A few years ago I had this girlfriend who maintained this outwardly calm, cerebral demeanor, focused on higher orders of human expression, art, literature, theory, and whatever was on the WB (nobody can keep it up 24 hours a day). She often took this amused, incredulous view of my various passions for the Vikings, Norwegian biathletes, and the films of Christian Bale, which was cute but made me feel a bit like an exotic species of animal she was studying with a telephoto lens and a logbook. That may sound paranoid but later I found her journal and read the entry from January 17, 1999*:
Rufus appears very agitated today, frenetically circling his territory in a purple shirt and silly hat making low howls or whines, and chasing away birds. Later he approached with his eyes downcast and made a half-hearted attempt at a mating posture, before scurrying back into his den muttering "Dirty birds, dirty birds".
But then, once a year, in a ritual as unfathomable as a salmon swimming upstream to die, she would turn into this manic, full on stat-head sports freak, for the duration of the Tour de France. It was like horror movies where backpackers wander into some idyllic, pastoral town only to find they've arrived for sort of cannibalistic annual festival... actually it wasn't like that at all, but I have some sort of lurking cannibalistic nightmare involving ex-girlfriends that spills out every once in a while. Anyways, I still occasionally think I'll tune into ESPN during the Tour and catch her on Stump the Schend answering questions about Eddie Merckx's domestique in the 1970 Tour de France and flicking yellow Lance Armstrong wristbands at Stuart Scott. Since I don't get Tour updates from the expert anymore, here's what I've decided you all must know to bring you up do date on the Tour de France (most of which will be inaccurate).
While principally a trek through the whole The Tour occasionally drifts into other countries, with stages in Belgium and Germany. This year, it began in London (aka Lun-donn) even though nobody's riding through the Chunnel (aka Europe's new toy). From Dunkirk, it procedes into Belgium before heading south to Provence (note to the Captain: do not even consider saying "That's a Nice way to go!") and into Bordeaux, turning north and ending in Cognac (home to some fine people), before picking up again in Ile de France for the run into Paris down cobblestone streets. Today the stage finished in Plateau de Beille, so close to the Andorran border you could pop over and see why neither Spain nor France want it.
Currently wearing the Maillot Jaune is Danish bank robber Michael Rasmussen, who almost certainly reads my blog, but will probably not get the marginally funny Rabobank/rob-a-bank joke about his sponsor and will therefore sue me for my $1.46 in ad revenue. The progress of the maillot jaune illustrates a couple important points about the Tour: until Bourg-en-Bresse, the overall leader was Fabian Cancellara, the time trial specialist who won the prologue, and the second biggest aphrodisiac to come out of Switzerland since cheese fondue. After the first stage, Robbie "Don't call me Obi Wan" McEwen took over the green jersey, which goes to the leading sprinter, and then he and Tom Boonen and other sprinters took the first few stages, while Cancellara won one stage but never relinquished the overall lead. Then they hit the mountains, where all the sprinters tend to pull over so they can throw up and bike home gently sobbing like the losers that they are, and the race really begins. The time trial specialist was the only one of them to wear the Maillot Jaune until the climbers took over because time trials matter in this event, and apparently count for more than winning sprints in the flat stages. (A lot of Lance Armstrong's mystique came from winning all the time trials, intimidating his opponents and getting some nice time bonuses to boot.)
Except for the first mountain stage, Rasmussen has been the King of the Mountains, the best performer in climbs, entitled to wear a very Euro pink polka dot jersey, and this has been good enough to make him the overall leader. Cycling is also a team sport, with defined roles, like the guy who carries water bottles in his shirt while trying to keep up with the pack, the guys who wear down the leaders and protect their own, and there are bonuses associated with a team's overall time. Robabank are third, behind Lance Armstrong's old team Discovery Channel, and Astana, the team from Kazakhstan who've heard all the Borat jokes, thank you. I was surprised to see of all things a Kazakh team second place overall, with two riders in the top ten. A Kazakh rider, sure, but seeing Astana up there with Lotto, Euskaltel, and Groene Appel Quickstep was kind of cool, and a great excuse to slip in Flemish pro-cycling/diarrhea jokes that will amuse nobody.
Meanwhile in America, the only coverage I've seen of the entire race has been repeated footage of Marcus Burghardt's crash, when he ran into a stray dog, hitting the poor animal so hard his front wheel is visibly deformed. The coverage is so sparse that Burghardt's name wasn't even mentioned. Burghardt and the dog are both reportedly uninjured, eliminating any chance T-Mobile spokeswoman Catherine Zeta Jones will fly in to nurse their team's injured rider back to health. The only time the Tour is mentioned in America is for novelty when an American wins, or if you're dating my spoke-head ex-girlfriend, although the charisma of Lance Armstrong helped.
On the topic of Lance, let it also be known that he is not the undisputed greatest cyclist ever, despite what the media who don't cover the sport have to say about it. He was a single race specialist who only led his team during the Tour (while they competed the rest of the season), and he was damned good at it. He also had a great team, with a fantastic #2 guy for most of his wins, none of whom ever rate any mention while anybody who took the floor with Michael Jordan's Bulls was instantly a Beethoven to his Mozart. Okay, maybe more a Berlioz. The closest thing to a "Michael Jordan of Cycling" was Belgium's Eddie Merckx, who was a five time Tour champion, five time Giro d'Italia winner, and also won just about everywhere else, rather than spending his whole year prepping for one race. To achieve what Lance Armstrong did is amazing, and nothing should diminish that... he wasn't just in the right place at the right time, he earned his historic run, and may be the best Tour rider ever. But does the history of cycling have to begin with Greg LeMond and his Taco Bell delivery boy commercials and end with Lance's cameo in Dodge Ball?
For more information on the Tour de France, just wait patiently until I can be bothered to check the results again at www.letour.fr and post something here. This will take a while since my attention span is short and my French is terrible.
*-Technically I didn't even meet my spokehead ex for another year after this, but when I explained the importance of January 17, 1999 as a key emotional event in my life, that was about the most bewildered reaction I ever got from her, and it still amuses me to remember that. Amstelboy and I were both literally doubled over in nauseated grief as the Vikings choked away a Superbowl run to the
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