Just about every Sunday in the warmer months members of Chicago Bike Polo convene on a grassy patch in the southeast corner of Humboldt Park for a leisurely day of games. The average turnout is about a dozen guys on a range of wheels, from mountain bikes to fixed-gear roadsters. They play three-on-three, one match at a time, and snack and drink beer between matches. When nine members met up on a recent Thursday evening, however, the vibe was decidedly less casual. They discussed strategy and pored over prearranged plays–actual Xs and Os on a page. It was two days before the second biannual Mid-west Bike Polo Champeenship, and seeing as they were hosting, they wanted a shot at the cup.
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“They have no regard for their bikes, and even less for life and limb,” Morell said. The 28-year-old Jonny, who also works part-time as a bike messenger, admits to having dislocated his shoulder about six times playing polo, including at the first Champeenship. His brother, Ben, 26, has been known to bend wheels over his head for the sheer theatrical pleasure of it.
The Champeenship was held that Saturday not in Humboldt Park but at Addams Park on the near west side, where Lucky figured there’d be fewer crowds for Cinco de Mayo. (Chicago Bike Polo has been unable to officially reserve park space for play and was told by one Park District employee that bike polo wasn’t allowed. The group, however, staged exhibition games upon request at Grant Park during the Bike the Drive after-ride festival on May 27.) As competitors were warming up, checking their equipment, and cracking beers, Ben Hunter came hurtling out of nowhere holding aloft the Champeenship cup–a chrome dog bowl mounted on a block of wood. Bellowing like a Highlander clansman, he hurled it to the ground like a gauntlet and then spun around and sped back toward his teammates.
Addams Park is at 15th and South Loomis, just east of Ashland. An abandoned factory is to the south, a set of low-slung apartment buildings to the west. A few neighborhood men sat on park benches, watching the games with their arms folded. “I don’t understand what these people are doing out here with these damn bicycles,” said one. “There’s no referees; I don’t hear any whistles. And I see this kid over here–look at him! He just conked that guy upside the head with that club! It’s like hockey on wheels up over here.”
The basics of play are simple, with many tactics common to other sports: players set picks and look for assists, play man or zone defense, look for the fast break. If you step off your bike, you have to circle out of play and can’t touch the ball until someone else has. You may not intentionally crash into the ballcarrier, a maneuver sometimes called T-boning. You may not kick the ball (though in informal Chicago games it’s often allowed). High-sticking is legal, as is hooking an opposing player’s mallet with your own and sending it tomahawking through the air. In New York it’s legal to poke your mallet into the spokes of your opponent’s wheels. Some players prefer to play on hard surfaces, claiming it makes for a more precise and technical game; Chicagoans play on grass.
“We did better than we did last year,” Lucky said afterward. “We made the semis. And we were the only ones to score on Madison, so I don’t feel that bad.”
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photos by Peter Dianoni.
