Paul Sherwen is generally seen as Phil Liggett’s counter-point, dutifully keeping the iconic duo’s race commentary on course, helping to convey to the English-speaking world the sport of Professional Cycling. Liggett, of course, has undeniably helped shape this great sport for Anglophones across the globe, having been the English voice of this sport since before I was born – and for that I’m eternally grateful to him; merely the sound of his voice warms the cockles of my cold, black heart. But as much as he is inextricably bound to the sport, the last time he got a fact right must have also been before I was born, if he ever has.
The balance Liggett’s special breed of factual rigor is Paul Sherwen. Not only does he have the insight of an ex-pro with which to season his commentary, he has several other highly technical analytical tools at his disposal, such as actually watching the race. Furthermore, Paul is able to counter Uncle Phil’s constitution under pressure – which resembles that of a knock-kneed Rhode Island Red in a washing machine on a delicates/knits cycle – with his Sprinter’s Cool. Whereas Phil can be heard squawking and clucking incomprehensibly with excitement as a race unfolds, Paul peppers the commentary with self-deprecating jokes about his own career and adds a Swahili proverb or two that might be helpful for the riders, were they only able to hear him.
In this current role of his, as the commentary equivalent of Autocorrect on Liggett’s iPhone, it is easy to forget that Paul was among the most respected riders of his day. Seen here stringing out a bunch (in complete Rule Compliance, I might add) reminds me of the various tales of tenacity that earned him the respect not only of his fellow riders, but of race organizers.
One such example is of the 1985 Tour de France when Sherwen, a domestique with no chance at the overall, crashed in the opening kilometers of a Pyrenean stage and was left to fend for himself while Bernard Hinault raced for the win at the front, making small children of grown men. Refusing to give up, Sherwen limped through the stage alone, accompanied only by a single Gendarme’s motorcycle. More than an hour after the stage winner and well outside the time limit, he finished the stage. The race jury, moved by his resolve to finish the stage, reinstated him and allowed him to continue on in the Tour. In a word, respect.
I think of all the people in the cycling world I most admire, it has to be Paul Sherwen.
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@frank
Dude, he's French, he was born to stage some sort of strike or protest...(gotta love a nationalistic stereotype)
:)
Don't I wish! I am stuck in the heart of San Anotnio trying to get all in-processed into the Army base there and riding my kk pro fliud trainer daily in my tiny hotel room (
@Dr C
Yes, I "stole" that photo for my avatar b/c it embodies everything about the "sport" of cycling that runs through my veins. Just defines everything for me. Kind of like the whole, "If you have to ask, you'll never understand" thing. If you see that photo of Paul Sherwin after P-R and do not understand, then cycling is not, at least yet, for you.
@roadslave
I love the stories of how folks get into riding/racing - my favorite was Mary Jane
Reoch, former 11 time National Champion, sadly no longer with us. She and her husband were on a motorcycle tour of Europe and in the Alps they were passed on a decent by a race peloton. It blew their minds and in Milan they ordered bikes and went home and began racing. She went on to fame and fortune while her husband (the one who was most excited) only became a local rider and MJ's supporter.
My initiation was at the hands of my cousin who had been racing a couple of years. I had been city commuting 4+ years and came home, thought it might be fun to go for a ride with the racer. As we started out from his house he awkwardly reached down on his fixed winter bike (what the hell, I did not even understand what that was) to tighten his toe straps?? I had them but never knew you could or would tighten them - that ride changed my life and the next spring I started training with local racers... it was all down hill from there!
@Rob
Mine didn't start off so sexy. I had a bike I liked to ride around once in awhile. I was a pretty decent long distance runner in HS and into college. I hurt my knee and of course PT was not to run, but to ride my bike more. It was fun, but I wasn't sold. I got married (not to my VMH, I had to pitch the first one), and when things got bad, I knew I could be gone longer on the bike than out for a run. The time away, and then, realizing that this was a unique thing, is what hooked me. I could think (or not). See places in my town I otherwise wouldn't. Keep fit. Then I decided to race. That's what clinched it for me. Riding with the bunch, meeting new folk, and having some success (for the competitive side of me). But then I could ride alone too, and training for racing allowed me that opportunity.
And see, it still works. Here I am, still doing all that, and talking about it to folk that understand that there's more to life than the Super Bowl.
After a couple of years as a cycle courier (think smoking drinking leery little prick) I was visiting my folks and found a used cannondale with Ultegra for five hundy, it was too big and the shifters were flogged, but it changed colour when you walked past it. Dark green to purple, if anyone knows what I'm on about. I knew it was a steal and all of a sudden I had a bike that was nice to ride and worth maintaining, rather than a beaten to shit MTB that I just needed to keep on the road. My work bikes got better: I ended up going through a fixie (wiped out by taxi) to ending up on a GT road bike with bullhorns and bar end shifters. With the Cannondale, I would go ride after work, had a great summer of riding twilight rides for 2 or so hours after riding all day and that was that.
I rowed at HS and Uni and always had a pretty suitable base, but I figured that was what I needed to do at the time and it was all good.
@roadslave
I started when I was 14. I had a school friend who was into bikes, and he sparked my interest.
I bought my first bike and recall just taking it apart every weekend because I loved the mechanics and beautiful simplicity of it. The first bike was a cheap Raleigh but with black frame and gold painted lines around the lugs.
In between all of the tinkering of course was the riding. I just loved riding. I soon realised that the Raleigh just wasn't good enough, so I bought a VeloSport with Shimano 600 Groupset. It was better. But fool me bought a 56 when I really needed a 50. More riding ensued.
I then discovered that there was a local touring club that held 15 k time trial every Tuesday night not 5k
from my house. I was soon hooked by the endorphin rush and the idea that it felt GOOD to make yourself suffer.
Soon after, a fine gentleman by the name of Cooper came along with the idea that he should start up a cycle racing team that would include anyone in the region interested. Soon we had kit, then soon after that I did my first race as a junior.
The Colnago soon followed (54(idiot, but getting closer), then the custom built Marinoni (52, duh(all bikes had Super Record by this stage).
By now I moved to the big smoke for University and joined another team, where I finally ended up on my beautiful 50cm PDM Concorde.
Raced on that for a few years till I got to Senior II and had my ass handed to me in a stage race by the guys in the 7-11 domestic team amongst others.
Got disillusioned and gave it up for 10 years. Convinced myself I was still fit ( self delusion).
Started back on a mountain bike 10 years ago, and have rediscovered my love for suffering.
@mouse, @minion, @rob, @frank, @michael liddy - thanks for posts, and for comments. Great to read, and all inspiring. Big chapeau to @JIPM for raising the most excellent question in the first place... one of those moments that makes you stand back and look at the bigger picture. On an awesomeness scale of 1 to 10, I think Jeff is a 32 right about now. Thanks
I had to wade in a ways to find a post that said: well done, frank.
Sad.
Nicely written, frank!
Oh! and...Rapha...don't dis it until you've worn it.
Now, boyz, go to bed and stare at the pics of Pantani which you have pasted to your ceilings.
Wait, San Antonio is the 7th largest conurbation in the U.S.?! Hmm, I know TX has a bunch of big arse cities, but didn't realize San An was that high up.
Lots of great stories here. I never really made a conscious decision to become a Velominatus; it was a slow accretion of Reverence & Awe & Respect in my bones. A mtn. bike ridden to work, then a used Cannondale, and then it just kept going. Another sport dominated my life from age 8-22. Post-college was a bit lost for a few years. Now I cannot delineate myself & cycling. It's great & I love it. I'm intimately connected to nature, the weather, the seasons, sunrise and sunset, the patterns of daily life. Cycling is always there for me, provide some structure, some release, some exercise, and a metric tonne of awesomeness.
minion - My first true road bike was a mango colored Cannondale with 105. Too big for me, rode the heck out of it from 2003-2009. Aboard that bike I was transformed.
The Badger's pose in that photo is stunning. Like a damn rock. "I am not moving, I am not pleased." Yeah, waking him up at 5am is NOT a job I'd want to have on my list of duties.