So far, the IOC hasn't called about shovel racing

PARK CITY, Utah - He has ridden 72mph.

On a shovel.

He has broken his back (in three places), his jaw, his sternum, his ribs and all his front teeth.

On a shovel!

He has experienced the thrill of his life.

On a shovel?

"The shovel is my friend," John Strader says, "my best friend."

You don't doubt him. Not one bit.

This is the story of a dream, an Olympic dream, one being dreamt by a grown-up who calls himself "The Shovelmeister." When Strader closes his eyes, he sees a day when the Olympics feature two competitors going handle-to-handle, cheek-to-cheek in a shovel race for gold.

Most everyone else sees a sport that's like luge, only slower and fatter.

You have ventured here today, 30 miles from the center of the Winter Games, to witness perhaps the future of the Olympics. Or maybe just a couple of crazy guys from New Mexico who think nothing of equipping a shovel with skis and rack-and-pinion steering.

"If they can give 12 days to curling," says Strader's partner, Gail Boles, "they can give one day to shovel racing."

So far, the International Olympic Committee hasn't taken any of their phone calls.

People apparently have been sliding down snowy slopes on shovels forever. The hobby was part of the movie "It's a Wonderful Life." Strader says it goes back to the 19th century;, then again, so does insanity.

The International Federation of Shovel Racers - hey, it must be legitimate, they have a Web site and everything - has staged a "world" championship in Angel Fire, N.M., for 28 years. The event typically draws nearly 200 competitors.

These guys have appeared on ESPN, CNN and A&E. Strader and Boles tried to add NBC to the list Monday, standing in the background during taping of the "Today" show. They even waved their official flag, the one with the crest of two shovels crossed like swords.

"We didn't quite make it," Boles says. "Al Roker spent too much time talking to some Japanese kid."

Don't be misled by the lighter moments. These two are serious about shovels. Very serious. Al Gore serious.

They are passionate about the three classes of racers, from the production model, available at Ace Hardware, to the super-modified, less shovel than spaceship. They wax their racers with things like silicone, Teflon and Lemon Pledge.

"Sometimes, guys take a canned ham and rub that on there," Strader, 34, says. "Or Spam, too. You can try anything you like."

The super-modified shovels are contraptions often encased in bulletproof material and fitted with a brake powered by nitrogen. They can take thousands of dollars and several months to build. Some are decorated in sponsor decals. Boles' racer has stickers from Harley Davidson and Coors Light. Says Strader, "You gotta be a drinker to be a shovel racer."

Boles ordered his first custom steering column straight from Detroit. The guy who answered the phone thought it was crank call.

Serious? The last line of safety on the course at Angel Fire is a catch net from an aircraft carrier.

"When a modified shovel crashes, it's a yard sale," Strader says. "The parts go flying everywhere."

Including the body parts. Boles suffered a concussion in the 1997 X Games when he lost control of his racer and corkscrewed 10 feet into the air. This was the same event at which Strader suffered his worst injuries.

It says something about this sport that the safest position is called "the corpse position." There also have been several examples of the shovel spinning and the handle smacking the racer in the smile, a move perfected by athletes like the Three Stooges.

Despite the very real possibility of a human sacrifice, X Games officials removed shovel racing from their lineup after one year. Too extreme, Strader and his buddies heard. There also was a rumor that their sport wasn't exciting enough.

"I almost died and my buddy broke his back, and it's not exciting enough?" Boles, 39, says. "Come on. Are you extreme or not?"

Strader took shovel racing to the outer limits last year when he reached 72mph, a "world" record. If that doesn't sound serious enough, consider also that racers wear speed suits just like the ones on downhill skiers.

Strader's fits as snugly as fingernail polish, showing off what he calls, while grinning, his "speed abs," which, truth be told, look more like speed bumps.

But he learned long ago about the importance of having adequate protection behind him, since he stops by skidding on his fanny. There was this one time when Strader was going awfully fast and attempted to stop, but experienced an unfortunate blowout that led to some equally unfortunate airtime for his buns.

Yet, Strader remains his sport's leading ambassador, "the Don King of shovel racing," according to Boles.

"Most of the Olympic sports are elitist," Strader says. "We're a blue-collar, workingman's sport. Every pickup driver in America has a grain shovel in the back. Anyone can do this. This is my grandiose dream here. Making the Olympics ... that would wake up the world."

You know, he is this sport's version of Don King, another man skilled in the art of shoveling it.

Copyright 2002
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