By Al Barouh

The Red Hook Milano course is a bit different than the Brooklyn course. It’s a 1.8 kilometer, smooth, yet technical circuit with 10 technical turns including two chicanes following each other. There is a bit of elevation on the back stretch which leads into a descent that leads you into the most technical turn 400 meters to the finish.

I came into the race feeling confident but also wary of my competitors, especially the unknown Italians who appeared to be very strong, organized and quite serious on decimating the Americans and sweeping the results. I was especially wary of "His Majesty", a 47-year old former pro tour rider and world champion of presumably some sort of track racing disciple. The field also consisted of a u-23 racer who had raced the baby giro (Popovych’s domestic), salaried grandfondo riders and european amateur elite road and track racers.

The crowd was gigantic, there was a band, there was a lead moto with a camera man on board and there was a temporary bar. It was a spectacle to say the least. After warming up for 45 minutes and getting the stare down from a number of Italian racers I lined up at the start. It was cold. No more than 50 degrees. Trimble did call ups and since I took 6th last year I made it to the first row of racers with most of the other Americans. 85 racers lined up behind us. Dave Trimble announced 5 minutes to the start….then 2 minutes, 1 minute…..I notice the Italian next to me twitching….his legs and arms tense waiting to jump off the line. 30 seconds….Trimble screams GO! and we are standing on our pedals, clipping and in sprinting towards the first corner. I take the corner 3rd wheel, move up to 2nd on the 2nd corner and take the lead as I approach the first of two chicanes. The lead moto with the camera man on board had not expected us to jump so quick and I am literally within 5 feet of him smelling his exhaust from his two stroke as he struggles to navigate the chicanes with me screaming at him to move and attempting to snap the field apart in the first kilometer.

I keep the pressure on for the first lap, drilling it and hoping the field is shattering behind me. As I approach the start/finish I remember there is a 1st lap prime and pour it on even more. With about 5 feet to go, Neil Bezdek comes up on my right and steals the prime from me. I turn around, see the field is single file, but still together, roughly 25 racers. I move to the back of the field and sit in for a lap to recover.

For the next 8 laps or so the pace kept pretty high. It’s almost always strung out single file with the occasional lull followed by a sharp attack with everyone giving chase. I sit in…tail gunning and watching people pop off left and right.

Negotiation the course with 20 or so racers is an incredible challenge. Most turns can or should be only taken no more than 2 abreast and everyone is fighting to move up all the time. With 12 laps to go I blink and my right contact flies out. No worries, I can still see well enough. Depth perception is a bit off but i can manage just fine. With 9 laps to go I see my opportunity to attack, Gabe Loyd (Metlife rider) gets pulled back after an attack and I drill it through the start finish/line, take the turn with as much speed as I can and don’t look back. I can hear the crowd screaming. I pass through the chicanes and keep going, hit the rise and look back to see I have a nice gap, but "His Majesty" is on the front rolling his massive gearing chasing me down. He pulls me in as we pass the start/finish line, 8 laps to go.

I look for the counter but the pace is kept high. Again, I move to the back and tail gun, rather confident that it will now come down to a bunch sprint. At least 15 racers still remain and everyone looks punchy. No one wants to let anything go.

With 4 to go I blink and my left contact goes to the back of my eye. I’m in trouble now. I’m near sighted. My vision isn’t horrible, but it also isn’t great either. Everything goes a bit soft and I really can’t discern which racers are which. I think for a moment that I should pull out but I realize that I would hate myself if I end my race prematurely after traveling all the way to Italy. I find Gabe Loyd’s wheel, know he is a good racer and decide to follow him for a while.

With 2 go I begin to work on positioning. I know going into the final technical turn being top 5 wheels is critical so I begin to move up in the straights and in the corners. Everything becomes far more aggressive. No one wants to blow this. With 1 to go we roll through the start line and I hear Trimble ringing the bell. The pace is through the roof. No one wants to be at the back. As we hit the uphill I jump with Neil and we move up taking the first few wheels. More people jump in front and I find myself 6th wheel behind "His Majesty". We hit the downhill technical turn with the most speed all night and I watch "His Majesty" lose his nerve. He cuts hard right and pulls the plug going down a side road. I move up automatically and find myself 5th wheel. We hit the final soft left hander and Neil jumps, Ortu jumps, the Italian in front of me jumps and I jump. I move around the Italian and begin to move up on Neil and Ortu but run out of course. Neil wins by half a bike length, ortu 2nd, myself 3rd.

For a moment I am jubilant that I’ve podiumed, but then realize I’m coming into the next incredibly technical turn with way too much speed and not at the right angle. I lock up and proceed to skid for almost 30 feet, realize that I won’t make it and turn the bike towards the curb that has no bollards in the way. I attempt to hop the curb, hit my front wheel, crack the rim, pop the tubular and fly over the front of my bike. I roll and in a moment I’m up. Nothing is broken. The crowd is staring at me concerned and I’m smiling. I indicate that I’m fine and someone passes me a beer. All is good.

I need to get lasik or race with prescription glasses.

Here’s a rough cut of a 30 minute show on the race.