A Dog in a Hat: An American Bike Racer's Story of Mud, Drugs, Blood, Betrayal, and Beauty in Belgium [ペーパーバック]

We all have in our own imagination ideas of what pro cycling is all about. When I was at the Tour de France in 2006 I was impressed by the professionalism of everything: the course organization, from barriers to route markings; the television coverage; the team buses-including the one I passed that smelled like a laundromat as I walked by since they were using the on-board washing machines! "A Dog in a Hat," the story of an American professional cyclist racing in Europe from 1987 to 1991, has none of these things and it probably gives a better impression of what pro cycling is really like, even today, than the rarified snippets we get from the top-level teams.

Joe Parkin was racing in California as an amateur when he met Team 7-Eleven racer Bob Roll, who told him to go to Belgium to race if he wanted to get serious. The hard-working Mr. Roll, who also wrote the, uh, colourful introduction to the book, is famous for his cycling work ethic and odd behavior, was right: it is hard to imagine a place where cycling is taken more seriously than Belgium.

So the innocent author makes his way to Europe to Brussels and moves in with the Albert Claeys family in Ursel. Albert, who owned a bar and sometimes drove a truck, was well-known as a sort of godfather to American cyclists in Europe, helping them to get established and find a team, as well as providing a bed.

The book describes in entertaining detail what it is like to be at the bottom of the pro ranks. Mr. Parkin had dreams of becoming King of the Mountains and felt that his talent was most suited to the shorter stage races. But it quickly becomes obvious just how difficult it is to even finish a race, let alone win one. As time goes on, Joe Parkin comes to the realization that he will not be King of the Mountains but has to accept that he is a good worker, a domestique, and that his role is that of a support rider.

Along the way this naive American, who on first hearing Flemish mistook it for Russian, becomes a kind of Belgian-American hybrid, absorbing the language and holding his own in the cycling culture. This is a culture that prizes toughness above all, and in his spare style he talks about the mud, the crashes, the disappointment. At the lowest level the environment is terrible, with talentless teammates, hotel rooms so awful it makes you laugh, and not much money when it actually does get paid. He has not papers to allow him be in Belgium, something that does not trouble team management very much, even when it means he will be deported. He does not shrink from describing the all-pervasive use of drugs in cycling, and the fixing of races.

The description of the drug use would be hilarious except for the ultimate repercussions: riders will take anything with minimal concern: the reactions range from getting faster to getting stupid. Doping controls seem minimal at best and team management does nothing to discourage illegal practices.

But as he improves Joe clearly enjoys being a professional-a European pro. Racing against amateurs in the UK's Milk Race or in races in the United States he is contemptuous of their lack of skill and discipline. When writing to team time trials, he talks of the focus and teamwork needed to succeed. He is proud of being able to control a race, going ahead and setting the pace and hauling back breakaways. Probably his greatest contribution was helping his team leader, Luc Roosen, win the 1991 Tour de Suisse. But in the end there is no new contract forthcoming (even though some of the team leaders consider pooling enough of their own money to let him ride at a minimum wage!) and he returned to the States. In 1992 he watched his teammates ride the Tour de France on television. He never went back to Flanders, and after doing some racing in the United States and then switching to mountain bikes he ended his career in 1997.

This book presupposes some understanding of the sport of bike racing, although explanations are given about race strategy in some cases, but does not require any in-depth knowledge to enjoy.

At the time of his Belgian adventures, Joe Parkin was one of only a handful of North Americans in European pro racing, all in the shadow of the mighty Greg Lemond who was considered such a superior cyclist that he was seen as some kind of freak, beyond any national classification. The title of this book, "A Dog in a Hat," is a translation of a Flemish expression meaning something unusual-Joe Parkin was told while racing to look for changes, to look for the dog, to indicate what was happening in the race. As an American racing for a European team in the late 1980s Joe Parkin was a kind of dog in a hat himself. The cycling public is served up stories about Lance Armstrong's victories over and over again as if the Tour de France is the only race but this plain, self-deprecating memoir has the ring of authenticity at the other end of the sport where even today not all the riders are being paid, the hotels are still bad and the races just as hard.

This is the story as told by a middle-of-the-road American professional bicycle racer, Joe Parkin. Mr. Parkin raced in Europe for a variety of professional teams, and found his biggest success as someone who would control a race for his team -- as opposed to try and win it for himself.

The book is completely linear, with no real theme or fabric that would make it more than the sum of its parts. Each chapter just tells what happened during one particular race, season or training period.

On the positive side, this book just reeks of authenticity. It's neither a whitewash nor a "tell-all." In fact, controversial subjects like doping and buying/selling race wins are discussed a flat way with very little moralizing. I came away with a real sympathy for the plight of racers, and an appreciation of the grim reality of the racing world.

After reading the book, I feel that a much better book would have been possible if Mr. Parkin's editor had made him discuss bicycle racing's current status through the lens of his own career. In fact, this book reads more like a time capsule journal that some other author will use as source material.

Bottom line: it could have been funnier, more insightful or more introspective. It couldn't have been more authentic. There's value in that!

July 4, 1987.

For Joe Parkin, that date provided special fireworks, as he signed his first professional cycling contract after a year of showing his stuff in the European amateur ranks. It was a start of wild ride of chasing dreams as - what the Belgians call - "a dog with a hat on" (something familiar, yet decidedly out of place).

The sketches in the memoir chronicle the five years that Parkin rode in the professional peloton as one of the few Americans competing full-time in Europe. Parkin mixes the craziness of the mobile road show with the controversies and tragedies that continue to grip the sport. "The European teams of that era (in Belgium especially) didn't think highly of goody-two-shoes riders," he writes. "Like the vaunted Blue Code of Silence among police, pro bike racing definitely had the Lycra Code of Silence."

But some initial impressions cover the entire course. Parkin was not impressed with the already bitter cyclist, Paul Kimmage, which was several years before he published a controversial book - Rough Ride - that exposed the shadows within professional cycling, including the illegal drug use on teams.

Parkin says he mostly avoided the performance-enhancing drugs of the day, only once taking a mixture of pop and a chalky substance during a particularly tough spot in a semi-classic event. It was given to him by a team official when he complained of an upset stomach.

"Many of the team managers, teammates, friends, and fans I had while living in Belgium would have looked at not taking the drugs as a failure to give 100 percent to being a cyclist," Parkin writes. "A doctor once told me that a well-trained athlete can find about 85 percent of his potential, whereas a well-trained athlete on amphetamines will be able to perform at 105 percent."

But through such pressure comes some incredibly hilarious moments. At one point, Parkin found himself being deported from Belgium when it could not be officially determined what cycling entity was paying his salary and he had a number of high-speed moments in cabs and team vehicles while just trying to get to events.

A brief conversation with Greg LeMond during one major event - as the pair struggled in the back of the pack - found the legendary Tour de France champion heeding some tough advice from the journeyman. "'You'd better quit, man. I can't see that we're possibly going to be going any slower,'" Parkin said. Later, LeMond dropped out of the Tour of Ireland.

But in an era when contracts could be negotiated with handshakes, Parkin seemed to be a day late in finding one during the closing months of what became his final season as a European road racer. He eventually switched to mountain bikes and infrequently returned to Europe for competitions.

And though he may not have had the form to stand on the podium after a major event - and never competed in the Tour de France - Parkin wears a yellow jersey for sharing his recollections on this trek during a special time in American cycling: "....I smile when I tell the stories because my body has long since forgotten the pain I asked it to endure."