Jeff Littman was the kind of a person that made heads turn wherever he went, no matter what he was doing. Someone said when remembering him that he was a "polarizing figure", how true a statement.
Jeff and my wife Vicki are cousins and come from a huge family (I swear they make up half of Cudahy). They are a tight family and when I first met them in the mid 80's I would guess that 98% of them still lived in Cudahy or South Milwaukee. The 2% that lived "somewhere else" were Vicki and Jeff, which may explain why they have been like peas as carrots as long as I have known them.
This fact also made getting to know Jeff easy, and certainly he was much easier to remember. Which is why when I was threatened to be quizzed on the names of over 11 aunts and uncles and 30+ cousins and spouses by my soon to be wife, remembering Jeff was a piece of cake. It also turned out that I had something in common with Jeff that was unique in this vast family; bicycle racing.
As my family grew, Jeff's involvement in our daily lives grew as well. It began with my First Wisconsin cycling team competing against his Vic Tanny cycling team. In particular we competed furiously for the State Cup team and individual titles each year.
I recall one particular year when my teammate Dean Gore and Jeff's teammate Robbie Ventura were neck and neck in points going into the final weekend of racing. Jeff predicted that Robbie would win the individual title and Vic Tanny the team title. The trouble was, he was focused on racing 30+ and could only watch as I helped secure the title for Dean by how should I say it nicely, by "neutralizing" Robbie prior to the final corner of the final lap on the final weekend of racing for the year. Trust me, Robbie is not nearly as pleasant in those situations as he is when he is interviewing Alberto Contador, and this is probably why you will never see me as a guest of Robbie’s when he does interviews at the Tour de France for Versus.
After that season and after some 15 years of racing at the highest level I retired from cycling and helped raise my family and support my wife's budding triathlon career. Several years and a few pounds later, Jeff talked me into coming back and riding for his new Team Wisconsin team of 30+ cyclist; the big red machine as they were know. Jeff recalled how "ruthless" or perhaps how "loyal" a teammate I was at the end of my cycling career and asked if I would help his team out. Jeff had surrounded himself with exceptionally well conditioned "older" guys and didn't really need my help as they were already sweeping races all over the Midwest. But this did get me off my butt and back into racing shape, something I will always be grateful for.
Ultimately, our involvement with Jeff included/concluded with Jeff and my wife Vicki collaborating together in business, he with his health clubs and her with her Chiropractic practice.
Some of my best memories of Jeff:
Jeff seemed to have had regular appointments with the pavement at the end of races, something I attributed to him treating his bicycle like it was a "Universal Weight Machine". He got better at that with time, but while assembling photos of Jeff for a board we brought to the funeral, he still seemed to be squeezing his handle bars together like he was America's polka king, Frank Yankovic.
It has been said by others, but his obsession with Lycra was unmatched. I distinctly recall him asking me each year that I raced for him, “Fisher, what size skin suit do you want, large?” Being somewhat conscious of my expanded girth after several years of hibernation from cycling I replied, “I will take bib shorts and a large jersey.” I got the skin suit anyway; after all it was a pre-requisite when you raced for Jeff. In fact the other day I went through my old cycling kits and realized I still have 6 barely worn skin suits from the various configurations of Team Wisconsin, complete with matching arm warmers. I had even cut the sleeves off several of them, something Jeff did not know but would have made him proud.
Perhaps my most vivid memory of Jeff has to be a time that we were in Arizona for one of those famous training weeks. Jeff always’ had to leave Arizona with the most miles on his computer of course, and in order to accomplish this he would often sneak an extra ride or two in by attending the Tuesday and Thursday morning “shoot-outs” with the local Pro 1 & 2 cyclists from AZ. These 35 mile rides were not for the faint of heart and on one particular cool Tuesday morning I went along for the ride. It didn't take long for Jeff to realize and inform me that this particular ride was to include going up the steep side of “Gates Pass”. For those that have been there you know of what I speak, it is an extremely steep climb in the 18% grade range, hell it might as well have been 28% from my perspective. For those who know me, its no secret that I hate climbing with a passion equal to Jeff’s love for Lycra. As the ride approached the entrance of the McCain loop I decided to duck out and get a head start climbing Gates Pass and wait and watch the fireworks from the top of the pass.
What an amazing vantage point to watch extremely fit cyclist climb this one mile beast. I had concluded that Jeff would be at or very near the front as he loved to attack Gates Pass with every fiber of his being. The riders hit the base of Gates Pass at amazingly high speeds considering they were already going slightly up hill. As the riders began coming into view I discovered that Jeff was not among the leaders. The first 10 were over, then the next 10, then 10 more… all waiting at the top for the rest of the group to crest the pass. Then suddenly a grunting noise and a hulkish figure with brand new “white tiger” tattoos visible on the shoulders thanks to a sleeveless skin-suit could be seen rocking his bike from side to side, seeming to be going in slow motion to the point that it looked like his knuckles were scrapping the pavement with each pedal stroke. Finally the "legend" reaches the top of the pass and screams, “big chain ring”.
Was he showing off or was his perfectly tuned bike (and they were always’ perfectly tuned) really unable to drop the chain from the big ring to the small one? I will leave that one for you all to figure out. For me that was simply Jeff Littman, the legend.
I will miss you Jeff!
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