Back in the Bubble – A weekend with NSN Cycling Team

Some race weekends are just race weekends. You turn up, get the shots, grab a coffee that tastes like burnt tyres, and head home. But every so often you get one that feels like stepping back into a world you used to live in — a world you know intimately, a world that shaped a massive chunk of your career. That was my weekend with the NSN Cycling Team at the Cadel Evans Great Ocean Road Race. I went down there to film a team on the rise and capture Simon Clarke’s last race, but what I walked into was something far more personal: old friendships, new energy, and a reminder of why the cycling bubble still feels like home.

Obviously, the main reason I was with NSN was to send off Simon Clarke and get those shots as he crossed the finish line for the final time. I’ve known Clarkey since the early GreenEDGE days, back when we all felt like kids in a brand‑new team with no idea what we were about to build. I was there for some of his biggest moments — his Vuelta stage win in 2012, the chaos of filming the “Call Me Maybe” video that somehow went viral, the team time trial victory at the 2013 Tour de France that put us in yellow for four days, and the day he pulled on the pink jersey at the Giro in 2015. Those memories don’t fade, and it’s handy that the clips live on forever on YouTube.

Watching his Vuelta win on the Backstage Pass recently brought back memories of our team chat a couple of days later. Neil “The Sheriff” Stephens held an impromptu team meeting on the first rest day. Allan Davis was late because he was getting a haircut, which pissed the Sheriff off, so the meeting was never going to be about pats on the back — more a rev‑up to make sure the team stayed hungry. Sheriff famously said to Clarkey, “Simon, a stage win, great result. Now some people, not me, say you might have got a bit lucky there. But hey, you win two stages at this race and people say, wow, we’ve got ourselves a bike rider. Especially in the last week mate, that’s when the serious riders win stages.” Then someone piped up, “Hey Sheriff, when did you win a stage mate?” To which he replied, “In the last week of the Tour de France mate.”

I love bringing this story up to Clarkey — we always laugh. And the fact that when he took the mountains jersey early in that Vuelta, Sheriff said, “Ahh good on him, but we’re not defending it!” Simon went on to claim that jersey that year, which was a huge effort. Not just because he’s not a pure climber, but because he did it off his own back, without the traditional team support structure you usually need to win a classification like that.

I could go through a whole rolodex of memories with Clarkey, but let’s save those yarns for another time. Back to his final race.

The weekend wasn’t just a nostalgia tour. What struck me straight away was the vibe inside NSN. You can’t fake that stuff. It’s not branding or slogans or carefully curated social media. It’s the way riders talk to each other, the way staff dig in, the way the whole operation feels aligned. The squad they brought just made sense — a mix of experience, hunger, and a few characters who keep things interesting. It also reminded me of the GreenEDGE days in the way every rider bonded. There wasn’t a single bloke who didn’t share a laugh at the dinner table. That’s an underrated secret sauce in pro cycling. When the whole group genuinely gets along, they find that extra mile when it matters, because you’re burying yourself for your mates.

One of those characters is Brady Gilmore, who finished third in his first WorldTour one‑day race. Third. First crack. And the thing about Brady is he’s got that motocross mongrel in him — a bit of hot‑headed spark that, when channelled properly, becomes a weapon. I ended up chatting with him at Simon’s retirement party, and he told me about his dad. Now, most parents would be showering their kid in praise after a podium like that. But Brady’s old man? Different breed. He basically hit him with, “Mate, you could’ve won that.” And it wasn’t harsh. It was belief. It was confidence. It was a father who knows his kid’s ceiling is higher than he realises. It reminded me of elite US college sports, where recruiters spend more time sussing out the parents than the athletes because that’s where the wiring comes from. Brady’s wired right. He’s got the drive, the support, and the edge to go a long way.

It was also the first time I’d properly watched Sam Bewley operate as a director, and honestly, he’s in the sweet spot. He’s calm, he’s clear, and he connects with riders in a way only someone recently out of the peloton can. There’s no ego, no theatrics — just clarity and trust. My favourite line from his pre‑race chat summed him up perfectly: “Remember lads, it’s a bike race. We can have a million plans, but you’re experienced enough to pivot where needed.” That’s Bewls. He gives structure, but he gives freedom too. He empowers his riders and staff so everyone knows their role and feels trusted to act on instinct. You don’t always see that in modern cycling, where everything can feel over‑controlled. With Sam, the riders and staff feel valued, and it shows.

And then there was their osteo, Andy Gerrans, and this is where the weekend really felt like coming home. Andy and I roomed together, just like we did back in the GreenEDGE days. There’s something about walking into a hotel room and seeing a familiar face from a past life that instantly drops your shoulders. It was like stepping back into the old cycling bubble — the rhythms, the banter, the quiet professionalism that never needs to be spoken aloud.

I did feel bloody horrible though when I was awoken at 6am by a noise I thought I dreamt — a loud “Hey!!!” What actually happened was I was snoring so loudly that I’d woken Andy at 2am, and by 6am he’d reached boiling point. He woke me just so he could get back to sleep. I said, “Did you just shout at me?” and he goes, “Nah mate, you must’ve dreamt it.” He later fessed up, and unfortunately he ran on vapours that day. Safe to say if I ever went back on the road full‑time, I’d need my own room — or I’d need to strip a ton of weight and get on a snoring oxygen machine.

Andy is the ultimate team guy. Always has been. If bottles need handing out, he’s there. If the soigneurs need help, he’s there. If someone needs a calm word or a bit of grounding, he’s there. No fuss, no ego, just all‑in. And he’s a shit‑hot osteo. He’s one of those guys who’s always burying his head in books, learning new techniques, trying to be better. When we lived together in Girona, we decided to learn Spanish. He now speaks four languages. I can order a beer.

So it was special to be there for Clarkey’s last ride and also get a window into a team on the rise. Bewls is one of — if not the — top emerging DSs in the WorldTour. They’ve got rising stars like Brady Gilmore, Ethan Vernon, Corbin Strong, and the experience of George Bennett steering the ship on the road. They’re building something real, something with authenticity, humour, and a bit of mongrel. And for me, being back in that environment, rooming with Andy, watching Simon close out his career, and seeing a new generation come through… it reminded me why I fell in love with this sport in the first place.