Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Wednesday, 13 March 2013
Paris-Nice 2013
For Paris-Nice 2013, I spent my winter holidays following and covering the race for SBS Cycling Central, with a little work for Peloton Cafe on the side. You can find links to all my articles for both sites below.
Sunday March 3, Prologue: Houilles - Houilles
Monday March 4, Stage 1: Saint-Germain-en-Laye - Nemours
Tuesday March 5, Stage 2: Vimory - Cerilly
Wednesday March 6, Stage 3: Chatel-Guyon - Brioude
Thursday March 7, Stage 4: Brioude- Saint-Valliers
Friday March 8, Stage 5: Chateauneuf-du-Pape - Montagne de Lure
Stage 2 Interview with Rory Sutherland
I had an absolutely wonderful time following the race, imbibing the atmosphere, meeting and working with different people and writing my articles. I have to say a huge thank you to Mike Tomalaris for his advice that put me on the right track, Matt Keenan for making the arrangements and Phil Gomes and the team at SBS Cycling Central for the incredible faith they put in me to cover the race.
Sunday March 3, Prologue: Houilles - Houilles
Monday March 4, Stage 1: Saint-Germain-en-Laye - Nemours
Tuesday March 5, Stage 2: Vimory - Cerilly
Wednesday March 6, Stage 3: Chatel-Guyon - Brioude
Thursday March 7, Stage 4: Brioude- Saint-Valliers
Friday March 8, Stage 5: Chateauneuf-du-Pape - Montagne de Lure
Stage 2 Interview with Rory Sutherland
I had an absolutely wonderful time following the race, imbibing the atmosphere, meeting and working with different people and writing my articles. I have to say a huge thank you to Mike Tomalaris for his advice that put me on the right track, Matt Keenan for making the arrangements and Phil Gomes and the team at SBS Cycling Central for the incredible faith they put in me to cover the race.
Thursday, 14 February 2013
Philippe Gilbert - Racing for Myself
For most two-year-olds, Daddy is the man in the suit who walks through the door at 6 o’clock each night. For Alan Gilbert, ‘Daddy’ is the man who wears a rainbow-striped jersey and rides a bike to work every day. What Alan can’t tell you is that Daddy’s rainbow jersey and BMC racing bike are the hallmarks of his profession – Daddy is better known as the current World Champion, Philippe Gilbert.
For father Philippe, the past two years on the bike have been as much of a rollercoaster ride as they have at home. Philippe was the rider of 2011, winning what seemed to be every single Classic in Europe in an incredible show of dominance and making himself the man to watch in 2012. Moving to BMC Racing Team at the start of the year, Philippe caused consternation when he failed to defend any one of his previous victories and added only one title to his palmarès, albeit the prestigious one of World Champion. The question on everyone’s lips is, therefore, what happened?
“My season was not that bad,” Philippe downplays the implications. “Sometimes I was a bit less than normal level, but often not that bad. I mean, I had some problems, some health problems,” he acknowledges. “I was sometimes sick with my Tours and everything and I lost a lot of power in this.”
His expression is almost hard-done-by as he explains the difficulties of his profession. “It’s never easy to keep cycling at a high level when you have some little problems.” Then his tone changes. “But now I’m lucky, everything is fine.”
Unfortunately, while Philippe’s words are telling one story, his face is telling another. There’s no hint of his trademark sense of humour in his eyes. He takes every question seriously, answers it fully. He downplays, but he doesn’t dismiss. The journalists are quick to notice and keep pressing him on the subject. Though his expression doesn’t change, Philippe’s tone becomes defensive, and his words carry a reprimand.
“I think we’re here to talk about the new season. We talked enough about this last year.”
It’s hard to say whether he’s disappointed or simply over it, but clearly, Philippe doesn’t want to talk about it. We move on.
On the topic of the new season, Philippe happily outlines his off-season and his lead-up to his first race of the year, the Tour Down Under in Adelaide.
“First, I stopped the season earlier, so I have a good base of training ‘cause I had good three months training in the winter,” he explains. “I had good endurance training behind me and now a lot of intensity of the last weeks. I’m feeling ready for this.”
“You need a good winter to make a big season, and a strong season,” he tells us emphatically. “I think I had a good winter so I can go for another nice season.”
Someone asks Philippe if he spent the whole winter in his new home base of Monaco. “Always in the sun,” Philippe replies. “I’m following the sun.” For the first time we see the characteristic grin – for that’s the only word for it – that has made him known as a real joker within the peloton. The journalists chuckle along and enjoy the lighter mood of the conversation.
Philippe’s chief focus is, as always, Ardennes Week, the brutal triplicate of Amstel Gold Race, La Flèche Wallone and Liège-Bastogne-Liège in eight days. He’s not concerned by rumours on changes in the race route of the opening Ardennes Classic, colloquially known as just ‘Amstel Gold’. “Yeah, I mean, it’s the same,” he points out. “The big goal, it’s still the same, controlling the race until the bottom of the last time up the Cauberg, and then the strongest wins.”
The other Classics are on his radar, too, and he’ll take whichever one comes his way. “For me the Classics are all big and all important, and it’s what I’m racing for, so if I can win one of those it will be nice,” he reflects. He deliberates a bit more. “It’s not easy to say one race.”
But someone wants to know if you can actually ride all the cobbled and Ardennes Classics in one year. “It’s one race a week if you do this, so I think it’s possible,” Philippe says without any wavering. “Of course, long race, like more than six hours, but I think it’s possible to recover and to ride every weekend for weeks. I’m sure it’s possible,” he nods. “The only problem is if you do Paris-Roubaix in the rain, maybe you’re more tired.”
With Ardennes Week beginning only a week later, Philippe thinks that a rainy Paris-Roubaix might prove the undoing of a rider bound for the Ardennes, but it doesn’t cast doubt on the overall concept. “I’m still convinced that it’s possible.” The fervour with which he asserts this makes it sound almost like he wants to be the one to prove it.
To begin with, though, Philippe is focussing his attention on Milano-San Remo, despite the amount of competition he predicts he’ll face. “We will be like, maybe…15 potential winners, it’s harder to win this race,” he stresses. “In Liege, if you’re on the top level, maybe two, three guys who can win, but,” he pauses once more, “San Remo, it’s a lot of guys.”
So, when you’re racing 15 other guys for the title at Milano-San Remo, what does the Classics specialist say are the key skills needed to win? “Just having good timing and sometimes having a little bit of luck also; having a good feeling but having also the right reaction behind from the other riders.” Philippe could be summing up the entire sport. He has a model for the perfect victory too - “Like we saw Simon Gerrans,” he says, referencing the Australian’s unexpected Milano-San Remo win of 2012. “He won, perfect.”
Though he mentions one of last year’s Classics winners in Gerrans, Philippe isn’t yet ready to make a call on who are the contenders in the Classics for 2013. “It’s hard to say, I think that I should wait like one or two months, to see the level of the other guys,” he says evenly. “See who can establish a high level and who can keep it to Liege. Last year from Qatar, I was there for the first race, I could see which riders were ready or not and just like that to Roubaix or to Liege.”
He doesn’t really even want to speculate which of last year’s top-10 finishers might step it up a few rungs on the finishers list or onto the podium. “I don’t know, it’s always hard to say,” Philippe vacillates. “Maybe some young guys, like [Peter] Sagan,” he says with sudden inspiration. “No-one expected Sagan last year to be that good on the Classics, and he was there.” It sounds like Sagan took Philippe by surprise just as much as everyone else, and it’s clear that he respects the prodigal youngster. “[John] Degenkolb was there also,” Philippe notes. “Maybe they can win.”
“What about Bauke Mollema?” one of the Dutch journalists presses. There’s a long pause. “…yeah?” Philippe replies. Everyone laughs at his confused expression, unable to avoid being backed into a corner. Then someone mentions the Classics rider of 2012, Tom Boonen, and the praise is instantly genuine. “He’s a hard competitor,” Philippe says, willingly acknowledging that Boonen will be his main rival in the Classics this year. “He’s fast, he’s smart, he’s strong, hard to beat.”
An Italian journalist mentions the Italian riders who once dominated that Classics, and Philippe doesn’t even let him finish his question before he answers it. “I’m already more complete, I think,” he tells the journalist candidly. “I’ve won all the Classics, just not Roubaix, I’m minimum on the podium of each Classic, Flanders two times on the podium and San Remo two times on the podium, so that’s already something good but I can do better.”
In cycling, the word ‘better’ can only mean the Tour de France. Last year Philippe was simply a workhorse for Cadel’s defence of his yellow jersey, but in previous years he’s ridden for himself, sights set on the sprinter’s green jersey.
“I saw in 2011 the energy you need to fight for the green jersey,” he says strongly. “You need all your power on this and if I’m going in the Tour it’s to help Cadel or Tejay. When you help somebody else it’s not possible to fight for a jersey or for winning a stage or something. It’s or you give everything for the team, or you go for your own chance,” he says emphatically, punctuating his English with French grammar in his intensity. “Not both together.”
Philippe’s equally clear when it comes to his own chances in the GC. “No,” he says unequivocally. “Mentally I cannot do this, it’s too hard. I don’t think so, no.”
“I’m always ambitious and I don’t want regrets when I stop my career,” he repeats the canonical words of the peloton’s older riders. “I’m going for every race just for me, the pleasure it starts for me and for family and friends, and then it’s coming out for the public and the sponsors.” But as a new and hopefully better season dawns, Philippe remains primarily self-motivated.
“I go first for myself, and then of course for my sponsors and for the team, but first is for myself.”
For father Philippe, the past two years on the bike have been as much of a rollercoaster ride as they have at home. Philippe was the rider of 2011, winning what seemed to be every single Classic in Europe in an incredible show of dominance and making himself the man to watch in 2012. Moving to BMC Racing Team at the start of the year, Philippe caused consternation when he failed to defend any one of his previous victories and added only one title to his palmarès, albeit the prestigious one of World Champion. The question on everyone’s lips is, therefore, what happened?
“My season was not that bad,” Philippe downplays the implications. “Sometimes I was a bit less than normal level, but often not that bad. I mean, I had some problems, some health problems,” he acknowledges. “I was sometimes sick with my Tours and everything and I lost a lot of power in this.”
His expression is almost hard-done-by as he explains the difficulties of his profession. “It’s never easy to keep cycling at a high level when you have some little problems.” Then his tone changes. “But now I’m lucky, everything is fine.”
Unfortunately, while Philippe’s words are telling one story, his face is telling another. There’s no hint of his trademark sense of humour in his eyes. He takes every question seriously, answers it fully. He downplays, but he doesn’t dismiss. The journalists are quick to notice and keep pressing him on the subject. Though his expression doesn’t change, Philippe’s tone becomes defensive, and his words carry a reprimand.
“I think we’re here to talk about the new season. We talked enough about this last year.”
It’s hard to say whether he’s disappointed or simply over it, but clearly, Philippe doesn’t want to talk about it. We move on.
On the topic of the new season, Philippe happily outlines his off-season and his lead-up to his first race of the year, the Tour Down Under in Adelaide.
“First, I stopped the season earlier, so I have a good base of training ‘cause I had good three months training in the winter,” he explains. “I had good endurance training behind me and now a lot of intensity of the last weeks. I’m feeling ready for this.”
“You need a good winter to make a big season, and a strong season,” he tells us emphatically. “I think I had a good winter so I can go for another nice season.”
Someone asks Philippe if he spent the whole winter in his new home base of Monaco. “Always in the sun,” Philippe replies. “I’m following the sun.” For the first time we see the characteristic grin – for that’s the only word for it – that has made him known as a real joker within the peloton. The journalists chuckle along and enjoy the lighter mood of the conversation.
Philippe’s chief focus is, as always, Ardennes Week, the brutal triplicate of Amstel Gold Race, La Flèche Wallone and Liège-Bastogne-Liège in eight days. He’s not concerned by rumours on changes in the race route of the opening Ardennes Classic, colloquially known as just ‘Amstel Gold’. “Yeah, I mean, it’s the same,” he points out. “The big goal, it’s still the same, controlling the race until the bottom of the last time up the Cauberg, and then the strongest wins.”
The other Classics are on his radar, too, and he’ll take whichever one comes his way. “For me the Classics are all big and all important, and it’s what I’m racing for, so if I can win one of those it will be nice,” he reflects. He deliberates a bit more. “It’s not easy to say one race.”
But someone wants to know if you can actually ride all the cobbled and Ardennes Classics in one year. “It’s one race a week if you do this, so I think it’s possible,” Philippe says without any wavering. “Of course, long race, like more than six hours, but I think it’s possible to recover and to ride every weekend for weeks. I’m sure it’s possible,” he nods. “The only problem is if you do Paris-Roubaix in the rain, maybe you’re more tired.”
With Ardennes Week beginning only a week later, Philippe thinks that a rainy Paris-Roubaix might prove the undoing of a rider bound for the Ardennes, but it doesn’t cast doubt on the overall concept. “I’m still convinced that it’s possible.” The fervour with which he asserts this makes it sound almost like he wants to be the one to prove it.
To begin with, though, Philippe is focussing his attention on Milano-San Remo, despite the amount of competition he predicts he’ll face. “We will be like, maybe…15 potential winners, it’s harder to win this race,” he stresses. “In Liege, if you’re on the top level, maybe two, three guys who can win, but,” he pauses once more, “San Remo, it’s a lot of guys.”
So, when you’re racing 15 other guys for the title at Milano-San Remo, what does the Classics specialist say are the key skills needed to win? “Just having good timing and sometimes having a little bit of luck also; having a good feeling but having also the right reaction behind from the other riders.” Philippe could be summing up the entire sport. He has a model for the perfect victory too - “Like we saw Simon Gerrans,” he says, referencing the Australian’s unexpected Milano-San Remo win of 2012. “He won, perfect.”
Though he mentions one of last year’s Classics winners in Gerrans, Philippe isn’t yet ready to make a call on who are the contenders in the Classics for 2013. “It’s hard to say, I think that I should wait like one or two months, to see the level of the other guys,” he says evenly. “See who can establish a high level and who can keep it to Liege. Last year from Qatar, I was there for the first race, I could see which riders were ready or not and just like that to Roubaix or to Liege.”
He doesn’t really even want to speculate which of last year’s top-10 finishers might step it up a few rungs on the finishers list or onto the podium. “I don’t know, it’s always hard to say,” Philippe vacillates. “Maybe some young guys, like [Peter] Sagan,” he says with sudden inspiration. “No-one expected Sagan last year to be that good on the Classics, and he was there.” It sounds like Sagan took Philippe by surprise just as much as everyone else, and it’s clear that he respects the prodigal youngster. “[John] Degenkolb was there also,” Philippe notes. “Maybe they can win.”
“What about Bauke Mollema?” one of the Dutch journalists presses. There’s a long pause. “…yeah?” Philippe replies. Everyone laughs at his confused expression, unable to avoid being backed into a corner. Then someone mentions the Classics rider of 2012, Tom Boonen, and the praise is instantly genuine. “He’s a hard competitor,” Philippe says, willingly acknowledging that Boonen will be his main rival in the Classics this year. “He’s fast, he’s smart, he’s strong, hard to beat.”
An Italian journalist mentions the Italian riders who once dominated that Classics, and Philippe doesn’t even let him finish his question before he answers it. “I’m already more complete, I think,” he tells the journalist candidly. “I’ve won all the Classics, just not Roubaix, I’m minimum on the podium of each Classic, Flanders two times on the podium and San Remo two times on the podium, so that’s already something good but I can do better.”
In cycling, the word ‘better’ can only mean the Tour de France. Last year Philippe was simply a workhorse for Cadel’s defence of his yellow jersey, but in previous years he’s ridden for himself, sights set on the sprinter’s green jersey.
“I saw in 2011 the energy you need to fight for the green jersey,” he says strongly. “You need all your power on this and if I’m going in the Tour it’s to help Cadel or Tejay. When you help somebody else it’s not possible to fight for a jersey or for winning a stage or something. It’s or you give everything for the team, or you go for your own chance,” he says emphatically, punctuating his English with French grammar in his intensity. “Not both together.”
Philippe’s equally clear when it comes to his own chances in the GC. “No,” he says unequivocally. “Mentally I cannot do this, it’s too hard. I don’t think so, no.”
“I’m always ambitious and I don’t want regrets when I stop my career,” he repeats the canonical words of the peloton’s older riders. “I’m going for every race just for me, the pleasure it starts for me and for family and friends, and then it’s coming out for the public and the sponsors.” But as a new and hopefully better season dawns, Philippe remains primarily self-motivated.
“I go first for myself, and then of course for my sponsors and for the team, but first is for myself.”
Wednesday, 23 January 2013
Quiet Confidence
“I do.”
His voice is calm and quiet, but there is no hint of doubt in his tone. His whole demeanour affirms what he says. Cadel Evans knows he can still win the Tour de France.
“Do you think you’re losing the edge? Do you think you’re getting older?”
“No, I don’t.”
This is the world of Cadel Evans, the first Australian winner of the Tour de France. The 35-year-old radiates a quiet confidence that matches his voice. He doesn’t have to speak loudly for you to want to listen, and with his words you imbibe a little of his conviction that leaves you convinced too. Despite being among the oldest in the peloton, the 2009 Road World Champion is not to be dismissed lightly. He wants to win, and he knows he can.
But after a season marred by ill health, Cadel’s first priority is not the race podium.
“The first thing for me is to come back healthy and from what we can tell everything’s coming back towards normal,” he says with that same calm confidence. “When that comes back, of course, everything else comes with it.” He quotes the old adage as he talks. “The most important thing in our life is actually our health. You certainly realise that when you don’t have it.”
He’s very matter-of-fact with the details. “It seems that when I went to Ethiopia I contracted some kind of low-level virus and we didn’t find out about it until August,” he says simply. This is followed by a few moments of silence. No-one expected a straight answer about the ‘health issues’ that dogged the Australian favourite throughout last year, but that’s Cadel. It just is how it is. He doesn’t let it stop him.
“One thing that comes from missing out on not being at the front though is it fuels your motivation, you become hungrier and you want more, and certainly I’m not by any means the youngest rider in the peloton but I think I’m amongst the most motivated still.”
Motivation aside, even with a career as long and varied as Cadel’s, he has one or two regrets. “I think it’s my 19th full season as a professional rider,” Cadel reflects. “There’s a lot of races that I haven’t even been able to compete in which I’d like to be able to ride in. Don’t know if I’ll be able to get to all of them,” he says almost wistfully. But his trademark practicality soon kicks in. “But at the moment, focus on the Tour and of course the stage races leading on, and maybe in the years following we can look to reassess things.”
The Tour de France has always been Cadel’s target, and with his health on the mend he has his eyes on a second title. To him, getting his body back to 100% is his primary goal, and the question of which other riders might challenge him for the Tour crown is at best a secondary concern. “At this point, we’re still a bit early in the year to know,” he points out, almost critical of the pre-emptive question. “But in 2013 I’d look more for of course the performers in 2012, Bradley [Wiggins] and [Chris] Froome, as certainly the guys to beat at this point. I think those are the guys we’ll look to be watching leading into the Tour.”
“The thing that impressed me most about their season, but particularly that of Brad Wiggins, was his consistency to stay at a high level from Paris-Nice through to the Olympic Games. To hold that high, high level was really, well,” he shakes his head a little, “…to me, was bordering on what I thought was impossible, but he’s gone and done it, so it’s clearly not impossible.” He says very little about last year’s Tour winner, but from what little he says, it’s clear Cadel has a grudging respect for the Briton.
Of all riders, though, Cadel knows better than anyone how difficult it is to follow through on such a season as Team Sky has had. He’s philosophical about their chances, and speaks optimistically of his own. “Let’s see how they back up again from that, for this year,” he almost challenges. “Let’s see. That was 2012, this is 2013.”
The other elephant in the room when it comes to Cadel and the Tour is the matter of his young teammate, Tejay van Garderen. While Cadel suffered through the difficulty of riding the Tour on an average year in 2012, 24-year-old van Garderen was the revelation of the race, putting in brilliant efforts in both the time trials and outpacing his team leader on several climbs, finally finishing 5th overall ahead of Cadel’s 7th. The youngster is therefore being hailed as Cadel’s natural successor for the Grand Tours at BMC, and many have been wondering if that succession should in fact be now. There is no hint of uncertainty or forgiveness in Cadel’s expression or tone as he lays down the law for the Tour.
“I think if I’m back at my normal level it’ll be pretty clear what the team needs to focus on, and where we need to concentrate on and that’ll be to concentrate on one leader, that being me, ‘cause I’ve had the experience and I also have the results to back it up.” There is almost a kind of fervour in his voice as he talks about the paramount race of the cycling world. This is his strength. As a GC rider, this is, pure and simple, what he does. “I can win the Tour, and that’ll be important.”
“That comes back to my health in 2012,” he reiterates, a rare glimpse of what his year was like behind his public face. “I was stuck in a few moments where I didn’t know what was going on with my health, I wasn’t at my normal level.” But on the front of van Garderen, he knows exactly where the two of them stand. “In 2013, between Tejay and myself, it’s important that we’re of course honest and clear with each other, but most importantly for me it’s just to get back to my good level and if that happens, the rest is obvious.”
To him, everything is perfectly clear. Black and white. He doesn’t equivocate. When he says ‘I don’t know’, it’s not an equivocation. It just means that he hasn’t thought about the question.
“Everyone always asks me when I’m going to stop, but I don’t know. ‘I don’t know’ doesn’t stand for an answer so you have to make something up.”
The smile and the laugh that accompany this are awkward, as though he doesn’t understand why anyone would ask the question. It’s simply not relevant. The idea doesn’t feature in Cadel’s world.
“One thing about being outside of where you want to be, it motivates you,” he explains. “In 2003, 2004, I had some disappointing years, but that fuelled my motivation for years to come thereafter. That’s how I feel right now.” Cadel is far from bouncing out of his seat. This is not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, but there is a certain quiet keenness in his voice and in his eye that can’t be mistaken. He leans forward a little and nods his head as he continues speaking.
“If someone said to me ‘Oh, I want you to stop at the end of 2014,’ I’d be like ‘Ahhhh…’ because I’m not through.” His reticence is clear in his onomatopoeia. “I love what I do, I think we have a great environment here in the team, we have a great balance in the way we work and so on. If I was thinking I was going to stop in 2013, I feel I’d be cutting myself somewhat short.”
He smiles just a little. “Easy to say at this point. Let’s see in 2014 and 2015.”
His voice is calm and quiet, but there is no hint of doubt in his tone. His whole demeanour affirms what he says. Cadel Evans knows he can still win the Tour de France.
“Do you think you’re losing the edge? Do you think you’re getting older?”
“No, I don’t.”
This is the world of Cadel Evans, the first Australian winner of the Tour de France. The 35-year-old radiates a quiet confidence that matches his voice. He doesn’t have to speak loudly for you to want to listen, and with his words you imbibe a little of his conviction that leaves you convinced too. Despite being among the oldest in the peloton, the 2009 Road World Champion is not to be dismissed lightly. He wants to win, and he knows he can.
But after a season marred by ill health, Cadel’s first priority is not the race podium.
“The first thing for me is to come back healthy and from what we can tell everything’s coming back towards normal,” he says with that same calm confidence. “When that comes back, of course, everything else comes with it.” He quotes the old adage as he talks. “The most important thing in our life is actually our health. You certainly realise that when you don’t have it.”
He’s very matter-of-fact with the details. “It seems that when I went to Ethiopia I contracted some kind of low-level virus and we didn’t find out about it until August,” he says simply. This is followed by a few moments of silence. No-one expected a straight answer about the ‘health issues’ that dogged the Australian favourite throughout last year, but that’s Cadel. It just is how it is. He doesn’t let it stop him.
“One thing that comes from missing out on not being at the front though is it fuels your motivation, you become hungrier and you want more, and certainly I’m not by any means the youngest rider in the peloton but I think I’m amongst the most motivated still.”
Motivation aside, even with a career as long and varied as Cadel’s, he has one or two regrets. “I think it’s my 19th full season as a professional rider,” Cadel reflects. “There’s a lot of races that I haven’t even been able to compete in which I’d like to be able to ride in. Don’t know if I’ll be able to get to all of them,” he says almost wistfully. But his trademark practicality soon kicks in. “But at the moment, focus on the Tour and of course the stage races leading on, and maybe in the years following we can look to reassess things.”
The Tour de France has always been Cadel’s target, and with his health on the mend he has his eyes on a second title. To him, getting his body back to 100% is his primary goal, and the question of which other riders might challenge him for the Tour crown is at best a secondary concern. “At this point, we’re still a bit early in the year to know,” he points out, almost critical of the pre-emptive question. “But in 2013 I’d look more for of course the performers in 2012, Bradley [Wiggins] and [Chris] Froome, as certainly the guys to beat at this point. I think those are the guys we’ll look to be watching leading into the Tour.”
“The thing that impressed me most about their season, but particularly that of Brad Wiggins, was his consistency to stay at a high level from Paris-Nice through to the Olympic Games. To hold that high, high level was really, well,” he shakes his head a little, “…to me, was bordering on what I thought was impossible, but he’s gone and done it, so it’s clearly not impossible.” He says very little about last year’s Tour winner, but from what little he says, it’s clear Cadel has a grudging respect for the Briton.
Of all riders, though, Cadel knows better than anyone how difficult it is to follow through on such a season as Team Sky has had. He’s philosophical about their chances, and speaks optimistically of his own. “Let’s see how they back up again from that, for this year,” he almost challenges. “Let’s see. That was 2012, this is 2013.”
The other elephant in the room when it comes to Cadel and the Tour is the matter of his young teammate, Tejay van Garderen. While Cadel suffered through the difficulty of riding the Tour on an average year in 2012, 24-year-old van Garderen was the revelation of the race, putting in brilliant efforts in both the time trials and outpacing his team leader on several climbs, finally finishing 5th overall ahead of Cadel’s 7th. The youngster is therefore being hailed as Cadel’s natural successor for the Grand Tours at BMC, and many have been wondering if that succession should in fact be now. There is no hint of uncertainty or forgiveness in Cadel’s expression or tone as he lays down the law for the Tour.
“I think if I’m back at my normal level it’ll be pretty clear what the team needs to focus on, and where we need to concentrate on and that’ll be to concentrate on one leader, that being me, ‘cause I’ve had the experience and I also have the results to back it up.” There is almost a kind of fervour in his voice as he talks about the paramount race of the cycling world. This is his strength. As a GC rider, this is, pure and simple, what he does. “I can win the Tour, and that’ll be important.”
“That comes back to my health in 2012,” he reiterates, a rare glimpse of what his year was like behind his public face. “I was stuck in a few moments where I didn’t know what was going on with my health, I wasn’t at my normal level.” But on the front of van Garderen, he knows exactly where the two of them stand. “In 2013, between Tejay and myself, it’s important that we’re of course honest and clear with each other, but most importantly for me it’s just to get back to my good level and if that happens, the rest is obvious.”
To him, everything is perfectly clear. Black and white. He doesn’t equivocate. When he says ‘I don’t know’, it’s not an equivocation. It just means that he hasn’t thought about the question.
“Everyone always asks me when I’m going to stop, but I don’t know. ‘I don’t know’ doesn’t stand for an answer so you have to make something up.”
The smile and the laugh that accompany this are awkward, as though he doesn’t understand why anyone would ask the question. It’s simply not relevant. The idea doesn’t feature in Cadel’s world.
“One thing about being outside of where you want to be, it motivates you,” he explains. “In 2003, 2004, I had some disappointing years, but that fuelled my motivation for years to come thereafter. That’s how I feel right now.” Cadel is far from bouncing out of his seat. This is not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, but there is a certain quiet keenness in his voice and in his eye that can’t be mistaken. He leans forward a little and nods his head as he continues speaking.
“If someone said to me ‘Oh, I want you to stop at the end of 2014,’ I’d be like ‘Ahhhh…’ because I’m not through.” His reticence is clear in his onomatopoeia. “I love what I do, I think we have a great environment here in the team, we have a great balance in the way we work and so on. If I was thinking I was going to stop in 2013, I feel I’d be cutting myself somewhat short.”
He smiles just a little. “Easy to say at this point. Let’s see in 2014 and 2015.”
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
15 Minutes with Taylor & Tejay
“…all the way through, and then I go full. And I win the Worlds.”
The journalists in the room freeze for a moment. Unlike the other, older riders who walk into the room with maybe a ‘Hello’, sit down and wait for the questions, 22-year-old Taylor Phinney and 24-year-old Tejay van Garderen are already joking around the moment they walk in the door. It turns out Taylor has a bit of a reputation for Philippe Gilbert impressions. Apparently we were just on the receiving end of one.
“That was pretty much like the original,” the Dutch journalist says with a smile. BMC’s young superstar pair, two of the riders frequently hailed as ‘the future of American cycling’, are still going with their quirky two-man stand-up routine.
“Nibali…I don’t know about bikes, but there he is.”
This is clearly going to be a different sort of interview.
We settle down into some – mostly – serious questions, and Tejay leans back in his seat and stretches his legs for a few minutes while Taylor takes the heat. After his performance in the time trial at last year’s World Championships in Limburg, where Taylor came a close second in a competition that left winner Tony Martin momentarily unconscious from exhaustion, there’s a lot of interest in his time trialling ability and his relationship with the king of the discipline, Fabian Cancellara. Taylor says that his experience racing last year’s Giro d’Italia and an off-season that has been for once untouched by injury will be key in developing his skills. “I had two knee injuries in the last off-season and the off-season before that and this off-season I’ve been fine, just training and focussing on what I need to do,” the Boulder, Colorado native explains. “I think being healthy and also just a bit of extra racing and more concentrated training will get me to the place I need to be to beat [Cancellara].”
Taylor is full of warm words for the four-time world champion, who is now giving up time trialling to focus on other things. “Well, he has what, four world championships, Olympic gold medal, not much more you can do from there. I’ll see him in the Classics and I’d consider us relatively good friends already. He’s definitely been an idol and a hero in my career for a long time, ever since I started racing.”
But BMC’s youngster can’t stay serious for long.
“I kind of wouldn’t mind testing myself against somebody like that, that pedigree and that past. It’d be cool if he could focus a little bit more on time-trialling and I could…” something between innocence and mischief appears on Taylor’s face, “see how I match up against him.”
Jokes aside, Taylor’s also the first to acknowledge that he understands Cancellara’s choice to step away from their demanding discipline.
“He’s getting to a different point in his career than I am. And time trialling sucks a lot. It’s really hard, you know. It’s like an hour of pain, why would you want to do that to yourself?” he says with a totally straight face while everyone chuckles. At just 22, the American already has the power to keep his audience rapt, the roomful of journalists too busy listening to him to pose questions to Tejay. “I want to do that to myself so that I can achieve the results that Fabian has, but I can totally understand that once you get those results that you move on.”
Taylor compares Cancellara’s focus-change to his once-beloved discipline on the track, the individual pursuit, which he abandoned in favour of full-time road racing at the end of 2010. Of course, he tells the story a little differently. “I won the World Championships, they took it out of the Olympic program, and then I was like ‘Wow, this is a terrible four minutes of my life. I’m gonna go ahead and focus on something else now.’”
Tejay smiles along with the rest of the room at his younger teammate’s wisecracking, and the focus turns to the older rider and the relationship between the two – are they friends? “Not really!” he replies with a broad grin. Though more laid-back and quiet than Taylor, it seems the comedy act is not entirely one-sided. “Taylor and I are really close friends and it’s good to have a good friend to hang out with and another American to kinda, you know, do some shit-talking with,” Tejay explains with a smile.
The two are also frequent training partners when they’re both at their stateside base of Boulder. “We’re good for each other, we push each other. We have different strengths but they overlap in a coupla different areas, like in a time trial.” Tejay has a calm, earnest way of talking that makes him easy to listen to, and he’s eloquent for a 24-year-old, always able to say precisely what he means.
“Who’s better?” someone calls out. Apparently Taylor can’t resist. “You can’t ask that question!” he pretends to chastise the amused journalist, leaving Tejay to clarify the answer. “We have different strengths,” Tejay says simply. “I would never beat him on the cobbles of Paris-Roubaix but I don’t think he would ever beat me up Alpe d’Huez. But if you put us in a time trial, that could be where we overlap a little bit. In a one-day time trial I think he’s a little bit better, but in a time trial at the end of a three-week stage race then I might be a bit better.”
The questions turn to the state of American cycling in the wake of the Armstrong affair, but more particularly the admission of the pair’s former BMC teammate George Hincapie that he was involved in organised doping. Taylor makes light of the situation, as always, but points out that ‘…anybody who’s tuned into the cycling world kind of knew what was coming, in a way.’ For once Tejay seems to be struggling to find a diplomatic way to express his thoughts.
“It wasn’t a shock,” he acknowledges, “but it was, it was definitely…it was definitely, uh, made a lot of headlines, but like Taylor said, we kinda knew it was coming.”
But Taylor isn’t so light-hearted when someone suggests that Americans have been the ‘bad guys’ of the peloton for the last decade. He jumps on the question with an unusual aggressiveness. “I don’t know if it’s just the American riders being the bad guys,” he replies moderately, to more laughter, but he’s quick to assert that past riders are also responsible for the present open state of cycling and not just to blame for its mistakes.
“We’re certainly proud to represent America, we’re proud to be where we’re at. Cycling had its problems in the past, but we stepped into a clean environment, and that was due to people from the past,” Taylor says strongly. “We definitely take that privilege seriously, to make sure the sport never relapses, and we’re always able to go to sleep at night knowing that none of our tests are going to show up positive and that all of our results were achieved in the correct way.” Despite this attitude, Taylor is still critical of the journalist’s original premise, and calls him out on the oblique accusation. “To say that we’re the good guys and they’re the bad guys, I don’t think that’s really fair.”
Taylor has also earned a reputation for being outspoken on the topic of doping, especially after an open interview about the use of legal medications late last year. He’s drawn a lot of interest in the wake of that interview, as it’s unusual for riders to talk so openly of doping. “It’s important for me to get my thoughts out there and my preparation for races out there,” he says of his willingness to open up on the subject. “For me that interview was just to kind of shine a light into a dark place and show how my approach is completely different than all these things that you read; Tyler Hamilton’s book and the USADA reports.”
Taylor has no compunction in being open with his views around his teammates, either. “We have a pretty strict team policy as it is, and I think a lot of people share the same sort of feelings as I do, at least on my team and in my inner circle. I’m very comfortable with what happens here at BMC and proud of what we can achieve.”
While Taylor sits back for a moment, having satisfied the journalists’ questions, the focus moves back to Tejay and in particular his 6th-placed Tour de France ride of last year, which left many wondering if BMC team leader Cadel Evans was still fit to be the Tour team leader. Tejay is quick to assure everyone that Cadel is still in charge, but he has his own ideas on what his role will be. “I think I’ll be given a bit of a free role to ride my own race,” Tejay says. “Where I’m at right now in my development is that there were climbers that were really good and I was just trying my best to follow. I was just following the best wheel I could, and sometimes that was with the leaders, sometimes it was in a group behind the leaders, like a couple of minutes back.”
To Tejay, this means that it will be his job to be Evans’ lieutenant and not his rival, but this doesn’t preclude him from having his own goals as well. “I can help [Evans] out, but that doesn’t mean that once the finish line comes that I have to hit my brakes and lose five minutes and then cross the line. That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to get a result,” he emphasises, though he knows that riding for himself may not always be an option. “The only scenario I see would be if Cadel gets dropped and I have to wait for him, which I did in last year’s Tour. I don’t think I’m gonna be called upon to do that, so I think I’ll help Cadel as much as I can from off the front of the race.”
As we all stand and prepare to move rooms at the end of the interview, one of the European journalists feels the need to ask Tejay one last question.
“Have you already dreamed about the yellow jersey?”
Tejay smiles and replies without blinking. “I’ve dreamed about it since I was nine years old.”
The journalists in the room freeze for a moment. Unlike the other, older riders who walk into the room with maybe a ‘Hello’, sit down and wait for the questions, 22-year-old Taylor Phinney and 24-year-old Tejay van Garderen are already joking around the moment they walk in the door. It turns out Taylor has a bit of a reputation for Philippe Gilbert impressions. Apparently we were just on the receiving end of one.
“That was pretty much like the original,” the Dutch journalist says with a smile. BMC’s young superstar pair, two of the riders frequently hailed as ‘the future of American cycling’, are still going with their quirky two-man stand-up routine.
“Nibali…I don’t know about bikes, but there he is.”
This is clearly going to be a different sort of interview.
We settle down into some – mostly – serious questions, and Tejay leans back in his seat and stretches his legs for a few minutes while Taylor takes the heat. After his performance in the time trial at last year’s World Championships in Limburg, where Taylor came a close second in a competition that left winner Tony Martin momentarily unconscious from exhaustion, there’s a lot of interest in his time trialling ability and his relationship with the king of the discipline, Fabian Cancellara. Taylor says that his experience racing last year’s Giro d’Italia and an off-season that has been for once untouched by injury will be key in developing his skills. “I had two knee injuries in the last off-season and the off-season before that and this off-season I’ve been fine, just training and focussing on what I need to do,” the Boulder, Colorado native explains. “I think being healthy and also just a bit of extra racing and more concentrated training will get me to the place I need to be to beat [Cancellara].”
Taylor is full of warm words for the four-time world champion, who is now giving up time trialling to focus on other things. “Well, he has what, four world championships, Olympic gold medal, not much more you can do from there. I’ll see him in the Classics and I’d consider us relatively good friends already. He’s definitely been an idol and a hero in my career for a long time, ever since I started racing.”
But BMC’s youngster can’t stay serious for long.
“I kind of wouldn’t mind testing myself against somebody like that, that pedigree and that past. It’d be cool if he could focus a little bit more on time-trialling and I could…” something between innocence and mischief appears on Taylor’s face, “see how I match up against him.”
Jokes aside, Taylor’s also the first to acknowledge that he understands Cancellara’s choice to step away from their demanding discipline.
“He’s getting to a different point in his career than I am. And time trialling sucks a lot. It’s really hard, you know. It’s like an hour of pain, why would you want to do that to yourself?” he says with a totally straight face while everyone chuckles. At just 22, the American already has the power to keep his audience rapt, the roomful of journalists too busy listening to him to pose questions to Tejay. “I want to do that to myself so that I can achieve the results that Fabian has, but I can totally understand that once you get those results that you move on.”
Taylor compares Cancellara’s focus-change to his once-beloved discipline on the track, the individual pursuit, which he abandoned in favour of full-time road racing at the end of 2010. Of course, he tells the story a little differently. “I won the World Championships, they took it out of the Olympic program, and then I was like ‘Wow, this is a terrible four minutes of my life. I’m gonna go ahead and focus on something else now.’”
Tejay smiles along with the rest of the room at his younger teammate’s wisecracking, and the focus turns to the older rider and the relationship between the two – are they friends? “Not really!” he replies with a broad grin. Though more laid-back and quiet than Taylor, it seems the comedy act is not entirely one-sided. “Taylor and I are really close friends and it’s good to have a good friend to hang out with and another American to kinda, you know, do some shit-talking with,” Tejay explains with a smile.
The two are also frequent training partners when they’re both at their stateside base of Boulder. “We’re good for each other, we push each other. We have different strengths but they overlap in a coupla different areas, like in a time trial.” Tejay has a calm, earnest way of talking that makes him easy to listen to, and he’s eloquent for a 24-year-old, always able to say precisely what he means.
“Who’s better?” someone calls out. Apparently Taylor can’t resist. “You can’t ask that question!” he pretends to chastise the amused journalist, leaving Tejay to clarify the answer. “We have different strengths,” Tejay says simply. “I would never beat him on the cobbles of Paris-Roubaix but I don’t think he would ever beat me up Alpe d’Huez. But if you put us in a time trial, that could be where we overlap a little bit. In a one-day time trial I think he’s a little bit better, but in a time trial at the end of a three-week stage race then I might be a bit better.”
The questions turn to the state of American cycling in the wake of the Armstrong affair, but more particularly the admission of the pair’s former BMC teammate George Hincapie that he was involved in organised doping. Taylor makes light of the situation, as always, but points out that ‘…anybody who’s tuned into the cycling world kind of knew what was coming, in a way.’ For once Tejay seems to be struggling to find a diplomatic way to express his thoughts.
“It wasn’t a shock,” he acknowledges, “but it was, it was definitely…it was definitely, uh, made a lot of headlines, but like Taylor said, we kinda knew it was coming.”
But Taylor isn’t so light-hearted when someone suggests that Americans have been the ‘bad guys’ of the peloton for the last decade. He jumps on the question with an unusual aggressiveness. “I don’t know if it’s just the American riders being the bad guys,” he replies moderately, to more laughter, but he’s quick to assert that past riders are also responsible for the present open state of cycling and not just to blame for its mistakes.
“We’re certainly proud to represent America, we’re proud to be where we’re at. Cycling had its problems in the past, but we stepped into a clean environment, and that was due to people from the past,” Taylor says strongly. “We definitely take that privilege seriously, to make sure the sport never relapses, and we’re always able to go to sleep at night knowing that none of our tests are going to show up positive and that all of our results were achieved in the correct way.” Despite this attitude, Taylor is still critical of the journalist’s original premise, and calls him out on the oblique accusation. “To say that we’re the good guys and they’re the bad guys, I don’t think that’s really fair.”
Taylor has also earned a reputation for being outspoken on the topic of doping, especially after an open interview about the use of legal medications late last year. He’s drawn a lot of interest in the wake of that interview, as it’s unusual for riders to talk so openly of doping. “It’s important for me to get my thoughts out there and my preparation for races out there,” he says of his willingness to open up on the subject. “For me that interview was just to kind of shine a light into a dark place and show how my approach is completely different than all these things that you read; Tyler Hamilton’s book and the USADA reports.”
Taylor has no compunction in being open with his views around his teammates, either. “We have a pretty strict team policy as it is, and I think a lot of people share the same sort of feelings as I do, at least on my team and in my inner circle. I’m very comfortable with what happens here at BMC and proud of what we can achieve.”
While Taylor sits back for a moment, having satisfied the journalists’ questions, the focus moves back to Tejay and in particular his 6th-placed Tour de France ride of last year, which left many wondering if BMC team leader Cadel Evans was still fit to be the Tour team leader. Tejay is quick to assure everyone that Cadel is still in charge, but he has his own ideas on what his role will be. “I think I’ll be given a bit of a free role to ride my own race,” Tejay says. “Where I’m at right now in my development is that there were climbers that were really good and I was just trying my best to follow. I was just following the best wheel I could, and sometimes that was with the leaders, sometimes it was in a group behind the leaders, like a couple of minutes back.”
To Tejay, this means that it will be his job to be Evans’ lieutenant and not his rival, but this doesn’t preclude him from having his own goals as well. “I can help [Evans] out, but that doesn’t mean that once the finish line comes that I have to hit my brakes and lose five minutes and then cross the line. That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to get a result,” he emphasises, though he knows that riding for himself may not always be an option. “The only scenario I see would be if Cadel gets dropped and I have to wait for him, which I did in last year’s Tour. I don’t think I’m gonna be called upon to do that, so I think I’ll help Cadel as much as I can from off the front of the race.”
As we all stand and prepare to move rooms at the end of the interview, one of the European journalists feels the need to ask Tejay one last question.
“Have you already dreamed about the yellow jersey?”
Tejay smiles and replies without blinking. “I’ve dreamed about it since I was nine years old.”
Thursday, 3 January 2013
Should We Applaud?
It’s 30-something degrees in the Adelaide Hills. Two cyclists are battling their way to the top of a climb. The crowd is cheering both as they struggle to get the advantage, one rider just nudging the other out for the victory as they cross the line. Alejandro Valverde has just made a triumphant return from a two-year doping suspension.
The crowd certainly doesn’t seem to mind his history, applauding him as much as his Australian opponent, Simon Gerrans. The Spanish fans love him too, holding him with the likes of Luis Léon Sánchez and Alberto Contador. In truth, it hardly seems fair. After his actions, does Valverde actually deserve to be applauded? It’s hard to say. And this begs another, more serious question:
If we applaud after they cheat, are we applauding the cheating, too?
Are we unreasonable for wanting to applaud? Is it wrong to admire David Millar for his strict anti-doping stance, wrong to worship Dave Zabriskie for daring to be a vegan pro-cyclist when no-one thought he could? Is it wrong to esteem George Hincapie as one of the heads of state of the peloton, a loyal, capable rider? Or should we be shaking our heads and saying that everything that we love and believe about these guys has been washed away with the flood of guilt? That the moral high ground should take precedence over everything; that their right to be applauded was stripped the moment they admitted to doping?
I hold all of these riders among my favourites for these reasons, but I feel guilty in saying that now. I feel as though I should wash my hands of them to set a good example for other fans and riders; to show that we, the fans and the media, will not condone doping either. But I just can’t shake the desire to thank George Hincapie for being the capable lieutenant and road captain that led Cadel Evans to victory. I can’t shake that desire, and yet I can’t shake the question: does he still deserve our thanks? Or did he resign the right to that kind of admiration when he said yes to the drugs?
Should knowledge of redemption and the chance of returning to the fold form part of the doping culture in cycling? If riders admit, or repent, should their mistake be acknowledged and they be embraced upon their return? Or should complete ostracision by the cycling community and rescission of all respect and status be the unwavering punishment for doping? I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone is.
It’s not just the riders, either. Half of the support staff of the pro peloton is made up of former riders. Some are former dopers. What about Matt White, Bjaarne Riis, Jonathan Vaughters? Do we lump them in the same group as the riders, too – and what group is that, exactly? Can we admire their work as team managers and trainers without admiring their decision to dope? Is that even possible? I don’t know. It’s cycling’s version of a rock and a hard place – either we clap every good achievement, and provide no further disincentive from doping, or we draw a line and only clap clean riders and staff, and therefore clap far less often.
I really do feel guilty for saying it, but I think that, at least for now, I’m going to keep applauding. As much as I despise doping and think that desperate times call for desperate anti-doping measures, I still want to applaud these riders, even knowing their doping history. Despite everything they’ve done wrong, I keep finding that I can’t ignore everything they’ve done right, either. But I’d feel so much better if I could applaud them for their clean pasts as well. And I bet they feel that way, too.
The crowd certainly doesn’t seem to mind his history, applauding him as much as his Australian opponent, Simon Gerrans. The Spanish fans love him too, holding him with the likes of Luis Léon Sánchez and Alberto Contador. In truth, it hardly seems fair. After his actions, does Valverde actually deserve to be applauded? It’s hard to say. And this begs another, more serious question:
If we applaud after they cheat, are we applauding the cheating, too?
Are we unreasonable for wanting to applaud? Is it wrong to admire David Millar for his strict anti-doping stance, wrong to worship Dave Zabriskie for daring to be a vegan pro-cyclist when no-one thought he could? Is it wrong to esteem George Hincapie as one of the heads of state of the peloton, a loyal, capable rider? Or should we be shaking our heads and saying that everything that we love and believe about these guys has been washed away with the flood of guilt? That the moral high ground should take precedence over everything; that their right to be applauded was stripped the moment they admitted to doping?
I hold all of these riders among my favourites for these reasons, but I feel guilty in saying that now. I feel as though I should wash my hands of them to set a good example for other fans and riders; to show that we, the fans and the media, will not condone doping either. But I just can’t shake the desire to thank George Hincapie for being the capable lieutenant and road captain that led Cadel Evans to victory. I can’t shake that desire, and yet I can’t shake the question: does he still deserve our thanks? Or did he resign the right to that kind of admiration when he said yes to the drugs?
Should knowledge of redemption and the chance of returning to the fold form part of the doping culture in cycling? If riders admit, or repent, should their mistake be acknowledged and they be embraced upon their return? Or should complete ostracision by the cycling community and rescission of all respect and status be the unwavering punishment for doping? I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone is.
It’s not just the riders, either. Half of the support staff of the pro peloton is made up of former riders. Some are former dopers. What about Matt White, Bjaarne Riis, Jonathan Vaughters? Do we lump them in the same group as the riders, too – and what group is that, exactly? Can we admire their work as team managers and trainers without admiring their decision to dope? Is that even possible? I don’t know. It’s cycling’s version of a rock and a hard place – either we clap every good achievement, and provide no further disincentive from doping, or we draw a line and only clap clean riders and staff, and therefore clap far less often.
I really do feel guilty for saying it, but I think that, at least for now, I’m going to keep applauding. As much as I despise doping and think that desperate times call for desperate anti-doping measures, I still want to applaud these riders, even knowing their doping history. Despite everything they’ve done wrong, I keep finding that I can’t ignore everything they’ve done right, either. But I’d feel so much better if I could applaud them for their clean pasts as well. And I bet they feel that way, too.
Sunday, 30 December 2012
LeMond for Pres - Or Not?
So the sinking Armstrong ship has gone down and now it’s the turn of the ship’s pilot to come under scrutiny. Suffice to say, it’s not going well. Pat McQuaid, Captain UCI himself, is now having his ability to run the sport questioned. In fact, public opinion has already written his resignation letter and started looking for his replacement.
And it seems the world has found it in Greg LeMond, anti-doping poster child, ex-rider and general all-around good guy. LeMond has three Tour de France titles to his name along with years of experience in the cycling industry, and earlier this month the 51-year-old put his hand up to be the ‘interim’ president of the UCI until a long-term replacement can be elected. Fans love the idea. He’s a perfect, noble choice. It’s a great ending and we’ll all live happily ever after like Cinderella. Right. For me, the problem is that LeMond has never been caught doping.
Yes, I said ‘has never been caught’.
LeMond rode during a time when – as we now know – there was a serious doping subculture and more than one of LeMond’s contemporaries tested positive. The Armstrong affair has shown us pretty clearly that the only way to beat doping is with more doping. The astute fan will acknowledge that there’s a possibility that LeMond was doping. There’s never been a positive test or an admission of doping – but again, Lance Armstrong proved that you can be the most successful doper in the history of cycling without a single admission or ‘official’ positive test.
Yes, there’s an equal chance that LeMond might be innocent, that his absence of confession and staunch anti-doping stance are because he’s never used performance-enhancing drugs. But if we’re honest with ourselves, how many of us believed Armstrong, and got burnt? Imagine this – Greg LeMond is made president of the UCI. The post-Armstrong anti-doping arrangements are well underway, everything’s going fine, and then suddenly LeMond is busted for doping as a rider. It could be a retested sample, the testimony of a teammate or even a confession from LeMond himself, but either way the results are the same. We get burnt again. The fallout would be huge. Do we really want to risk that possibility; take that chance? Do we really want a UCI president who will always leave us wondering if he’s telling the truth; always leave us in fear of the announcement that he’s not?
But more than that, the UCI presidency for the next 10 years will be about doping. It’s inevitable – how it started, how to stop it, what measures will be effective. If, as in the hypothetical above, LeMond has doped and lied about it, then we have another lying, cheating rider. We’re getting used to having our hearts broken by these guys. After we get past the denial stage, we kick him out of the house/UCI and never want to hear from him again. And then, of course, we’re back to square one – being alone/needing a new UCI president.
But if, on the other hand, Greg LeMond is one of the seemingly rare ‘clean’ riders who has never doped, how will he be effective as the ‘doping-era president’? If LeMond never engaged in a team doping system, how will he know how riders become a part of a team system, what would discourage them, how a team doping system works and how to take it down? Where is the virtue in promoting a clean rider to the top of the sport when his entire job description for his entire term will be the one thing in which he has no expert knowledge, no experience? Aren’t we just setting ourselves up to fail yet again?
There is, of course, an easy answer to these problems. Instead of choosing LeMond, why not bring in a confessed ex-doper? It sounds crazy and completely counter-intuitive, sure, but think about it. You never need to worry about Jorg Jaksche’s reputation being ruined on the job, and you can guarantee that Tyler Hamilton knows what he’s talking about when it comes to how to dismantle organised doping systems. Counter-intuitive perhaps, but the intuitive measures have been working just great so far, haven’t they? These guys have done their crime, they’ve done their time, and now they could be the key to healing a diseased system that was led astray by the purportedly ‘anti-doping’ guys.
So why not run in the complete opposite direction to the Verbruggen/McQuaid presidencies? Instead of picking another clean, eligible willing candidate, why not choose a reluctant, gritty former doper who has a genuine vested interest in eradicating the doping culture? After all, it was a wise man in Albus Dumbledore who said, “Perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.”
Is anyone else beginning to wonder why LeMond wants the job at all?
And it seems the world has found it in Greg LeMond, anti-doping poster child, ex-rider and general all-around good guy. LeMond has three Tour de France titles to his name along with years of experience in the cycling industry, and earlier this month the 51-year-old put his hand up to be the ‘interim’ president of the UCI until a long-term replacement can be elected. Fans love the idea. He’s a perfect, noble choice. It’s a great ending and we’ll all live happily ever after like Cinderella. Right. For me, the problem is that LeMond has never been caught doping.
Yes, I said ‘has never been caught’.
LeMond rode during a time when – as we now know – there was a serious doping subculture and more than one of LeMond’s contemporaries tested positive. The Armstrong affair has shown us pretty clearly that the only way to beat doping is with more doping. The astute fan will acknowledge that there’s a possibility that LeMond was doping. There’s never been a positive test or an admission of doping – but again, Lance Armstrong proved that you can be the most successful doper in the history of cycling without a single admission or ‘official’ positive test.
Yes, there’s an equal chance that LeMond might be innocent, that his absence of confession and staunch anti-doping stance are because he’s never used performance-enhancing drugs. But if we’re honest with ourselves, how many of us believed Armstrong, and got burnt? Imagine this – Greg LeMond is made president of the UCI. The post-Armstrong anti-doping arrangements are well underway, everything’s going fine, and then suddenly LeMond is busted for doping as a rider. It could be a retested sample, the testimony of a teammate or even a confession from LeMond himself, but either way the results are the same. We get burnt again. The fallout would be huge. Do we really want to risk that possibility; take that chance? Do we really want a UCI president who will always leave us wondering if he’s telling the truth; always leave us in fear of the announcement that he’s not?
But more than that, the UCI presidency for the next 10 years will be about doping. It’s inevitable – how it started, how to stop it, what measures will be effective. If, as in the hypothetical above, LeMond has doped and lied about it, then we have another lying, cheating rider. We’re getting used to having our hearts broken by these guys. After we get past the denial stage, we kick him out of the house/UCI and never want to hear from him again. And then, of course, we’re back to square one – being alone/needing a new UCI president.
But if, on the other hand, Greg LeMond is one of the seemingly rare ‘clean’ riders who has never doped, how will he be effective as the ‘doping-era president’? If LeMond never engaged in a team doping system, how will he know how riders become a part of a team system, what would discourage them, how a team doping system works and how to take it down? Where is the virtue in promoting a clean rider to the top of the sport when his entire job description for his entire term will be the one thing in which he has no expert knowledge, no experience? Aren’t we just setting ourselves up to fail yet again?
There is, of course, an easy answer to these problems. Instead of choosing LeMond, why not bring in a confessed ex-doper? It sounds crazy and completely counter-intuitive, sure, but think about it. You never need to worry about Jorg Jaksche’s reputation being ruined on the job, and you can guarantee that Tyler Hamilton knows what he’s talking about when it comes to how to dismantle organised doping systems. Counter-intuitive perhaps, but the intuitive measures have been working just great so far, haven’t they? These guys have done their crime, they’ve done their time, and now they could be the key to healing a diseased system that was led astray by the purportedly ‘anti-doping’ guys.
So why not run in the complete opposite direction to the Verbruggen/McQuaid presidencies? Instead of picking another clean, eligible willing candidate, why not choose a reluctant, gritty former doper who has a genuine vested interest in eradicating the doping culture? After all, it was a wise man in Albus Dumbledore who said, “Perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.”
Is anyone else beginning to wonder why LeMond wants the job at all?
Sunday, 18 November 2012
An Open Letter by Jeremy Roy (English Translation)
Another rider has joined the ranks of those speaking out against doping in the wake of the Armstrong affair. FDJ-Bigmat’s Jérémy Roy posted an open letter on his website on November 5th, talking about the current state of cycling and of doping in the sport. Below is an English version of this letter, translated by myself. You can read the original French letter on his website here.
Following recent events in the world of cycling, reactions and admissions from certain riders, and different movements launched to save cycling and to respond to certain people, I want to express my thoughts today through this open letter.
Of course I won’t say that cycling is moving in the best of worlds, but we need to stop stigmatising it and accusing every cyclist. Yes, there are cheats, and there always will be (in sport and in life), but the noose is tightening little by little thanks to the work of the UCI, of WADA (and its national counterparts) and of the police.
Today everyone is talking about the Armstrong affair (which hasn’t yet finished shedding light on certain shadowy areas regarding the transfer of funds), tomorrow I hope that the Padova affair in Italy will come good and that the Puerto affair in Spain, which will reopen in January, will also reveal its secrets.
I discovered the USADA report just like all of you, and yes, I was shocked by this quasi-collective doping system. No, fortunately not all teams work like that. I’m not stonewalling or influenced by omerta, as has been suggested by some journalists who’ve reproached me for the fact that I discovered the story through the media like any man in the street. I turned professional at the end of 2003 and even though I mix with other riders for a quarter of the year (90 days of racing), that doesn’t mean that I know what’s done away from prying eyes. And even if I speak from time to time to other riders, do you think that the cheaters are going to boast of their chemical prowess? The latest confessions (which, in passing, have been revealed only thanks to the inquiry and thus under oath) attest to that; not even their wife or their family was aware (I think that you share more with your loved ones than with your cyclist colleagues or opponents). It’s too easy today to ask forgiveness, to cleanse the conscience. No, I don’t forgive them.
They have stolen (results, glory, income, contracts…). But on the other hand I would say to them nevertheless, “Thanks for having confessed”, if it can contribute to stopping the scourge by taking into account their methods and by trying to find a solution.
And speaking of solutions, it’s worth knowing that the UCI has indeed put in place some tools, though certainly not perfect, but which have the merit of existing. The Whereabouts system: a location system where a cyclist in the target group (World Tour teams, ProContinental teams applying for WildCards and certain riders chosen by a group of experts) must provide their activities and place of residence for every day with a one-hour time slot in which a control can be performed. (A control can also be performed outside of the hourly slot but will not be counted as a no-show if the rider is not present).
There’s the implementation of the biological passport, more accurately haematological for the time being, because the steroid aspect hasn’t yet been taken into account. This profiling of haematological values allows, in conjunction with a classic antidoping control, to target suspect riders, to suspend and to sanction a rider should the case arise, following a meeting of an expert commission. There have been some riders suspended by the passport but legal restrictions greatly limit the actions of the UCI.
Since June 2011 (unfortunately not retroactively), those convicted of violating the Anti-Doping Code cannot occupy a position as a manager, directeur sportif, coach, doctor or medical assistant, mechanic, driver or rider’s agent. This provision will allow us to gradually clean up the environment of cycling. I encourage teams to apply this sanction without delay.
As a suggestion, in addition to increasing the length of sanctions, I can only support antidoping research to improve the tests further and further. Too often the cheaters are a step ahead. The problem which presents itself on top of the cost of the research is the volume of the sample, which is far from infinite. It’s necessary to understand that a sample can’t be tested for all known substances, meaning a choice has to be made (and you can only find what you look for!). That’s how some riders pass a control one day, but not necessarily another.
Preservation of the B-sample for subsequent tests when research has progressed has been mentioned, but I don’t know when that will be. It still has a cost: storage, analysis, which test to apply?
The economic problem is therefore very much present in the fight against doping. Part of the “prize money” is already withdrawn, so what more can be done? As has been suggested by the President of Française des Jeux, Mr Blanchard Dignac (since 2009), an association of cycling team sponsors needs to be created to support the UCI in its fight against doping. In theory a year’s salary must be paid by an offender. I hope that these funds are intended for the fight against doping.
It would also be desirable for WADA to change its attitude regarding the “liberalised” use of corticosteroids. A work stoppage should be mandatory in the case of its use to avoid risking the health of the rider (due to the risk of falling cortisol levels). Only the member teams of the MPCC (Movement for Credible Cycling) apply a work stoppage internally in the case of an injection to treat an illness.
The personalised power profile (PPP), notably suggested by F. Grappe and which follows the example of the haematological profile, allows a rider to know their physical limits. This then poses the problem of the reliability of the measure, the consideration of fatigue and the recurrent stresses during a stage, the margin of error (it’s not forbidden to beat records…it’s actually the point of training).
Developing the biological passport with the activation of the steroid profile.
I also join Taylor Phinney in his stance against the painkillers that certain riders take during a race. When there is a problem which requires a painkiller I doubt that participating in competitive cycling will help the problem!
Holding a “States General” bringing together WADA and the UCI would also allow progress.
The creation of a commission independent of the UCI to organise controls seems like a necessity to restore faith in the UCI: we will no longer be able to criticise them for being both judge and jury.
Finally, having the police and Customs reviewing general intelligence should continue to help us in the struggle (the fight against doping, trafficking, suspicious monetary transfers (corruption)…). A number of cases have been uncovered through them.
Despite the storms we’ve weathered and the blows we’ve received, I believe and I still want to believe in the sport that I love. I’ve accepted that I’m not as strong as the others but that doesn’t prevent me from achieving good results with my resources and winning races. Admittedly I’ll certainly never win the Tour de France or the World Championships with my abilities but I always hope that it’s in me, the hope of improving, of giving the best of myself and of never having regrets because I’ve put in everything to get there. I’ve made so many sacrifices, as has my family when I’m away 180 days a year, that I don’t want to give up now. It would be a (another) failure in the face of cheaters.
I’ve wanted to write this open letter for some time, but I haven’t wanted to be seen as a whiner, or to receive the usual criticisms (he has no results because he doesn’t know how to train, he’s too big, he’s stonewalling, he’s being idealistic…).
For those who want to continue bad-mouthing cycling, just keep walking…me, I still want to believe in it. For nearly 10 years I’ve been among the pros and for nearly 10 years I’ve heard at the start-of-year briefings, “Boys, don’t lose hope, things change, the cheaters will be caught sooner or later, things are heading in the right direction.” My improvement and the rise of young riders are certainly not due to coincidence. Since the implementation of geolocation and the passport, the room for movement is decreasing.
Finally, a little soapboxing to finish, because I’ve had enough of seeing certain media only talking about cycling in relation to doping scandals. I’m sorry, dear journalists and spectators, that the flat stages at the start of the Tour bore you (and you make it very clear)…yes, there are stages for the sprinters and there always will be; where is the harm in saving a little with three weeks of racing in mind? You need to stop playing CyclingManager!
For those who are frightened by the average speeds of the peloton (and who also complain when the peloton dawdles a little – yes, often they’re the same people), have they ever ridden competitively? What about in a group? Aspiration effect and relay, does that sound familiar? You can’t compare races or eras, as so many factors can influence a performance (weather, wind, condition of the road, profiles of preceding stages…). We are professional cyclists, our job is to be the fastest on a bike and we train every day for that, so don’t compare your Sunday ride or your local hill climb with a professional race.
I’m not the only one to think this. Lots of riders suffer in silence from this insidious disease which eats away from within and is considered as the “system”. Some no longer even dare to say that they’re cyclists, all because of the transgressions of certain riders. And I maintain that the majority of the peloton rides fairly.
I could elaborate further on certain ideas and tackle other subjects that are equally important for the future of cycling (sustainable development, the modernisation of cycling, the format of races…) but I’m afraid I’d lose you along the way (if I haven’t already).
Thank you for reading and thank you for your support. Cycling needs you too.
Following recent events in the world of cycling, reactions and admissions from certain riders, and different movements launched to save cycling and to respond to certain people, I want to express my thoughts today through this open letter.
Of course I won’t say that cycling is moving in the best of worlds, but we need to stop stigmatising it and accusing every cyclist. Yes, there are cheats, and there always will be (in sport and in life), but the noose is tightening little by little thanks to the work of the UCI, of WADA (and its national counterparts) and of the police.
Today everyone is talking about the Armstrong affair (which hasn’t yet finished shedding light on certain shadowy areas regarding the transfer of funds), tomorrow I hope that the Padova affair in Italy will come good and that the Puerto affair in Spain, which will reopen in January, will also reveal its secrets.
I discovered the USADA report just like all of you, and yes, I was shocked by this quasi-collective doping system. No, fortunately not all teams work like that. I’m not stonewalling or influenced by omerta, as has been suggested by some journalists who’ve reproached me for the fact that I discovered the story through the media like any man in the street. I turned professional at the end of 2003 and even though I mix with other riders for a quarter of the year (90 days of racing), that doesn’t mean that I know what’s done away from prying eyes. And even if I speak from time to time to other riders, do you think that the cheaters are going to boast of their chemical prowess? The latest confessions (which, in passing, have been revealed only thanks to the inquiry and thus under oath) attest to that; not even their wife or their family was aware (I think that you share more with your loved ones than with your cyclist colleagues or opponents). It’s too easy today to ask forgiveness, to cleanse the conscience. No, I don’t forgive them.
They have stolen (results, glory, income, contracts…). But on the other hand I would say to them nevertheless, “Thanks for having confessed”, if it can contribute to stopping the scourge by taking into account their methods and by trying to find a solution.
And speaking of solutions, it’s worth knowing that the UCI has indeed put in place some tools, though certainly not perfect, but which have the merit of existing. The Whereabouts system: a location system where a cyclist in the target group (World Tour teams, ProContinental teams applying for WildCards and certain riders chosen by a group of experts) must provide their activities and place of residence for every day with a one-hour time slot in which a control can be performed. (A control can also be performed outside of the hourly slot but will not be counted as a no-show if the rider is not present).
There’s the implementation of the biological passport, more accurately haematological for the time being, because the steroid aspect hasn’t yet been taken into account. This profiling of haematological values allows, in conjunction with a classic antidoping control, to target suspect riders, to suspend and to sanction a rider should the case arise, following a meeting of an expert commission. There have been some riders suspended by the passport but legal restrictions greatly limit the actions of the UCI.
Since June 2011 (unfortunately not retroactively), those convicted of violating the Anti-Doping Code cannot occupy a position as a manager, directeur sportif, coach, doctor or medical assistant, mechanic, driver or rider’s agent. This provision will allow us to gradually clean up the environment of cycling. I encourage teams to apply this sanction without delay.
As a suggestion, in addition to increasing the length of sanctions, I can only support antidoping research to improve the tests further and further. Too often the cheaters are a step ahead. The problem which presents itself on top of the cost of the research is the volume of the sample, which is far from infinite. It’s necessary to understand that a sample can’t be tested for all known substances, meaning a choice has to be made (and you can only find what you look for!). That’s how some riders pass a control one day, but not necessarily another.
Preservation of the B-sample for subsequent tests when research has progressed has been mentioned, but I don’t know when that will be. It still has a cost: storage, analysis, which test to apply?
The economic problem is therefore very much present in the fight against doping. Part of the “prize money” is already withdrawn, so what more can be done? As has been suggested by the President of Française des Jeux, Mr Blanchard Dignac (since 2009), an association of cycling team sponsors needs to be created to support the UCI in its fight against doping. In theory a year’s salary must be paid by an offender. I hope that these funds are intended for the fight against doping.
It would also be desirable for WADA to change its attitude regarding the “liberalised” use of corticosteroids. A work stoppage should be mandatory in the case of its use to avoid risking the health of the rider (due to the risk of falling cortisol levels). Only the member teams of the MPCC (Movement for Credible Cycling) apply a work stoppage internally in the case of an injection to treat an illness.
The personalised power profile (PPP), notably suggested by F. Grappe and which follows the example of the haematological profile, allows a rider to know their physical limits. This then poses the problem of the reliability of the measure, the consideration of fatigue and the recurrent stresses during a stage, the margin of error (it’s not forbidden to beat records…it’s actually the point of training).
Developing the biological passport with the activation of the steroid profile.
I also join Taylor Phinney in his stance against the painkillers that certain riders take during a race. When there is a problem which requires a painkiller I doubt that participating in competitive cycling will help the problem!
Holding a “States General” bringing together WADA and the UCI would also allow progress.
The creation of a commission independent of the UCI to organise controls seems like a necessity to restore faith in the UCI: we will no longer be able to criticise them for being both judge and jury.
Finally, having the police and Customs reviewing general intelligence should continue to help us in the struggle (the fight against doping, trafficking, suspicious monetary transfers (corruption)…). A number of cases have been uncovered through them.
Despite the storms we’ve weathered and the blows we’ve received, I believe and I still want to believe in the sport that I love. I’ve accepted that I’m not as strong as the others but that doesn’t prevent me from achieving good results with my resources and winning races. Admittedly I’ll certainly never win the Tour de France or the World Championships with my abilities but I always hope that it’s in me, the hope of improving, of giving the best of myself and of never having regrets because I’ve put in everything to get there. I’ve made so many sacrifices, as has my family when I’m away 180 days a year, that I don’t want to give up now. It would be a (another) failure in the face of cheaters.
I’ve wanted to write this open letter for some time, but I haven’t wanted to be seen as a whiner, or to receive the usual criticisms (he has no results because he doesn’t know how to train, he’s too big, he’s stonewalling, he’s being idealistic…).
For those who want to continue bad-mouthing cycling, just keep walking…me, I still want to believe in it. For nearly 10 years I’ve been among the pros and for nearly 10 years I’ve heard at the start-of-year briefings, “Boys, don’t lose hope, things change, the cheaters will be caught sooner or later, things are heading in the right direction.” My improvement and the rise of young riders are certainly not due to coincidence. Since the implementation of geolocation and the passport, the room for movement is decreasing.
Finally, a little soapboxing to finish, because I’ve had enough of seeing certain media only talking about cycling in relation to doping scandals. I’m sorry, dear journalists and spectators, that the flat stages at the start of the Tour bore you (and you make it very clear)…yes, there are stages for the sprinters and there always will be; where is the harm in saving a little with three weeks of racing in mind? You need to stop playing CyclingManager!
For those who are frightened by the average speeds of the peloton (and who also complain when the peloton dawdles a little – yes, often they’re the same people), have they ever ridden competitively? What about in a group? Aspiration effect and relay, does that sound familiar? You can’t compare races or eras, as so many factors can influence a performance (weather, wind, condition of the road, profiles of preceding stages…). We are professional cyclists, our job is to be the fastest on a bike and we train every day for that, so don’t compare your Sunday ride or your local hill climb with a professional race.
I’m not the only one to think this. Lots of riders suffer in silence from this insidious disease which eats away from within and is considered as the “system”. Some no longer even dare to say that they’re cyclists, all because of the transgressions of certain riders. And I maintain that the majority of the peloton rides fairly.
I could elaborate further on certain ideas and tackle other subjects that are equally important for the future of cycling (sustainable development, the modernisation of cycling, the format of races…) but I’m afraid I’d lose you along the way (if I haven’t already).
Thank you for reading and thank you for your support. Cycling needs you too.
Tuesday, 30 October 2012
Cleaning House
My mum always loved old musical films. So I guess it was no surprise that I immediately thought of the house-cleaning duet from Calamity Jane when I heard that the UCI was establishing an external commission to investigate the UCI in the wake of the Armstrong affair. They’re actually finally doing it. The UCI is cleaning house.
It’s been bruited around for a while, though never more so than now, that the UCI were in Armstrong’s pocket when it came to his literally unbelievable career, and more than one ex-rider has pointed the finger at the UCI when it came to laying blame for cycling’s doping culture. With USADA shining the world’s biggest spotlight into every corner of Lance Armstrong and US Postal, the pressure has been growing for a while now for the UCI to take the same steps and sweep out their own dusty corners too. Unfortunately, with the UCI the highest body in cycling, there was no-one to ensure that they actually would, but it seems they’ve been listening to the voices on the street at last.
It’s a gesture of good faith, certainly, but let’s hope it becomes more than just a gesture. As part of the investigation the UCI has also halted the controversial lawsuit against Irish journalist and ex-rider Paul Kimmage. This gives no guarantee that they won’t relaunch it again either after the conclusion of the commission’s investigation or even before then, but it’s a start, and a much-needed one. Even with all the whisking and mopping that USADA have been doing over in the US, cycling could never start over and be ‘clean’ with such a dark cloud hanging over the sport’s governing body. Scrubbing all the cyclists’ pasts raw would make little difference if the administration wasn’t equally squeaky.
Thankfully, despite all the denials and professions of non-culpability over recent months, the UCI seems to have recognised this fact as well, and they’re taking steps. What we have to wait and see now is whether they’re serious about those steps. Will the UCI give the external commission carte blanche to dig as deep as they need for as long as they need to in order to polish up every single dirty ‘winder’? Will the ‘appropriate terms of reference’ to be negotiated with the committee omit all the key concerns such as alleged cover-ups in the Armstrong era and the culpability of ex-UCI president Hein Verbrugghe and his successor, Pat McQuaid? And will the UCI give due credit to and implement any or all of the recommendations made by the committee at the end of their investigation?
Let us hope that the instigation of the investigation means they will. Maybe, with a completely exposed and absolved past and a clear vision for a clean future, we will finally get to see cycling as the ‘shiny castle’ of which Doris Day and Allyn McLerie sang all those years ago.
It’s been bruited around for a while, though never more so than now, that the UCI were in Armstrong’s pocket when it came to his literally unbelievable career, and more than one ex-rider has pointed the finger at the UCI when it came to laying blame for cycling’s doping culture. With USADA shining the world’s biggest spotlight into every corner of Lance Armstrong and US Postal, the pressure has been growing for a while now for the UCI to take the same steps and sweep out their own dusty corners too. Unfortunately, with the UCI the highest body in cycling, there was no-one to ensure that they actually would, but it seems they’ve been listening to the voices on the street at last.
It’s a gesture of good faith, certainly, but let’s hope it becomes more than just a gesture. As part of the investigation the UCI has also halted the controversial lawsuit against Irish journalist and ex-rider Paul Kimmage. This gives no guarantee that they won’t relaunch it again either after the conclusion of the commission’s investigation or even before then, but it’s a start, and a much-needed one. Even with all the whisking and mopping that USADA have been doing over in the US, cycling could never start over and be ‘clean’ with such a dark cloud hanging over the sport’s governing body. Scrubbing all the cyclists’ pasts raw would make little difference if the administration wasn’t equally squeaky.
Thankfully, despite all the denials and professions of non-culpability over recent months, the UCI seems to have recognised this fact as well, and they’re taking steps. What we have to wait and see now is whether they’re serious about those steps. Will the UCI give the external commission carte blanche to dig as deep as they need for as long as they need to in order to polish up every single dirty ‘winder’? Will the ‘appropriate terms of reference’ to be negotiated with the committee omit all the key concerns such as alleged cover-ups in the Armstrong era and the culpability of ex-UCI president Hein Verbrugghe and his successor, Pat McQuaid? And will the UCI give due credit to and implement any or all of the recommendations made by the committee at the end of their investigation?
Let us hope that the instigation of the investigation means they will. Maybe, with a completely exposed and absolved past and a clear vision for a clean future, we will finally get to see cycling as the ‘shiny castle’ of which Doris Day and Allyn McLerie sang all those years ago.
Saturday, 20 October 2012
Not All Sunshine and Rainbow Stripes - An Interview with Alex Morgan
By September of Year 12, most 18-year-olds are focussing on exams, university applications and celebrating the end of high school. But Mitcham teenager Alex Morgan had other things on his mind. The 18-year-old cyclist had been selected as part of the Australian team for the UCI Road World Championships in Limburg, Holland, where he would be challenging for the rainbow jersey of the best time triallist in the world under the age of 19.
For someone who has been racing competitively for only four years, Alex acquitted himself well, finishing in a time of 35:47.35, just one second off third place. Just three months earlier Alex had done a similarly close ride, coming in second at the U19 Australian National Road Championships Time Trial by just 3.6 seconds. Though disappointed, Alex feels that these near misses have been amongst the best things that have happened to him in his cycling career. “From them I have learnt many things both physically and mentally,” he says. “They have especially made me hungrier to win than ever.”
But it wasn’t destined to be an easy year, as Alex was hampered by sickness in the latter half of the season. “It was hard both physically and mentally but I was very happy with how I dealt with it and I learnt many things for the years ahead,” he says. It was a setback nonetheless, especially in the lead-up to the Junior Track World Championships in New Zealand during August, where the Australian men’s team would be defending their world title in the team pursuit. With good training times behind them, Alex and his teammates Jack Cummings, Evan Hull, Miles Scotson and Tirian McManus were confident they would retain their rainbow jerseys.
“The belief that we would win was certainly there so I had to really focus hard on not becoming over-confident and complacent because the hard work still needed to be done,” Alex says. But the team were in for a shock after the qualifying round. “We really got a scare when we barely made the final,” Alex recalls. “I believe it was the best thing that could have happened for the team as it made us hungrier to win than ever.”
That hunger would serve Alex well in days to come, as the individual pursuit was held three days later. With his preparation for the IP also disrupted by sickness, he was ‘quite happy’ with his result, coming in third behind Switzerland’s Tom Bohli and New Zealand’s Dylan Kennett to take the bronze medal. “It would have been nice to have gone better in the IP but I rode as well as I could on the day,” he reflects.
“Overall it was a very successful season. Domestically I was very happy with how I rode on both the track and road,” Alex says. “It would have been nice to have gone faster in the Junior World TT and IP.” But he’s certainly not dismissing the effort that he and his team put into their races. “To come home a successful defending Team Pursuit Junior World Champion was pretty special. A 1st, 3rd and 4th in the world still isn’t too bad.”
So, where to next for the young road time triallist and track rider? Alex says that school is still a priority. “I’m currently completing Year 12 over two years so I’m doing two subjects per year, this year the first of the two. It’s not too hard to combine cycling and school as long as you are organised and disciplined,” he explains. “It was definitely hard going away for two months and coming back just before exams but my school, Vermont Secondary College, are fantastic and have got me right back on track.”
But he has big dreams for his cycling career too, focussing on the track and the road time trial in the near future and following the likes of Cameron Meyer and Luke Durbridge into full-time road racing later on. “My goals are to go to the [Glasgow 2014] Commonwealth Games and [Rio 2016] Olympics on the track in the Team Pursuit, and IP if it’s brought back. So the next four years I want to focus on the track and the road time trial, then after the Olympics move onto the road full-time. That’s the ideal plan at the moment,” Alex says. “We’ll see how it goes!”
For someone who has been racing competitively for only four years, Alex acquitted himself well, finishing in a time of 35:47.35, just one second off third place. Just three months earlier Alex had done a similarly close ride, coming in second at the U19 Australian National Road Championships Time Trial by just 3.6 seconds. Though disappointed, Alex feels that these near misses have been amongst the best things that have happened to him in his cycling career. “From them I have learnt many things both physically and mentally,” he says. “They have especially made me hungrier to win than ever.”
But it wasn’t destined to be an easy year, as Alex was hampered by sickness in the latter half of the season. “It was hard both physically and mentally but I was very happy with how I dealt with it and I learnt many things for the years ahead,” he says. It was a setback nonetheless, especially in the lead-up to the Junior Track World Championships in New Zealand during August, where the Australian men’s team would be defending their world title in the team pursuit. With good training times behind them, Alex and his teammates Jack Cummings, Evan Hull, Miles Scotson and Tirian McManus were confident they would retain their rainbow jerseys.
“The belief that we would win was certainly there so I had to really focus hard on not becoming over-confident and complacent because the hard work still needed to be done,” Alex says. But the team were in for a shock after the qualifying round. “We really got a scare when we barely made the final,” Alex recalls. “I believe it was the best thing that could have happened for the team as it made us hungrier to win than ever.”
That hunger would serve Alex well in days to come, as the individual pursuit was held three days later. With his preparation for the IP also disrupted by sickness, he was ‘quite happy’ with his result, coming in third behind Switzerland’s Tom Bohli and New Zealand’s Dylan Kennett to take the bronze medal. “It would have been nice to have gone better in the IP but I rode as well as I could on the day,” he reflects.
“Overall it was a very successful season. Domestically I was very happy with how I rode on both the track and road,” Alex says. “It would have been nice to have gone faster in the Junior World TT and IP.” But he’s certainly not dismissing the effort that he and his team put into their races. “To come home a successful defending Team Pursuit Junior World Champion was pretty special. A 1st, 3rd and 4th in the world still isn’t too bad.”
So, where to next for the young road time triallist and track rider? Alex says that school is still a priority. “I’m currently completing Year 12 over two years so I’m doing two subjects per year, this year the first of the two. It’s not too hard to combine cycling and school as long as you are organised and disciplined,” he explains. “It was definitely hard going away for two months and coming back just before exams but my school, Vermont Secondary College, are fantastic and have got me right back on track.”
But he has big dreams for his cycling career too, focussing on the track and the road time trial in the near future and following the likes of Cameron Meyer and Luke Durbridge into full-time road racing later on. “My goals are to go to the [Glasgow 2014] Commonwealth Games and [Rio 2016] Olympics on the track in the Team Pursuit, and IP if it’s brought back. So the next four years I want to focus on the track and the road time trial, then after the Olympics move onto the road full-time. That’s the ideal plan at the moment,” Alex says. “We’ll see how it goes!”
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
What Is There To Say?
It’s the news that cycling has been waiting for. The next step in the Armstrong case that has kept not just cycling but the whole world on the edge of their seats, waiting to see how the chips will fall. Every day seems to bring another admission, another revelation, something else to make you stop and weep at just where all this is going. It’s like riding the rollercoaster of Bad News that you can’t step off, your heart in your throat every time you hit another loop-the-loop.
And it feels like something ought to be said, but, really, what is there to say? The evidence is out there. USADA’s decision has been made. It’s hard to argue with the proof. Hard to dispute the verdict. Hard to believe the truth. Hard to know what to think. It’s a black day in the history of cycling. What is there to say?
Yet the circus still goes on, name after name crumbling like a wall of bricks without mortar. Vande Velde, Zabriskie, Danielson. Leipheimer, Vaughters. Hincapie. Bruyneel. Will no one escape the purges?
And now there’s news of one of our own. Matt White has now been touched, now been tainted. Our Australian ‘purity’ on the doping front has crumbled into dust, our belief and faith in our cyclists shaken, the trust gone.
It’s disheartening to see another great of the sport laid low, like the pillars of Stonehenge falling to the earth. Those who are well-acquainted with cycling are well-acquainted with its chequered past, too, and it says a lot that so many can still love it knowing full well the scandals in its history. But we can still be saddened that this is the situation in cycling. Disappointed that cycling has been reduced to salacious headlines in the tabloids. Angry that cycling has changed from how well you ride to how well you dope.
But it can’t go on like this. If we look hard enough we will always find another doping scandal, another ‘drug cheat’ to be vilified and torn down from his pedestal. Such is the history of cycling. At some point we need to draw a line and declare an amnesty. Someone has to suggest that from now on we let the dead past bury its dead and focus on the future of cycling. It’s been suggested before. Someone has to say that we need to forgive, though not forget, the old culture of cycling that allowed, nay, condoned, such widespread doping as the Armstrong case, and instead construct a new future in which doping is rejected from the level of the fans right up to the UCI, and that embraces those spectacular feats of plain old guts and endurance that make this sport great.
Let’s make this cycling’s turning point. Let’s make this the time when things could go back to the way they were or they could change for the better, and we gave them a push in the right direction. At risk of sounding like a motivational speaker on a sugar high, fans are an important part of cycling, and they do play a part in the pro cycling scene. All the sponsorship, advertising, marketing and money that gets thrown around at races like the Tour de France is aimed at the fans – fans who are sick of the riders they worshipped in July being kicked to the kerb by December. Fans who can use that advertising and marketing to push for a cleaner, safer sport, more entertaining in its purity and its natural ability to surprise.
So, what is there to say? Well, let’s start by echoing the words of Lance Armstrong and saying, “Enough is enough.”
And it feels like something ought to be said, but, really, what is there to say? The evidence is out there. USADA’s decision has been made. It’s hard to argue with the proof. Hard to dispute the verdict. Hard to believe the truth. Hard to know what to think. It’s a black day in the history of cycling. What is there to say?
Yet the circus still goes on, name after name crumbling like a wall of bricks without mortar. Vande Velde, Zabriskie, Danielson. Leipheimer, Vaughters. Hincapie. Bruyneel. Will no one escape the purges?
And now there’s news of one of our own. Matt White has now been touched, now been tainted. Our Australian ‘purity’ on the doping front has crumbled into dust, our belief and faith in our cyclists shaken, the trust gone.
It’s disheartening to see another great of the sport laid low, like the pillars of Stonehenge falling to the earth. Those who are well-acquainted with cycling are well-acquainted with its chequered past, too, and it says a lot that so many can still love it knowing full well the scandals in its history. But we can still be saddened that this is the situation in cycling. Disappointed that cycling has been reduced to salacious headlines in the tabloids. Angry that cycling has changed from how well you ride to how well you dope.
But it can’t go on like this. If we look hard enough we will always find another doping scandal, another ‘drug cheat’ to be vilified and torn down from his pedestal. Such is the history of cycling. At some point we need to draw a line and declare an amnesty. Someone has to suggest that from now on we let the dead past bury its dead and focus on the future of cycling. It’s been suggested before. Someone has to say that we need to forgive, though not forget, the old culture of cycling that allowed, nay, condoned, such widespread doping as the Armstrong case, and instead construct a new future in which doping is rejected from the level of the fans right up to the UCI, and that embraces those spectacular feats of plain old guts and endurance that make this sport great.
Let’s make this cycling’s turning point. Let’s make this the time when things could go back to the way they were or they could change for the better, and we gave them a push in the right direction. At risk of sounding like a motivational speaker on a sugar high, fans are an important part of cycling, and they do play a part in the pro cycling scene. All the sponsorship, advertising, marketing and money that gets thrown around at races like the Tour de France is aimed at the fans – fans who are sick of the riders they worshipped in July being kicked to the kerb by December. Fans who can use that advertising and marketing to push for a cleaner, safer sport, more entertaining in its purity and its natural ability to surprise.
So, what is there to say? Well, let’s start by echoing the words of Lance Armstrong and saying, “Enough is enough.”
Thursday, 11 October 2012
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Tours With Orica-GreenEDGE
It’s 9:00am on a nippy autumn Sunday in the town of Chateauneuf-en-Thymerais. Most of France is asleep. Not here. Not this Sunday. It may be cold and grey, but Chateauneuf is a town coming to life.
Paris-Tours is today.
The team buses line the road into town, a colourful array against the cloudy sky. It’s chaos on the street, fans crowding the buses for glimpses of their heroes. Orica-GreenEDGE is one of the 25 sets of cars and buses among the throng, the Australian team almost anomalous amongst all the European entrants. The fans love them nonetheless. Baden Cooke and Jens Keukeleire are stopped and asked for photos and autographs as they mount their bikes to sign on. Another French fan is waiting for the riders as they return to the team bus. No, she’s not a fan of GreenEDGE, she just likes ‘all good riders’. She gets a signature from Julian Dean and takes her search elsewhere..
The GreenEDGE support staff are standing and chatting outside the team bus as they wait for the day to get started. DS Lionel Marie will be following the race in the first team car with the mechanics. The other team car will be heading for the feed zone. I climb into the second car with two of the soigneurs, Joachim and Thomas, where I have a ‘back-seat pass’ for the day. The race hasn’t started yet, but it’s 10:00am and time for us to leave.
Someone’s iPod is plugged into the stereo, Madonna playing over the speakers as the car heads out of Chateauneuf-en-Thymerais towards the feed zone, and then Tours. Joachim and Thomas are chatting as we head out of town and into the countryside about the end of the season, plans and life at home – normal topics of conversation between co-workers. They share a joke about the gendarmes we pass at the entrance to every road that crosses the race route. “The ones at the end of the race have to stand there all day,” Joachim laughs.
A wrong turn with the GPS puts us temporarily off track, but Joachim and Thomas are quick to notice and turn the car around. “We always fuck everything up,” Joachim comments.
“Not always,” Thomas corrects him.
“But most of the time,” Joachim notes sagely. We do another lap of the roundabout and re-join the convoy of team cars heading for the feed zone. The drivers are all joshing one another, waving or flipping the finger with a grin on their face. There’s an exclusive sort of fraternity among the support staff that transcends the team boundaries. Nothing is sacred to these guys, and the humour and language is irreverent, almost crude, but it’s tempered by a mutual understanding and respect between those in a very hectic, demanding line of work.
We reach the edge of the houses around Chateauneuf and enter the French countryside, where the hunting season has already begun. We pass a few hunters walking the fields with their rifles, some waving as the race cars pass. There are a few cycling fans and locals out for an early morning walk or ride, but otherwise the landscape is devoid of life, just us and the road. We stop in one of the many small, nameless towns between Chateauneuf-en-Thymerais and the feed zone for a few minutes. “Something interesting happen?” Joachim asks as he climbs back into the car.
“Nothing,” Thomas replies. It’s a good word to describe what fills most of the day – driving, waiting…nothing.
The fields and woods, so very European in their greenery, seem never-ending. Joachim pushes the speed limit around every corner of the winding French roads as cannily as the riders take the corners of the narrow streets in the towns. As we drive, we constantly drop in and out of the groups of team cars, vans and trucks that fill the roads between Chateauneuf and the feedzone, and we start to look for a petrol station to fill up along the way. By now it’s almost lunchtime, so we pull into the nearest Macca’s for something to eat while we can. Joachim uses the iPad on our table at Macca’s to show Thomas the trailers for some Australian movies and TV shows, commenting on how crazy all the characters in Underbelly are. We’re back on the road soon after. We slip through the road blocks to find the race route yet again, the gendarmes always waving us through.
Passing through the small town of Santenay, we head into the feed zone and pull over on the side of the road. The riders are maybe half an hour behind us. Thomas opens the Eski and begins preparing the musettes for the riders, hanging them off the side of the car. The little knot at the top of the musette strap, he tells me, is to stop the strap sliding through the rider’s hand when he grabs it from the soigneur. As he fills the musettes with various small foods wrapped in tin foil, he talks a little about what it’s like being a soigneur. The majority of them are ex-riders, just like the team managers and sports directors. Most soigneurs leave after a few years, though; it’s not the easy, glamorous work it might seem. It’s a job, like any other. There’s a lot of time spent away from home, and a lot of long hours on the road driving from the start to the finish of a race. Paris-Tours is 183 kilometres. It takes us nearly five hours.
With the musettes ready, there’s not much to do until the peloton arrives. Thomas plays a game on his phone while Joachim tries to set up the race radio in the car and figure out how far away the race is. The breakaway of 11 is still preceding the peloton, and Orica-GreenEDGE’s Michael Hepburn is in it. “Can you imagine if he wins it?” Joachim asks.
“It will be perfect,” Thomas replies. There’s a moment of silence in the car as they think about a GreenEGDE win. Though to an outsider they might seem totally disinterested in the race for most of the day, they still want the team victory. Then the moment is gone and it’s back to business. The riders are on their way and there’s work to be done.
Joachim pulls an Orica-GreenEDGE vest out of his backpack, while Thomas dons a cap, unable to find the other vests in the car boot. They organise how many musettes each of them will carry. Joachim will hand Michael his bag as the breakaway rides past. They take up positions on the right-hand side of the road – Joachim lower down with the most musettes and Thomas a hundred metres further up to catch any riders that Joachim misses.
We can see the breakaway at the bottom of the hill. Michael spots Joachim and tries to veer right, but there’s another rider in the way. The other rider ducks as Joachim hands Michael a musette over the rider’s back. The peloton appears shortly after, and it’s hard to make out individual riders in the mass. The riders know to look for the soigneurs, and Baden Cooke heads right towards Joachim, holding out his hand. The baton relay doesn’t come off, though, and Baden manages to grab a bag from Thomas instead. Joachim hands a musette to Fumiyuki Beppu, and then the peloton is gone, with no sign of the other GreenEDGE riders. We wait until the race convoy passes, jump in the car and continue on.
It’s another 90 kilometres to Tours. Thomas takes over the driving while Joachim naps in the passenger seat. Foo Fighters are playing over the stereo just a little too loudly. As far as the eye can see is nothing but farmland and woods and little hamlets in between. We can’t see Tours until we reach the city’s outskirts. We still haven’t gone past a petrol station, and Thomas is adamant that we need to fill up before we head to the race finish. Joachim types in the finish co-ordinates as we leave the petrol station, but really the neon signs saying ‘Paris-Tours’ guide us into the city centre.
It’s 2:30pm by the time we join the GreenEDGE bus in Tours where the third team car is waiting for us. The soigneurs and team physio, Manuel, unpack up everything from the cars and pile all the bags of the riders going to the airport in the second car. Other teams’ support staff drop by to say hello. Until the riders get here, we’re playing the waiting game again.
There’s a small flurry of excitement as the under-23 race finishes. All the GreenEDGE soigneurs wander over to the fence to have a look too. They start swapping stories of their own careers as riders, laughing as they point out where in the stragglers they’d have finished. Most of the time it might be just a job to them, full of organising, driving and waiting, but the sparkle of cycling is still there for all of them, especially at moments like this. As the race convoy rolls past we return to the team cars. Back to waiting.
It’s 3:30pm, just as Joachim predicted, when the riders finally sprint past us with 400 metres to go. There’s a GreenEDGE rider in the first 10 riders, and we assume it’s Michael Hepburn and the rest of the breakaway, since we haven’t heard anything of the race since the feed zone. Joachim heads to the finish line to meet the riders while the rest of us wait at the team bus. The riders roll in one by one, leaning their bikes again the team truck for the soigneurs to pack away while the riders go and shower on the team bus. We eventually hear that it was Jens Keukeleire, not Michael Hepburn, who was up the front in the sprint and managed to take 9th place. Lionel Marie certainly seems happy with it, smiling and talking to each one of the riders. Everything is almost packed and the riders and staff are preparing to leave. Some are bound for the airport, others have another long drive ahead of them to get home.
It’s been the end to a very long season.
Paris-Tours is today.
The team buses line the road into town, a colourful array against the cloudy sky. It’s chaos on the street, fans crowding the buses for glimpses of their heroes. Orica-GreenEDGE is one of the 25 sets of cars and buses among the throng, the Australian team almost anomalous amongst all the European entrants. The fans love them nonetheless. Baden Cooke and Jens Keukeleire are stopped and asked for photos and autographs as they mount their bikes to sign on. Another French fan is waiting for the riders as they return to the team bus. No, she’s not a fan of GreenEDGE, she just likes ‘all good riders’. She gets a signature from Julian Dean and takes her search elsewhere..
The GreenEDGE support staff are standing and chatting outside the team bus as they wait for the day to get started. DS Lionel Marie will be following the race in the first team car with the mechanics. The other team car will be heading for the feed zone. I climb into the second car with two of the soigneurs, Joachim and Thomas, where I have a ‘back-seat pass’ for the day. The race hasn’t started yet, but it’s 10:00am and time for us to leave.
Someone’s iPod is plugged into the stereo, Madonna playing over the speakers as the car heads out of Chateauneuf-en-Thymerais towards the feed zone, and then Tours. Joachim and Thomas are chatting as we head out of town and into the countryside about the end of the season, plans and life at home – normal topics of conversation between co-workers. They share a joke about the gendarmes we pass at the entrance to every road that crosses the race route. “The ones at the end of the race have to stand there all day,” Joachim laughs.
A wrong turn with the GPS puts us temporarily off track, but Joachim and Thomas are quick to notice and turn the car around. “We always fuck everything up,” Joachim comments.
“Not always,” Thomas corrects him.
“But most of the time,” Joachim notes sagely. We do another lap of the roundabout and re-join the convoy of team cars heading for the feed zone. The drivers are all joshing one another, waving or flipping the finger with a grin on their face. There’s an exclusive sort of fraternity among the support staff that transcends the team boundaries. Nothing is sacred to these guys, and the humour and language is irreverent, almost crude, but it’s tempered by a mutual understanding and respect between those in a very hectic, demanding line of work.
We reach the edge of the houses around Chateauneuf and enter the French countryside, where the hunting season has already begun. We pass a few hunters walking the fields with their rifles, some waving as the race cars pass. There are a few cycling fans and locals out for an early morning walk or ride, but otherwise the landscape is devoid of life, just us and the road. We stop in one of the many small, nameless towns between Chateauneuf-en-Thymerais and the feed zone for a few minutes. “Something interesting happen?” Joachim asks as he climbs back into the car.
“Nothing,” Thomas replies. It’s a good word to describe what fills most of the day – driving, waiting…nothing.
The fields and woods, so very European in their greenery, seem never-ending. Joachim pushes the speed limit around every corner of the winding French roads as cannily as the riders take the corners of the narrow streets in the towns. As we drive, we constantly drop in and out of the groups of team cars, vans and trucks that fill the roads between Chateauneuf and the feedzone, and we start to look for a petrol station to fill up along the way. By now it’s almost lunchtime, so we pull into the nearest Macca’s for something to eat while we can. Joachim uses the iPad on our table at Macca’s to show Thomas the trailers for some Australian movies and TV shows, commenting on how crazy all the characters in Underbelly are. We’re back on the road soon after. We slip through the road blocks to find the race route yet again, the gendarmes always waving us through.
Passing through the small town of Santenay, we head into the feed zone and pull over on the side of the road. The riders are maybe half an hour behind us. Thomas opens the Eski and begins preparing the musettes for the riders, hanging them off the side of the car. The little knot at the top of the musette strap, he tells me, is to stop the strap sliding through the rider’s hand when he grabs it from the soigneur. As he fills the musettes with various small foods wrapped in tin foil, he talks a little about what it’s like being a soigneur. The majority of them are ex-riders, just like the team managers and sports directors. Most soigneurs leave after a few years, though; it’s not the easy, glamorous work it might seem. It’s a job, like any other. There’s a lot of time spent away from home, and a lot of long hours on the road driving from the start to the finish of a race. Paris-Tours is 183 kilometres. It takes us nearly five hours.
With the musettes ready, there’s not much to do until the peloton arrives. Thomas plays a game on his phone while Joachim tries to set up the race radio in the car and figure out how far away the race is. The breakaway of 11 is still preceding the peloton, and Orica-GreenEDGE’s Michael Hepburn is in it. “Can you imagine if he wins it?” Joachim asks.
“It will be perfect,” Thomas replies. There’s a moment of silence in the car as they think about a GreenEGDE win. Though to an outsider they might seem totally disinterested in the race for most of the day, they still want the team victory. Then the moment is gone and it’s back to business. The riders are on their way and there’s work to be done.
Joachim pulls an Orica-GreenEDGE vest out of his backpack, while Thomas dons a cap, unable to find the other vests in the car boot. They organise how many musettes each of them will carry. Joachim will hand Michael his bag as the breakaway rides past. They take up positions on the right-hand side of the road – Joachim lower down with the most musettes and Thomas a hundred metres further up to catch any riders that Joachim misses.
We can see the breakaway at the bottom of the hill. Michael spots Joachim and tries to veer right, but there’s another rider in the way. The other rider ducks as Joachim hands Michael a musette over the rider’s back. The peloton appears shortly after, and it’s hard to make out individual riders in the mass. The riders know to look for the soigneurs, and Baden Cooke heads right towards Joachim, holding out his hand. The baton relay doesn’t come off, though, and Baden manages to grab a bag from Thomas instead. Joachim hands a musette to Fumiyuki Beppu, and then the peloton is gone, with no sign of the other GreenEDGE riders. We wait until the race convoy passes, jump in the car and continue on.
It’s another 90 kilometres to Tours. Thomas takes over the driving while Joachim naps in the passenger seat. Foo Fighters are playing over the stereo just a little too loudly. As far as the eye can see is nothing but farmland and woods and little hamlets in between. We can’t see Tours until we reach the city’s outskirts. We still haven’t gone past a petrol station, and Thomas is adamant that we need to fill up before we head to the race finish. Joachim types in the finish co-ordinates as we leave the petrol station, but really the neon signs saying ‘Paris-Tours’ guide us into the city centre.
It’s 2:30pm by the time we join the GreenEDGE bus in Tours where the third team car is waiting for us. The soigneurs and team physio, Manuel, unpack up everything from the cars and pile all the bags of the riders going to the airport in the second car. Other teams’ support staff drop by to say hello. Until the riders get here, we’re playing the waiting game again.
There’s a small flurry of excitement as the under-23 race finishes. All the GreenEDGE soigneurs wander over to the fence to have a look too. They start swapping stories of their own careers as riders, laughing as they point out where in the stragglers they’d have finished. Most of the time it might be just a job to them, full of organising, driving and waiting, but the sparkle of cycling is still there for all of them, especially at moments like this. As the race convoy rolls past we return to the team cars. Back to waiting.
It’s 3:30pm, just as Joachim predicted, when the riders finally sprint past us with 400 metres to go. There’s a GreenEDGE rider in the first 10 riders, and we assume it’s Michael Hepburn and the rest of the breakaway, since we haven’t heard anything of the race since the feed zone. Joachim heads to the finish line to meet the riders while the rest of us wait at the team bus. The riders roll in one by one, leaning their bikes again the team truck for the soigneurs to pack away while the riders go and shower on the team bus. We eventually hear that it was Jens Keukeleire, not Michael Hepburn, who was up the front in the sprint and managed to take 9th place. Lionel Marie certainly seems happy with it, smiling and talking to each one of the riders. Everything is almost packed and the riders and staff are preparing to leave. Some are bound for the airport, others have another long drive ahead of them to get home.
It’s been the end to a very long season.
Sunday, 30 September 2012
Circuit Franco-Belge, Stage 4
 |
| Jurgen Roelandts (Lotto Belisol) |
The preparations being made for the race’s arrival in Tournai were every bit as elaborate as for a Grand Tour, and fans certainly didn’t seem to notice any difference, team buses from all the World Tour teams squeezing through Tournai’s narrow backstreets. Race jerseys from every team and country were available to eager spectators, BMC fans able to buy direct from the source thanks to the team van parked alongside the race route. Belgian French and Flemish commentary mingled with police sirens and cheering of fans to provide the classic auditory backdrop to a European race.
The day’s breakaway held a slim lead over the peloton as they approached the finish line to begin the first of seven laps around Tournai, but the lead had been reduced to barely a hundred metres by the end of the first lap. This didn’t suit the breakaway riders, clearly hoping for an underdog victory, and the septet kicked again in the third lap, building up a massive lead of more than 3’30” over the peloton again. They were reeled in with plenty of time to spare, and a second breakaway of around nine riders had no more success in escaping the hungering peloton.
The whole race was together and the atmosphere at the finish very, very tense as the big screen counted down the final few kilometres of the stage. Various teams were jostling for position and it was still any man’s race as they reached the final 1000 metres of the race. An unexpected crash carved a hole in the middle of the peloton and left the watching audience in Tournai gasping, unsure who was down and who was still pelting for the finish.
It became evident a moment later as a black-and-red streak and a blue-white-and-red-striped streak raced across the finish line, French national champion Nacer Bouhanni (FDJ-Bigmat) just edging out BMC’s Adam Blythe to take the final stage win. The riders involved in the day’s late crash rolled slowly over the line a few minutes later tailed by British national champion Ian Stannard. Lotto Belisol team leader Jurgen Roelandts managed to hang onto his race lead and yellow jersey, as well as taking home the green points jersey. Topsport Vlaanderen Mercator’s Stijn Neirynck took out the mountains classification, while crowd favourite Guillaume Van Keirsbulck donned the best young rider’s white jersey and Lithuanian national champion Gediminas Bagdonas claimed the honours in combativity.
Friday, 28 September 2012
More Special By Comparison
I know that, thanks to Lance Armstrong, it’s hard to look at cycling these days without thinking, “Doping.” It’s hard to look at a Tour de France winner without thinking, “Drugs.” In fact, it’s hard to look at any amazing victory in cycling anymore without thinking, “Dirty.”
But just because Lance Armstrong, Tom Boonen, Eddy Merckx and so many other big names in the cycling world have tested positive to banned substances or confessed to doping, it’s no reason to visit that reputation on the rest of the peloton. Though admittedly there aren’t a lot of Tour de France winners who have a completely clean record when it comes to doping, that’s something that has definitely changed in the past few years. Take Cadel Evans, for example. I challenge anyone to refute the immaculate reputation of Australia’s own Tour de France winner. Evans is undoubtedly one of the cleanest riders in the peloton – nary a whisper of scandal, doping or otherwise. Even Brad Wiggins, despite all the controversy he likes to generate, is as unimpeachable as Evans on the doping front.
And in a way, cycling’s doping culture only lends greater import to their victories. After all, consider what ‘dirty’ riders in the past have done, compared to the exploits of Wiggins and Evans. Yes, Armstrong won the Tour de France seven times, and there’s not a lot you can say to that, but Evans is the oldest winner since 1923. 1923. In all those 88 years of ‘doping’, no-one over the age of 34 was good enough to win the Tour de France until Evans came along. In fact, doping was still an accepted part of cycling in 1923. You could say that Evans is the oldest clean rider ever to have won the Tour de France. Doesn’t that make his victory even more special, knowing that even the cheats couldn’t do what he did?
Brad Wiggins’ hero, Tom Simpson, was the most successful cyclist in British history, at least until Wiggins came along. Yet Wiggins was able to win the Tour de France, a victory which eluded Simpson right up until his death from a drug-and-alcohol-induced heart attack during the 1967 Tour. If Simpson constitutes a ‘successful’ cyclist, then is there an adjective in the English language sufficiently superlative to describe Wiggins?
By no means am I saying that doping is in any way a good thing. On the contrary, it’s one of the most horrible phenomena that exist in professional cycling. But given it does exist, can’t we look at the bigger picture here and notice how every attempt to win by doping just makes the clean winners look even more brilliant by comparison? Yes, Armstrong may be dirtier than unwashed laundry, but that doesn’t mean that every other rider is dirty by association and that all their hard work is worthless. I for one can’t help but regard those clean riders with so much more awe and respect knowing that even the ‘great’ Armstrong or the ‘successful’ Simpson couldn’t do what they do – win because they’re simply the best.
But just because Lance Armstrong, Tom Boonen, Eddy Merckx and so many other big names in the cycling world have tested positive to banned substances or confessed to doping, it’s no reason to visit that reputation on the rest of the peloton. Though admittedly there aren’t a lot of Tour de France winners who have a completely clean record when it comes to doping, that’s something that has definitely changed in the past few years. Take Cadel Evans, for example. I challenge anyone to refute the immaculate reputation of Australia’s own Tour de France winner. Evans is undoubtedly one of the cleanest riders in the peloton – nary a whisper of scandal, doping or otherwise. Even Brad Wiggins, despite all the controversy he likes to generate, is as unimpeachable as Evans on the doping front.
And in a way, cycling’s doping culture only lends greater import to their victories. After all, consider what ‘dirty’ riders in the past have done, compared to the exploits of Wiggins and Evans. Yes, Armstrong won the Tour de France seven times, and there’s not a lot you can say to that, but Evans is the oldest winner since 1923. 1923. In all those 88 years of ‘doping’, no-one over the age of 34 was good enough to win the Tour de France until Evans came along. In fact, doping was still an accepted part of cycling in 1923. You could say that Evans is the oldest clean rider ever to have won the Tour de France. Doesn’t that make his victory even more special, knowing that even the cheats couldn’t do what he did?
Brad Wiggins’ hero, Tom Simpson, was the most successful cyclist in British history, at least until Wiggins came along. Yet Wiggins was able to win the Tour de France, a victory which eluded Simpson right up until his death from a drug-and-alcohol-induced heart attack during the 1967 Tour. If Simpson constitutes a ‘successful’ cyclist, then is there an adjective in the English language sufficiently superlative to describe Wiggins?
By no means am I saying that doping is in any way a good thing. On the contrary, it’s one of the most horrible phenomena that exist in professional cycling. But given it does exist, can’t we look at the bigger picture here and notice how every attempt to win by doping just makes the clean winners look even more brilliant by comparison? Yes, Armstrong may be dirtier than unwashed laundry, but that doesn’t mean that every other rider is dirty by association and that all their hard work is worthless. I for one can’t help but regard those clean riders with so much more awe and respect knowing that even the ‘great’ Armstrong or the ‘successful’ Simpson couldn’t do what they do – win because they’re simply the best.
Monday, 10 September 2012
Paris - Brussels 2012
A mix of both ProContinental and WorldTour teams made their way to Picardie to contest the race through the stunning French countryside. The summer sun promised a beautiful day and warm temperatures ahead for riders and spectators alike. Those lucky enough to have a race pass sipped beverages in the shade of the pavilion as they watched the team presentations, while others jostled for the best positions to watch from the side.
For some it was the chance to meet the riders that had people turning out in their hundreds. FDJ-Bigmat and their young rider Arnaud Démare and Omega Pharma-Quickstep with the Classics rider of the moment, Tom Boonen, were particularly popular, fans swamping the team buses to get autographs or photos with their heroes. Even the promising Danish youngster Jonas Aaen Jörgensen was more than happy to smile for photos as he strapped on his helmet and headed for the starting banner.
Despite their smiling faces for the fans, the riders were still focused on the race to come. I spoke with one of Team Rabobank’s Australian riders before the race got underway, and Graeme Brown had a very pithy description of what lay ahead. “Long day,” he put it simply. Brown was part of the leadout for Rabobank’s other Australian rider, sprinter Mark Renshaw. “Absolutely, I think Mark could be on the podium today. We’ve put everything on him, so we’ll see how it goes.”
Unfortunately it wasn’t going to be Rabobank’s day. The five-man breakaway was brought back in time for the sprint, but Omega-Pharma Quickstep’s train proved too strong for Rabobank, and Renshaw was left to sprint against Boonen in the final few metres. There was nothing the Australian could do to prevent the Belgian superstar taking his 13th victory for the season, adding a Paris-Brussels win to his Classics repertoire. With the World Championships on the way, Boonen has certainly shown himself to be the rider to beat.
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
Enough is Enough
It’s taken long enough, but Lance Armstrong finally seems to have realised that fighting the doping charges against him is doing no-one any favours. Like a fly caught in a spider’s web, Armstrong finally seems to have recognised that the longer he struggles, the more he tangles himself in the ever-tightening web of brutal public opinion.
He was the golden boy of world cycling. The poster child of the UCI. An angel of charity work. A hero to cancer sufferers worldwide. In short, Lance Armstrong from Plano, Texas, was an all-around good guy on a bike.
So when the drug rumours came knocking, as they seem to have done for every high-profile cyclist throughout time, Armstrong thought that he could beat them. Truth and innocence aside, a reputation as tall as the Texan himself and seven Tour de France titles to boot would surely be currency in dispelling the ugly tales and restoring his good name.
But the problem with drug rumours is that they seem to follow Grisham’s law of economics – ‘Bad money drives out good’. No matter how squeaky his reputation, the tiniest whisper of scandal was enough to taint it in an instant. As soon as the rumours began circulating that those seven Tour titles weren’t as cleanly earned as previously thought, the first cracks began appearing in the armour. No matter whether Armstrong’s lawyering up was a sign of a fight to protect his innocence or a fight to hide his guilt, the implication was clear. Armstrong was taking this seriously. And suddenly every news story featuring Armstrong in the title had ‘doping’ right there with it.
And there lies the point of no return. Once Armstrong’s name was tied to drug allegations, they were tied forever. No amount of fighting to clear his name would ever do that. Had Armstrong succeeded in beating the charges, he would simply have become the seven-time Tour de France winner who was cleared of drug charges. Goodbye, innocent until proven guilty. Drug charges don’t play by those rules.
Armstrong has put his faith in the idea that the truth will out. The truth is no longer what’s at stake. The heart of the matter is that even if the UCI, USADA, WADA and the Plano Cycling Club were all to declare the drug charges baseless and Armstrong a clean man, he has already been tarnished. What he has been fighting so hard to save is just a speck on a distant horizon. His reputation is down the drain, dragging the reputation of world cycling down right along with it.
Armstrong finally seems to have realised that in this case, no news really is good news. The longer he protests his innocence, the longer he drags his own name, and that of cycling, through the Spring Classics-deep mud. With no hope of redemption in sight, the biggest favour Lance Armstrong can do anyone now is to bow out quietly and pray that public opinion will be more lenient towards cycling than it has been towards him.
He was the golden boy of world cycling. The poster child of the UCI. An angel of charity work. A hero to cancer sufferers worldwide. In short, Lance Armstrong from Plano, Texas, was an all-around good guy on a bike.
So when the drug rumours came knocking, as they seem to have done for every high-profile cyclist throughout time, Armstrong thought that he could beat them. Truth and innocence aside, a reputation as tall as the Texan himself and seven Tour de France titles to boot would surely be currency in dispelling the ugly tales and restoring his good name.
But the problem with drug rumours is that they seem to follow Grisham’s law of economics – ‘Bad money drives out good’. No matter how squeaky his reputation, the tiniest whisper of scandal was enough to taint it in an instant. As soon as the rumours began circulating that those seven Tour titles weren’t as cleanly earned as previously thought, the first cracks began appearing in the armour. No matter whether Armstrong’s lawyering up was a sign of a fight to protect his innocence or a fight to hide his guilt, the implication was clear. Armstrong was taking this seriously. And suddenly every news story featuring Armstrong in the title had ‘doping’ right there with it.
And there lies the point of no return. Once Armstrong’s name was tied to drug allegations, they were tied forever. No amount of fighting to clear his name would ever do that. Had Armstrong succeeded in beating the charges, he would simply have become the seven-time Tour de France winner who was cleared of drug charges. Goodbye, innocent until proven guilty. Drug charges don’t play by those rules.
Armstrong has put his faith in the idea that the truth will out. The truth is no longer what’s at stake. The heart of the matter is that even if the UCI, USADA, WADA and the Plano Cycling Club were all to declare the drug charges baseless and Armstrong a clean man, he has already been tarnished. What he has been fighting so hard to save is just a speck on a distant horizon. His reputation is down the drain, dragging the reputation of world cycling down right along with it.
Armstrong finally seems to have realised that in this case, no news really is good news. The longer he protests his innocence, the longer he drags his own name, and that of cycling, through the Spring Classics-deep mud. With no hope of redemption in sight, the biggest favour Lance Armstrong can do anyone now is to bow out quietly and pray that public opinion will be more lenient towards cycling than it has been towards him.
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
All Work And No Gain?
It’s always been a part of professional cycling, but it’s a phenomenon that’s come under fire lately – the question of who chases versus who wins.
It’s very much a question of the sprinters. Traditionally, when a team has a sprinter that they believe can win the stage, the onus is on their team to chase down the breakaway as they’re the team who’ll benefit. When a team does it well, the rewards are obvious – a stage win for the sprinter and a morale boost for the whole team.
But what about when they don’t win the stage? It was an ever-present concern for Australian outfit Orica-GreenEDGE during the Tour de France. The team often spent more than 100 kilometres leading the peloton in an attempt to reel in the day’s breakaway to set up a stage win for sprinter Matt Goss. Belgian outfit Lotto Belisol would jump on the front with 10 kilometres to go, still fresh after the day’s stage, and lead German sprinter André Greipel out for the win. It happened more than once. So is that good strategy and clever riding from the Belgian team, or are the others teams taking advantage of Orica-GreenEDGE?
Peter Sagan is another recent example of the issue. The Slovakian doesn’t have a leadout train – at least, nothing on the scale of Orica-GreenEDGE, Lotto Belisol or at times even Team Sky – yet the 22-year-old still claimed three stages of the Tour de France ahead of Greipel and Goss, as well as almost every stage of the Tour of California. Sagan usually tacks onto the end of the nearest sprinter being towed to the line and jumps out when everyone is least expecting it, using the work of Goss, Greipel or Cavendish’s teams. Again, is this a remarkably canny move on the part of the youngster, or are Sky, Lotto and GreenEDGE being deprived of their just rewards?
Cavendish certainly seems to think so. The ‘world’s fastest man’, a title verified by his stripey rainbow jersey of the reigning World Champion, recently hit out at Australia over the lack of effort they put into the chase during the Olympic road race – despite the fact that Australia had a rider in the breakaway, six-time Olympian Stuart O’Grady. Cavendish was highly critical of the other teams for failing to help pull back the breakaway, conveniently forgetting that, like Australia, almost every other country capable of helping had a rider ahead of the peloton with a chance at the gold medal. There was another reason Great Britain was on their own – everyone knew that if it came down to a sprint finish, there was no-one who could beat the Manx Missile, Mark Cavendish. If Great Britain wanted the win, Great Britain had to do all the work – and even then, they knew everyone else would be racing them to the finish. It really was them versus the world.
So are the times changing? Is it now professionally acceptable to let another team or rider do all the work so you can take the win? Has the sport of cycling abandoned the ‘no guts, no glory’ ideal that brought about some of the greatest cycling victories we’ve seen in favour of a ‘end justifies the means’ approach to racing? What remains to be seen is this: who will do the work if they know there’s nothing to gain?
It’s very much a question of the sprinters. Traditionally, when a team has a sprinter that they believe can win the stage, the onus is on their team to chase down the breakaway as they’re the team who’ll benefit. When a team does it well, the rewards are obvious – a stage win for the sprinter and a morale boost for the whole team.
But what about when they don’t win the stage? It was an ever-present concern for Australian outfit Orica-GreenEDGE during the Tour de France. The team often spent more than 100 kilometres leading the peloton in an attempt to reel in the day’s breakaway to set up a stage win for sprinter Matt Goss. Belgian outfit Lotto Belisol would jump on the front with 10 kilometres to go, still fresh after the day’s stage, and lead German sprinter André Greipel out for the win. It happened more than once. So is that good strategy and clever riding from the Belgian team, or are the others teams taking advantage of Orica-GreenEDGE?
Peter Sagan is another recent example of the issue. The Slovakian doesn’t have a leadout train – at least, nothing on the scale of Orica-GreenEDGE, Lotto Belisol or at times even Team Sky – yet the 22-year-old still claimed three stages of the Tour de France ahead of Greipel and Goss, as well as almost every stage of the Tour of California. Sagan usually tacks onto the end of the nearest sprinter being towed to the line and jumps out when everyone is least expecting it, using the work of Goss, Greipel or Cavendish’s teams. Again, is this a remarkably canny move on the part of the youngster, or are Sky, Lotto and GreenEDGE being deprived of their just rewards?
Cavendish certainly seems to think so. The ‘world’s fastest man’, a title verified by his stripey rainbow jersey of the reigning World Champion, recently hit out at Australia over the lack of effort they put into the chase during the Olympic road race – despite the fact that Australia had a rider in the breakaway, six-time Olympian Stuart O’Grady. Cavendish was highly critical of the other teams for failing to help pull back the breakaway, conveniently forgetting that, like Australia, almost every other country capable of helping had a rider ahead of the peloton with a chance at the gold medal. There was another reason Great Britain was on their own – everyone knew that if it came down to a sprint finish, there was no-one who could beat the Manx Missile, Mark Cavendish. If Great Britain wanted the win, Great Britain had to do all the work – and even then, they knew everyone else would be racing them to the finish. It really was them versus the world.
So are the times changing? Is it now professionally acceptable to let another team or rider do all the work so you can take the win? Has the sport of cycling abandoned the ‘no guts, no glory’ ideal that brought about some of the greatest cycling victories we’ve seen in favour of a ‘end justifies the means’ approach to racing? What remains to be seen is this: who will do the work if they know there’s nothing to gain?
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