Biased Commentary - Did Démare Cheat in the 2016 Milan-San Remo?

NOTE:  This post is rated R for mild strong language and pervasive crude humor.

Introduction

If you care about the sport of cycling, then you must have seen my recent blog post covering the 2016 Milan-San Remo, a race which is one of the “monuments” of cycling.  If you don’t care about the sport of cycling, you’ll certainly want to skip this post, in which I assess the scandal following the outcome of the race.

I was alerted to this scandal by one of my readers, who posted a comment below my Milan-San Remo post.  The comment was from jianbino311 and read, “nike air max michael kors outlet air max 2016 rolex watches camisetas futbol baratas giuseppe zanotti outlet wallet sale kobi 9 tods outlet.” 

Just kidding.  I don’t know why I get so many comments like that, but the one I’m actually referring to was from Darwinian and read, “We’ll need a follow-up post of course, given the allegations of Démare having taken a tow from a team car, and the whole question of whether his Strava data helps or hurts his insistence that he did nothing wrong.”  Darwinian, ask and ye shall receive!

The basic facts of the case

Milan-San Remo is quite long and features just two climbs, both very close to the finish, which sometimes keep the race from being decided in the last 500 meters.  The climbs are rather short but never fail to eliminate several top sprinters.  This year there was a crash less than 30 kilometers from the finish, before the first climb, the Cipressa.  This crash eliminated some of the favorites, who either couldn’t catch up or wore themselves out doing so.  After several breakaway attempts, the peloton came back together and the sprint was won by “some random FDJ guy” (as I put it in my coverage), who turned out to be a young upstart named Arnaud Démare.

Shortly after the race, two riders—Matteo Tosatto (Tinkoff) and Eros Capecchi (Astana)—came forward and said that they saw Démare taking a tow from his team car on the way up the Cipressa.  The race judges decided not to sanction Démare because there was no video evidence of his being towed.  Under questioning, Démare’s FDJ directeur sportif, Frederic Guesdon, who was driving the car that allegedly provided the tow, surprised everybody by saying, “How should I know if Démare took a tow?  I was watching the road!  But he probably did cheat because he’s actually kind of a dick.”

No, of course Guesdon didn’t really say that.  He apparently saw the whole thing—that is, saw the tow not happen—and said so to the press.  Then Démare himself denied the accusations, and it might have ended there, but people kept asking to see Démare’s power stats, which would presumably show any anomalies (i.e., setting a world-record pace up the Cipressa while putting out less than 100 watts).  Guesdon said, “If there’s really a polemic about this, we’ll ask Arnaud to release his power files.”  The files were never released, so everybody flocked to Démare’s Strava page, only to find that the file for this race had been removed.

But wait, there’s more!  A Dutch journalist captured a snapshot of the Strava file before it was taken down, and discovered that Démare had achieved the Strava KOM for the Cipressa—that is, he went up it faster than any Strava member in history.  Subsequently, Démare put the Strava file back up.  Alas, the file does not include any power or heart rate data.  It’s been over a week and nothing official has happened, so it appears Démare will keep the win, but with a huge asterisk in the eyes of many fans (which sounds painful, doesn’t it?)

Evidence in Démare’s favor

Is Démare an unfairly accused champion, or an asshole?  I’ll attempt to get to the bottom of that question, starting with the evidence in Démare’s favor.

First of all, one of his accusers, Mateo Tossato, didn’t actually see Démare holding on to the car; he explained, “I didn’t see if he was on the car window or with a [sticky] bottle.” The implication is that it was one or the other, but in a sport where riders have blamed failed drug tests on a lost chimera or smuggled beef, it’s not that hard to slip between the horns of the dilemma and say Démare held neither a sticky bottle nor a car window.  Tossato simply didn’t see him holding either one—he just saw how fast Démare was going, in close proximity to his team car.

Second, the other accuser, Eros Capecchi, has the first name “Eros,” which means “erotic love.”  What kind of parents would name their child Eros?  Who knows what twisted upbringing this guy had, or what emotional scars he’s accumulated from bullies teasing him over the years?  Being named Eros undercuts his credibility even more than if he showed up to a courtroom wearing a bowtie.

The final problem with the case against Démare is that only two riders have come forward.  If Démare’s tow was as blatant as they say, how come nobody else seems to have seen it?  And how come no fans have come forward with smartphone video footage, when pretty much everything that ever happens anymore is filmed?  If, in a moment of weakness, I were to pick my nose and eat it right now, it’s a fair bet you’d see that video on the Internet within minutes.

Evidence against Démare

One big problem I have with Démare’s professed innocence is that he hasn’t produced his power data.  Guesdon did say, “If there’s really a polemic about this, we’ll ask Arnaud to release his power files,” and “If this continues, that’s something we could do.”  Well, there have been four articles about this on cyclingnews alone, generating close to 200 comments so far … is that not a polemic?  So where are the files?

There’s also the matter of Démare’s response.  His language has been a bit wobbly; he’s said nothing so clear as “I did not hang on to my team car at any time” or “I did not have sex with that woman, Miss Lewinsky.”  He has said, “I have done nothing wrong” and, worse, “There are judges in cycling. If I had done something forbidden, I would have been disqualified.” His implicit premise here is that the enforcement of rules is perfect. This is a lot like the Lance Armstrong defense: “I’m the most tested athlete on the planet.”  Démare is conveniently dismissing the possibility that he could have gotten away with cheating, as if not getting caught is proof of innocence.  He’d sound a whole lot better saying, “I didn’t hold on to the car.”

He went on to say, “I sense a little jealousy from some of our rivals after our [i.e., FDJ’s] third place in the team time trial at Tirreno [Adriatico].”  Huh?  This is both a red herring (or “red lobster” as my daughter calls it) and an ad hominem fallacy.  You’d have to be a really, really sore loser to fabricate a story about a rider cheating just because his team got third in a TTT.  Capecchi’s Astana team was all the way down in 6th place, so by Démare’s logic Capecchi would have a vendetta against all 40 riders who beat his team in that race.  Tossato, meanwhile, didn’t even race Tirreno-Adriatico!  This is a pretty weak foundation for Démare to be building a revenge theory on.  I wish I spoke Chinese because I’m told they have a very concise, pithy expression that literally translates “You talk dog farts.”

Then there’s the matter of the Strava KOM.  I saw how fast the peloton went over the Cipressa, and how fast Giovanni Visconti (Movistar Team) was going when he attacked.  I pointed out how quickly Visconti and Ian Stannard (Team Sky) opened up a gap on the peloton.  So how is it that Démare not only went over the Cipressa faster than Visconti, but set a new Strava record in the process, after more than 250 kilometers of racing?  The whole point of the Cipressa is to shed some of the sprinters, who are notoriously challenged by such climbs … and here a pure sprinter sets a new all-time record?

Even more damning, of course, is the mysterious disappearance, and reappearance, of Démare’s Strava file for this race.  Let me guess … somebody hacked Démare’s Strava account because the password was something weak like “password123” or “TTTbronze”?  Or maybe Démare tripped, fell, and landed on the delete key?  Or did he remove the file because he didn’t want to rub people’s noses in the fact that he’d not only won Milan-San Remo but also got the Strava KOM on the Cipressa?

But to me, the most important bit of evidence is that, as acknowledged by his directeur sportif, Démare did take a bottle while climbing the Cipressa.  Why on earth would he do this, if not to take a tow?  Think about it.  You’ve just crashed at the base of a critical climb toward the end of a huge race, you’ve lost over 30 seconds, you know the peloton is already lighting it up ahead of you, and your only chance in the race is to climb like a bat out of hell and try to latch on.  Wouldn’t you be ditching your bottle, to save weight?  You wouldn’t be thinking, “My, I’m in a bit of a pickle, but that shouldn’t mean having to go without some refreshment later on.”

The only reason to take a bottle is to get dragged along a bit.  As far as I’m concerned, a tow is a tow, whether you’re holding onto the car window, a bottle, or your coach’s dick.  (Well, actually, that sounds really dangerous for the coach … but I digress.)

I’ve about had it with all this nonsense I’ve been reading about “sticky bottle” and how it’s just a wink-wink nudge-nudge part of the sport.  I’d never even seen the phrase “sticky bottle” before and now I see there’s even a website by that name, and all these fans saying that getting a tow via a bottle handoff is a widely tolerated part of the sport, to help out those poor unfortunate riders who took a spill and need to get back on.  I don’t care who tolerates it—it’s bullshit, particularly for somebody with designs on winning a major classic.  Asking for a bottle at that point in the race was premeditated cheating, and whether or not Démare deserves to be stripped of the victory, my verdict is that he’s douchebag.

My other verdict

My other verdict in the case is, who the hell cares?  It’s not like this is the first time a pro bike racer has done something douche-y.  It’s ridiculous how many fans have taken to the comments section on cyclingnews to debate Démare’s case back and forth, often attacking each other in the process.

Oh, and now you’re calling me a hypocrite!  Look, I’ve investigated this scandal for one purpose only:  to entertain.  I really couldn’t care less who likes Démare and who doesn’t, and whether or not anybody was swayed by my argument.  I wrote this to make you laugh, to make fun of Eros’s name, to put words in Guesdon’s mouth, and to speculate about how Démare’s Strava file got deleted. If I’ve failed to make you laugh, you can judge me on that basis, but please don’t assume I really care whether or not yet another bike racer cheated.  There are far more pressing debates to have about this sport … and watch these pages, because my next post will tackle a topic truly worth pondering and debating!

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Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2016 Milan-San Remo

  

NOTE:  This post is rated R for mild strong language and extremely coarse humor.

Introduction

Any cycling aficionado will tell you that Milan-San Remo is the most boring one-day race on the entire World Tour calendar.  And you know what?  That’s an unfair thing to say, because actually some cycling aficionados will say it’s quite exciting.  This minority of fans is actually wrong, of course.  The fact is, MSR is a boring-ass race.  The course is too long, and too flat, and the only action that matters is on this tiny little climb toward the end that wouldn’t figure at all except that certain really fast sprinters almost couldn’t make it over a speed bump after almost 300 kilometers of racing.

Being boring, this is a perfect race to follow through my biased blow-by-blow report.  If I think a rider is doping, or ugly, or both, or too dependent on his race radio, I’ll say so.  And if I don’t even know for sure that they’re even using race radios, I’ll just guess.  And if the action gets too boring, I’ll share other tidbits such as riders’ beauty tips to make sure you’re entertained.

Biased Blow-By-Blow - Milan-San Remo 2016

The big news this year is the defending champion John Degenkolb (Giant-Alpecin) will not be lining up in Milan to defend his title.  Evidently he’d promised his wife he’d stain the deck this weekend, having totally forgotten about the race, and his wife put her foot down and wouldn’t let him weasel out of it.  She’s having her family out to visit next week and by god this has to be done, etc.  So the race is really up for grabs now.

As I join the action, there are 78 kilometers left to race.  There’s a breakaway of nobodies 3:39 up the road, and some of them are pretty funny-looking.  One of them has the goofy superhero sunglasses and the Euro-trash mullet.  You can see him at the far left in this photo.  Also note the leader’s ridiculous handlebars.  These nobodies always look a little off to me.

“It’s going to be interesting to see how things pan out,” declares the anonymous Eurosport commentator uselessly.  Has this ever not been true for any bike race, or any sporting event?  I’m going to have to play the devil’s advocate here and tell you:  it’s going to be really boring seeing how things pan out.  Or, conversely, it will be really interesting to walk away from my PC at the end and not see how it pans out.

The peloton is in the feed zone, grabbing musette bags while riding by at like 30 mph.  Pretty impressive.  Little known fact:  almost 40% of English-speaking World Tour riders still call musette bags “horsey bags.”  Apparently that’s what Lance Armstrong called them, and riders either mimicked him out of respect, or because they were scared not to.  Following Lance’s doping scandal, it’s believed that at least half of the riders still saying “horsey bag” are doing it ironically.

The commentator just used the phrase “uphill sections of the climb.”  Where do they find these guys?

It’s 61.3 kilometers to go.  To catch you up on what’s happened since the starting gun went off:  everybody started pedaling, at a “ferocious tempo” according to the Eurosport guy.  Eleven riders broke away.  Their lead has fluctuated between zero and five minutes.  Everybody has been pedaling most of the time.  There is very little coasting.  No rider has gotten lost.  The weather is fair.

With 56.8 kilometers to go, some riders crash!

Nobody slid under barbed wire fence or anything dramatic.  One guy looks like he may have scuffed his shoe.  I’ve definitely seen more interesting crashes, such as this one.

Look at how that wheel collapsed!  Pretty sad that I have to go back to the 2010 Tour de Suisse for an example of a fascinating crash.  On the plus side, look at the damage to this wheel from the crash that just happened:

“It does suit a rider who can ride well,” the announcer says of the finishing stretch of this race.  Is that what passes for insight these days?  I sure hope this is just the B-team, and that we’ll get the good announcers for the last few dozen kilometers.

How come kilograms got to be shortened to kilos?  Who decided that mass is more important than linear measure?  I’d love to type “kilos” instead of “kilometers” but I’d confuse my readers.  It’s so damned unfair.

With 48.5 kilometers to go, the lead is down to 1:38, so it’s like this breakaway never happened.  Maybe one or two of these guys will tell his grandkids, “I was in a breakaway in Milan-San Remo once.  We got caught.”  To which the sniveling little grandkid will reply, “Dammit Grandpa, stop living in the past!”

I interviewed race favorite Peter Sagan (Tinkoff Team) earlier this morning.  He said he didn’t care about the win—he just wants to make the podium so he can show the world how well-behaved he can be this time.  He was referring, of course, to his infamous misstep when he squeezed a podium girl’s tush after the 2013 Tour of Flanders.  I’d always wondered how he expected people to react.  Did he figure the commentators would say something favorable?  “Ah, and there’s Sagan, the perfect gentleman, giving the podium girl a little affection.  A less refined racer would be grabbing handfuls of ass right now.”  I asked Sagan what he was thinking, if anything, when he did that.  “Well, actually, I meant the gesture as a social commentary,” he replied coolly.  “I’ve always been bothered by the barbaric practice of having young models kiss sweaty racers after the race, and I thought by tweaking this retrograde tradition just slightly, I could highlight the absurdity of it and put the sexism issue into starker relief.  And actually, I arranged the whole thing with the podium woman beforehand, so she wouldn’t be surprised.  She’d totally agreed to it and then changed her mind later and acted hurt.  I don’t know what her deal was … probably she was on the rag.  Oh no … did I just say that out loud?”

Sagan is an interesting racer.  On the one hand, he can do a no-handed wheelie while climbing a Huis-Categorie grade, and can ride right up onto the roof of his car.  On the other hand, he looks like the guy on the cover of a romance novel, and has the intellect of a baitfish.

There’s another crash! 

I thought that by employing the exclamation point I could get you excited about the crash.  But it wasn’t that exciting, actually.  If these guys were required to ride with nitroglycerin or some other highly unstable substance in their jersey pockets, such that they actually exploded upon impact, I think you’d see a lot fewer crashes, but they’d be really exciting ones.  The only significant news from this crash is that Geraint Thomas (Team Sky) was involved.  That might cost him the race, if he’s hurt.

In looks like Michael Matthews (Orica-GreenEdge) was also caught up in the crash, as he’s furiously chasing the peloton now.  Matthews won two stages at Paris-Nice recently, so he must fancy his chances here today.  Of course, he probably wouldn’t say “fancy” like I just did.  That’s not a very common word, even though it can be used as an adjective (e.g., fancy pants), a verb (e.g., fancy his chances), or a noun (e.g., Cat Fancy magazine).

There are 26 kilometers left and the breakaway has just 15 seconds.  I wonder which chaser will be the first to say, “Okay, guys, the fun and games are over!”  Man, I’d like to be that rider.

I had a brief chat this morning with outside favorite Fernando Gaviria (Etixx-Quick-Step).  Though only 21 years old, and riding in his first MSR, he’s being supported by teammate Tom Boonen, who has decided he no longer enjoys training and will use his huge talent to be an out-of-shape domestique from now on.  Gaviria was nervous before the start.  “My mom’s gonna kill me,” he said.  “I put my retainer under my napkin at dinner last night and must have forgotten about it.  That’s the third one I’ve lost!”  Gaviria is the only rider in this race who is undergoing orthodontia, but a lot of these riders still live with their parents.

With 23 km to go, the peloton is all back together—but somebody attacks!  It’s Giovanni Visconti (Movistar Team) and Ian Stannard (Team Sky) and they quickly open up a nice gap. 

Pretty good move, actually, because there’s a pretty twisty descent and they’ve quickly increased their lead from 12 seconds to 23.  Man, they’re just flying!

Stannard has accidentally dropped Visconti but I’m sure they’ll be back together soon.  Could they hold off the field for 18 kilometers?  Of course not, but they’re surely hoping other great riders will bridge up.  Fabian Cancellara (Trek-Segafredo) would be just the rider to do that, because he’s plenty strong but of course couldn’t win a field sprint because he’s older than George Burns.

Three more riders have joined the lead duo.  They’re about 7 km from the Poggio, which passes for a climb after so many hours in the saddle.  The lead is down to 15 seconds with Katusha and BMC leading the chase, and Etixx-Quick-Step starting to get their guys in position.  I have to predict an Etixx-Quick-Step victory because two of the widely touted favorites are on this team (Gaviria along with Zdeněk Štybar), and it can’t hurt having Boonen helping.

With 2 km until the Poggio, the group is suddenly caught.  I never even got those other three guys’ names.

It’s under 10 km to go and Greg Avermaet (Team BMC) is on the front drilling it, as he is wont to do.  Michael Matthews has reconnected to the peloton but is dying on the back.

“It’s all about going as hard as you can,” says the practically brain-dead commentator.

Alexander Kristoff (Team Katusha) is well placed.  Obviously he’s a favorite.  His boys are collected at the front along with a bunch of BMC guys.  The pace doesn’t actually look that high … the group is pretty much gutter-to-gutter whereas if the hammer had gone down, it’d be a narrow line.

Some dude is attacking!  It’s Filippo Pozzato (Southeast-Venezuela) according to the graphics, but the announcer says, “No, it’s not, it’s number 180.”  There is no number 180 in this race, according to the cyclingnews start list.  So I have no idea who this guy is.  Fortunately, he’s caught and dropped.

Kristoff attacks, followed by Michal Kwiatkoski (Team Sky)!  This could be a really good move!  He’s first over the Poggio!  And now Vincenzo Nibali (Astana Team) is going after him!  What, are you kidding?!  We got us a bike race here!

With 5 km to go, Kwiatkoski has a handful of seconds, but Nibali and Cancellara are closing fast!  But as the road goes up with about 4 km to go, the gap is going back up!  Nibali goes for it up the left of the road, just flying!  With 3.2 km, Kwiatkoski has 4 seconds and still looks great! 

Right on schedule, my feed freezes!  My wife is running the microwave and it’s jamming the WiFi!  I’m doomed!

Whew, I got my wife to delay her breakfast and now my picture is back.  With 1.8 km to go, Etixx-Quick-Step is drilling it on the front and 5 seconds isn’t much anymore.  Cancellara is on the warpath now, and Edvald Boassan Hagen (Dimension Data) flies off up the right side, joined by Van Avermaet with 1 km to go!  Boassan Hagen is killing it on the front with 500 meters to go!  Cancellara isn’t far back!  Now they’re looking at each other, and a dude stacks!  But somehow, not a single rider is taken down with him!  DAAAAAMN!

The road is slightly uphill and the sprint is well underway!  Wow, it’s some random FDJ guy on the front!

And the race goes to Arnaud Démare, a Frenchman! 

A Frenchman hasn’t won this in like twenty years!  The dude is totally stoked and as he is mobbed by his teammates, he’s whooping like an American, like a cracker from the deep South no less!  What a win!  What a race!

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Biased Blow-By-Blow - Milan-San Remo 2015

Introduction

In a way, it’s hard to watch Milan-San Remo, the first of the so-called “Monuments” (i.e., really important races) of the year.  It’s so fricking long, and so flat, that there’s really very little action until a couple of little climbs toward the end.  Maybe that’s why you’re here:  you just couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed early for an hours-long race, but you want to know a little more about the result than you’ll get from the post-race coverage.  But of course that’s not really it.  You’re here because you’re tired of real journalists biting their tongues all the time and being careful not to slander anybody, and you know that unpaid (and largely unread, almost completely invisible) bloggers can tell it like it is.

This race is often called “La Primavera,” meaning springtime, and carrying the burden of association with pasta primavera, which is pasta with no meat, just some damn vegetables, and everybody knows that vegetarians are an easy crowd to please—you just have to skip the meat and they’ll eat anything.   Hopefully this will be a better race than that.

Biased Blow-By-Blow – Milan-San Remo 2015

I join the action just in time to see Maarten Tjallingii (Team LottoNL-Jumbo) clenching the stem of a banana in his teeth.  Now, it would be tempting for a race commentator to trot out a cliché of some kind, like comparing this to a horse having taken the bit in its teeth.  This would actually be refreshing compared to the totally overused phrase “gallop to the finish.”  But I’m watching the Eurosport feed, which is a cut above, and the bloke (being British, of course he’s a bloke) says, “I can guarantee you he won’t be eating it with the skin on.”  Why is this funny?  Is it the randomness?  Is it that I was softened up by the British pronunciation of banana (i.e., “buh-NAW-naw”)?  Or is it that I’m just feeling really happy right now because I’m watching bike racers out there in the cold and rain and I’m nice and warm with a mug of tea and a cat on my lap?

In any event, you won’t have to settle for such inane comments from me except when I quote the Eurosport guys.  You see, I’ve done my homework and am steeped in trivia about this race which I can dole out as we go.  Not that the pro announcers don’t; my tidbits just aren’t subject to the annoying formality of fact-checking.

So here’s what’s going on.  Yes, it’s been raining, and it’s gotta be cold because a lot of dudes are rocking full leg warmers and long-sleeve jerseys.  The weather is clearing up, but the racers are surely already soaked.  There’s a breakaway 3:23 ahead of the group, with about 65 km to go.  It’s ten riders, the only ones I’ve heard of being Stefano Pirazzi (Bardiani CSF) and Tjallingii. 

Depending on what house rules you use for Scrabble, you might keep “Tjallingii” in your back pocket.  What a great way to use up all your tiles, while baiting your cycling-ignorant opponent to challenge your word!

So, if you’re reading my blow-by blow, perhaps you’re only a pseudo-aficionado of cycling or are reading this way after the fact for the sake of nostalgia.  That being (possibly) the case, I suppose I should give you some background about who the favorites are this year and what they have to say about their chances.  Don’t worry, I’ll work this in carefully so I don’t deprive you of any real-time updates like “the peloton is still very large and going very fast, everybody is still on bicycles, and the breakaway is still losing time.”

As it happens, a good friend of mine, Maynard Steele, is a freelance journalist and got some great pre-race interviews with a number of favorites.  This was for “Woman’s Day” magazine, which I’m sure surprises you, but Maynard knows what he’s doing.  You and I know that “Woman’s Day” is for housewives, but these Europeans don’t grasp that.  They’re picturing Baywatch babes reading it, so they’re a bit more open, perhaps even trying to be a bit provocative.  Consider this quote from Peter Sagan (Tinkoff-Saxo):   “I feel I’m ready.  I think my form’s improved as the season has gone on. I don’t think there’s a secret to winning Milan-San Remo. I think it all depends on what happens on the Poggio.  And yes, there’s lots of pressure on me, a monument victory is long overdue, but I’ll be happy just to make the podium, so I can show that I can behave myself there.  I have learned not to grab the podium woman’s butt, even if she did wink at me earlier.”

Wow, the riders go into a tunnel and a bunch of them stack!  Normally we’d now be looking at Tom Boonen rolling on his back and moaning in agony with a broken bone, but he’s not in this race.

It’s down to 48 km and the gap is down to 2:07.  They’re on the Capo Mele, which is not Italian for “head of the mêlée” like many think, but actually translates “tiny little hill that is barely worth mentioning.”

Another big favorite, given that this 293 km race often comes down to a field sprint, is Mark Cavendish (Etixx-Quick-Step).  Cav claims he’s not at 100% as he’s coming off a stomach virus, but of course this might just be a ruse.  He told Maynard, “[Milan-San Remo] is my first goal of the year. It’s not like a failure if I don’t win it. How do you Americans put it ... ‘This ain’t my first rodeo.’  If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the classics, it’s that an ageing complexion needs more coverage, not more product.  So layering on a sheer formula isn’t your best bet.”  Perhaps the jocular Manxman is tweaking certain British journalists who mock him for having such a perfect, gleaming smile that his teeth are almost unpatriotic.

One dude is dropped from the break.  They’re really giving it a good fight, but the gap is down to 1:45 with like an hour to go.

One of my real-time blow-by-blow readers (okay, my one reader) says, “The better part of 300K is a long way to ride in the cold and rain.  I don’t care if you’re totally lubed, it would still suck.”  Now, in case this report is your introduction to the sport of cycling, my pal is referring to illegal performance-enhancing drugs, which a majority of fans believe are still in use.  And here’s another little tidbit:  other sports are even worse!  That’s right ... those football players you watch?  They’re all on steroids!  Crazy, huh?

At the back, Edvald Boasson Hagen (MTN-Qhubeka) is having some trouble.  Not sure what happened ... got stuck behind somebody with a mechanical or something.  He’s also having some trouble with his name.  Every time somebody is introduced to Boasson Hagen, he says, “Nice to meet you Edward.”  Which prompts, “Um, it’s actually ‘Edvald,’” and now the two are off to an awkward start.  Fortunately, the time my wife and I met Boasson Hagen, at the Tour of California years ago, there was nobody to introduce us, which was fine because my wife later admitted that she thinks he’s hot, and I wouldn’t want to have to kick his ass or anything.  (In a fistfight, not a match sprint, of course.)  Boasson Hagen continues to be the only bike racer my wife cares about (though that’s putting it strongly).

Man, the pace has really picked up, and the gap is down to 50 seconds.  The break has shattered and the front group is down to three riders:  Matteo Bono (Lampre-Merida), who goes by the nickname “the other Bono,” Serge Pauwels (MTN-Qhubeka), and Pirazzi.

Whoah!  A gnarly crash on a gentle descent!  Dude’s front wheel just washed out.  A Tinkoff-Saxo rider, Christopher Juul Jensen, looks pretty bad ... I think he hit a stone wall.

Three Sky riders are chasing the break all on their own.  Ben Swift, their best sprinter, is among them.  Seems like a ridiculous move, but then Sky is so coked up on PEDs, they don’t need to follow normal tactical guidelines.  Just consider what went down in Paris-Nice recently with Richie Porte and Geraint Thomas practically walking away from everybody else at the stage race’s only summit finish.  Thomas is in this trio now, showing that when you’re on the high-test stuff, you can be just as amazing on the flats as you are on the climbs.  The third guy is Luke Rowe, whom I’ve never heard of, but then I’d never heard of Christopher Froome either until he joined Sky and was suddenly one of the strongest guys in the sport.

It’s 30 km to go.  I may not have time to run down the rest of the top contenders.  But here’s an interesting quote from perennial favorite Philippe Gilbert (BMC Racing Team):  “For me, [sharing team leadership with Greg Van Avermaet] is an advantage. Two guys are better than one.  And Greg is a classy rider.  I’ve learned a lot from him, such as how to use the tip of my ring finger to gently tap liquid highlighter along my cheekbones, from just beyond the apples of my cheeks up toward my temples.  The product contains light-reflecting particles that draw the eye upward and away from what he calls my ‘droopy jowls.’  Bit of a twit, Greg, now that I think about it.”

Now it’s just Bono off the front, solo, barely holding off the Sky trio.  The racers are on the penultimate climb, the Cipressa.  This is a celebrated climb, though not as celebrated as the salad that goes by the same name (but which Americans know as the Caprese, except Midwesterners who think all salads are just giant hunks of iceberg lettuce with thousand-island dressing).

Van Avermaet is now in great position as the front of the peloton starts to break up.  And there’s a crash!  The French national champ is down (which I point out not because he was a favorite, but because based on his jersey I could at least say something about him).  The video is freezing up.  I doubt anybody is hurt because it was on the climb so they were “only” going like 40 kph.  Now the pack is back together and some Sky guy is drilling it.  I think they said its Lars Petter Nordhaug; I won’t pretend I can recognize him.  I’ve never heard of that guy in my life.

This is unbelievable:  they’re flying up this climb so fast, they’re having to brake for the curves.  Surely some of the sprinters are worried by this.  Cavendish is still in there ... it’s a long pack so you can slip back a fair bit and still be attached.

An attack by BMC ... not sure who it is.  The riders are all lined out which surely means agony.  Lots of dudes going backwards as you look back in the group.  Alexander Kristoff (Team Katusha) is really suffering almost at the very back.  He’s last year’s winner and must be totally stressed out right now.  He told “Woman’s Day” last week, “Milan-San Remo is a wide open race, so many guys can win in different ways. You can win it in a sprint, as I did, you can go away in a small group on the Poggio or even before.  Why should I assume it’ll come down to a bunch sprint?  And why, for that matter, woudn’t I ‘walk’ black eyeliner across my top lashes using tiny back-and-forth motions, starting from the outer corner of my eye inward?”

I’m starting to think the publishing game is starting to affect my friend Maynard’s journalistic judgment.  Something is not quite right about these quotes from the racers.  He might be paraphrasing again.

It’s 22 km to go, and BMC has lots of guys near the front, with Daniel Oss leading with a quickness.  Cavendish is in better position now but is clearly suffering.  Now they’re descending the Cipressa.  The road is dry which I think is good ... I don’t like it when crashes figure strongly in the end result.

There’s a French rider named Adrien Petit in this race.  I wonder if he’s a small guy, from a family of small guys.

They’re really bombing this descent.  The odd puddle could change things around fast but these guys are plenty alert.  There’s a tailwind which is surely intensifying everything.  The Poggio is coming up soon.  It’s almost 4 km in length but only averages 3.7%.  It’s tempting to call that a pretty easy climb, but remember how far these guys have already ridden.

It’s 16 km to go.  Michal Kwiatkowski (Etixx-Quick-Step), the reigning world champ, is way toward the back, though not as far back as Kristoff who I think is literally the last rider in the peloton.  Do they think the draft is actually better behind 90 riders than, say, 60?

The sun is coming out.  I should point out that Bono is still 20 seconds ahead of everybody.  That’s kind of amazing, really.  He was already off the front when I joined the coverage almost 90 minutes ago. 

Kwiatkowski has to be considered a favorite.  He’s a relative newcomer to the limelight but obviously extremely talented, and apparently a quick learner.  Speaking of his chances in this race, he said, “I didn’t feel tired after Paris-Nice. We did the recon on the Monday and I really enjoyed that time.  My skills are still improving, and though I’m still young, I think I’m gaining some wisdom.  I’ve learned to love the skin I’m in, if that makes any sense.  Love you as you truly are, before you put on the concealer or the lipstick.  Use your products to enhance your own natural beauty and know that every line, crease, or scar is a marker of who you are and what you have survived.  Be proud and own it!”

The racers are approaching the Poggio now.  After this climb is a fairly tricky descent, and then a flat run-in the the finish, which is a kilometer shorter this year, which could increase the chances of a successful breakaway.  It’s under 10 km to go.  Astana is at the front.  Cavendish has wisely moved himself closer to the front of the group. 

Oss and Thomas have a bit of a gap on the others as they close in on the Poggio. 

At the back of the group, Andre Greipel (Lotto Soudal) is just barely hanging on the back, clearly dying.

My wife just approached and said my name in that “can we talk?” voice.  I told her there’s 8 km to go and next thing I knew, she’d started in on our “talk.”  I repeated “It’s 8 km!  I’m watching this!”  She indicated a lack of understanding of how quickly 8 km goes by.  It’s going to be a long morning.

Thomas has attacked Oss!  He’s absolutely flying!  He’s making this climb look like a flat road!  But Katusha is crushing it on the front of the peloton.  Ooh, Thomas looks like he’s really suffering, and that’s saying something.  Normally when a Sky rider solos, he barely looks like he’s going hard.

I think I have time for one more “top contender” quote.  John Degenkolb (Team Giant-Alpecin) is a clear favorite based on his m4d sprinting sk1llz.  He was noisily confident ahead of the race:  “We had a good ride today, seeing the course and getting one last long ride in. I’m happy with my shape.  It’s going to be a phenomenal race.  Burning rubber AND BLOOD! Now that’s what I call a bike race.  SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY!  Blood-burning racing bikes and blood-red lip-liner!  BE THERE!”

Oss is still a ways ahead of the peloton, mouth gaping open.  Looks a bit like a pit bull.  Oh, his face is contorted.  He’s miserable.  And here comes the peloton, with some bearded Katusha rider heading it up.  I have to think some sprinters are getting shelled.

Van Avermaet has got a bit of a gap and seems infinitely powerful at the moment.  Cav is being absolutely rendered at the back of the group, hanging on for dear life.  Thomas still has a bit of a gap but he’s running out of climb.  It’s 5.4 km to go and they’re over the top of the Poggio!

If Van Avermaet can work with Thomas, they might do something, but it’s an awfully strong peloton and Thomas has got to be fried already.

Van Avermaet has got Thomas!  And the rest of the group is pretty much upon them.  They’re bombing the Poggio.  The great thing about this sport is that in addition to everything else these guys have to be able to do—motor on the flats, climb well, sprint well, hold up after 6 or 7 hours—they also need great skill and giant balls (figuratively speaking).

It’s so hard to tell what sprinters are still in contact. 

Gerald Ciolek (MTN-Qhubeka) and Gilbert are down!  Their race is over!  Another guy who went down spikes his helmet on the asphalt.  Kwiatkowski is also down!  Dang it, these guys are totally bummed!

Van Avermaet is still at the front, still with a tiny gap!  He’s a phenomenal rider, but still fighting the wind alone.  Okay, a number of guys have passed him up.  I think Sagan was among them.  Fabian Cancellara (Trek Factory Racing) is up there.  It’s only 1.3 km to go!

Michael Matthews (Orica GreenEdge) is in there.  Kristoff is there.  Boassan Hagen is also there.  They’re under the 1 km banner!  Katusha, just like last year, is right on the front, the first two guys.  It’s a pretty big group, all lined out, Kristoff well placed, Degenkolb right up there, and they’re starting the sprint, Kristoff goes from early out and BOOM!  It’s suddenly Degenkolb!  He’s got the win!

Degenkolb bided his time and (even more importantly) was just really, really fast.  The crush of media are around him and his chest is still heaving.  He won on a bicycle made by Giant.  I, too, ride a Giant.  That’s about where our similarities end.

Kristoff was second, Matthews third.

They’re showing the super-slo-mo.  Kristoff went really early, and just faded at the end.  He even had to sit back down on the saddle a bit before the line.  If it were possible to be poisoned by lactic acid, he’d be a dead man.  Degenkolb does the “I-can’t-believe-it!” helmet-clutching victory salute. 

It looks like they’re not going to show the podium ceremony.  I never get to see those anymore.   Oh well.  I’d be more bummed I were missing out on a chance to see if Sagan can behave himself on the podium, but he placed only fourth anyway.  It’s a pity; I heard he’d been so confident of a triumphant post-race interview, he even plucked his eyebrows.

Biased Blow-By-Blow - Milan-San Remo 2014

Introduction

Last year I covered the cycling “Grand Tours,” the three most important stage races, online for a very select audience (i.e., like one guy).  Leveraging the blog format, I took full advantage of not needing to follow any rules of journalistic integrity, so I could call a spade a spade (and sometimes call a heart a spade—close enough) to get at the truth, if not the facts, of what was going on.  Meaning that when Froomestrong crushed everybody I could explain why (hint:  it has nothing to do with his “training during the winter” explanation).

This is the first time I’m reporting a “classic” in real time.  If you don’t know what a classic is, you’ve come to the right place:  I’ll explain it.  It’s a bike race that’s been held annually for many, many, many decades.  Such races make America’s Super Bowl look like a flash in the pan.  Milan-San Remo (say it “Mee-LAWN san RAY-mo”) first ran in 1907 and has been held every year since except for three years total due to the world wars.  (Yes, in this sport, a real sport, it takes more than an athletes’ strike to shut things down.)

In addition to being a classic, Milan San-Remo is a “monument.”  These are the oldest and longest of the classics.  The other four monuments are Paris-Roubaix, Tour of Flanders, Tour of Lombardia, and Liege-Bastogne-Liege.  Milan-San Remo is (I believe) the longest, at almost 300 kilometers.  It’s also considered one of the “easiest,” as if a pro bike race were ever easy.  The point is, it’s flatter than the others (except maybe Paris-Roubaix, which has a lot of cobblestone roads).

By the way, if you’re an expert on cycling and can’t stand me spoon-feeding you basic information like this, rest assured that you’ve still come to the right place.  Once the action starts I won’t have time for background info, and I pledge not to use all the hackneyed expressions other cycling commentators are addicted to, like “keeping his powder dry,” “the gallop to the finish,” “game of cat and mouse,” etc.

Biased Blow-By-Blow

There’s not a whole lot going on right now.  The riders have 72km to go (about 45 miles, a couple hours) and there’s a breakaway of five up the road.  I’m not going to share their names with you because there’s no point.  These breakaway riders are exactly like the red-shirted security guards you see at the beginning of a “Star Trek” episode who are usually toast before the opening credits even roll.

Ah, Sean Kelly just recounted (briefly) his 1992 victory in this race.  (Sean Kelly announces bike races for Eurosport, which is a treat, not just because of his thick Irish brogue but because he knows what he’s talking about.)  He said this was one of his favorite wins because it was late in his career and he wasn’t considered a favorite. (Kind of an understatement ... he was well past his prime and had very little punch left.  Those were leaner times in cycling, when even a top racer couldn’t necessarily afford to quit at the top of his game just to protect his ego.  Kelly came from a family of dairy farmers and figured it was probably what he’d go back to after his cycling career.  I have it on good authority that even during his peak, as one of the best racers in the world, he’d drive for three hours to do some crummy nothing race, just for the start money.)

Anyway, as Kelly just described it, he made sure (during the ‘92 race) not to follow any attacks because it’s too long a race and you have to save your energy. He saw Moreno Argentin close down 3 moves on the final climb, the Poggio, before breaking clear.  He said that the news accounts said Argentin had 7 or 8 seconds but actually he had 20. Kelly decided to go for second place and attacked on the downhill with 3km to go. That’s where he left off describing it, probably because he didn’t want to describe the wheel-sucking he then did. 

You can watch the finale of that race on YouTube, and it’s worth doing.  (I only got to read about it back in ‘92 but even that was thrilling enough.)  I just re-watched it with my daughters yesterday and it’s brilliant.  (Even my daughters, who normally don’t care much for bike racing, were on the edge of their seats.)  Kelly catches Argentin and they just have a handful of seconds over the peloton.  Argentin was no slouch—he won the World Championship road race in 1986 (I watched it in person, with better-than-front-row seats on top of a camper parked at the finish line) and Argentin handily crushed Charly Mottet in the uphill sprint.  So he had a good kick and was fully six years younger than Kelly (still is).  So he probably figures he can take Kelly, but not if he tows him all the way to the line.  Kelly, of course, has to be pretty blown from chasing him down.  (Most of why he was able to bridge was his fearless bike handling, but it’s not that steep a downhill so they were all still working.)

So Kelly absolutely refuses to take his turn at the front.  Argentin, being Italian, gesticulates wildly but Kelly just sits on his wheel.  Finally Argentin commits himself to holding off the pack, which you can see barreling toward them; he’s banking on his youth to hold off Kelly and Kelly is banking on Argentin to keep him ahead of the pack.  Finally Kelly launches his sprint and just blows Argentin away.  It’s so glorious I even forgive Kelly his terrible dome-shaped Brancale helmet, shown below (which bears a striking resemblance to the modern so-called “aero” helmets that Kelly’s fellow commentator has just been talking about, saying that they are in fact more aero, which a) cannot possibly be true, and b) is beside the point because they’re ugly, and I’m sure—or at least I hope—no rider would wear nipple rings, with jersey cutouts to display them, if it were found they increase your speed, and I wish the riders would show this same discretion with these modern ugly helmets, but I digress).

So yeah, Kelly did some major wheel-sucking there, which some riders and fans would look down on, but not me.  To me, it was an example of the intersection between fair play and professionalism.  Fair play because there’s no rule that you have to share the work.  Professionalism because Kelly needed to win because cycling was his career and he needed to give his team what they were paying him for—and to get paid himself, frankly—more than he needed to look like a chivalrous, gallant fellow.

In contrast, look at, say, Lance Armstrong “gifting” the Mount Ventoux stage of the Tour de France to Pantani.  Lance was clearly trying to further polish his image as a fair, honest, even generous champion, probably in pursuit of yet more endorsement money, but of course it wasn’t actual fair play because he was lubed to the gills.  Only a doper can win so much he has the luxury of giving away victories.  Dopers protect their image by lying out their asses.  Kelly sucked Argentin dry in full view of everybody, and haters be damned.  Ah, the good old days, when men were men.

Wow, a Eurosport ad just showed a power-weight-lifter hoisting a massive weight over his head, and in that final jerk his rolls of belly fat jiggled like a full tray of Jell-O atop a paint shaker.  “Athlete” indeed.

A final note on doping:  it plays, I think, less of a role in these one-day races where cunning, boldness, bike handling, and teamwork matter more than in stage races such as the Tour de France.  In a stage race, recovery is absolutely key, and one of the main benefits of EPO is its ability to help you recover (specifically, to keep your blood from losing its ability to carry oxygen).  So the classics are generally more exciting than the stage races.  So why haven’t I been saying more about the race?  Well, it’s long, and largely flat, and until the riders get to the two big climbs, the Cipressa and the Poggio, not much happens.  So it is today:  still no real action with 43km (~27 miles) to go.  The breakaway is down to three riders and has about five minutes (though they had over ten minutes earlier).

Have I mentioned it’s rainy and wet out there?  I’m glad I’m not in it.  As I documented a couple weeks ago, I’ve had enough rain riding for the year. 

Mark Cavendish (Omega Pharma - Quickstep) looks cold and miserable but he’s in good position.  He’s won this race before (in 2009) and is a favorite this year.  Interestingly, he only recently decided to do this race (whereas other riders have been training specifically for it all winter).  The promotors had added another climb, between the final two, to make the race more exciting, and on that basis the pure sprinters decided to skip it.  It’s hard enough for them to hang on over the Cipressa and the Poggio, with the non-sprinters and their teams desperately working to drop them; with a third climb, they’d no longer have that much of a chance.  But terrible weather in the area this past winter caused a landslide and the promoters had to take the new climb out.  This shuffled the start list accordingly. 

Other favorites are sprinters like Andre Greipel of Lotto-Belisol (another last-minute entrant), John Degenkolb (Giant-Shimano), and last year’s surprise winner Gerald Ciolek (MTN-Qhubeka), along with great classics racers like Philippe Gilbert (BMC), Fabian Cancellara (Trek), and last but not least Peter Sagan (Cannondale) who blew it last year by being overconfident and starting his sprint too early.  Sagan is an interesting case because he’s an all-rounder (i.e., is far more versatile on climbs and in long solo efforts than a sprinter), but has a fast enough sprint to mix it up with the best of them, at least after almost 300km of racing.

Riders are ditching their jackets because the rain has let up.  Surely they know it’s raining harder at the finish, because they’re spoon-fed all kinds of information through their race radios.  I’m against the radios because they make the racers more like drones.  Back in Kelly’s day, riders had to make their own decisions, which favored savvy and experience and intuition, which is part of why a tired-out old rider like Kelly in ‘92—the human equivalent of a spent tea bag—could still eke out a victory in a major race.

The riders are approaching the final climbs so I’m going to have to take a little break here while I still can...

Perhaps you’re frustrated by how this supposed blow-by-blow has been nothing but digressions.  Well, that’s how bike racing is.  It’s like a piece of classical music that builds up slowly, unlike, say, basketball which, with its constant action and scoring, is more like rap.  Cycling is a great sport to watch if a) you’re a patient person, b) you enjoy looking at the scenery and the bikes, and c) Chris Froome isn’t there bludgeoning the pack to death on drugs alone, without the need for tactics.  (No, he’s not doing this race.  He wouldn’t dare.)

The break is on the Cipressa.  It can’t be that hard a climb because it sounds like a salad.  Ah, the peloton is on the climb too, and Vincenzo Nibali (Astana) attacks!  Cannondale is going after him, working for Sagan of course.  Wow, Nibali’s got a big gap!  Only Cannondale is chasing.  The other teams are no doubt hoping Cannondale will wear itself out with the chase.  Kind of risky ... they wouldn’t want Nibali to be able to solo.

Whether he can hold it depends a lot on the wind.  With a tailwind, he’d have a great shot.  With a headwind, he’d be doomed.  I can’t tell what the wind is doing.  Nibali looks solid, even comfortable.  He’d a good descender but I think this move was too early.  Kelly rightly points out that if one other rider bridges to Nibali, he could have a chance.

Nibali has 33 seconds accourding to the video feed, but the commentators say 20 seconds.  There are still two riders ahead of Nibali:  Marc de Maar (United Healthcare) and Maarten Tjallingii (Belkin).  Their breakaway is doomed, but at least Tjallingii can take comfort in having the hardest name to spell in the entire pro peloton, if not in all of sport.

The leaders have finished the Cipressa and are moving on to their cioppino course and their breadsticks.

The peloton is now descending at great speed on the shiny, wet road. 

One of my real-time readers (okay, my real-time reader) has written in to say that he once did a 300km race (during the Tour du Pont) and found it “totally boring.”  There are probably bored riders in this peloton (domestiques without much to do) but all the contenders and their better teammates are probably experiencing a severe pucker-factor now, with 18 km (~11 miles) to go.  (Note:  I am not talking about their cold lips.)

A six-man group has broken from the main peloton.  Cancellara, clad in all-black, is in the group.  The peloton, which has been peeled down to about 30 riders, isn’t having any of it.

Sagan and Gilbert are working hard on the front, doing what they can to keep this from coming down to a bunch sprint.

Nibali is still slogging away on his own.  He looks pretty good, but he’ll have to really fly on the Poggio.  He’s got about 45 seconds.  Somebody knowledgeable (I can’t remember who, perhaps past winner Oscar Friere) said that with this race, you can only play one card.  Meaning that there is no Plan B, since the race is too long for anybody to try something, fail, rest up, and have enough energy left to try anything else.  Nibali has clearly committed to this one move.  He’s probably doomed, but you never know.

I’m very interested to see if Cav can hang on over the Poggio.  The lead group is going to be flying.

Nibali is on the Poggio, all alone.  He’s passed the remains of the breakaway.  He’s got about 40 seconds now.  For those of you not terribly familiar with the sport, Nibali won the Giro d’Italia last year, and almost won the Vuelta a España.  (Click here and here for my blow-by-blow accounts of key stages.)

The main group is flying up the Poggio.  At least, they were before this annoying pop-up ad obscured my view.

My correspondent asks, “You think Sagan could go across?”  Yeah, he’d have to really launch himself to get clear of that bunch, though if a rider like Cancellara or Gilbert joined him, he’d have good odds to win.

Looks like it’s all over for Nibali.  They’ve got him in their sights.  Man, the field is just crushing it.  After 275 km no less.

Gregory Rast (Trek) has attacked.  Perhaps he’s figuring his teammate Cancellara can counter-attack once he (Rast) is caught.  He’s going faster up this climb than I could go down it, I think.

Enrico Battaglin (Bardiani-CSF) has attacked.  He’s a nobody (I’d never heard of him) on a team I’ve never heard of, but then so was Ciolek last year.  You just never knew.

Battaglin has joined Rast.  By the way, I have heard of “Battaglin,” as a bike brand.  Not sure if this guy is related.  Maybe “Battaglin” is like “Smith” or “Jones” over in Italy.

Only 7.5km to go and these two are well ahead of the group.  In fact, it’s kind of remarkable—whoah, there goes Gilbert!—how far ahead they’ve managed to get.  The group chases Gilbert right down, and just like that they’ve caught Battaglin and Rast too. 

The group is stretched out in a long line so you know they’re completely drilling it.  They’ve now reached the top of the Poggio.  I think the sprinters have managed to hang.  Greipel is hanging at the back by the skin of his teeth.  I can’t tell if Cavendish is still in there.

This is such a great descent.  Loads of switchbacks.  It’s getting strung out now with gaps developing between riders.

Bauke Mollema (Belkin) is doing a great job at the front.  There’s just 4km to go.  It’s deceptive how big the gaps look ... at such high speed, separation in distance doesn’t represent much separation in time, and you can get a good draft from pretty far back.

Greg Van Avermaet (BMC) has attacked, but gets nowhere.  Mollema is right on him.  The group has come back together after being stretched tight on the descent. 

Some guy in a chartreuse jersey has attacked and I hope he gets caught because I can’t tell who he is.  With 2km to go, he’s doomed.  The peloton is swarming and the sprinters’ teams will be setting up their leadout train.  Lots of Katusha riders.  Wow, Greipel is just latching onto the back now!  He’s got to be dying.

I think Sagan is sitting fifth, but it’s hard to say.  My postcard-sized video feed is blurry.

They’ve got less than 1km to go!  About 30 guys in the group.  My pulse is racing.  There’s been a crash at the back.  Ah, there’s Cav up near the front.

Dammit!  My feed froze right at the key moment!  At least I can see the replay.  After his Katusha team’s great leadout, Alexander Kristoff, whom I’ve never heard of in my life, took the win.

So typical.  After watching for over two hours, and seeing absolutely nothing that shaped the outcome in any meaningful way, I lose my video feed in the final, crucial 30 seconds.

Cancellara was second, Ben Swift (Team Sky) was third.  Cancellara did a lot of good work lolling his tongue out of his mouth during the sprint, but it wasn’t quite enough.  He did a great scowl and downward-punching non-victory salute though.

I’m not going to try to form an opinion, on the spot, of this relative nobody winning the race, other than to say a) it’s always nice to see a fresh face making his mark on the sport, especially when the Tour de France result is all too predictable, and b) his helmet is not only ugly, but crooked.

Even though these racers finished well ahead of schedule, it looks like the coverage is ending so I’m not able to report on the podium girls.  So that’s it for today ... I hope you’ve enjoyed this coverage.