Quick question:
In reading the updates, I see things like a rider dropping back for medical attention (one just got his toenails cut!) or mechanical repairs. Do they stop riding, or do what they can while moving forward?
Also, it usually says team members drop back also. Is this for moral support? Or, is it that much easier to catch back up to the peloton when you can draft?
Some mechanical repairs can be done whilst riding. The rider will allign himself parallel to his team’s car, and someone will do the repairs while hanging out the window. Usually stuff like tinkering with the gears or brakes. Never saw toenails cut “in flight”, though. 
Boogerd finished the stage in the main pack, but will require stitches on the left knee. Turns out someone cut him off, and he had to brake hard and fell. He was optimistic though, even though it hurt like… well, this is a family forum, I won’t repeat his words.
The team time trial is tomorrow, and Rabobank will have to work pretty hard, what with 2 riders out (including big gun Leipheimer), and Boogerd (arguably the front man now) riding with an injured knee.
There was another fall today in the final sprint, an Austrian guy who’s name escapes me now. Baumgartner?
Anyway, he got cut off in the dashing pack, and fell onto the frickin’ curb. He was pretty torn up, but finished the stage on his bike minutes later. He was damn lucky not to hit his head on the curb!
Well Coldie, it’s a funny thing about cycling but when your number’s up, your number’s up - regardless of whether you’re wearing a helmet or not sadly.
If you’re unfortunate enough to go face first into something - a la Laurent Jalabert into a very naughty cop in a bunch sprint finish in a stage of the 1995 Tour - then you can expect some serious facial reconstruction surgery, no doubts about it.
Thankfully, it’s pretty darn rare. You can expect to land on your arse at least twice a year if you’re a full time racer, but it’s pretty rare for your actual head or face to have a hard impact. But you know, when it does, you can expect some bad injuries - which is why I said you have to be quite fatalistic about it.
Without doubt, the worst crash in a bunch sprint that I’ve personally ever seen was Djamolidin Abdujhaparov’s crash when he hit a coke can 200 meters from the finish of the Arc de Triomph in the 1991 Tour. Man, that guy landed hard… and slid even further!
Somebody mentioned Jan Ulrich? You know, he’s a real sleeper is that boy. His head was totally shot last year - he really lost the plot emotionally - but geez he’s looking good this year - as in, he’s looking amazing at an athletic level. His weight has always been a problem, and this year he’s really super duper lean. His 4th in the Opening Prologue says to me he’s got some real menacing speed up his sleeve.
Certainly, it’s quite a valid assertion to state that Jan Ulrich is actually the more complete and natural talent than Lance Armstrong is.
But as for Lance Armstrong? I have to be quite frank here people… in the context of pro cycling being an 8 month long sport, and in the context of there being 2 other Grand Tours and many Spring Classics and Autumn Classics, as well as the one day World Road Race Championship, I personally don’t feel Mr Armstrong deserves a 5th win… and here’s why… with the exception of Miguel Indurain, the other 3 men who won 5 Tours de France ALSO won Giro d’Italia’s and World Championships - often in the same year. Big Mig never won a World Championship, but he did come 2nd once, and he won Giro d’Italias and many one day classics as well.
But Lance Armstrong, quite frankly, is notorious these days for avoiding the majority of the pro racing season. Indeed, his reputation now for being quite uncompetitve in anything OTHER than the Tour de France is such that the purists amongst us feel that in many respects, he takes far more from the sport than he gives to it. Certainly, his sheer number of no shows in the length of a season for major races is such that he cannot truly hold his name up to say, his fellow American champion, Greg le Mond - a man who understood that to be a genuinely great champion in pro cycling means winning races all season long and not just focusing on one particularly high profile part of the season.
Well Coldie, it’s a funny thing about cycling but when your number’s up, your number’s up - regardless of whether you’re wearing a helmet or not sadly.
If you’re unfortunate enough to go face first into something - a la Laurent Jalabert into a very naughty cop in a bunch sprint finish in a stage of the 1995 Tour - then you can expect some serious facial reconstruction surgery, no doubts about it.
Thankfully, it’s pretty darn rare. You can expect to land on your arse at least twice a year if you’re a full time racer, but it’s pretty rare for your actual head or face to have a hard impact. But you know, when it does, you can expect some bad injuries - which is why I said you have to be quite fatalistic about it.
Without doubt, the worst crash in a bunch sprint that I’ve personally ever seen was Djamolidin Abdujhaparov’s crash when he hit a coke can 200 meters from the finish of the Arc de Triomph in the 1991 Tour. Man, that guy landed hard… and slid even further!
Somebody mentioned Jan Ulrich? You know, he’s a real sleeper is that boy. His head was totally shot last year - he really lost the plot emotionally - but geez he’s looking good this year - as in, he’s looking amazing at an athletic level. His weight has always been a problem, and this year he’s really super duper lean. His 4th in the Opening Prologue says to me he’s got some real menacing speed up his sleeve.
Certainly, it’s quite a valid assertion to state that Jan Ulrich is actually the more complete and natural talent than Lance Armstrong is.
But as for Lance Armstrong? I have to be quite frank here people… in the context of pro cycling being an 8 month long sport, and in the context of there being 2 other Grand Tours and many Spring Classics and Autumn Classics, as well as the one day World Road Race Championship, I personally don’t feel Mr Armstrong deserves a 5th win… and here’s why… with the exception of Miguel Indurain, the other 3 men who won 5 Tours de France ALSO won Giro d’Italia’s and World Championships - often in the same year. Big Mig never won a World Championship, but he did come 2nd once, and he won Giro d’Italias and many one day classics as well.
But Lance Armstrong, quite frankly, is notorious these days for avoiding the majority of the pro racing season. Indeed, his reputation now for being quite uncompetitve in anything OTHER than the Tour de France is such that the purists amongst us feel that in many respects, he takes far more from the sport than he gives to it. Certainly, his sheer number of no shows in the length of a season for major races is such that he cannot truly hold his name up to say, his fellow American champion, Greg le Mond - a man who understood that to be a genuinely great champion in pro cycling means winning races all season long and not just focusing on one particularly high profile part of the season.
Despite the fact that his success has made Hill Country roads nigh-impassible for trucks in the spring and summer, I gotta root for Lance…
I’d expect nothing less of a Texan! 
I’d like to clarify my position if I may… if Lance Armstrong wins his 5th, nobody will have pushed his pedals but him - so he’ll deserve the win, no questions about it.
I was merely mulling over the matter in terms of thinking about the sport with a historical perspective.
Good points, BBF. Armstrong certainly focuses on the tour. But still, winning it a possible 5 times in a row is something that even Indurain has to bow for.
But you’re right, in the old days there was no such thing as focussing on one race or event. When the last Dutchman won the tour (Joop Zoetemelk in 1980), he won countless other races that year too. Check out his palmares. Incidently, he also became world champion in 1985, at the age of 40. Forty!
Those days are long and gone, I’m afraid.
Coldie, I was at that race in Italy in 1985. I’d competed in the Amateur Road Race just 3 days earlier.
It was a funny thing… my friends and I in the Aussie team had tickets to watch the race in the main grandstand on the finish line, but they were in shitty positions right up high and in the back without a good view. So we lied and cheated and nabbed about 5 seats in the front row of the Grandstand.
To our right was an elderly Italian gent who looked like Enzo Ferrari - and he was pretty pissed off with us at first - as were his companions. But as the day wore on, along with some fine wine, they warmed to us.
And who was the gentleman? Heh Heh Heh. Turned out it was none other than Mr Campgnolo himself!
Now that was a great finish… the field was still 80 riders strong. You had all the big names getting ready for a super sprint finish. In particular, Moreno Argentin and Greg Le Mond were totally making eyes at each other, and everyone else was watching THEM!
With about 800 meters to go, old Joop, crafty fox that he’d become - very subtly moved near the front right side of the pack and jumped for all he was worth. And they let him go! The big names still couldn’t stop looking at each other to see who was gonna make the strategic mistake. Zoetemelk knew that nobody thought he was much of a threat and he gambled on that - and it paid off. The look on his face as he crossed the line was pure bliss. It was a mixture of sheer joy, bewilderment, and utter condescension for the precious fools who’d underestimated him just 800 meters earlier after 270 kilometers of racing. A classic one day Road Race finish.
Although, it has to be said, Freddy Martens appearance on the finish podium in 1981 was even more classic. He was so juiced that day (after missing most of the '81 season due to a broken wrist) that he kept missing his mouth with his drink bottle as he jived and gyrated and bounced away through the National Anthem. How he passed the drug test that day is still one of the great mysteries of all time. It was a day which was both really sad, and really funny. Poor Bernard Hinault missed the break that counted - which included 8 Italians - (what was he thinking) - so he then chased on his own to bridge the gap for 140 kilometers. He finally caught the break with just 10 kilometers to go, and still won the sprint finish against the legends Saronni and Maertens. The only problem was he timed his run wrongly by just 3 meters. As it was, he won bronze but he was finishing fastest. 3 meters after the line, he was in front. Funny stuff. Freddy was frothing like a rabid dog. He was in the winning break and he was totally off his face. He took a bomb that day which won him his 2nd world title, but it ruined his career forever more. He was never competitive ever again.
Literally, on the podium, he was shaking so much that I recall him missing his mouth with a bit of food he was trying to eat. Both Saronni and Hinault looked on him with palpable disdain. One thing’s for sure… you NEVER see that sort of stuff anymore. The big amphetamine bombs were largely gone by the mid 70’s as drug testing became more efficient, but knew unknown versions still popped up now and then which still passed the tests - but the problem was that they were so epic that your heart was pretty well shot forever more.
Since then of course, drug use has become far more subtle as it has tried to avoid detection. It’s taken an awful long time for the culture of “acceptability” to have waned - and I must be honest - it’s one of the reasons I never turned pro during the mid 80’s when I was racing as an amateur in Europe. The stories of young riders being “tested on” was terrifying.
But nowadays, now that diuretics and steroids are detectable for months, and now that EPO is detectable etc - well they’re getting pretty clean I find. It’s just too big business now and the major teams can’t afford the embarassment anymore. It was a painful transition in 1998-1999, but it was one which needed to take place.
Anyways, don’t be surprised if Ulrich or Beloki win. Lance Armstrong has had a pretty lucky run these last 4 years without super duper competition, but this year, Beloki has legitimately evolved into a man who can win the Tour in style.
Certainly, during Big Mig’s reign, most pundits agree his competition (in particular from Tony Rominger and Claudio Chiappucci) was greater. Hell, Indurain and Rominger were swapping “World Hour Records” for about 3 years in a row.
Indeed, has Lance Armstrong ever attempted the “World Hour Record”? That’s the other time-honoured benchmark which most people feel a true legendary champion should attempt to take on as well.
Has this link been posted yet?
It’s a live 100 kbit/sec video feed. Narration isn’t in English though. Requires Windows Media Player version 9.
Ah, the hour record. Shades of Francesco Moser.
BBF, you have a talent for writing: your cycling stories are a joy to read! More dirt, more dirt, we ask!
I recall you telling about your stint in cycling before, now. Great stuff, man.
BTW, Zoetemelk later admitted he “bought” that 1985 world championship. Argentin promised not to chase, in return for an undisclosed sum of money. Knowing Joop, it was probably a lot - it was his last shot at the title. It sure as hell pissed Lemond off!
Still, that little blemish shouldn’t be predominant when his whole carreer is concerned. Anyone who finishes (actually finishes) the Tour de France a staggering seventeen times, of which 6 times in second place, and once in first, is a great, great cyclist. If he hadn’t had such stiff competition back in the day (mainly Hinault and Merckx), he too could have been a multiple winner of the tour.
Ditto to Coldfire’s sentiments. That was great stuff, BBF, and I’d love to hear more. And indeed, anyone who even competes in the Tour at all is such an outstanding rider, I salute them all!
Meanwhile, the fun continues … hmmm, looks like Jimmy Casper no longer needs his neck brace. That’s good news.
Certainly, the Team Trial this year in Stage Four has possibly put a death knell on the race in terms of it being a competitive spectacle. It reminds me of Miguel Indurain’s 5th winning year in 1995. On the 7th stage, the day before the 1st Individual Time Trial (an event which Big Mig was rightfully expected to win) the field let Miguel break away with another rider with some 30 kilometers to ride. It was a classic moment in the Tour. It was the sort of ride which rivalled the famous “ride away moments” which Eddie Mercx used to be able to acheive.
The net result was that even though Miguel’s breakaway partner on the day never took a turn once in the final 30 klms, (probably because the poor bastard wasn’t even capable of doing so), he still rode in front of Big Mig in the final 200 meters for the first and only time on the day to take the Stage win. But that meant nothing to Big Mig. The bottom line is that through sheer pure strength and horsepower, he pulled out a 4 minute gap on the field and rode into the Yellow Jersey. He increased that lead the next day in the ITT and despite losing some time on a few mountain stages to one or two riders who presented a threat, the reality is that they were really only clawing their way back from a 10 minute deficit to a 7 minute deficit.
There were heaps of people at the time who suggested that in 1995 the peloton surrendered the race to Big Mig far too early in the Tour and that it was a collective embarassment to the peloton as a result. Hmmmm… I’m still unconvinced on that one to be honest. The perception that I have is that Stage 7 was a real highwater mark in Miguel Indurain’s career. He was riding for his 5th straight Tour win (the first rider to ever do so) and he took the race by the scruff of the neck on Stage 7 and crippled the peloton with great panache in doing so. He deserved his 5th win. It was a magnificent display.
In many respects, the performance by the US Postal Team in the Team Time Trial in Stage Four was a collective version of the Big Mig effort in Stage 7 of the '95 Tour. Being a 69klm TTT, it was destined to really string out the various time quotients. In my memory, a 69klm TTT is one of the longest TTT’s in recent Tour history. It was long enough for a genuinely epic team to truly pull out the sort of time gaps which are traditionally manifest in the mountain stages of the Tour.
The net result was that the Top 8 places in the race are now held by USPS riders. Obviously, if the TTT had been held on Stage 6 or 7, this wouldn’t have happened because the opening stages would have provided a few break aways and various scattered time bonuses within the field, but with the TTT being held so early in the race it was possible for the General Classification to be divided into quantum levels - somewhat like the atomic weight table.
So, what do we have now as a result? Well, we have some more flat stages and then on Saturday we have the first Category One climb of 14 kilometers at 7%. That won’t trouble Lance Armstrong. Neither Ulrich nor Beloki will be able to pull out any time on him unless Armstrong has a dreaful bit of bad luck like a crash or an inopportune flat tyre at the wrong moment on the climb.
Hence, Lance Armstrong will stay in 2nd overall with a 1 second deficit until Saturday I suspect. Colombians traditionally are very good climbers (and who wouldn’t be if you were born and grew up at 10,000 feet above sea level?) so I expect that Victor Pena will keep the Yellow Jersey on Saturday.
But Sunday? Ahhhh… the bi-annual visit to l’Alpe d’Huez.
Man, that climb is such a bitch. I rode it on two occasions in the late 80’s in the amateur stage races, which to my knowledge don’t exist anymore, but the climb was the same regardless. It is, without doubt, the most pyschologically imposing climb I ever faced. I suspect I might have ridden slightly tougher climbs in terms of overall calories expended, but l’Alpe d’Huez is by far the meanest motherfucker of a climb in a racing situation I ever faced.
In my first year, I weighed 71 kilo’s and I was really confident in my abilities. I stand 6’1", (184 cm) and I’m blessed with an unusually light bone structure, but I also had very strong muscular structure as well - which effectively resulted in a very high power to weight ratio. In 1987, very few climbs in Europe intimidated me. I could comfortably stay in a leading bunch in every race I entered… UNTIL l’Alpe d’Huez. Holy shit! That first year, I got blown so far out the back I was in shock for months…
The thing that freaks you out about d’Huez is that you ride along a valley on perfectly flat roads along a river for about 20 kilometers - very similiar in appearance to Yosemite National Park actually. And then BAM! Right in front of you is this vertical wall which rises 6000 feet with switchbacks all the way up it - some as steep as 14% in the first 5 kilometers. It’s like riding up to the base of El Capitan and being told you have to race up it’s vertical face.
Man, I got so blown into the weeds. I finished something like 7 minutes down on the leaders and I was never in the hunt for the rest of the tour.
But the next year? Ha Hah! I was smarter! I knew that I could do better if I could lose more weight. Somehow, miraculously in August of 1988 I got down to 67 kilos at the start of that years amateur Tour l’Avinir. Now those of you who know anything about body weights etc will know that a 6’1" guy who’s pretty well built who weighs only 67 kilos is amazingly gaunt and lean. And believe me, that 4 kilo’s in lost weight made all the difference. I recall attacking and attacking all the way up the climb. I recall looking back at the Czechs, and the Poles and seeing 'em suffer (like I did the year before) and totally being in the zone. A Swiss guy won the day, but I came in 7th and ended up finishing 5th in the Tour as a result.
And yet, if memory serves me correctly, Lucien van Impe still had the all time record for the climb at that point in history, and we were still something like 3 minutes outside of his time as amateurs. The scariest thing is that the time has dropped since then.
To win the famous 'Alpe D’Huez stage is like winning a mini Tour de France in itself. Two years ago, Lance Armstrong pyschologically crushed Jan Ulrich when looked back with arrogance and attacked on the steepest part of the climb. Ulrich had absolutely nothing left to respond with… but take note… the reason why Ulrich had nothing to respond with is because he’d already been at maximum aerobic expenditure for at least 4 minutes. His heart rate was already at 190 beats per minute (which they hold for over 20 or minutes on the climb) and as such, he had no heart rate “jump” he could tap into.
Conversely, Lance Armstrong was probably hovering at only 180 beats per minute at the same time. And that little difference is all that it takes. It means that you can put a little surge in, (which if you’re a bit of a showoff you can also do by looking back and doing the head game thingey too) and then, after 150 meters or so, you too are hovering at the same 190 beats per minute. Your goal then is to hold it and maintain the gap. Slowly you’ll settle into your own personal maximum.
What’s very, VERY important here is that Jan Ulrich actually clawed back lost time that day on 'Alpe D’Huez. As the climb levelled out somewhat above 5000 feet from 14% to 11% he actually rode with greater speed than Lance Armstrong. I mention this because this year, apparently Jan Ulrich is 4 kilo’s lighter than 2001. Can you see how it works?
So… what I find very interesting this year is the there are three mountain stages even BEFORE the first Individual Time Trial. This says to me that the organisers were hoping to provide a much more varied set of opportunites for overall leadership cahnges.
However, the one thing the Tour organisers could NOT have predicted was the unexpectedly strong team performance by the USPS team in Stage Four. It has effectively resulted in Lance Armstrong being in the Yellow Jersey already - which means that his style of riding in the first three mountain stages will probably be rather tactical and subdued. To ride defensively is a different beast to riding with an attacking strategy. Your goal is to conserve your strength for attacks later in the final 3rd of the race in the Pyrrenees.
One thing’s for sure… if Lance Armstrong were to crack on l’Alpe D’Huez, the race would be totally wide open… but I’m not predicting it. Lance is very astute these days - especially in terms of not showing his hand too early.
I’m just hoping the peloton doesn’t give up the fight. The 100th anniversary race deserves a classic fight. It deserves something lilke Greg le Mond vs Laurent Fignon in 1989 with lead changes between those two guys every two days for 2 weeks.
I think to mix things up they should have a cyclo-cross style stage over a 40 K muddy field filled with ditches and rocks. That’d be sweet. The domestiques in this case would rush to the front and throw themselves into the muddy ditches so the team captains could run over their backs. . . actually. . .
I’ve had too much beer tonight, obviously.
I feel terrible for Rabobank. What an early unfortunate set of troubles.
BBF, you rock. I felt as if I were riding my bike ( a cheap, female mountain bike with a well padded seat and a basket on the handles) while reading your biking history.
My question to the bike enthusiasts is:
Is there a similar race(s) here in the US/Canada? Like a coast to coast race?
Believe it or not: I feel your pain!
While I was never a near-pro, I did climb l’Alpe d’Huez once, on my mountain bike.
The year was 1989, and I was 16 years old and an avid mountainbiker. Nothing professional, just me and a few mates out on our Giants and Gazelles, having a good old time. I was a lot lighter than I am now: probably around 75 kilos, at 1.87 meters.
My family went on a camping holiday in the area. A week after we watched Gert-Jan Teunissen (on of 8 Dutch winners out of a total of 21 times l’Alpe was part of the Tour, hence the nickname “Dutch Mountain”) break the all-time record riding up l’Alpe, I decided to try it our for myself.
I casually rode my trusty Gazelle mountainbike to the village before the pass. What’s it called again?
Anyways, I filled up my two bidons, and decided that I would not fucking stop until I reached the top.
Now, my memory may be a tad shaky here, but Teunissen set the record at 36 minutes and something, counting from the village. I was obviously not going to get near that, but hey, a man needs a benchmark, right?
Off I went. Full of hope and glory, convinced I was going to kill that mountain. Make it my bitch. I was in good shape, I was feeling good, I had cold pasta for breakfast, fercryinoutloud.
The temperature on this lovely morning was a nice 24 degrees, and I swore myself I would resist the urge to downshift too soon, as you just can’t shift up once you’re down. Not on l’Alpe. Not unless you’re Gert-Jan bloody Teunissen.
I lasted until the first hairpin before reaching the lowest possible gear of my 21 speed Shimano set-up. And I was right, I never shifted up again.
But I fucking did it. Every damn meter I ploughed up that bitchin’ hill, every damn hairpin I passed. Cars were zooming by, some honking at me with annoyance for getting in their way at 6 km/h, some cheering me on enthusiastically.
Everyone’s a hero, at l’Alpe.
A couple of faster riders, on road bikes, passed me buy and gave me a weird look. “On a mountainbike?”, you could see them think. In the oncoming lane, the worn down faces of riders going downhill. They already made it up. Well, damn, then so can I.
Push on. Keep going. It’s only a hundred meters to the next bend. How many hairpins did I cover yet? Shit, I don’t know. God, it’s hot. What would my heartrate be now? I don’t think it’s ever pounded THIS hard. Should I stop? No, dammit, push ON!
The things that go through your head - I truly believe a person can go stark raving mad on that mountain.
About halfway, I had already wasted both my bidons. Most of it to cool my head and back. I was thirsty as all hell, but I knew that stopping would mean locking up my severely tortured leg muscles. I HAD to go on, lest I fail my attempt.
One hour and fourty-seven minutes. That’s how long it took me.
But I fucking made it. I came on to the final stretch, and saw the familiar church tower of l’Alpe appear over the horizon. The finish line, the Michelin commercials painted on the tarmac, it was all still there.
With a bit of drama, I sat up straight on my Gazelle, straightened my shirt, and raised my hands as I crossed the line. A couple of locals were sitting at a picnic table playing cards, and gave me a little applause as they saw me cross the line.
I threw my bike in the grass, and colapsed, for lack of a better word. I was dizzy, hot, dehydrated, and my legs felt like they were on fire whilst being eaten by piranhas.
It was the single toughest thing I ever did in my life, and at 30 and 96 kilos, I’m not bloody likely ever going to top it.
The ride down was a thrill! Mountainbikes brake a lot better as do race bikes, so I could easily keep up with the other riders on the hill by just braking late. They kept looking back at that silly mountainbike they just couldn’t shake.
Boo Boo Foo, if you ever rode up that sonovabitch within three minutes of Van Impen’s time, you’re an absolute athlete. Doesn’t matter you never made it to the pro’s: that’s an achievement you’ll remember for the rest of your life. You’ll smile when you think of it when you’re 90.
As will I - although my time was obviously not as impressive, I can tell my grandchildren: I DID L’ALPE D’HUEZ.
Whaddayaknow, I found a picture of my mountainbike on the net! Here it is, the steel horse that carried me up the Alpe. Mine’s a cooler black and yellow though.
It’s sitting on my balcony right now. Haven’t used it in years. Perhaps I ought to patch it up, and ride again. God knows I can use the excercise!
Oh, and for those who want to get a glimpse of what it looks like:
This is one of the many, many hairpin bends. Look at the slope!
Here you can clearly see the road spiraling up the mountain. Wow.
Another one of them inspiring corners!
Oh, man, what a mountain.
Yep, Coldie - that be the bitch… thar she blows!
Interestingly, as a racer, you kinda get used to the nature of high speed mountain climbing… but you know, it takes many years. I recall showing up for the “Mazza” team out of Geneva in 1986 and asking my Team boss - so how do you get really good in the mountains? To which he replied in his lovely Swiss accent…
“Well… you just have to live in zem…”
But there can be no denying that the single greatest factor involved is body fat percentage. Ultimately it all revolves around power to weight ratio. Van Theunisse was one seriously scrawny motherfucker - a true gazelle on the bike. My own personal body shape was more Phil Anderson if you know what I mean - a guy who remains my favourite ever Australian cyclist because of his incredible strength and aggression. Plus, there are lots of Aussies racing these days, as there are heaps of Aussie footballers in Europe too. But in Phil Anderson’s day, he really was a loner. When he became captain of the Panasonic Team, he did so through pure talent and outstanding racecraft.
Howzabout Allessandro Petacchi’s form thus far? 4 out of 6 stages? I was watching his surge in the final 200 meters of the 5th stage and it was extraordinary. Cippollini was/is amazing, but I can’t recall seeing such amazing kick for a long, long, time. Perhaps Guido Bontempi is the last I can recall. But I doubt even Bontempi would have knocked off Petacchi… his kick is beyond description. For those of you who aren’t aware… the majority of Tour sprinters let her rip on an 11 tooth final sprocket these days. That’s an insurmountably tall gearing, but when Petacchi kicks, he spins it up like it’s a 17 tooth with a 39 tooth small chain ring.
To be against a sprinter like that, man… you’ve almost got no chance whatsoever. Their ability to accelerate from 60 to 70 kph in the space of 50 meters is insurmountable.
Apparently, of the 20 bunch sprints he’s contested this year, he’s won a staggering 16 of them! That’s a level of superiority I haven’t seen in decades.
Sorry Coldfire - I got Gert-Jan’s name wrong… for some reason I always referred to him as Gert van Theunisse… dunno why…
At least I can still spell Claude le Criquelion’s name correctly!
Well, if you can spell Jamala. . Djama . . . Tschjamal. . Dij . . . Aboo. . Abduja. . . chap-chaptschap. . . oh, to hell with it!
It’s fun to watch race coverage and place bets on when Phil Liggett will finally cough and choke on his own tongue.
