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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@Nate
If you can get hold of a Castelli Sottile vest, they go well. Waterproof, very snug fit (go a size higher than your usual) but still ok to ride hard in.
@frank
@sgt
I think you forgot to add douche to your description of Reeshard. Read "Breaking the Chain" and then tell me whether you still admire him? Willy Voet had to give him placebos for crying out loud.
And I reckon there was a bit less Rule 5 in Reeshard than you think. To my mind he "gave up" on trying for decent GC results when he realised he was never going to win a big one and settled for the relative safety/certainty of the Pois. Not sure he actually was in the right "Arena" for his true talent level.
@Marcus
I've absolutely read Breaking the Chain; a must-read. He was a young kid, eager to learn about everything there was and, like most good climbers, hopelessly fragile mentally.
Voet's description of Zulle's self-destruction because another soigneur tampered with the doping regimen in the '98 Giro was pretty interesting.
@Marcus
Added to the reading list, thx.
Have you guys done a recommended list of cycling books article for this site yet, to combine all these recommendations into one place?
If not, it would probably be a worth while addition, especially when it comes to books that may be about people that aren't mainstream riders and as such are easy to overlook.
@mcsqueak
That's an absolutely spectacular idea. Thanks for the suggestion!
@frank
No problem! It's partially self-serving, because *I* want to know what good books are out there, recommended by people who actually love cycling (not just some random list from Amazon), but I figured it could be of benefit to others here as well.
Update it once a year or so, and it would be a nice resource indeed.
@Marcus
Thanks, I'll try one of those out.
@frank , @mcsqueak
We should totally do this, it's the right time of year for a reading list. I've mentioned The Rider elsewhere (frank, the author is a Dutchman even). I also nominate Dino Buzzati's Giro d'Italia about the 1949 Giro. It's out of print but at least a couple years ago I easily found a copy on Amazon.
@Nate
I'd say out-of-print books should be listed too, as they can usually be found easily on Amazon and Ebay.
I'd say "coffee table books" may also be fair play if they are good enough to warrant a mention, because books of purdy pictures can also be a nice relaxing diversion (especially fun vintage photographs).
Sex lies and handlebar tape - the story of Anquetil. Leaving aside 5 Tours his domestic arrangements are worthy of a book!
Great idea.
Some suggestions for inclusion:
Graeme Fife's "Tour de France"
David Walsh's "From Lance to Landis"
Martin Dugard (I think) "Following Lance" (verges on hagiography, but also an entertaining description of Le Tour in 2005 generally)
"The Death of Marco Pantani" (reviewed by Brett earlier in the year, but mentioned again as it deserves another shout out)