Stockwell s retirement ends a truly wonderful career

Press, 14 November 1984, Page 40

Stockwell s retirement ends a truly wonderful career

It barely seems credible that the 1985 road cycling season will start without Blair Stockwell as firmly entrenched as ever at the helm of the sport in Canterbury. As the seasons rolled by in Stockwell’s 20-year career, it seemed the most remarkable of all New Zealand cycling careers would never end. But there was always that

sneaking feeling that as Stockwell neared his 35th birthday which comes about on December 17, that he might choose the time to retire. So he has, and that’s an appropriate time for the veil to be drawn. It was inconceivable that Stockwell would ever ride as a veteran. For far too long, he has been a frontranking member of the open

classes for him to enter an age-restricted classification, and indeed, just before he rode — and won — the Dulux tour for the last time, Stockwell said as much. If he did ride next year, doubtful as that was, said Stockwell, he wouldn’t ride veteran events. The Stockwell career almost defies description. It all started when he biked in from Rangiora on Saturday mornings to race with the Mairehau novice club, soccer boots dangling from the handlebars as he then went on to play soccer for St Andrew’s College.

Stockwell won his first race, but he didn’t continue to have spectacular successes: there were too many around who had a better sprint. But the sprint developed quickly, and that frequently proved Stockwell’s winning strength as he became a junior, the Harry Saundercock Memorial in 1966 the first of his important successes.

The subsequent victories are too many to recount, but the style of some of them remains vivid, even after a long passage of time.

Take the first national title, the junior individual pursuit, then over 4000 m, in 1967 at Western Springs. One of the better performed juniors of those days was Stuart Stephen, a year or so senior to Stockwell and highly regarded as a pursuiter.

Though wearing Canterbury colours, Stephen had spent much of his season in Auckland, and was almost regarded as one of their own. They couldn’t see him losing to his relatively unknown team-mate, and were chortling “told you so’s” as Stephen went into a handsome and early lead. But in those days, Stockwell’s coach, Wayne Thorpe, had him making a slow start as a matter of policy, and the consequential fast finish saw Stephen crushed. There had to be a rethink on the policy the following year. The last track meeting at Western Springs was also the final junior 4000 m championship; the next year, at Kew Bowl, it was an open event, and Stockwell outclassed the outstanding Canterbury seniors, John Cleary and Bill Kendall, to reach the final against Tony Ineson. As usual, he let the experienced Southlander take a good lead; as usual, Stockwell started coming back at him with a kilometre to ride. Then there was a blow-out, and under the rules of the time, the riders faced a re-ride of three laps. Stockwell cut back Ineson’s advantage savagely, but he was conceding too much, and thereafter, Stockwell rarely allowed a pursuit opponent too much rope. Track racing was to be his concentration for the first 10 years he rode at open level, and he fashioned a record of successes, particularly in individual and team pursuiting, unmatched at the time. Only once was he beaten in the individual — ill and injured, he went down to Robert Oliver in 1972. Only once was a Canterbury team of which he was a member beaten, in 1980.

There were two bronze medals at Commonwealth Games level: in the individual pursuit at Edinburgh in

1970, and the teams’ event at Christchurch four years later. And the Australian, Danny Clark, still so succedssful on the six-day circuits in Europe, always maintained that the hard ride Stockwell gave him in the semi-finals at Edinburgh cost him a gold medal. In the period 1969-71, Canterbury was starting the rise to dominance which has continued in New Zealand cycling, and Stockwell was the catalyst. New Zealand records were falling almost every week, and it was the aggression and industry of Stockwell which brought most of them about, many of them to himself, and at one point, he held nine national records, at distances ranking from one to 10 miles.

But some at the time held the view that Stockwell’s future lay on the road, that he was wasting his career on the track. That might have been so, and some events lend substance to the surmise that Stockwell might well have enjoyed greater successes had he turned to the road earlier.

There’s the counter, however, that this career of unprecedented length at the top level might well have come to an earlier conclusion had Stockwell always concentrated on the road. Not that he was without his successes in the early years. There was a road championship silver medal in 1970, a victory early in 1976, and a golden year in 1972. Just back from the Munich Olympics, and with a background of track training, Stockwell completely upstaged the road specialists. The one “failure” was the road championship, Stockwell twice falling victim to the crashes for which Vern Hanaray was held responsible, and for which he was stripped of the title. But Stockwell anchored Canterbury to one of its interminable 100 km team time trial wins; he won the tours in both Canterbury and Southland; and at his first attempt, he won the Dulux tour as well.

By 1980, Stockwell was 30, and told officially that he was too old for the big-time. He responded by winning the Dulux toiir for a recordequalling second time, making the decisive move with another old-stager in Hanaray, and in his victory speech, telling the gathering that it seemed a good year for blokes who were really too old for the game! The first five finishers in the Tour de France that year were all in their thirties. National selectors, too, came to the conclusion that age wasn’t really a factor where Stockwell was concerned. They continued requiring him for a succession of 100 km teams — and third placing yet again for Stockwell at Brisbane in 1982 was a bitter disappointment — and if he chose, they’d still be needing him. With the maturity of years came greater strength, not just on the

bike, but a strength of purpose and a strong motivation to maintain his proud standing. There would hardly be a cyclist or a follower in New Zealand who would not welcome a Stockwell success, even if acknowledgement came grudgingly because they, or their man, missed the top rewards. This was so because. Stockwell was never known to ride a negative race. Where even such an attacker as Hanaray, New Zealand’s finest road performer overseas, would have his quirks of fancy and form and bludge his way through a race, that was not Stockwell. He would continue to lead attacks or breakaways, or to do his share at the front of a bunch, even if it was to be the undoing of him. That meant any victory, was never undeserved, and as recently as this year, just a few days ago, the manager of the Australian contingent was unsparing in his praise of Stockwell’s Dulux tour victory. Don Closs said that with his leading hope, Stephen Fairless, in third place, a deal was struck with the second-placed 1 David Barnett in what seemed the only chance of unseating Stockwell. “We gave it as good a shot as we could,” was the gist of Mr Closs’s message, “but we didn’t look like hurting him. He probably deserved that win as much as any of his victories.” It was totally fitting that Stockwell not only went out with a 1 record third win in the Dulux, but also won his last road race — the final stage. He has a taste of the occasion, does Stockwell, in these things. He won the New Zealand 50km points race championship in 1980 and didn’t ride the track again. Honours and adulation have been bestowed heftily on Stockwell, and and they’re nothing more than his due. He got the M.B.E. for his services to the sport, and that was a rightful honour. When he was riding with youngsters who weren’t even born when Stockwell

first rode for New Zealand, he could have demanded they treat him with respect and deference. But that wasn’t the Stockwell way. He was ever a level-headed, eventempered sort of person on the bike, and only once did I see him flare up in action, that when he became distressed with Hanaray’s crash-resultant tactics at Nelson in 1972. That memory is vivid, because of its rarity. The Stockwell career is over, and some have said that the decision is premature. Why should ’ the man get out when he’s aS good as ever? But the time is right. Stockwell is still at his peak, and for one who has covered all of his great career, it’s nice to know that not to follow is the sorrow at the inevitable decline. There won’t be his like again. RAY CAIRNS.