Page:The fastest bicycle rider in the world - 1928 - Taylor.djvu/162

 was at the boiling point. He was furious when called out to start in the two-mile championship race final and was counting upon squaring himself in this event. Kramer was also nursing a grudge because of his defeat in the championship the week before. He was out to retrieve his laurels. Besides the purse, championship points and prestige that were at stake, just enough of that “color business” was injected into it to rouse one’s sporting blood, giving the race just the right “pep” and the public an extra run for their money. I figured that Kimble and Kramer were out to get me. The big Kentuckian looked grim as we came out to do our “stuff”’ in the two-mile race. Kramer looked somewhat worried as if a little uneasy about the part he was to play. I must have looked rather serious myself because I was trying to figure out what new joker they had up their sleeves. "As I could not foresee this, my best bet was to ride on the defensive, keeping alert to beat them at whatever they tried.

Before we reached the first half I realized what their plans were. To beat them required a burst of speed that seemed almost suicidal. But I knew my “stuff.” I timed them perfectly, and threw every ounce of strength into a jump when about 270 yards remained to go. The confidence I felt because of my never failing physical fitness enabled me to gain a lead of two lengths and I gained a third on the way to the tape. It was a furious sprint with a glorious thrill at the end, which was increased by the excited cheering of that frantic crowd. Had I allowed Kimble and Kramer to pocket me I might have had no chance at all.

Neither Kimble nor Kramer offered to congratulate me as such an act of sportsmanship was not in their code. The wonderful ovation given me by the sports lovers of Indianapolis when I scored my second victory on that program again demonstrated that the public always likes to see the best man win.

Once in their dressing room my rivals immediately became involved in a heated argument that almost ended in fist-a-cuffs over the collapse of their plan. That quarrel resulted in a complete split between them which worked out very much to my advantage as it meant just one less combination to battle against.

It was not always the mere excitement of out-generaling, and out-racing my opponents around the track and across the tape first that gave me the greatest thrill, but the real climax was the glory of vindication and the joy of retribution following each success, which was always indeed a personal triumph, because of their prejudice and unsportsmanlike methods.