The filming curse in full effect. All photos Brendan Boeck.
If you’ve seen the Back Bone video, you’ll know that for the start of Tyson’s section, he has a weird and gnarly accident at Weston. If you haven’t seen the vid yet, you need to. Well, back when BMX magazines were still alive, this article ran in 2020 (RIP) with Tyson telling his story of that accident. It’s a pretty funny read and we think it’s worth sharing again. Enjoy.
Filming BMX. The camera comes out and often it never feels like you can do what you probably just did before the lens was pointed at you – what I call the ‘Filming Curse’. Here’s one instance that the Filming Curse was in full effect, plus it was Christmas time, so you get it in poem form.
- Tyson Jones-Peni
THE FILMING CURSE
In the style of the ‘T’was the Night Before Christmas’ poem.
‘Twas the night of the Chrissy party, down at Weston Creek park,
Riders riding and drinking and making funny remarks.
I got some good runs in the bowl, had fun catching air,
Did a 270 table, one done without care.
My friends cheered and clapped, said it was ‘real good’,
B-Dog grabbed the camera and said ‘film it, we should.’
I could tell he was serious by the glint in his eyes,
We’re filming a video, it should come as no surprise.
So I nodded, shrugged shoulders, some words were exchanged,
But towards this 270 table, my feelings had changed.
I’d just done it spot on, like a bullseye at a firing range,
But something about this one felt forced and felt strange.
But nevertheless, I was keen to give it a go,
Even though a shitty crosswind did begin to blow.
‘May as well start here’ I thought, no clips in the bag,
Not like Jack O’Reilly with 10 clips already (sick brag).
‘Film the best 270 table ever’ was all I kept thinkin’,
This was the Christmas party, I would’ve been better off drinkin’.
Thoughts of how fast, how clicked and how high it must be,
Whereas the one I did before, in my mind I was free.
Maybe a few regular 270s will clear the ol’ head,
That’s what I need B-Dog, now I’m ready to shred.
This time I drop in and charge at the hip;
I got a 270 to blast and a table to rip.
I carve the bowl corner and I take off the lip,
Oh shit! Oh no! I tighten my grip.
The wind I was riding through did suddenly drop,
And out into the flatbottom I began to pop.
At fourteen foot up flat ground’s not a good sight,
Landing smooth is my thing, landing flat gives a fright.
My thoughts make me nervous; the big moment of truth,
A crash, or an injury, just for video proof.
My tires hit the ground with a monstrous THWACK!
My limbs all stay on; my frame doesn’t crack,
But my head jolts down with speed and precision,
And connects with my crossbar for an almighty collision.
I throw my head upwards from the force of the thud,
And out of my face comes a fountain of blood.
My hands clasp my face, blood is steadily streamin’,
I start running around like my name’s Cathy Freeman.
‘Quit dancin’! Quit Prancin’! Quit Twitchin’! Quit Bitchin’!
Come sit over here and we’ll see what needs fixin’.’
Inspecting the mess, he says ‘Dude, you need stitches’,
‘F**king Hell!’ I say, ‘Goddamn! Sons of bitches!’
Raine offers a lift, so to the hospital we fly,
‘Spewing’ I say, as I wave the Christmas party goodbye.
A few months have passed, stitches have healed in the noggin,
Even filmed a few clips, maybe one a toboggan.
I used to see the camera come out and think there’s nothing worse,
But there is…
It’s thinking there’s such thing as the filming curse.
- Tyson Jones-Peni
'No babe, I'm alright, I just gotta go to hospital.'
270 table before the video camera came out.