Am I the only person in the UK who isn’t apopleptic with delight at the prospect of a British winner of the TdF. For the first time in the Tour’s 107 yr history a Brit finished the race in The Yellow Jersey, it’s all over the front page of every newspaper in the land (including – unbelievably – The Daily Mail, that’s never, as far as I’m aware, had a single good word to say about cycling/cyclists). And I don’t give a shit.
It dawned on me over the weekend as people who know me – cyclists and non-cyclists alike – have been greeting me with big smiles and expressions of wow, isn’t it great? And I’m struggling to find the enthusiasm to crack a smile. I am, it cannot be denied, a miserable old curmudgeon. I have the kind of droopy middle-aged face skin which makes it look like I’m scowling even when I’m happy. But that aside, you’d imagine that, as a Cyclist this would make me happy. But it doesn’t make me happy.
The trouble is this: I was once in love with The Tour. I watched it every day – and the highlights on a rest day – and for twenty years I harboured an ambition to one day join the throngs lining one of the mountain stages. As someone who’d survived testicular cancer I watched Lance destroy the competition year after year from the edge of my seat. I was a fan.
Fignon, Hinault, Delgado, Lemond, Indurain, Millar, Pantani, et al. I was a devoted fan. I loved the heroism of it, and I loved the heroes. And then it all went to shit. Year after year I watched as the drugs scandal after drug scandal slowly ruined my sport. It became harder and harder to feel any joy in it. I tried to stay true but, like anyone in a romantic relationship who is lied to, whose lover cheats on them and, however deep the feelings, eventually, slowly, inevitably….. I fell out of love.
In recent weeks it has been announced that the US Drug people haved banned Armstrong from competition and are bringing charges against him. That was the final straw.
So last week when Wiggo was doing well, and then when he looked certain to win, and even when it was inevitable – I simply couldn’t bring myself to watch it. In my heart it’s broken
So well done Brad, great guy, worthy winner. But for me – it’s just too frickin late.
I agree wholeheartedly. In my view, it seems unavoidable that they’re all dirty. As Rico says in the terrible Judge Dredd movie of a few years ago, “Guilt and innocence is a matter of timing.” This cannot be more true than it is of cycling, where the timing of drug-taking and blood doping is what allows the criminals to get away with it.
Now, every time I hear a cyclist proclaim that, unlike others, he’s clean – and angry that people are so cynical, it just sounds hollow. How do you tell if a cyclist is doping? Easy – his legs go round and round.
Wrong!
Judge Dread was a great movie!
But seriously. Wow Ian – you’re even more cynical than me! I wasn’t suggesting that the current top riders are doping, but that the last couple of decades of dope abuse has turned me off the sport. The drop in TdF average climbing speeds seems to indicate a drop in performance in line with what one might expect if they were riding clean. Innocent until proven guilty and all that…