Observations on the 2022 Tour de France

Introduction

The 2022 Tour de France ended today, and what an exciting Tour it was … easily the best in years. And yet, I only got to do a blow-by-blow report of one stage, since all the exciting ones were on weekdays. Thus, I’m providing a second post concerning what to me were some of the most interesting surprises of this year’s race.

(Note that some of these observations require fairly deep knowledge of the sport, but others could possibly be appreciated by anyone.)

COVID-19 in the peloton

At one point in the coverage, commenting on the hoards of fans lining the Col du Tourmalet, announcer Anthony McCrossan casually made mention of the COVID-19 pandemic being over. The fans certainly seem to think so, but we’re still seeing masked riders, an altered podium ceremony protocol, and—above all else—lots of riders forced to abandon due to COVID. How many? Take a guess.

The answer is seventeen. That’s kind of a lot, when you consider how careful riders have traditionally been about germs, etc. (Tyler Hamilton talks a lot about this in his book The Secret Race.) COVID withdrawals likely had a significant impact on this year’s race, with last year’s winner Tadej Pogacar losing two domestiques—Stake Vegard Laengen and George Bennet—to the virus. Three teams—Cofidis with Guillaume Martin, Israel Premier-Tech with Chris Froome, and Movistar with Enric Mas—lost their team leaders to COVID.

Perhaps rumors of the coronavirus’s demise have been exaggerated…

Attacking just after a summit

The turning point in this year’s Tour came on Stage 11, when Jumbo Visma’s Primoz Roglic attacked just after the summit of the Col du Télégraphe, and caught race leader Tadej Pogacar’s UAE Team Emirates teammates napping. This led to the first time in the race that Pogacar was isolated for any considerable period of time, and set up the showdown on the valley floor just before the ascent of the Col du Galibier, where Roglic and his teammate Jonas Vingegaard attacked Pogacar again and again. Responding to these attacks exhausted Pogacar, and on the final climb he lost lots of time to Vingegaard.

Look at the photo above: three Jumbo-Visma riders are in perfect position, while Pogacar (in yellow) radios his team car, presumably to say, “Where the hell is everybody?” (He’s got  one teammate in sight, but too far back … the dude didn’t catch up for many minutes, by which time the damage was done.)

I coach a high school mountain biking team, and I advise them, before any race that features a big climb, to attack right over the top, where other riders instinctively sit up, feeling (if only subconsciously) that they have earned a little break. A couple of riders have reported good results from this tactic, though the fastest kids on the team don’t generally listen to my advice because I’m just some old guy who doesn’t shred much gnar’ on the descents. But now I can just tell them all the story of 2022 Tour de France Stage 11.

(Just kidding. High school mountain bike racers have no use for the Tour, road racing in general, or hearing such stories.)

The benefit of two team leaders

Team Jumbo-Visma came into this Tour with two potential leaders: Roglic and Vingegaard. Both have finished second overall in the Tour, and both were considered favorites this year. Naturally this arrangement has its critics, who look back at infamously problematic rivalries such as LeMond vs. Hinault in 1985, Contador vs. Armstrong in 2009, and Wiggins vs. Froome in 2012. Any time a team positions two riders as leaders, you get news articles about it (such as here regarding Froome and Geraint Thomas, and here regarding Roglic and Vingegaard). Sometimes having two leaders works, and sometimes it doesn’t.

This year, it worked out really well. Fortuitously for Vingegaard, heading into Stage 11 Roglic had crashed pretty hard and was a couple minutes behind him, so their pecking order was pretty well established—but Roglic was still very much a threat to Pogacar. This meant that when the two Jumbo-Visma riders took turns attacking the race leader, he had to respond every time.

This was a pretty unique opportunity for Jumbo Visma and it was brought about by having two GC contenders in their ranks. Sure, other GC hopefuls could also participate in such a one-two-punch scenario, but generally, not being teammates, they aren’t as invested in doing so (as evidenced by Thomas’s willingness to just follow Pogacar during all this mêlée). And if a team has only one leader, only he can attack and accomplish anything. For example, it’s not like Pogacar could have his domestique Brandon McNulty attack Vingegaard and get anywhere with it. Vingegaard would be like, “Hey, fine, send your guy up the road. See if I care.” And he’d let McNulty ride uselessly off into the sunset instead of responding to the attack.

Van Aert’s great class

Coming into Stage 15, Jumbo-Visma’s Wout van Aert had already established himself as a major force in the race, having won two stages and worn the yellow jersey for four days. Stage 15 come down to a thrilling bunch sprint, with van Aert bumping elbows with Mads Pedersen before being narrowly beaten at the line by Jasper Philipsen.

Right after the finish, cameramen milled around looking for the requisite heartwarming footage of riders in tears, hugging their teammates, managers, significant others, etc. They certainly got the desired response with Philpsen, but van Aert didn’t have much reaction at all. Instead, he tended to his little daughter, trying to wash her hands off with a water bottle. Sure, a minute earlier he’d been almost crashing into another rider at 40 mph, but now his fatherly duties took precedence over having some big melodramatic “moment” after all the action. Despite being one of the most prominent riders in the biggest bike race in the world, he evidently hasn’t forgotten that he’s just a guy. A dad.

Simmons: albertnet reader?

In my coverage of Stage 14, I made good natured fun of Quinn Simmons’ beard, declaring that it makes him look a bit like the kind of scary looking spokesman for the Howard Johnson motel chain:

In the same post I also pointed out that it’s a bit irresponsible for pro cyclists to wear beards, given that they make COVID masks less effective and it would suck to get COVID have to drop out of the Tour. Well, lo and behold, Simmons showed up for Stage 16 without his beard! Look how fresh-faced he looks now, especially juxtaposed with Simon Geschke, who a mere two days earlier had practically been his doppelgänger:

What could explain this? Well, it’s possible Simmons read this blog. It wouldn’t be the first time; I actually once got an email from a Tour rider who’d read that day’s blow-by-blow report. (I also got a comment below the post itself, which said, “Dana, I want to have your love child.” The Tour rider’s message was a bit more understated.)

Obviously there are other potential reasons for Simmons to shave off his beard, but I don’t have time to chase that story down. Let’s just go with the theory that he’s an albertnet fan who took my advice to heart.

McNulty’s amazing pull

In Stage 17, when Pogacar was starting to run out of opportunities to take back the lead from Vingegaard, he put his teammate Brandon McNulty on the front toward the end of the penultimate climb, the Col de Val Louron-Azet. McNulty’s pace was so high, he dropped everyone in the race except Pogacar and Vingegaard, and the trio broke the previous record for that climb set many years before by Marco Pantani, Jan Ullrich, and Richard Virenque. Then McNulty set tempo for the entire final climb, the Peyragoudes, at a pace so blistering that his leader was able to take more than two minutes more out of Geraint Thomas, who was third on GC, by the end of the stage.

Unfortunately for Pogacar, he couldn’t shake Vingegaard, and though he outsprinted him for the stage win, he didn’t take any real time (just a few seconds for the time bonus). This was really an opportunity lost.

Nobody can deny that McNulty was amazingly strong and did a great job setting tempo … but actually, from a tactical perspective, it was a complete bust. The pace was so high, Pogacar ultimately never found a good time to attack, which was perfect for Vingegaard. Let’s put ourselves in the Dane’s shoes for a moment: what would be the perfect situation? It’d be to have one of his Jumbo-Visma teammates, like Sepp Kuss (the other American super-domestique) setting a high enough tempo to keep Pogacar from attacking. And that’s almost exactly what Vingegaard got … it’s just that the domestique happened to be wearing a UAE Team Emirates jersey. Post-race, maybe Vingegaard should have been hugging McNulty.

Riders’ gearing for mountain stages

During the Hautacam stage, the announcers chatted about gearing. McCrossan, the non-cyclist of the commentating duo, asked Roche, a former pro, “What sort of chainrings would they have on today?” (This kind of Q&A comprises about 80% of their entire commentary.) Roche replied, “Most likely some riders would have a 36, some others would have a 39 or a 38, depends on your pedaling stroke. Today, with the advantage of having up to a 32 on the rear cassette, you can manage keeping your 39 if you want.” McCrossan then asked, “Is it easier to attack on a 39 or a 36, or does it not really matter, in terms of getting the gear, the momentum going?”

Now, at this point I fully expected Roche to kind of hold back a giggle or a snort, and—reminding himself that stuff like gearing just isn’t obvious to the non-cyclist—would politely explain that it cannot make any difference. All that matters is the combination of front and rear teeth, which produces the “gear inches” figure—that is, how far the bike will go with one revolution of the pedals. (You can geek out on the details here.) I had thought all serious cyclists completely understood this, but to my surprise, Roche replied, “Well, when it's really steep like 12, 13 percent than a 36 is useful. On a gradient of 7 or 8 percent I think it would be easier with a 39.” Huh? How would a 39 be “easier” for attacking?

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that Pogacar was in a 39x23 at this moment (i.e., the footage I grabbed a shot of above), and he wanted to shift into a higher gear to attack. He might go for, say, the 17-tooth cog, meaning a 62-inch gear [27*39/17]. Well, if he happened to have a 36-tooth inner chainring, he could just go for the 16-tooth cog instead, which would produce an almost identical 61-inch gear. (The rider wouldn’t make this decision based on any concept of numbers, of course; it’d be instinctive.) There is absolutely no difference in how the bicycle would behave given one of these gearing scenarios or the other. There is no “momentum” involved in turning one size chainring or another. If there could be any benefit to a 36 vs. a 39, it’d be that with a 36, you could run a smaller largest cog (i.e., you wouldn’t need the 32-tooth Roche had mentioned earlier), so you could have a tighter gear ratio and thus a better selection of cogs to choose from (i.e., smaller number-of-teeth gaps between them) to dial in the perfect gear. So if anything the 36 would be better on a shallower gradient: the opposite of what Roche asserted.

This is perhaps a flaw in the two-guys-talking style of race announcing: Roche may think he only has to bullshit McCrossan, who’ll believe anything, but of course the home viewer may well know better. I guess the bigger lesson, though, is that I shouldn’t mistake retired pro racers for bike geeks. And given what passes for information on my blog, I can’t exactly get on Roche’s case for totally winging it and making shit up.

Why do riders stash their sunglasses?

Twice during this Tour, McCrossan asked Roche why some riders take their sunglasses off and stash them in their helmet vents. (Perhaps McCrossan forgot he’d asked the first time, or liked the dialogue well enough to repeat it, or wasn’t satisfied with Roche’s original answer … who knows.) Both times, Roche said it was because it was so hot out, the riders just wanted better air flow over their faces.

This may be partly true, but I just don’t think it’s a complete answer. For one thing, cycling sunglasses haven’t always been so stupidly oversized as to suffocate your face. Meanwhile, it seldom gets very hot where I ride, but I stash my shades all the time. It’s not to let my face breathe; it’s because sweat drips down onto the lenses to the point that I can’t see very well. So I’ll take off my sunglasses either because this has already happened, or because I’m on a long climb and I want to prevent it from happening. Obviously Roche is a far better cyclist than I’ve ever been or will be, but sweat is sweat. If you disagree I’d love to hear about it.

Vingegaard waiting on the descent

During Stage 18, Pogacar attacked over the top of the penultimate climb (and yes, I’d like to reiterate my earlier point about how smart this is), and tried to drop Vingegaard on the descent. They dropped the rest of the group and then, as the duo hammered along, balls-to-the-wall, Vingegaard slid on some gravel and almost stacked.

Not thirty seconds later, Pogacar suddenly changed his line in a curve (perhaps seeing some gravel himself), and had to hammer the brakes. As Vingegaard passed him, Pogacar went off the side of the road, lost traction, and crashed.

Pogacar wasn’t seriously hurt and got right back on his bike, and had no trouble catching Vingegaard because the race leader waited for him, coasting and looking over his shoulder. As Pogacar caught up, he even gave Vingo a little handshake of gratitude.

The commentators made a big deal about this, talking about what a great show of sportsmanship this was. Roche commented that Vingegaard would have been within his rights to push on ahead, because after all Pogacar had crashed while trying to outpace him on the descent, taking on the extra risk voluntarily. Presumably, Roche said, if the tables were turned Pogacar wouldn’t have waited for Vingegaard.

While Roche has a point—crashes are part of the sport, after all—I don’t see anything all that magnanimous in Vingegaard’s gesture. It was a long way to the end of the stage, and he wouldn’t have picked up that much time over the descent. Meanwhile, as the defending race leader, with a sizeable time advantage over Pogacar, it was in his best interest to make the descent as safe as possible—and surely Pogacar wouldn’t try to drop Vingegaard again after he’d waited up; that would be a total dick move. Moreover, Vingegaard had teammates behind him, who would surely be of benefit to him if they could catch back on; it had never been Vingegaard’s idea to leave them behind to begin with. Tactically, to wait for Pogacar would benefit Vingegaard in every way. And on top of that, he would get to look like the nice guy. To me, his decision to wait was a complete no-brainer. The only slight misstep Vingegaard made was to point out, in the post-race interview, that he’d waited. That was needless. We get it, dude. We all saw it. The announcers crowed about it. You’re a great guy.

What about doping?

You might be surprised I didn’t get into the whole doping issue with this post. To be honest, I just don’t see that there’s anything new or surprising on that topic to report on. About all I can say is that, if doping appears to still be rampant, at least no single team is so good at it as to bring back dull-as-fuck Tours like we suffered through during the Froome years. I’m grateful for that.

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I’ll Drink to COVID - the Pandemic Beck'sts

Introduction

I feel like we’re finally far enough along in our nationwide recovery from the COVID-19 pandemic that we can start reflecting on it instead of just reacting to it. Of course the virus is still raging, and morphing, but hospitals haven’t been overwhelmed in a long time, and most of us are out and about in the world again. Throughout the ordeal, I drank a lot of beer and sent a lot of Beck’sts, but it seemed “too soon,” until now, to blog about it. I think now it’s finally okay to look back and that strange, shut-in, deeply isolated period, through the lens of what beers my friends and I were drinking, in what environments, and how we attempted to safely share that experience.

(What? You haven’t heard of Beck’sting? What rock have you been sheltering-in-place under? Get thee to a brewery! Or, click here.)

Note: as with previous posts about Beck’sts, I’ve grouped these thematically. I’ve included captions and commentary, and the initials of the Beck’ster. Where you see one letter only (e.g., “E—”) that’s generally somebody’s spouse. These are arranged chronologically, oldest at the top, spanning the period from late March through late July, 2020.

Newbie Beck’st

JH: Aaaahhh. [This was a Beck’st snapped during our first Virtual Pub Night (VPN) the previous week.]

MC: Nice one! Let’s do another session very soon!

JH: Agree. I’m free every night forever.

DA: JH, I think that’s your very first Beck’st, innit? And it’s a great one ... interesting beer, we get to see the color, it’s good lighting, and the Clorox wipe for context. A solid debut! As for our next VPN, I’d be up for tonight! I don’t have a lot of variety in the beer department but I just stocked the fridge so quantity-wise I can totally outlast this coronavirus... Should we do Hangouts or does someone have a Zoom?

JH: I’ll set up a Zoom. Otherwise my carefully selected wallpapers will go to waste.

Temperance Beck’st

DA: Since I did Virtual Pub Night (VPN) last night I figured I better go easy on the booze tonight, so E— and I are splitting this watery lager. (As watery lagers go, Stella is hard to beat.) DW, please pardon the unsightly stemware ... these little etched glasses, which we got from somebody’s driveway “FREE” box, are the perfect size for this. It’s weird going for walks because Albany is like a ghost town, and shelter-in-place seems to be awakening people to how overcrowded their homes are with stuff, because every other driveway seems to have a box of unwanted treasures. It’s like a garage sale except nobody wants any money.

JL: I went alcohol-free for eight weeks [to lose weight for cycling] but couldn’t take it anymore about two weeks ago when things started to get “real” with the ‘Rona. But even without any pandemic anxiety, I can’t imagine ever drinking just half a Stella and being satisfied! I admire your fortitude in these uncertain times…

Shelter-in-place Beck’st

DA: It’s tempting to complain about being stuck at home and about work being overly busy, but then I think of Dr. S manning up and caring for the sick and I stop myself. Nevertheless I do turn to beer in these trying times, such as this very good Deschutes Fresh Squeezed IPA. Would you fellers be up for a Virtual Pub Night (VPN) soon, maybe Friday? PCS, can you make that work?

DW: I’d be down for that sometime. I have a standing “Book Club” @ 4pm on Fridays with my [school] staff via Webex and I think we have another one with some friends going this Saturday. Geesh...sounds like we drink a lot. This pilsner from Terminal Gravity is outstanding. Tiny little brewery in Enterprise, Oregon, which is pretty much far away from everything.

DW (continued): Looking forward to it - now on to my day of public school Distance Learning administration!

Tall, fluty Beck’st

DA: DW, where do you come down on the question of tall, narrow beer glasses? Are such fluty vessels as offensive as stemware? Frankly, l like how full this is from a mere 12-oz bottle. The empty space at the top of a pint glass always irritates me. Anyway, this Racer 5 is really taking the edge off my shelter-in-place.

DA (continued): In other news, JL, I took the liberty of including your full name in my latest blog post. I hope that’s okay. You’re famous now! In other news, how does Saturday night work for a VPN?

JL: Aw yeah, more free press for me! That public relations firm I hired is really earning their keep! Are you charging them pay-per-click or something? I can’t wait to parlay this notoriety into a popular podcast — maybe something like, Homeschooling for Dummies! Or, How to Gain 15 Pounds and Keep it On! Or, Takes One To Know One: A Podcast About Bipedal Hominids! I’ll make a million. Oh, and yeah, I’d be up for a VPN on Saturday.

Cooped-up, stir-crazy Beck’st

DA: After a couple weeks of grey and cold we got some lovely weather today. When’s our next VPN!?

BA: I’m sorry I missed the last VPN! I didn’t open my email in time, you know, what with the virus and all. Let me know about when the next one is and I’ll try to get over to the store to buy some beers. I’ve been out of beer for a week now … I haven’t been in a store since I hear they put face shields up for the clerks, so that we can’t cough on them as easily. I don’t get out much...

DA: PCS, since you’re the one out there saving lives and can’t work from home, why don’t you suggest a few times? I’ll text BA this time since he clearly can’t stay on top of his email. Maybe he’s trying to be cool like our teenage children...

DW: I’m going to bring some serious, that is Orygun, IPA to the next VPN. No more of this Pilsner nonsense. Boneyard RPMs are available in cans now. Just happened. So there’s that.

DA: OMG, Boneyard RPM ... I love that beer! Alas, E— has us on this crazy pandemic lockdown where we can only shop like every two weeks, so my beer variety is almost nil. Not that we can get Boneyard here anyway…

Free Beck’st

DA: So, we haven’t had restaurant food since March 15 when we picked up Alexa from college for the lockdown. E— just isn’t comfortable. So I said what if we get a slightly underdone Zach’s pizza and put it in our oven for a while? She’s fine with that so I ordered it uncut so it wouldn’t slop over on the pizza stone. But when I went to pick it up, they’d screwed up and cut it. So they had to make me a whole new pizza, meaning I had to hang around for over half an hour, risking my life in their (albeit entirely deserted) restaurant. In recompense they offered me a free beer so I picked this giant Racer 5!

DA (continued): So, it turns out E— wants to bake the crap out of this pizza, long past the agreed upon five minutes. With the delay I already incurred, the family will be eating without me at this point, since I have virtual book club, but at least I have plenty of good beer to drown my sorrows in. Family and pizza (especially overcooked pizza) are overrated ... am I right?

PCS: Look at that MASSIVE brew, how many ounces are in that? Damn, no sorrow for you. So, was the pizza good or no??

DA: 22 ounces, baybee! The pizza was delish. I’m not sure it was worth the hassle but I’m sure my kids were stoked and that their stokage was unalloyed. Maybe they’ll look kindly on me one day.

JL: That beer looks epic! We’ve been getting restaurant food delivered about once a week. We usually stick it in the oven for a few minutes once it gets here, but none of us are convinced it’s doing anything... it’s just a matter of how much risk is acceptable and from whence that risk comes!

Dura-Ace Beck’st

DA: Do I look like I’m f***ing around?! (Hint: I am not. Not with this Double IPA, and not with my new Dura-Ace wheels...)

JL: That’s a nice looking Beck’st. I counter it with this not f***ing around Beck’st. Nothing in my photo is in focus because I’m already drunk — with power!

Anger management Beck’st

DA: If the anger is not too pronounced, beer can actually help. So what am I angry about? Two things: 1) the sad fact that this beer, the highlight of my day after ten hours of teleworking, will soon be gone; 2) the lack of Beck’sts I have lately received (or, more to the point, not received); 3) the dearth of VPNs lately; and 4) my evident inability to predict how many items will be included in my lists. You bitches are on the hook for items 2 and 3. I have taken care of item 1. Item 4 is hopeless. Item 5 is pending. So how about a 5pm PDT VPN on Sunday, 5/24!? DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT. RSVP ASAP.

PCS: Angry white man....BAM!

DW: I could potentially make a Sunday PM VPN. However, I have a Herd Immunity Get-Together at a pub at 4pm with my anti-vaxxer group. Those tend to go on for while… Also, I will only attend the VPN if we can dedicate some portion of the discussion to my wheel dilemma, without bringing up the fact that they are not Dura-Ace.

JL: Yeah, 6 pm PDT works for me. And I am happy to discuss at this VPN all subjects, as long as they are about Dura Ace wheels or wheels that are not Dura-Ace (but secretly wish they were Dura-Ace).

Broken hero Beck’st

DA: I bought this Kick-Ass fieldwork IPA crowler for our VPN that never happened. Since these crowlers have a shelf life, and I’m not allowed to drink until late next week at the earliest (due to my upcoming surgery), I have to give this away to a nearby friend. Alas, ye broken hero, I never got to drink ya...

DW: Alas...what the heck happened? Are you OK? Are you having surgery because of a bike accident? Not sure I can wait for our next VPN.

JL: Yeah, what DW said — what’s up? Upcoming surgery?? This was not discussed during the Dura-Ace wheel VPN.

DA: Dudes, here is what I had originally written about it before I decided to get an x-ray.

I’m resorting to this fallible voice recognition software instead of just typing, since I can’t type right now. That’s because I took a little spill on my bike the other day. I was descending after a bit of rain, but it had rained all night so the oil should have been rinsed off the road, but I came around a curve and my tires slid right out. I got up and got off the road and was putting my chain back on, and another guy came around the curve and stacked exactly as I had, and then a few seconds later a third guy came through, and he hit the tarmac exactly as we did, as though we had all rehearsed this together beforehand. Another guy came riding back up the road who had come through right behind me and almost crashed. He said his tires were sliding all over the place. The road was slicker than snot as they say, really almost like a bunch of soap or oil. So it was just kind of a freak thing, maybe something spilled in the road, I don’t know. I’ve done that descent many hundreds of times and my line was perfect. Anyway, my hand is all scraped up and swollen so I can’t really type, and I think I cracked some ribs because it hurts to breathe, and my shoulder seems pretty wrecked up. But, I was able to ride home, and I don’t think I’ll need to go to the ER or anything, which is good because they’re pretty packed lately, because of all the riots and so forth. Well, I suppose they’re pretty packed, I’m actually just guessing, but I don’t imagine I want to take valuable medical resources away from the agitators and so on.

Update: I went to Urgent Care for an X-ray and my collarbone turns out to be broke as f***. So I have a surgery scheduled on Tuesday. Happy happy joy joy.

DW: Damn, DanaDrive! No way that shoulder is going to grow back together. You’ll finally be riding some titanium with that break! Sorry that happened. What a bummer. The Fieldwork would be pretty handy at the moment.

DA: I donated the beer to JH and he Beck’sted it. Looks delish, eh? <sniff>

JL (a few days later): This is such a bummer of a story. Not the broken bone — the giving away of perfectly good beer! But seriously, the surgery should have happened by now … how did it go? I could VPN tonight I think.

DA: It apparently went well. I am typing with just one thumb which is really tedious so I am going to paste in a big block of recycled text now, which I’d dictated to my phone:

I have the sling that seems like it was made in shop class by a junior High kid, combining his father’s sling with a shoebox. The shoe Box presses against my belly making me feel like the Buddha, if the Buddha were an obsessed consumerist American who loves to carry around a box of treasures, if only his shoe box had a lid. I had a nerve block in my arm, which makes it feel like I fell asleep on it so my hand is all tingly, but instead of whacking the hand to wake it up because that’s annoying, I’m just leaving it because the tingling, as it spreads up my shoulder, will gradually be replaced with pain. I think it is going to be a very boring 6 weeks, followed by some very boring physical therapy, but I guess we were all destined to be bored anyway now that our library DVDs are all spent, and we realize that Netflix and Kanopy and Hoopla and YouTube are still all tools of man, and man is essentially boring. But I’ll take boring over zombie apocalypse, in the final analysis, though the way things are going I guess I wouldn’t be all that surprised if a zombie apocalypse did come to pass. I guess the silver lining there would be that all of their staggering around and flesh eating would be diverting.

I can give you more detail if we ever get the next VPN pinned down. That’s right, I’m off the pain meds and can have booze again! BA, are you back from your road trip yet?

BA: I am indeed back from the road trip and [our late] Dad’s teardrop camper trailer [which BA inherited] is now parked in front of the house. I don’t believe I contracted COVID-19 along the way, only time will tell on that (or not, depending, I guess). I had to figure out why T—’s van (a newer and shorter version of our 15 passenger van) wouldn’t drive the running lights on the trailer, and I managed that. I ended up pulling a relay from the fuse box in the engine room and installing a jumper instead, and lo and behold, it worked. It’s kind of surreal seeing the trailer there, like I expect to see Dad cooking out of the back of it when I look out. I don’t even know what to do with the thing, I don’t even have a vehicle that can tow a trailer.

DA: So BA, I’m glad your road trip went well and the teardrop came through okay. I’m quite impressed that you thought to pull a relay from the fuse box and replace it with a jumper to get the taillights working … that’s an ingenious trick the likes of which English majors don’t generally learn until grad school (though we did mess around a bit with jumpers during my honors post-modernism seminar). So here’s what to do with the trailer: you need to start a celebrity blog/vlog called “Teardrop Life” or something and drive around to scenic places in the US taking glamorous photos and shooting tantalizing video footage. You and J— are getting pretty old, so to stay “current” and “vital” you’ll need to attract a steady stream of groupies to help “fill the frame.” I think you still have the star power to make good money with that. Just be sure to wear your masks around those groupies. Don’t worry, the masks add an air of mystery and emphasize your eyes, one of your strong points. Well, two of them I guess, technically.

Controversial Beck’st

DA: Just because.

PCS: Wait....is it legit to Beck’st Heineken?

DA: Oh, so since you’re a big fancy doctor, you’re too good for Heineken?

PCS: I just don’t know why you would Beck’st a bottle of water! But please, feel free to send pictures of the next LaCroix you’re having. I know you love those.

DA: Now you look here, Mr. Big Shot, if I happen to like my water to have a golden glow to it, and its green bottle to cast a lovely green shadow, and if I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit I like flowers, and nice arrangements, I think maybe you should just honor that and remember that some of us have feelings, and we don’t need to be pushed around by the big Associate Professor of Medicine with the American car, the big bully who always took the top spot on the podium. Sometimes our wives try to tease out our sensitive side by refusing to buy the IPAs we like, and so tonight it was either this Heineken or another 11.2 ounce 4.2% ABV Spanish thing. Oh, sure, you can stand in judgment, all high and mighty with your Deschutes Juicy Haze IPAs and your dual suspension mountain bike. Just kick a man when he’s down, would you? All injured and everything? Really? Does that make you feel powerful? I have to go. I think I’m starting to cry.

JL: I’m torn here. Because on the one hand I agree with PCS (as an aside, I decided against “Beck’st’ing” my white wine spritzer with a lime garnish tonight because I thought it was similarly against the rules). But on the other hand, denying a guy his Beck’st — especially when he’s injured and hurting [we assume] — seems cruel. In the end, however, I think this is a fair Beck’st, if only for the cute flower arrangement and the lovely table cloth, both of which (along with the dappled sunlight) evoke the ineffable redolence of a quaint European café — the sort of place where when you ordered, “une biere, s’il vous plait?”, they would bring you this pathetic ersatz ale, while sneering at you with that European contempt and superiority that only sweaty men from the continent, with their crisp white shirts and their glossy black hair, can muster. And even though the beer is lame and the service is perfunctory at best, it is served very cold (as evidenced by the drops of condensation languidly forming rivulets descending the emerald glass) and it is, at that moment, the best thing that you have ever tasted.

Epilogue

Did you notice that the last Beck’st in this chronological sequence made no reference to the pandemic? No inquiry about the next VPN? This was during that honeymoon period, post-vaccine but pre-Delta-variant. Alas, as we all know, that taste of unsheltered freedom was too good to last, so watch these pages for another post about Beck’sting through the pandemic…

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Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2022 Giro d’Italia Stage 20

Introduction

It’s a big commitment trying to follow a cycling Grand Tour. All those stages, finding good coverage, trying to avoid spoilers (such as the news bulletins Google always serves up despite your every attempt to stop it) … why bother, right? Well, I’m here to help. If this year’s Giro d’Italia has passed you by, I’ll catch you up on where we are after 19 stages, and give you the full report of this absolutely pivotal penultimate stage. And I’ll call a spade a spade if anyone seems “not normal.”

2022 Giro d’Italia Stage 20 – Belluno to Marmolada

As I join the action, at an ungodly early hour, the riders are about at the halfway point with a little under 80 kilometers to go, and have just crested the summit of the first major pass, the Passo San Pellegrino (where all sparkling water comes from). There’s a breakaway, of course, with a little under six minutes on the GC group. The main players in the break are Davide Formolo (UAE Team Emirates), Giulio Ciccone (Trek - Segafredo), and (weirdly enough) the giant classics rolleur Mathieu Van Der Poel (Alpecin-Fenix), who likes to mix it up in these mountain stages until the laws of physics kick in and he’s jettisoned.

They’re showing a interview from earlier with Mikel Landa (Bahrain-Victorious), who sits third on GC, only 1:05 behind the leader, Richard Carapaz (Ineos Granadiers).

INTERVIEWER: Do you think you have a chance today, of winning this Giro?

LANDA: You know, it’s funny you should ask that … I was wondering exactly the same thing!

INTERVIEWER: God, I must be clairvoyant or something!

LANDA: Yeah, that’s amazing. Okay, let’s do another one. What color am I thinking of right now?

INTERVIEWER: Pink?

LANDA: Amazing! You’re exactly right! You might actually be a psychic!

INTERVIEWER: Well, I don’t know … I mean, it is the color of the jersey you’re after.

LANDA: Oh, no, actually, I was thinking of Pepto-Bismol. My stomach isn’t feeling so good.

INTERVIEWER: Don’t worry about it. Everyone’s got butterflies today.

(Note: when I record these interviews, if they’re boring, which is most of the time, I’m not above taking certain liberties, up to and including rewriting the transcript completely and putting all types of nonsense words into the racers’ mouths. You’re welcome.)

On the penultimate pass, the Pass Pordoi, Davide Ballerini (Quick-Step Alpha Vinyl) drills it on the front, presumably working for his teammate Mauri Vansevenant. Neither rider figures in the GC. This group has about fifteen riders.

Here’s Carapaz back in the main bunch, looking fairly relaxed I’d say.

So here’s what you need to know about this Giro. Last year’s winner, Egan Bernal (Ineos Granadiers) did not start due to a terrible crash in training last January. Two of the remaining favorites, Simon Yates (BikeExchange Jayco) and Tom Dumoulin (Team Jumbo-Visma) have dropped out after showing early promise (Yates won the first time trial, and Dumoulin was third). Yates went on to win another stage, but then dropped out citing listlessness. Dumoulin went home because had promised his wife he’d finally clean out the rain gutters or something, I can’t remember. Anyway, it’s the tightest GC in recent memory, with Jai Hindley (Bora-Hansgrohe) sitting second just three seconds behind Carapaz, and like I said earlier, Landa is in third only 1:05 back. Tomorrow’s stage is a time trial, so nobody wants to head into that without a bigger GC lead—the stress would just be too much to take.

As the second climb begins, Bahrain-Victorious takes the front to wear down Landa, setting up Ineos for the death-blow later. These Bahrain guys aren’t exactly master tacticians.

Now the coverage shifts to former Tour de France champ Bradley Wiggins on the back of a motorbike, offering some real-time insight.

INTERVIEWER: What’s going on out there, Bradley?

WIGGINS: We’re heading up the road and we’re seeing some famous landmarks here.

INTERVIEWER: Anything we’d have heard of?

WIGGINS: Well, I don’t know the names, but I recognize them from when I used to race.

INTERVIEWER: Will these landmarks figure in the finale?

WIGGINS: Probably not, but the motorcycle driver remembers them too. He has driven this course before. We’ve been chatting. He’s a great guy.

INTERVIEWER: Is this commentary supposed to actually help the home viewer understand anything about today’s stage?

WIGGINS: Well, erm, no, but I’m fairly famous, which is sort of the point of these motorbike interviews I suppose.

INTERVIEWER: So we’ll continue to do them, giving you a modest income into middle age.

WIGGINS: Yes, precisely.

Getting back to the action … whoa, it’s this guy again!

He did this same thing yesterday, where he just gaps the others and dangles pointlessly off the front for a long time. I think he’s kind of simple. His directeur sportif is shaking his head thinking, “Poor guy, he just doesn’t get it. Oh well, he’s not hurting anybody.”

Wow, look at this scenery. Pretty breathtaking.

A rider has ridden away from the breakaway. I think it’s Alessandro Covi (UAE Emirates), who has looked pretty good at times during this Giro, but is nowhere nearly as studly as his teammate Davide Formolo, who not only has been a major domestique for various team stars including Tadej Pogacar, but makes the greatest faces ever when he’s suffering. We’ll surely get to see some of those later.

The broadcasters can see riders’ heart rate stats nowadays, and they’re showing the data from Hugh Carthy (EF Education – EasyPost):

Fun fact: my heart rate is about the same right now, because I’ve got COVID! Haha, just kidding … making sure you’re still awake. My heart rate is exactly half of Carthy’s, but if I were climbing the Passo Pordoi mine would be 119 as well … not because I’m fit, but because that’s pretty much my max these days because I’m so old. Haha, kidding again!

Two riders have taken off after Covi: it’s Gijs Leemreize and Sam Oomen of Team Jumbo-Visma.

I don’t know how to pronounce “Gijs” but I sure hope it’s not “jizz.” That would be a hell of a name to take with you through life.

Covi’s motivation here is probably just to win the special prize for the first rider over the Pordoi, because it’s the highest point of this year’s Giro. I think the prize is like a thousand Euros, which is more than enough for the new car stereo Covi has his eye on. The best way to know I’m full of shit here? It’s that nobody buys car stereos anymore, they’re too tightly integrated into the car now. You have to go to the dealer, who nine times out of ten will say, “It’s easier just to buy a new car.” Which, being chumps, we end up doing.

Okay, I misspoke: looks like the TJV duo are off the back of what’s left of the breakaway, which is six riders.

UAE is in a good spot. Either Covi stays away and wins the stage (which I kind of doubt), or he gets caught which sets Formolo up for a counterattack. Formolo will be fairly fresh, of course, since he can’t be expected to help chase his own teammate. These UAE guys can do whatever they want, because their GC rider, João Almeida, withdrew due to COVID. I’m not making that up; as his team’s general manager, Mauro Gianetti, told VeloNews, “It’s true, it’s true. It’s COVID. It’s so shit. He wasn’t feeling so well last night and this morning and we did internal tests. Now we do the PCR but the fast test is positive. He’s out of the race.” I know it sounds like I made that up, but you can read it here. It’s a pity; Almeida was sitting fourth on GC.

Back in the GC group, Bahrain-Victorius (which my online correspondent calls “Bahrain Dopetorious”) stupidly grinds away at the front so Ineos and Bora-Hansgrohe can stay daisy-fresh before destroying Landa. These Bahrain guys probably thing they’re riding like a boss, but they’re riding like a temp.

Covi makes his way through the throngs of tifosi toward the Pordoi summit.

And now he crests the summit, garnering the special prize. He looks super strong and smooth.

Giulio Ciccone (Trek-Segafredo) sprints for the second place KOM points. There’s no way he can overtake Koen Bouwman (Team Jumbo-Visma), who has the mountains jersey in the bag, unless Bouwman gets COVID or something and can’t race tomorrow … but you never know.

Covi bombs the final descent. He’s got 1:30 and who knows, if he has great legs he might just hold it. But the Marmolada is a beast, averaging something like 7.5% for 14 kilometers, so that gap isn’t insurmountable.

The GC group reaches the summit, with Bahrain-Victorious continuing to shelter Ineos and Bora-Hansgrohe from the wind for no apparent reason. Maybe they’ve been bribed or something?

With 35 kilometers to go, Covi is gradually increasing his lead.

Van der Poel makes his lone way down the mountain, having been shelled almost instantly when the break hit the last climb. I really don’t know why he gets in these breaks. Maybe he’s shy and gets tired of making small talk with the jokers in the peloton. I can respect that.

So … here is my prediction. I’d say on the final climb, at least halfway up, Carapaz will finally launch a definitive attack and get the buffer he needs for the final time trial. Needless to say I’m no fan of Ineos (née Team Sky), those cheating bastards, but at least Carapaz is fun to watch. Unlike Christopher Froome, who would just grind everyone down like a commuter on an e-bike, Carapaz will actually attack, and sometimes unpredictably, as though he were actually acting on instinct. Which, who knows, perhaps his team actually lets him do.

Covi is rocking something of a mullet!

No, it’s not a big flowing dramatic mullet, but look how short the hair is around his ears compared to the back. I just did a Google search on “does Alessandro Covi have a mullet” and, believe it or not, Google came up empty. Scoop! You read it here first!

With 25 kilometers to go, Covi has 2:10. He takes a feed from his team car. I mean, duh—who else would give him a feed? A food truck?

That would be pretty cool, actually, if a food truck pulled up alongside the racers. They could peruse the menu, place their order, and get handed a burrito or something. They must get pretty tired of gels.

Now Van der Poel is caught by the GC group. “Aw, man, what am I gonna say to these guys?” he’s thinking. “I hope nobody wants to talk about my crash in the Olympics. I am so sick of dudes bringing that up.”

Bahrain continues driving tempo in the GC group. Maybe they’re shaming Landa into making a good attack. “How can you not attack after all we’ve done for you?” they could taunt him. Unfortunately, history has shown that Landa always cracks under pressure. I don’t think Bahrain’s medic has anything to treat that.

Ballerini, who’d been dropped from the chase group, flies past them. He might have a shot at catching Covi except that the last 14 kilometers are uphill and he’s shown that climbing isn’t exactly his forté , at least not today.

Covi is on the Marmolada now, with a 2:20 lead. If the chase group can get organized, especially the two Jumbo-Visma riders, and they have the legs, perhaps they can bring him back.

So, to bring you fully up to speed on this chase group, it includes Oomen, Leemreize, Ciccone, Formolo, Ballerini, Lennard Kämna (Bora-Hansgrohe), Antonio Pedrero (Movistar Team), Thymen Arensman (Team DSM), and Domen Novak (Bahrain-Victorious).

One of the TJV guys is dropped, along with Ballerini.

The GC group is on the final climb now. Wow: Bouwman, the KOM, is dropped. So, perhaps the pace is ramping up (or he’s just fried from crushing it on so many climbs for the last three weeks). It’s odd how large this group still is.

As you can see, Carapaz hasn’t had to do a lick of work today.

The Eurosport commentator (and former champ) Sean Kelly is pretty reticent, so his co-commentator routinely draws him out by suggesting something and then asking Kelly to confirm it. I would like to propose a drinking game: a bunch of guys get together to watch the coverage of a Grand Tour stage, and every time Kelly says “yes,” you have to take a drink. Man, dudes would be clocked by the end!

Whoa, Formolo cracks! I did not see that coming! Look how awful he looks!

Arensman has been on the front a lot. Not bad, for his first Giro!

More guys are being dropped from the break. It’s down to Novak, Pedrero, Arensman, and Ciccone.

Back in the GC group, Guillame Martin (Cofidis) attacks. He’s been doing this throughout the Giro despite being like 20 minutes down. I think he just gets bored or something.

Novak attacks the break!

He doesn’t even look like he’s working. Total poker-face. Meanwhile, Covi is clearly suffering up ahead, shoulders rocking. I won’t bother trying to show that in a photo. I wonder if I could create a GIF to show that? Maybe I’ll have to figure that out for next time.

It’s a 10% grade and Covi has 4 kilometers to go, with a 1:13 lead.

Novak looks kind of stupid, actually.

Stupidity can really help a rider, though. It’s best not to over-think things when you’re climbing.

In the GC group, Ineos finally takes the front, all fresh as daisies. Or perhaps lilies. What’s fresher? I wish I had a botanist on staff.

Immediately, Emanuel Buchmann (Bora-Hansgroe) is dropped, which is terrible news for Hindley.

And now former Giro winner Vincenzo Nibali (Astana Qazaqstan Team), who sits in fourth overall, is dropped!

The GC group has been whittled down to just five guys. Landa has lost all his idiot teammates. They exhausted themselves setting up Ineos. He will surely never talk to them again. Hell, I wouldn’t.

Pavel Sivakov (Ineos Granadiers) is doing a great job for Carapaz.

Oh no! Things are getting really bad for Nibali! A folding chair has tipped over and could obstruct his path! Fans race to upright it!

And now Hindley totally attacks! Only Carapaz can respond, as Carthy looks like he’s being punched in the stomach!

And what’s this? With extraordinary timing, Kamna has dropped back from the breakaway to help Hindley! He gives him his wheel and just starts laying down the smack!

Look at Carapaz dying on the back there, down in the drops! Bahrain-Victorious should take a master class in tactics from Bora-Hansgrohe! The leaders are now pulling away from Landa!

And at the front of the race, Covi is hanging on to a slender lead! He’s really suffering! He’s sweating so hard, his mullet is plastered to his neck!

Back in the GC trio, Hindley suddenly turns it up, and Carapaz—amazingly—is dropped!

The gap goes out quickly as Kamna pulls off, his job done, and Hindley sets a savage pace! He looks really good … happy, almost!

Freaking crazy! Hindley’s already got over twenty seconds!

And now, Covi is under the 1-KM kite! He’s still got half a minute and will probably pull it off!

There’s a regrouping behind Hindley because Carapaz just isn’t going that well!

Hindley is putting the pussy on the chainwax! Now he overhauls one of the guys from the breakaway and spins him around like a pinwheel! Figuratively speaking!

He’s got like 40 seconds! He looks stoked!

And Covi has got the stage win!

Now scores of young Italian men will be growing mullets!

Hindley continues to drill it, and instead of the standard death-rictus, he’s actually wearing a smile!

Hindley finishes and now the clock starts ticking ... how much did he take out of Carapaz?

Wow, even Landa has dropped Carapaz, and hammers along with Carthy.

They finish the stage and Carapaz isn’t even in sight. Could he actually slip to third on GC today?

Carapaz is a long way back, going backwards, and has been caught by Formolo. It’s a long, agonizing slog to the finish.

Carapaz finishes, finally. He’s clearly destroyed. My online correspondent declares, “He blew big old greasy chunks!”

Nibali finishes, having successfully defended his fourth place on GC. Either he’s sticking his tongue out at Juan Pedro Lopez (Trek-Segafredo) or he has a tasty crumb of something he’s trying to harvest.

The big players always tend to vanish after the finish. So the film crew is interviewing Kamna.

INTERVIEWER: Were you going for the stage win, or were you playing a tactical game for the GC?

KAMNA: Stage win? What are you even talking about?

INTERVIEWER: Well, you got in the break. You could have won a stage.

KAMNA: You’ve gotta be kidding me. We came into today with a guy in second place on GC, three seconds back. What are you talking about, stage win?

INTERVIEWER: It really hurts my feelings when you speak snidely to me.

KAMNA: Oh my god … are you—are you crying?

INTERVIEWER: Don’t worry, it’s not you, it’s not this interview … it’s that my dog died this morning.

KAMNA: Man, now I feel like an asshole.

INTERVIEWER: Ha! I got you! Punked!

Bradley Wiggins makes his way through the crowd to interview Covi, or perhaps Hindley.

INTERVIEWER: Where are we going, Brad?

WIGGINS: I think Hindley went this way.

INTERVIEWER: Do you think he’ll talk to you?

WIGGINS: Of course he will! Why wouldn’t he?

INTERVIEWER: It’s just that for three weeks I’ve followed you around with this camera after every stage, and you’ve never talked to anybody yet.

WIGGINS: Yes, but as I duck and weave through the crowd I offer up little morsels of insight about the stage.

INTERVIEWER: Couldn’t we just sit down and get the tidbits that way? I hate threading through the throng like this.

WIGGINS: Oh, sod off you fucking wanker.

Now Covi makes his way to the interview tent. Just look at that hair sticking down from the front of his cap! It’s really something! It looks like the curb feelers on my college roommate’s parents’ van.

They’re interviewing Sivakov, Carapaz’s super-domestique.

INTERVIEWER: Did Richard say anything after the finish?

SIVAKOV: Yes, he said “Dammit, fuck it all, shit shit shit.”

INTERVIEWER: Do you have that verbatim?

SIVAKOV: Please explain “verbatim.”

INTERVIEWER: You know, word for word.

SIVAKOV: Oh, yes, word for word. It was “Dammit, fuck it all, shit shit shit.” I think it’s got kind of a ring to it. Like, poetry almost. I’ll probably be chanting that from now on, every time I’m upset.

INTERVIEWER: Where did Richard go? Will I get to speak with him?

SIVAKOV: He’s rather upset and not talking to anyone. But I can tell you what he’d say.

INTERVIEWER: What’s that?

SIVAKOV: “Dammit, fuck it all, shit shit shit.”

INTERVIEWER: Thanks.

And now the post-race interview with Covi.

INTERVIEWER: Congratulations, that was a beautiful win.

COVI: Thank you.

INTERVIEWER: You almost won a couple stages in last year’s Giro but couldn’t quite do it.

COVI: Yes, that was hard because I was working all the time for Almeida. This year, because he got COVID, I didn’t have to work for him anymore.

INTERVIEWER: Did you have anything to do with Almeida getting COVID?

COVI: Of course not, that’s absurd.

INTERVIEWER: And yet, your name is practically COVID. You could say he got Covi’d!

COVI: It’s a complete semantic coincidence. And this interview is over.

INTERVIEWER: Wait, wait, I’m sorry! I still need to ask you about your mullet! It looks like you have two mullets, one in the front and one in the back. Can you comment on that?

COVI: What is wrong with you?! It’s all business up front, party in the back! Textbook mullet!

INTERVIEWER: Touché.

Here is the stage result, all the way down through 15th because if I just showed you the top ten, you wouldn’t see how much time Carapaz lost.

And here’s the new GC:

Now the footage cuts back to Bradley Wiggins, once again on the prowl for interviews.

INTERVIEWER: Where are you taking us, Brad?

WIGGINS: We’re gonna go talk to Nibali, to ask him how it feels to finish his last road stage of a Grand Tour before retiring at the end of the season.

INTERVIEWER: Do you think he’ll talk to you?

WIGGINS: Of course he’ll talk to me, we go way back!

INTERVIEWER: Well then go up to him then! Why are we hanging back here?

WIGGINS: Hold up, he looks kind of busy at the minute.

INTERVIEWER: No he’s not, go up there!

WIGGINS: He’s talking to that old guy right now. I’ll go up in a moment.

INTERVIEWER: Sure you will.

Here’s Covi on the podium. You can tell he’s a young guy because he’s still in the habit of flexing his thighs for the camera. Older guys grow out of that, or maybe they become too lazy.

Here’s Hindley celebrating his maglia rosa. Note that he’s opted for the straight-brimmed baseball cap instead of the traditional cycling cap. Perhaps he thinks the straight brim looks kind of gangsta, but of course he’s completely undermining the effect by being so fresh-faced and sweet looking.

OMG, we’re back to Wiggins. This time he’s given up trying to collar an actual racer and is just talking to his co-commentator, Hannah Walker.

WALKER: Brad, let’s talk about tomorrow’s time trial. Can you mansplain to me how this might play out?

WIGGINS: Well, going into today’s stage I didn’t think Hindley could unseat Carapaz, but he did. So when I say I don’t think Carapaz can take 1:25 out of Hindley tomorrow, I might well be wrong.

WALKER: So are you saying he will, or he won’t?

WIGGINS: Wait … who do you mean by “he”?

WALKER: I’ve kind of lost track myself. There’s a lot going on here, like two commentators kind of interviewing each other, instead of interviewing an athlete.

WIGGINS: Yes exactly Hannah, it’s very meta. Plus, we’re standing here in the middle of the road, on location, when all this could just as easily be done over Zoom.

WALKER: But this is more atmospheric, and you get to wear that cool biker jacket, having been on the moto earlier.

WIGGINS: Yes, and more importantly, these retro sunglasses, practically goggles really, pushed jauntily up on my forehead. We couldn’t exactly pull that off in the studio.

WALKER: Excellent analysis, thank you.

Well, there you have it … probably the most exciting Grand Tour stage I’ve seen in years! Looks like I’ll be tuning in tomorrow for the final time trial, because the race could change hands yet again. True, Carapaz took just six seconds out of Hindley in the first TT, but tomorrow’s is almost twice as long and anything can happen. But I won’t be blogging about it, because time trials are always completely boring and this will be no exception.

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