On Saturday, Saturn SuperCup cyclo-cross slashed through the rain in Seattle as Colorado held its state championships under sunny skies at the University of Colorado. Races were on the calendar from Surf City to Charlottesville, and the struggles were for podium spots, not political power.

  No doubt the Olympian oligarchy in Colorado Springs finds it encouraging that the show goes on, regardless of the squabbling backstage. If so, they need to thumb a few pages forward in the script, which is shaping up as a real tragedy ... for them.

  Why? Because as the furor over USA Cycling's ill-conceived regional-representative plan drives state racing associations toward insuring and sanctioning events themselves, the national organization is perilously close to losing its monopoly over the only tangible product it provides to its customers: a racing license.

  Racers could give a fat rat's ass about "empowerment" schemes and "servicing" blather. They want to know where the race is this weekend. And if the person who's promoting that race decides to self-insure, or seek an alternative sanction from organizations like the Bicycle Racing Association of Colorado, the athletes — and their wallets — will be there on Saturday.

  Think about it. Do you plunk down your dead presidents on Chris Grealish's registration table because his cyclo-crosses are sanctioned by the U.S. Cycling Federation, or because Chris bends over backward to give you a good race? Do you pin on one of Andy and Kathleen Bohlmann's numbers because there's a NORBA logo on the flyer, or because the whole Bohlmann family works themselves cross-eyed to secure challenging cross-country courses that aren't a day's drive and a maxed-out credit card away?

  These are the people doing the real gruntwork of American cycling, not the Lords of the Rings in the Springs. Truth be known, unless you're one of the elite few angling for a stars-and-stripes jersey at nationals, an Olympic-team berth, or a world-championship medal, USA Cycling is purely ornamental, like tits on a top tube.

  But even if your goals extend beyond a top-10 finish in the local Tour de Industrial Park, you may find yourself competing at non-USAC events in 1999, because races bearing the imprimatur of Mount Olympus could be harder to find than a USAC pogue at a four-corner crit.

  Revolutions are bloody, costly upheavals, and this one will be no exception if it gets beyond the talking stage. National- and world-class racers may find themselves having to buy two memberships, one in USA Cycling and another in their state racing associations. The rest of us may be able to get by with the latter, particularly if secessionist associations agree to honor one another's memberships.

  The good news is, those memberships are likely to be cheaper than a USAC license, in part because there will be fewer mouths to feed. BRAC's executive director, Beth Wrenn-Estes, will be paid $15,000 in 1999, about what a cashier at Wal-Mart earns. How many more zeroes are in Lisa Voight's paycheck? Philip Milburn's? Diana Miller's? (Note: Ms. Miller is cashing checks elsewhere since this screed was written).

  Bottom line: A 1999 BRAC membership costs $25 for a year (juniors and non-racers pay $10) and gets you into road, mountain and cyclo-cross races. USAC wants $20 just for its own bad self — if you want to race the road, cough up $15 for USCF; cough twice if you want to race NORBA, too.

  One-day licenses are even less of a bargain if you buy them from American cycling's self-styled "one-stop shop." USAC wants $8 for a one-day in 1999, a hefty price hike that one NCS promoter predicted "will kill local racing." BRAC will settle for $2, which leaves you $6 to spend on burritos and beer apres-race.

  No one disputes USA Cycling's contention that bicycle racing needs more events and participants. The disagreement is over how to get there from here. And charging more money for less service doesn't seem like the superhighway to the future, particularly when USAC is likely to face serious competition from state racing associations and promoters who are discovering that, by self-insuring, they can cut their costs and put the savings to work — more porta-johns, deeper prize lists, more and better races.

  It's hardly a novel concept. Back in 1994, when NORBA's membership had plateaued at about 31,000, Milburn told VeloNews that providing better service to promoters would revive the association's growth.

  "If there are more events," said Milburn, "there will be more members." Maybe so. But whether they will be members of USA Cycling remains to be seen.