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!”
Saturday, 20 October 2012
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
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| 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.
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