Bitches Brew - Going Mainstream Can Make or Break an Emerging Sport

Well, guys, it's happened. It's finally here. We've 'done it'.

Mountain biking is officially mainstream.

How do I know this, you ask? Over the last six days, I've seen four different mainstream commercials on major TV networks featuring mountain biking as the "activity of awesome." One was a women's deodorant/antiperspirant commercial (Secret), one was an advertisement for a classically suburban car company (Volvo), one was selling a major credit card (Chase Bank) and the last showcased the benefits of fueling at a particular oil company/gas station franchise (Chevron).

That's a whole lotta air time, kids - and cumulatively, quite the pile of corporate marketing dough. So, we'll say that mountain biking is mainstream. SWEET! We're getting increased exposure. We're pulling in consumer interest. We're considered 'cool' and folks actually know our beloved sport exists. Hell yeah!

However, I'm not popping the champagne quite yet. We've come a long way, but we're not even to the halfway point of this mainstream marathon. Why? Because as a biking community and an action sports culture, we still struggle with the TRUE key to commercial success and sustainable industry-wide growth: inclusiveness.

Some of us struggle with small amounts of possessiveness over our local trails, or we're territorial about a particular discipline or clothing choice (see Lycra vs baggies), while a few of us are totally dickwad elitist bastards. Mountain biking has a 'vibe' problem, and it's going to cost us - big time. Now, I know you're shaking your head behind that computer monitor and telling yourself that mountain biking is the friendliest sport, like, EVER! But, if you didn't ride bikes and you didn't have your trail buddies or build crew, would you still believe that? Think about it: what was the general reaction at your local shop when a squid walked in asking about 24-inch wheels for his fresh new downhill bike from Walmart? What about that goober at the trailhead who can't figure out those shiny new clipless cleats? Or the parent taking their kid out for a ride without extra tubes and basic trail tools?

The way we treat inexperienced newcomers to mountain biking sums up our industry as a whole, and can easily predict the future growth of our sport. With our unparalleled vibing talents and hazing methods, cycling in general is one of the top three worst industries to be 'the new guy' and it not only reflects poorly on on cyclists, but it inhibits sustainable growth and industry profitability. How do I know? I was once one of those dorky newbies. Just a few short years ago (yes, GASP, I haven't been riding or racing for decades), I was that new gaper with the ugly-ass goober helmet wearing hand-me-down shorts and DH shoes. Just three years ago, I was a rookie racer with lots of enthusiasm and no goddamn clue of what I was doing. Hell, I'm still a newcomer in most groups, but I don't broadcast it and I'm often confused for one of the dirt veteran ladies because I've done my homework and look the part.




I still vividly remember the first time I showed up to race, terrified and worried like a kid on the first day of school. Rewind back even further (about seven years ago) to when I bought my first 'grown up' bike at a local shop; I was petrified. 'Terror' didn't begin to describe my fear of those scary cool shop dudes. I did everything wrong, afraid of being 'vibed out' in a bike town. Instead of asking for questions from people more experienced than I, opted for late nights in front of a screen trying to decipher what the hell an angle set was and why chain lube mattered. I also struggled for months to figure out the secret to changing a downhill tire, too proud to simply admit to being an idiot and seeking out someone smart enough to know about tire beads.

My experience and knowledge of the industry has changed since those first awkward forays into the magical world of mountain biking, but my perception hasn't. We still need to make room for the new kid. We've made leaps and bounds commercially since I started riding bikes again, but inside of the 'core' population we're still as cold and isolating as ever. Is it part of our cultural fabric? Absolutely. Should it cost us our future? No. In fact, why are we even so obsessively possessive about mountain biking/cycling/riding anyway? As far as I'm aware, I didn't create mountain biking. I wasn't the first downhill racer to ever ride. I wasn't born atop two wheels, pedaling around the delivery room in a giddy dance of newborn talent. I didn't build the first trail, I didn't dream up the concept of lift-served mountain biking or IMBA or even the idea that full suspension was a good idea. None of us did. We're all just riders, building and spinning and laughing our asses off, doing what we love. Saying that we're cold or unfriendly towards new riders because we want to 'keep the sport small' to help 'maintain integrity' is bullshit. Utter BULLSHIT. Unless you're one of the first greats who pioneered this fabulous mountain cycling thing and then introduced the world to our beautiful sport, shut up and ride your damn bike, because you're just an ink dot in long line of never ending riders who fell head over heels with someone else's sport. You were a beginner too, just like I was, and just like millions of other people... And we do all of this because we want FUN.

Most entry-level mountain bikers testing the waters for the first time are doing it for a multitude of different reasons, but one remains king: having fun. Like Cindy Lauper said, "Girls just wanna have fun". Ultimately, that's why we're all here. That's why you wheel that rolling metal contraption out of your garage every morning at 6AM to get a ride in before work. Fun is why we spend so much time at jobs we can't stand, making money to subsidize our addiction to shiny parts and the euphoria of spinning out on perfect single track. Fun is why we cajole our buddies to ditch their wives and responsibilities on a Saturday to go test out a new trail we just found on that old Forest Service map, and why we crack open cold beers after that 'trail' ends up being an 18-percent grade only a moose could have cut into the side of a thorn bush forest. Fun is why we want to share this magnificent, ridiculous sport, and why we breathlessly race each other back to the top of the jump line. Fun. And fun is what our new friends want, too. They want to feel the exhilaration of topping out a 10-mile, lung-busting climb and seeing the view for the first time. Fun is the reason they'll deal with saddle sores and bloody elbows and black toenails and angry partners because they forget the milk after an epic shuttle session. Fun is why we do this, and fun is why we need to remember that all of these 'goobers' and 'squids' and 'newbies' and 'gapers' and 'tourists' are our best hope for a strong and healthy future. Fun is remembering that we all started out somewhere and because we too were once that clueless guy with no hope, and in order to keep the fun going, we need to reach out and help that newcomer.

How many times have we all seen 'that guy' struggling to change his tire, but without hope of actually getting the job done? How often have we witnessed a perfectly capable rider with a perfectly capable bike hiking down a trail that with a few technique tips or some inspiration from a friend, they could have easily mastered? How often have we stepped in to help? In most instances, being offered help by a more experienced rider or mechanic feels like a god-send. It also is pretty damn cool to be that god-send building trust and loyalty in a fellow human who later passes it on, continuing the cycle of goodwill and fun.

Inclusion is a make-or-break it quality of a successful athletic industry. Looking at any oft-beloved mainstream sport, the strongest characteristic of that sport's success is how much it's fans and athletes feel part of it. Look at football, basketball or baseball: how many loyal-to-the-death fans do these disciplines have, even amongst those who don't actively participate in the sport? Millions. Hundreds of millions. Why? Because they feel included. They get a return on their investment of time, energy and money that's irreplaceable. Why is fantasy football so popular? Because those participating in FF feel as though they're 'part of the game'. Growing mountain biking is more than just camera angles and bigger features and scarier consequences. It's larger than athlete contract payouts and prize purses. It's more important than just some marketing hype, because growing our sport means connecting and engaging with each other and yes, those newcomers. It's about making them want to be part of our community and helping them decide to make their own investment in it, which means we need to start including them.

Am I preaching about being best friends with every person on two wheels, despite an aversion to Lycra or cigar-breaks? Am I making a case to turn everything into a green-level, smooth-as-glass flow trail in the congenial spirit of inclusiveness? No... Not even close. Hell no. What I AM suggesting is that we tread a little lighter on the 'new guy' and maybe dial the hazing back. Maybe we chat up our chairlift partner or wave hello at the strangers in the parking lot, or even invite that thirsty-looking 'goober' out for a beer while extolling the virtues of putting pads on BEFORE the jersey. I'm suggesting that we take five minutes out of our day to grow our sport and give back to the community by putting our biases aside to invest in the future of mountain biking by being nice to a stranger... Just once. Or twice. Or even three times. And then maybe we'll start to realize how much FUN it is to see someone progress or the light come into their eyes about having a new friend in their new sport. Maybe we'll see a bit of the reason we ride in this new gal's face, and we'll be inspired to reach out to more people and make more friends. Maybe sharing our fun will make the sport more fun and, in the long term, just a bit healthier.