Hit your Passion with a Stick: Bike Polo in San Diego

Bike polo, San Diego! Yes, bike polo. We have arrived! Well, in typical San Diego cycle culture fashion, a couple years later than the rest of the nation. What makes bike polo here unique? The singularly laid-back, yet fervent dedication to cycling as a culture first, and a sport second. I heard we had a “bike polo thing going on” and ever the slow-witted rider, I couldn’t wrack my brain to figure what bike polo would entail. Guys in Izod shirts, popped collars, and spray-on tans? Heavily tattooed fixed gear riders? Couriers, using daily street skills in balls-out competition against other couriers as a relief measure? Commuters, tired of riding strait mile after strait mile? BMX-ers looking for the next thrill?

So, I went. Essentially to see and know, but also maybe to play a little, just to get a feel. Instead of my typically surreal outlook, after riding a match, I discovered that there’s more here to talk about, and most likely a continuing story on Bike San Diego.

Enter, Chris. A Washington DC transplant, Chris arrived in San Diego looking for places that cycling fit him and he fit cycling. From participation in advocacy events, to local weekly rides, or his bike commute, there were a wide variety of places to get in.

Chris is unassuming when you meet him. Not short, nor tall, his personality is not one of the engaging salesman, nor is he the shy bystander. He’ll tell you less about himself, but more ask you to get out and play. He’s humble, but persistent, in bringing a form of cycling to San Diego that has been growing, if not exploding, around the U.S. since about 2007.

Bike polo first started in 2009, early August. Chris says that at first, most people came to watch, and few would play. Aggravating? A little, but more disappointing. It was weekly(ish) at first, then the sites available for play changed a few times, and  the games lost a few players. Wednesday nights fell to about 10 people. Then the lights went off.

But as most urban movements go, new venues were scouted and a new location was found. Chris asked a local sports group if they could leave lights on perhaps another 30 minutes after their game, and a new location was established. It was off and on according to Chris, but there’s a core that will keep showing up. Location appeared to be everything.

I show up at 7:00 one evening. There’s a few people milling about, coming and going. I’m eyed a bit suspiciously ~ the newbie always is at any event. A few come out to introduce themselves eventually, then more. Friends are calling each other, riding with each other colorfully over the phone about showing up. Eventually, a crowd of about 35 show up.

Chris takes a bunch of homemade bike polo mallets out and throws them (yes, throws them) into the center of the court. Watching later, this is part of the game, throwing it out there for others to get started. Some have arrived with their own mallets. Chris takes some time to explain how the mallets are made. Used ski poles from garage sales, thrift shops, or basements are cut to size and a short length of plastic pipe is attached at one end. While economy isn’t necessarily the name of the game, Chris is making something that gets smashed around as part of the game, so a little bit of thrift probably softens the impact.

It looks ramshackle at first, but Chris points out some key build items: after I suggest cheap schedule 40 sprinkler pipe, he tells me that “It shatters too fast. A friend helped me track down this stuff. They use it for electrical cable underground, it’s kind of soft so it won’t shatter. He said he’s going to be getting more.” I think I’ve seen ski poles somewhere, Chris presses me for a location — you can tell he’s going to build more. It’s subtle, but you realize that he’s built about 20 of these himself, but he won’t say this out loud, and only just barely if you press him about it.

I ride around a nearby court, practicing with the mallet, hitting the ball a little, trying to scoot it around, and see if I can keep focus on this, and the movement of 5 others who would potentially be nearby. After about 10 minutes of getting the hang of it –surprisingly it’s not that hard to hit the ball or scoot it, even for me — it’s back to watching.

It looks like potential anarchy. It looks like something that will end in disaster any minute.  You’re riding a bike with people and waving sticks around. But the object isn’t collision, or to knock anyone down. And after watching for a while on edge for carnage, most crashes are simply stepping off the bikes when someone over-turns their forks. No one gets angry at a bump, even people on opposite teams cheer on slick moves. Not once was any anger or aggression visible. Women playing get no wide berth, they are equally skilled, and equally cheerful.

Walking and talking through the crowd, it’s almost as diverse as San Diego. Some clean-cut college kids from “up north,” a couple of middle-aged couriers, women from local bike shops, some veteran commuters, people who’ve lived in San Diego “all their life” and people just here from as far as North Carolina (complete with accent).

Chris plays just as much as he watches, and seems to be at the side of someone new every few minutes. At first, it would seem like he’s working the crowd, but up close, you get the feeling he’s just talking to friends.

Chris calls me out — more than once — and others do too. Encouragement, coupled with a little bit of goading “so, are you going to play?” I take the fender off, grab my helmet, and look over the playing field. Three people on each side, a small ball, and a goal zone about 3 feet wide. Start is called and before I get mid-court, someone has already hit the ball. I turn and am instantly close with oncoming riders. I turn again and am out of sync, but the ball comes by, and nearly closing my eyes, I swing. Someone cheers. Somehow, I’ve hit the ball between my wheels and shot it back towards the correct goal. In a while, I get with the rhythm of the game and it’s…well…fun. Not intense, not an adrenaline rush, but fun.

Riders, I learn later, knock the ends of their mallets as a form of congrats; funny enough, I thought at first this was some sort of joust and steered off. There’s no winded feeling from the constant slow, accelerate, slow accelerate and turn, switch turn. The game is over almost as soon as it started, if not sooner. Mallets are then thrown back out into the center. I watch for a while, then load up for the ride home.

There are two things to this story. First, something new that is establishing itself here in San Diego. Typically, we’re a bit late on anything, but we always make it our own. Bike polo is something that, by all rights, should take off in huge ways this year. The second thing is Chris himself. In reading his blog and talking with him, you get the sense that Chris “get’s it.” That is, he doesn’t want to be the establisher, nor does he want to be in control of bike polo; Chris just wants to do something with other cyclists, something fun. He’s seen other cities build up their bike events and knows San Diego has a place for this as well. It’s an admirable thing he does and we here in San Diego are indebted to him for it.

Chris says he’d love to see teams, in addition to simple pick-up games like they have now. Perhaps bike shop-sponsored teams, perhaps different leagues as well. Chris has the patience to see it through, it will happen.

So, some out there are asking if bike polo is something they can do. Read up on the SD bike polo blog, and give it a try. It’s open to all.