Photographs trigger memories and emotions within the human psyche that last a very long time, and remind us of where we were, what we were doing, and how we felt at any given moment of our lives. The above image, although still fresh in the time/space continuum, nonetheless brings back happy times for myself.
It reminds me of Australia, of my friends, as we watched the late-night telecast of Stage 8. It reminds me of the banter between us, with one member of the viewing audience vehemently trying to defend the merits of Armstrong’s challenge for an eighth win. He was systematically taken apart with vigour, backed up by the performance unfolding on the road before us.
Astana was on the front of the peloton, with Tiralongo driving a frantic pace as they hit the base of the climb to Avoriaz. There was a dark figure sitting on his wheel, with a look on his face that said he was already well into the red, but knew that soon his time would come to up the intensity a notch further and put the other teams a little bit deeper into the box of hurt. I wasn’t sure who he was, but he was soon to be a new hero when he buried himself for kilometre after kilometre in service of his team leader. Daniel Navarro was a stud that day, and for the days to follow.
The heat of the day was intense, and I commented on how the riders must just be about cooking themselves, with whatever enhancements were flowing through their veins adding to the risk of their blood boiling and their hearts exploding out of their chest cavities. I was excited beyond belief; it was top-fueled racing, almost like the old days. But this time, it was Armstrong who was feeling the brunt of a dominant team working against him. I was almost screaming at the tv as he struggled to keep the furious pace being dished out at the front. “Go on, bend him over and fuck him, like he’d do to you!” is a pretty close approximation of the words I used. Did I mention I was excited?
When Pharmy crashed the first time, he was done. He chased back on with all his old vigour, but you could see that the effort had taken its toll on his aging legs, and when Astana turned up the heat again, his Tour glory days were fading rapidly in the rear-view mirror. By the time the above scene took place, he was a well-broken man, a shadow of his former self, an empty shell going through the motions, taking his team mates down with him as he threw in the towel like he’d never even contemplated before.
I wonder if, as he stood there in the middle of the road, without any urgency or desire to get back on the bike, that his famous words were swilling inside his head; “Pain is temporary, quitting is forever”.
Adios, Huevo.
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@Marcus
Everybody knows he sperm-dopes.
If LA rode a compact, he would have done it on the Zoncolon wearing too long socks and too long shorts, violating two of the rules at least.
@Frank, @Steampunk, @Marko
SockGuy Lion Of Flanders Socks
http://www.chainreactioncycles.com/Models.aspx?ModelID=21433
My sock of choice to compliment the Yellow Princesses.
The lion of flanders: Rampant !
Well said everyone. We tend to stay away from the LA/doping issues (related or not) in general here; in fact, the times when it is brought up is when readers ask us to explain why we don't like him (you yourself asked that question Oli, and now cwself). Because yes, it does tend to go nowhere, and there are far more interesting things to read/write about.
@frank
Now wait just a minute! The Rules are very clear about any kinds of socks going so long as they aren't tennis socks and adhere to the Goldilocks principle. And now they need to be color-coordinated? Unless, of course, this is a Rule 17 issue, but that's not what you're intimating above.
For the record, I don't actually own the aforementioned socks, but after a good ride this morning, which included a nasty little 1.4km stretch at ~17%, I'm feeling particularly contrarian and irreverent.
@Steampunk
Oh, absolutely. It's not a Rule Violation to wear them. It's just not in good taste - obviously your socks shouldn't be in contrast to your kit. That said, I bought some new white socks to go with the White Ladies because none of my socks were really white enough. These are so incredibly gleaming that now they are too white. Lordy-lordy, what a conundrum.
I'll weigh in. In the grand scheme of things I don't care who dopes or not. I just like to watch bike racing. But I do have feelings about individuals as individuals and Mr. Armstrong has demonstrated (to me at least) that he can be an unlikeable chap.
I think it kind of goes something like this:
Dickhead + dope = COTHO
Nice guy + dope = That kinda sucks but I'll get over it.
@frank
Wow. Laughing so hard I started to cry. Thank Merckx I have my own office, and empty offices on either side of me.
One of the reasons this is a great community is that differing opinions are generally expressed and received not only with a measure of respect, but also with robust good humour. It makes for a refreshing change from most other cycling forums (and 'cyclingforums') where any discussion on doping or Juan Pelota or even compact chainsets spiral into ennervating slanging matches.
Hence whilst a rule on discussing Pharmstrong/The Greatest Cyclist Ever* might be appealing, surely we should remember that we are not douchebags of the lowest order who can't string two words together. We are Velominati, imbued not only with a deep appreciation of the history, tradition and etiquette of European professional cycling, but also with respect for the finers points of wit and repartee as well as the intrinsic beauty of a well articulated and intelligent argument.
So I say: 'no COTHO-debating rules'. Yes, we will disagree. Mostly I hope with good humour. But if not, let's not start bandying about insults at each other like a bunch of teenage girls. Sort it out like real men with a duel at dawn armed only with mini-pumps and CO2 cannisters.
*delete as appropriate, or not depending on your religion
@Marko
No emoticons. Per Huevo -1.