It was the usual plonk. That lukewarm cheap champagne that the winners pour down their throats for the press photographers. Once again, the broth ran down the face of John Tomac (37, 2005). But it was never as good as on this autumn day last year (2004). He had entered the race just for the fun of it, to get a taste of the legendary kamikaze downhill from Mammoth. He had neither trained nor risked too much. The great "Johnny T." hadn't raced for four years - just chugged around his farm on his tractor. Now he was gurgling victory champagne and the biking world was reeling with him in a frenzy of happiness. The king was back on top. Just where he belonged.
No mountain biker in history has ever been the subject of a bigger cult than John Tomac. Even today he is revered, pursued by autograph hunters and idolised. His career lasted seventeen years; his fame will probably last forever. Yet Tomac always felt uncomfortable on the pedestal. He wore staid checked shirts and jeans. He seemed withdrawn, almost shy. And he preferred to answer interview questions with "yes" or "no". He never wanted to be a pop star like downhiller Shaun Palmer, who burped drunkenly into the microphones, nor a vain fop like bike pioneer Gary Fisher, who liked to pose in front of cameras in fancy clothes. He just wanted to be one thing - John Tomac, the best biker of all time.
That sounds modest, but then again, it's not. Because the story of the boy from Owosso in the US state of Michigan is nothing less than the story of mountain biking itself. He raced BMX as a teenager and became US champion at the age of sixteen. Shortly afterwards, he received his first professional contract from Mongoose. When his sponsor added the first off-road bikes to its range, he switched to mountain biking - the new sport seemed to be the future. From then on, his opponents didn't stand a chance. At the same time, Tomac competed in road races, turned professional and even rode for the national team. "I was winning too many mountain bike races back then. It became too easy and I was looking for a new challenge," he explains. In 1992, he returned to off-road racing for good. And it was there that his triumphal march really took off.
On the race track he was the piste hog, in private Tomac seemed almost colourless. Wherever he competed, he would splash himself with champagne afterwards. In 1991, he even won twice at a world championship - as world champion in cross country and second in downhill. The photos from this time are documents of absolute triumph: Tomac bent low over his Yeti with racing handlebars, the rear wheel covered with Tioga half-shells. The competition in the cloud of dust behind him is barely recognisable - more extras than opponents.
What looks so effortless today was no coincidence. Tomac was a perfectionist, trained relentlessly, negotiated the best contracts and, together with Doug Bradbury, developed the first Manitou suspension fork in order to benefit from the technical advantage. In 1996, when his strength was no longer sufficient for the top podium in cross country, he successfully switched to downhill. In 1998, he founded his own bike forge so that he could continue to make a living from his passion. Tomac's career will probably remain unique. He has won trophies in BMX, cross country, downhill, dual slalom and on the road. That's a bit like super footballer Maradonna scoring equally well in football, water polo, handball, volleyball and badminton.
Tomac exemplified the American dream. A whole generation of bikers have been rooting for every episode of his story, like the housewives on GZSZ. Tomac has also had bad times, but above all dizzyingly good ones. Now the title character herds horses and turkeys. He loves to sit in a rocking chair on his veranda, look out over the countryside and enjoy family life. But when he feels like drinking champagne, he swaps his cowboy hat for a bike helmet. As he did at the Kamikaze Downhill last autumn, where he outdid the stars of the scene. He is and remains John Tomac, the best biker of all time.
