Racer Chaser: Who Didn’t Like Coors Schwag?

When you get some sunglasses like these for free, you wear them wherever you can. Like to a day game at Wrigley. And this photo is so old, it was taken before Wrigley had lights.

If there was one thing that may outlive the Coors Classic itself, it is all the race schwag that was given away. Jackets, hats, sunglasses, briefcases, bags, water bottles and more — was there anything cooler, or more sought-after, than Coors Classic schwag?

Cycling enthusiasts can and will likely debate for years whether or not the racing itself at the Coors was world class quality. But there was never any doubt that the marketing material for the race — neon, anyone? — was at the top of its class. I know this for a fact since every year I covered the race it seemed like I was writing another story about how Coors Classic concessions were ringing up millions in sales. I am sure most people our age in Colorado still have at least one Coors Classic T-shirt somewhere in a drawer.

But buying Coors Classic stuff was for peons, for the unwashed masses. The real measure of how Coors-connected you were was in how much free schwag you could pull down over the course of a race. In 1985 and 1986, my first two years on the circuit, I was a virtual nobody in part because I “only” covered the women’s race. Basically, I just hadn’t been around long enough and didn’t know the ropes, so the only gifted items that fell into my lap were the standard stuff given to all media types, which included typically an excellent nylon briefcase and maybe a hat and a T-shirt.

All that changed in 1987, when I joined the race staff as the “AP writer.” It was a huge score for me because even though my “pay” for filing wire-copy stories for the whole event was just $700, I did get free room, board and travel during the entire race, which allowed me to freelance stories back to the Camera and other outlets when I finished my race-staff duties. An important economic score, in those days.

But on beyond those benefits was my “kit” of staff schwag, starting with the awesome fire-engine red MEDIA jacket that I happily wore whenever the weather turned foul or cold. Hats or bags, anyone could have. But to rock an official jacket meant you were one of the somebodies at the race, a higher life form easily identified. And these jackets weren’t cheapies, like the bright yellow event staff thingies you see in stadiums everywhere. They were top of the line, wind- and weather-resistant with a good liner, durable protection under a lot of harsh conditions.

Happy as my jacket made me, though, nothing could top my first pair of free sunglasses, the ultra-ugly neon yellow ones I am rocking in the old photo at the top of this post. I remember exactly where and when I got them — it was inside the finish-line press tent at the Presidio Circuit race in San Francisco. Having made the trip to Hawaii and back as part of the official race entourage I met a whole new bunch of folks and did my best to make friends.

One of those new pals was Brian … Brian… (dammit, someone help me out here since I can’t remember the last name) who was the Bolle rep at the race. You’d see him before every stage started, outfitting riders in whatever god-awful neon version of Bolles they wanted. Made sense, since the racers could get in actual pictures and thereby secure free marketing. All the sunglass companies competed in this fashion. The smarter ones also gave away freebies to other publicly prominent folks at the race, like photographers and finish-line officials and announcers, since they were highly visible and as such a cheap and easy way to show off more shades. (I do believe my good pal the top-notch shooter Richie Cruse gave me one or two of the free pairs he collected along the way.)

Writers, however, tended to stay in the background a lot so as such were pretty damn far down the totem pole of free-schwag land, especially from the sunglasses guys. But Brian sidled up to me in the Presidio press tent where I was wearing some Boulder Army Store-special “Pho-nets” (for Phony Vuarnets) and said something like, “if I give you some sunglasses do you promise never to wear those things you’ve got on ever again?”

After I finished laughing I said hell yes and then he opened up his sports bag full of any Bolles I wanted… and I picked the brightest, most obnoxious ones I could see, the lime-yellow pair that I wore for years and years until they finally shattered from old age. They were ugly, yes, but you couldn’t help notice me whenever I wore them, at the Cubs game, going skiing… or yes, even at one of the two bike races I actually competed in.

It was in Lodi, California, in the fall after the 1987 race… where I spent two laps of a criterium expertly drafting someone with a flat wheel. After finally getting around the slowpoke I hammered for the last two laps and finished something like 12th out of a field of about 20. But damn if during my last lap some cute gal on the side of the road didn’t shout out: “Hey! Cool sunglasses!” To me that made the whole thing a win. And I probably wrapped up in my red jacket after the race, just in case nobody knew how cool I was. I didn’t have to tell them. My Coors schwag did all the talking for me.

See you at the Coors Classic Reunion, Aug. 25 in Vail.

UPDATE: See below.