Suspense. It defines the thrill of watching a bike race. Johan Van Summeren, his deflated rear tire clanging over the last secteurs of cobblestones in Paris-Roubaix with Fabian Cancellara breathing down his back; Laurent Fignon snatching seconds from Greg LeMond on each mountaintop finish, as LeMond snatches those same seconds back in the time trials. From the spectators standpoint at least, suspense categorically defines good bike racing.
Bike racing is a monumentally difficult sport, with even the one-day races representing a magnificent display of endurance. Many one-day races are 200 or more kilometers over difficult terrain and in awful weather, where riders need to be fit, strong, and alert at all times during a competition that lasts upwards of six hours. Grand Tours distinguish themselves by aggregating the challenges from the one-day races into a three-week event; their sheer length cause riders to not only battle each other but themselves as fatigue creeps in, brought on by racing twenty days along windy coastal roads, over high mountains – in baking heat or torrential rain. Simply finishing a Grand Tour labels a rider as a “Giant of the Road”, the designation given to those few who were good enough and hard enough to endure this ultimate test of determination and stamina. Those who manage to win one will be defined by the accomplishment for the remainder of their career and, quite possibly, their lives. The V, brought to life and personified in each one of them.
Historically, one of the distinguishing factors of Grand Tour contenders has been their superiority over their rivals in one discipline or another, while typically being bested in another discipline. The Grimpeur who soars over the mountains shows weakness when they go contre la montre. The Rouleur who gains an advantage in the time trials struggles to limit their losses over the high passes. The route, the terrain, their weaknesses, and their ability to respond to the tactics of each stage characterizes the three-week struggle for domination. There is no other event on Earth like it.
The grimpeur versus the rouleur has been the Grand Tour’s great struggle, for what Merckx giveth in the Mountains, Merckx taketh away in the Time Trial. The emaciated body that the climber uses to float up the steepest gradients is little more than a waifish weather vane in the time trails where sheer strength and power are the keys to success. Conversely, the additional body mass required to generate time trial-winning power becomes an anchor when pointed uphill, allowing gravity and physics to do their cruel work.
Where in the past we’ve seen riders who could ride amongst the best in both the mountains as well as the time trials, these riders were never the dominant figure in either of both disciplines. Anquetil was strong in the time trials but struggled in the mountains – the same goes for Indurain. Hinault, LeMond, and Ullrich were strong in the time trails and, while good climbers, were always bested by others on the high passes. Fignon and Pantani could take time away from their rivals on the vicious slopes of the high mountains, but struggled to maintain their advantage in the time trials. It all came together to form a ferocious battle of riders pitting their strengths against their rivals’ weaknesses, and their rivals coming back to do the same another day when conditions were more in their favor.
Yet, in the last decade, we’ve seen an alarming shift in the qualities of some top Grand Tour contenders. With Lance Armstrong and Alberto Contador, we have seen a new class of rider who is the best climber in the world while also the best time trialist; while an awesome display of skill, it puts paid to the excitement of watching a Grand Tour unfold. Each of Armstrong’s wins came at the hands of devastating mountaintop wins coupled with domination in the Time Trials. Similarly, Contador’s 2009 record-setting VAM (Vertical Ascension in Meters) on the climb of Verbiér came alongside his defeat of World-Champion time trialist, Fabian Cancellara, his frail climber’s body managing to best the most powerful rider in the peloton.
Whatever lies at the root of this transformation, it seems these riders have found a way to abolish their weakness in these opposed disciplines, and can execute their race plans with surgical, three-week precision. With that precision comes the death of the Grand Tour; for it is the weakness of our heros that lends us the opportunity to revel in the thrill of their victories. Without that weakness, we have gained an impressive show of dominance, and lost the spectacle of suspense.
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@scaler911
I'm annoyingly contradictory cos I like Bourbon. I don't really consider it whiskey but do enjoy it quite a lot. And Irish whiskey is very drinkable and convivial, but this isn't the place for imitation. Scottish whiskey can make you fall in love or take your head off, depending on where its from and how its made, which is what I love about it.
And yes the Wire is awesome, SWMBO told me about a Icelandic politician who began an anti - politician political party and refused to negotiate with anyone unless they'd seen every episode of the wire.
And with the more kms I put in myself, the greater my respect is for guys who are able to put in such hard efforts for three weeks in a row. I realize that for as much physical talent and determination it takes, there is an even deeper need for an incredible level of mental V to pull off a Grand Tour finish.
They might have the physique of a bird, but they have the mental toughness of a prize fighter.
There is a @Minion
As an Irishman, I have to admit, the best whiskies are the Scottish malts, if you like that sort of stuff, though I once had a bottle of Glen Kella from the Isle of Man - unusual brew, now called Manx Spirit or something, very entertaining effect, and wholly unpalatable..... like all things from the Isle of Man I guess
@Dr C
Ha! Awesome, I bet Cavendish was weaned on the stuff!
@Minion
indeed, strange stuff - I felt invincible on it, swore inappropriately, was admittedly a bit weepy, at times crying like a baby, and admittedly a bit unnecessarily bad tempered, and my friends told me it just made me act like a twat - wouldn't recommend it, apparently makes you grow a third leg, which is not much use for cycling
@mcsqueak
Fair point, I've some decent brews in NY, but these weren't commercial Yankee shit, but micro breweries whose remit was quality and taste. However you've forgotten that most of the Yankees breweries were created by German emigres during the l9th century. Anhauser-Busch, Schlitz, Pabst etc.
Anyhoo, Yankee 'beer' is piss. Compare Bud to the real Czech stuff. It's a no brainer. My favourite Czech beer is Kozel Cerny; it looks like Guinness but taste like proper lager but the Czech do not export it. I wonder why?
BTW @scaler911 is right about Guinness from Dublin, it's rich and creamy and very moreish when imbibed with Jameson, Bushmills or Johnny Walker (Red or Black).
@G'phant
Isn't a tuatara a really ugly spiky lizard...
Jesus man, in case anyone might misinterpret this, you don't put the shot IN the Guinness, as per that heretic activity the Southern English types do with blackcurrant cordial (Merckx preserve us from that behaviour!!)
Only exception is a shot of sambuca in a pint, when time trialling on a stag night - the notorious "Belfast Car Bomb" - leaves much wreckage - and only if the Guinness in that unseemly establishment is shite
Okay, gloves are finally off....
"On stage 15 to Bagnères-de-Luchon in the Pyrenees, while he was wearing the yellow jersey, Schleck attacked Alberto Contador on the Port du Balès climb. But as he was opening up a gap, his chain jammed, and the Spaniard took advantage to attack and went on to gain 39 seconds - exactly the amount of time that separated the two riders on the final podium in Paris.
"I wouldn't have done that (attack)," Schleck said in an exclusive interview published in French newspaper L'Equipe on Thursday. "He said he didn't see it. But he looked like this [turning his head and looking over his shoulder - ed.] and then he attacked."
"A great champion doesn't do a thing like that. When Ullrich crashed into a ravine, Armstrong waited. When Armstrong crashed on the way to Luz-Ardiden (on stage 12 of the 2003 Tour), the other riders agreed to wait for him. That's what makes a champion. I was really very disappointed by his attitude that day."
"On the day after it, he came to say he was sorry. I told him in English: 'I forgive but I don't forget'. I think he understood."
BRING IT ON!!