8 April 2002
Val Thorens at the Workers Challenge
You may have read the results.
We were pleased.
It started with an email from Iain. Still smarting with the indignity of no entry for the ChamJam, we were definitely going to show this time. Rumours of a team that had been practising for a month, however, couldn’t have been more misplaced. I was still trying to find a final member for the ski team at eleven o’clock the night before. The board team, under the gallant captaincy of Fat Bob, was completed a matter of minutes before their first play-off. These facts accounting for our somewhat unimaginative names. But I wouldn’t try and deny our competitors the right to some disgruntled mutterings, it was after all a complete drubbing; albeit a good natured one.
Actually,
maybe that’s not quite fair. As far as the board team
went, even though they won the final in the first two of three
runs, it was touch and go a few times. In fact the first race
was one of their closest, some commiseration to a team that
was perhaps unluckily knocked out earlier than their skill
deserved. And the front runner of Sno Limit, who lost the
final, was certainly the fastest boarder on the field. It’s
credit to Matt that he stayed within his own, pretty damn
fast, envelope; instead of trying to catch up like most other
lead riders had, many to a time consuming fall. In fact you’d
have to say consistency was what separated our guys from the
others. Few falls, and a team solid enough to creep past over
all the runners. Total respect to Fat Bob, Matt, Martin, Leslie
and Simon.
The
ski team comprised of Christian, Caroline, Rick, Joachim and
Peder. Yeah ok, the particularly astute among you will have
worked out that there’s some Scandies in there. Basically
Roland Browning’s share of the seasonnaires up here are
Scandies. There’s maybe 65 Brits, more than half of whom
are boarders, and most of the remainder are birds (some of
whom blade, though we try and keep that under wraps). I’d
have been hard pushed to get an all Brit team together if
I’d wanted to. But frankly I didn’t want to, because
the Scandies were better, and that would have involved me
racing. Me, with my gammy knee, bad back and any number of
other perfectly plausible excuses. No thanks, though it was
looking likely for a while on Tuesday night.
Wednesday
night was a much happier occasion, after our double victory.
Most of the board team being chalet bitches, they had to go
straight back after the races to bake cakes or percolate petrol
into wine, or whatever those guys do of an evening. So the
ski team and me, in some managerial guise, took the prizes
in La Tania, and roared back Belleville-ward at break brake
speed, because it was also the T-party; and I still had to
set up and start the karaoke (courtesy of Simon and Ultimate
Events).
You
should have got the gist of the letter party thing by now,
so I’ll just run through some highlights: Rick went as
Terry; Terry went as Wendy (who’s a Transvestite, as
well as a diesel engineer, and one of the nicest people you
could hope to meet); Hannah was Tank Girl; the Nannies were
Three little pigs; Wurzel was a Tramp, and thus smartened
up for the evening; the ever lovely Emma was Tinkerbell; Lucy
was a Tomato; Sian was a brilliant Television, and the source
of innumerable big box gags; Gregor was Sian (Team Leader)
continuing his persecution of Crystal management; the Tigers
titillated; the Toddlers introduced instant paedophilia in
several of the Tarts; I went as a Trainspotter; Dan went as
me (Trig); Dave and Josh both attached appendages the like
of which would make Dirk Diggler feel slightly under-endowed,
and were presumably Tremendously well hung; and the Trailer
Trash, well, got trashed.
The
board team went as themselves, since this was hardly a night
for heroes to disguise. And I don’t mind telling you,
there were tears in some eyes as they were handed their prizes.
Natives Hoodies, a meal at Bar Le Jump and a holiday each
in the La Tania Mountain Centre. For a moment the whole resort
felt like we’d achieved something, knew that we’d
arrived. The prizes were for the players, but the honour was
everyone’s. It was an instant in time where you could
almost touch the solidarity in the room.
And then we got pissed and started fighting.
Report from Jon
Trigell - Natives Resort
Reporter in Val
Thorens
Check out www.powderblue.nu for more insider info
Mail
this page to a friend
What do you think? Tell us on the Message
Boards
