a champion track racer. He knew the sport from a number of dimensions and always had wise advice for my racing career (as long as it included a number of races there in Gent).


From that Christmas on Mr. Daemers was very helpful and friendly to me when I was young (and cheap) - and my group of supporters grew beyond the small roads around Wakken eventually including fans from as far away as Antwerp. I’ll always appreciate the tips Oscar Daemers gave me as an Amateur and was one of hundreds who’d attended his funeral. He had a friendly smile, an animated character, and a heart in the sport (and business).




Oscar Daemers never saw me turn professional and becoming another rider “stealing the butter from his bread”. Thank God for that...

Take care, ride hard, have FUN!

Roger


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