"Samuel Samuel didn’t your father ride for Trinidad and Tobago several years ago?"

The Wendell Mottley anecdote drew ripples of laughter from the audience at the retirement fund dinner. And in these now increasingly quiet days, 36-year-old Gene Samuel probably still allows himself a chuckle at the comment.

The "confused" foreign official who made the remark after one of Samuel's races abroad, could not believe the man before him had survived so long a period of time - 15 years - in so punishing a sport.

Samuel himself probably can't comprehend it himself sometimes, except when he glances at the bicycle in the yard.

Then a voice, so quiet yet so powerful whispers, "there is a time for everything."

And now, in 1997, had come the time for retirement, time for the warrior, "Geronimo" to go to war no more.

The present day is also a moment for reflection. And with that reflection comes disquiet. "It's a little frightening," the man says

"I've put my whole life for Trinidad and cycling, ahead of everything else. And now the reality is sinking in - look what I've done for 15 years and I don't have anything to show for it."

Sobering sayings these from a man who was Trinidad and Tobago cycling for over a decade; one to be compared with the sport's other masters - Roger Gibbon, Leslie King, Hilton Mitchell - and a champion of the national cause, if never quite champion of the world.

Some 273 senior international wins, a (professional) world record (kilometre time trial), a World championship kilo bronze, eight Pan American Games/Pan Am championships medals (including three gold), six CAC Games medals (double gold in 1986) and 62 national championship winners medals should tell us so.

Yet the response to the launch of the Gene Samuel Retirement Fund has been lukewarm.

"I still think things are going to work out," Samuel says.

He hopes so, at least for the sake of the silent little boy (Gevan), with the tousled brown hair, now draping a pale, slender leg over his father's bronzed thigh. He is peering with serious, yet curious eyes at the stranger before him in the back yard.

Actually it is the front of the annex, the single bedroom one that he and his 10-year-old brother Geno somehow share with their parents.

Life has not exactly been an easy ride for the Samuels. But they have made it through self-sacrifice, and something else.

"It is easy to support someone you love," says wife Rhonda Lou, the dancer.

But the life of a cycling wife is not without its trials.

The days of bringing up the children alone, "living in this (house)", can put the strain on any marriage, even one 11 1/2 years old.

Yet, sacrifice for her has been made easier because of understanding Gene's dream.

"I was the same way," she continues.

"Dance was the first thing in my life. And when he fails, I feel it too," she says, pointing to her stomach.

"But," she adds, "everyday he goes out on the road, I can't breathe until I hear that back gate open."

There are no illusions of grandeur here, certainly none that the sight of Geno's fair-haired, pony-tailed father with the fancy bike and stylish-looking red black and white car, seems to have created in the national community.

"I don't think he was able to gather total spectator support. I don't think he had the masses behind him," says another cycling great, Ian Atherly. And Atherly does not understand why.

Perhaps it is this myth of prosperity that seems to surround Samuel. Or maybe the problem was caused by the controversy over his presence in Edinburgh, Scotland at the time of the 1986 Commonwealth Games, when controversy over South Africa caused the T&T team to withdraw.

"There is still about 10 per cent of the public, who believe I participated in the Commonwealth Games in 1986," he says with a little frustration.

"But my first time ever competing in the commonwealth Games was in Canada in 1994."

Whatever, the source, the disaffection in some quarters is unfortunate and unfair. For Samuel, if nothing else, is a heart-and-soul Trini.

"Obviously the love of the sport has kept me going," he says, "and hearing my national anthem being played. It doesn't matter where it's played, I always get goose bumps."

It is that passion for country that has fuelled the endurance over the past 15 years. And it is the lack of this passion he perceives in others, that angers him.

"It does hurt me," he says, "to see cyclists wear the colours of Trinidad and Tobago with no sort of discipline, dedication. To get bad reports about certain things that have gone on this year it really hurts. We are talking about kids who have the talent but are just wasting time."

It is Samuel's sharp tongue - the warrior in him - that has not always endeared him to his fellow cyclists.

He however, is unrepentant.

"You have to look after number one," he says.

"If you do that properly, then you have the power to help others. And I don't see why I, Gene Samuel, who have proven to be dedicated and disciplined 100 per cent for 15 years, should have stepped down for another athlete who I know is not even 90 per cent serious."

The criticism of some of the present generation comes from a man who has already ridden down the paths they are attempting to travel.

The "best-ever" "ole talk" will never cease.

But although the calibre of competition in his time was not the same as in riveting Roger's swinging sixties, who can argue against a man ranked among the world's top ten kilo riders since 1984 - especially in an era when performance - enhancing drugs are as common as designer shades.

"I feel slight anger on that issue because I think quite a few years I could have been world champion if everybody was clean," Samuel says.

There can be no denying what Geronimo's all-round skills have done for local cycling though.

"He helped the sport from becoming extinct!" declares Atherly.

"If they did not have Gene Samuel, it would have made no sense importing a bike."

Certainly, the fans that saw the pony tailed warrior "counting coup", at Easter Grand Prix will agree.

Those races are now a blur in his memory. But the Pan Am gold medal always feels like yesterday.

"The perfect ride," he says of the track record 1991 effort in sweet Havana.

"Everything just fell into place. And when I saw 1.05.4 come up on the board, everything just came over"

Following fast on those memories are thoughts of the people who helped make them possible. Men like Dickie Hart and Atherly and Robert Farrell with whom he made his comeback to cycling in 1981 after quitting at 18.

"These are the guys who have always shared their knowledge and experience with me."

There was also crucial guidance from the influential manager Steve Castagne and former Canadian national team coach Desmond Dickie who took Samuel under his wing in the early 1980s.

Some 461 career wins later, Samuel, who now coaches kids, would like to give as good as he got on a broader scale. But on his terms.

"We have too many officials with a direct involvement in cycling," he says.

"If they want me in there (as national coach), I'm not going to stand for dishonesty."

Geronimo's voice is clear as he delivers this parting shot.

And perhaps, one day, his message will get through. To everyone.

By then maybe, the old warrior and all his people would have made peace.

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