The most fun you'll have on two wheels – Since 2006
Heres a cool little #tbt video from 2007 about the New York scene leading up to ESPIs.
Its a rad look into polos formative days, when polo was still like the wild west. Its great to see that how much dedication they had through the winter! Also Doug D. if you’re reading this will you sell us hardcourtbikepolo.com?
So, someone shave Zach’s beard for the greater good. And I wish I didn’t know Chombo’s name was actually John:(
[Editor’s note from Zac S in italics]
Late last night, I got an email from an individual who wanted to be known only as HandlebarMustache420. He/she wanted to share an article that had been rejected at several other blogs, and asked if we at Boston Bike Polo would post it on our blog. I love R. Kelly and I love scattered ramblings so I’m going to take a chance on this anonymous blogger and hope that the people out there are receptive to this type of insanity.
Here BBP presents to you: Polo and R. Kelly, by HandlebarMustache420.
I think a lot about the culture of bike polo. What kind of people are we? And what kind of people do we aspire to be? Generally speaking, I think we are an active, athletic, and friendly group of people. I try not to let a few bad apples ruin the bunch, and for the most part we can all be very charming, and very alluring to people looking for new hobbies. Bike polo also has a dark side; the sport sometimes displays qualities one might find in an abusive partner (not my analogy, but I like it a lot). You have unexplainable cuts and bruises on your arms and legs, and you keep trying to rationalize all of the emotional and physical pain. I haven’t even mentioned the money: where does it go? Travel costs? Mallet equipment? Beer fund? Most importantly, the sport often makes decisions that impact you without asking. At the end of the day, though, bike polo whispers sweetly, “you’re body is callin’, baby,” with an R. Kelly-esque knowing wink.
Yeah, I know R. Kelly is allegedly a rapist, and make no mistake, it breaks my heart. He is one of my musical idols and the composer of my favorite karaoke songs and middle school jams. We all know that bike polo is co-ed, and most of my best friends in the polo world are women. I have a lot of respect for them as people, and even respect for their talent and toughness on the court. I am not a “feminist” in the traditional sense, so does it make me an accessory to sexism if I listen to his new album, even though most of the songs on Black Panties celebrate women and their bodies?
Ok, you’re right. R. Kelly doesn’t really “celebrate” women. For the most part he only honors a very specific part of the female anatomy. The really odd thing is, R. Kelly will sing a song about proposing marriage to a girl’s vagina (seriously— the song is called Marry The Pussy and it’s on his newest album, “Black Panties”), and on the next track fall to his knees and pray for forgiveness from his dead mother in heaven. It’s perplexing, but to me it’s completely enthralling. I want to believe that R. Kelly is just a character whose sexual antics I can laugh about, but deep down I know he has urinated on 15-year old girls, and obviously I do not idolize or even condone that kind of behavior. And I especially do not want to be on the receiving end of a golden shower, no matter how much Cristal there is poppin’ in the stretch Navigator.
That said, am I a bad person for blasting his jams on speakers at polo tournaments? I don’t want to be insensitive to anyone, and so far I haven’t run into anyone that doesn’t “toot toot” and “beep beep” when Ignition (Remix) comes on. Is there really nothing wrong with a little bump and grind? Or am I perpetuating a precedent: that women are to be objectified and disrespected and reduced to sex objects?
With the recent gender kerfuffle in the polo world, I just wanted to let all the wonderful ladies out there know: I care about the issues. I swear I do. They mean more to me than you might expect. And statistically, women live longer than men, meaning that they will have to live with the repercussions of the Polo Don Drapers of the world for on average three to five years longer than everyone else. So the next time you feel like saying something biased, prejudiced, or just plain stupid, compare yourself to R. Kelly and do the exact opposite of that.
-HandlebarMustache420
[Editor’s note again, Zac S]
Wow… that went places I wasn’t expecting. Anyway I agree about women being awesome, but I think R. Kelly should be left in the jukeboxes and off the polo court. And that’s coming from someone who loves screaming Bump ‘n Grind at the top of his lungs.
Before GQ, even the Beavers put their time in on the Allston Courts.
Gus snapped this photo for legitbikepolo.com at ESPI IV in Boston, 2009. No nets, ski poles and not even one front brake. And take a look at these whips! What a long way we’ve all come since 2009, except Alexis, he hasn’t changed a bit.
Heres to another 4 years of mind bending progression for our sport!
Bonus close up:
¿
photo: bostonbikepolo
photo: Grace Donnelly
photo: Dominique Rio Frío
Marco (@philthycourier) just ‘gramed his ESPI shirt collection from ESPI, ESPI 2, ESPI 3, and ESPI 4, (the latter having been held here in Boston. Eastside polo history goes back quite a ways relative to other regions, but since “qualifiers” were adopted, there hasn’t been all that much to write home about. Only a small handful of Bostonian poloistas have continued to play since ESPI 4. Can the “new generation” of Eastsiders (looking at you, Sprinks) live up to our wild and crazy past?
Dude, man, Marco, thanks for the shot!
I was lurking the polo-web pretty hard and I came upon this photo of this rad knife fight court an anonymous polo legend has constructed. If you have a garage, a basement, a boat, or any extra space, you shall build a knife fight court.
This is an open love letter to Boston and Boston Bike Polo.
Boston is probably one of the worst biking cities in North America. I don’t know why specifically; it could be because of the generally unfavorable road conditions, the oblivious and ornery automobile drivers, or the roads that look like someone dropped a handful of spaghetti on a map. The city and its bureaucrats hate that we play polo on the hockey court in Allston, the hockey players hate that we use the rink more than they do, and hardcore road cyclists with their $4000 Cannondales hate the way that we represent bikers to others on the road (no helmets, ignoring traffic signals, bombing one-way streets the wrong way, etc.)
I have a theory: all of this hate directed towards Boston Bike Polo brings us closer together as a community. The fact that the city of Boston generally sucks is in fact the glue that binds us. When the weather isn’t great, we get together and play awesome board games and drink beers and geek out until 3am. When the court is covered with a foot of snow and the forecast looks promising, we strap on our duck boots, grab our shovels and a 12-pack of Sam Adams, and we scrape that lumpy white devil powder (not the fun kind) off of our court. When the city says we can’t do something, we secretly do it anyway, and then we light a bunch of firecrackers.
There is a reason that I feel more comfortable with my polo friends than I do with the people I work with. I can truly be myself: unashamed that I make more shitty puns and more dick jokes than any reasonable adult in his mid-twenties ought to. Polo gives me an excuse to fly to Puerto Rico for the better part of a week with my best friend, and subsequently forget to wear sunscreen on the beach. Polo gives me a relatively healthy outlet for my desire for carnage.
Boston is not a fun city. The bars close at 1am, the T stops at 12:30, and the city resents me as a resident. Every year my friends tell me they want to move, and every year I get more excited when they don’t. You guys, I don’t want to be here either. I have weekly fantasies about moving to other dope polo cities like Austin or Toronto or San Francisco or Lexington. However, it’s when I travel to other cities that I hear whispers of people saying they want to move to Boston, and let me tell you, you wouldn’t regret it if you did.
Come April, if you need me, you can find me sprawled shirtless on the docks of the Charles River with my Harpoon IPA in a Freaker, warning other kids not to touch the bottom when they dive into the water. -ZS
