Biased Blow-By-Blow: 2024 Tour de France Stage 15

Introduction

As you should know already from my last post, this year’s Tour de France has been pretty exciting. Two weeks in, the GC is still fairly tight. Today I provide my no-holds-barred, biased and barbed blow-by-blow report of what they’re saying is this year’s hardest stage.

Tour de France Stage 15 – Loudenvielle to Plateau de Beille

As I join the action, the riders are on the Col d’Agnes, a Category 1 climb, and about 40 miles from the finish. There’s a breakaway that has broken up a bit such that we’ve got three riders in the lead, a couple of chasers 39 seconds behind them, a couple more 32 seconds behind that, and then the GC group at 3:45. The GC group is down to 20 riders, and now I have to step away because my cat has just done something indescribably stinky in her cat box.

Okay, I’m back. The leaders are Laurens De Plus (Ineos Granadiers), Enric Mas (Movistar Team), and Jai Hindley (Red Bull – Bora Hansgrohe). “Laurens de Plus is a deceptively good rider,” the commentator Phil Liggett declares. So … what does that mean exactly? He’s good, but nobody can tell? He’s good but you can’t trust him? It’s a mystery.

The Olympic road race champion Richard Carapaz (EF Education-EasyPost) was in the original breakaway but missed the attack of the three leaders and is now chasing. Back in the GC group, Visma-Lease a Bike has only two riders supporting Jonas Vingegaard, their star rider who sits a couple minutes behind the maillot jaune, Tadej Pogacar (UAE Team Emirates), in the GC.

And now Carapaz has caught the leaders with 62 kilometers (about 38 miles) left in the race.

I’m watching the race on Peacock, and earlier they showed footage of one of their commentators sitting in an inflatable baby pool with several drunken Frenchmen. It was so corny, and the sight of his pale, hairy middle-aged chest was so disturbing, I almost threw up in my mouth. Who contrived this silly stunt? How could it have seemed like a good idea? But here’s a silver lining: it’s really hard to get photos of this coverage (since Peacock blocks screen grabs) so I don’t have a photo for you. Consider yourself lucky.

My cat has taken up residence in my lap. I’ve forgiven her for the cat box episode.

Wilco Kelderman (Visma-Rent a Bike) leads the GC group over the summit as Remco Evenepoel (Soudal Quick-Step) zips up for the descent.

The commentator Tejay van Gardaren just used the phrase “eat out this advantage.” I’m quite sure he didn’t say “eke out this advantage,” which also wouldn’t have made much sense in the context. I’m not sure what Tejay’s relationship is to language, but it looks pretty rocky from here.

“He wisely takes a gel bar there,” Phil says of De Plus. I wonder if Phil has looked closely at the consumables available to the riders? There are certainly bars, and gels, but I’ve never yet heard of a “gel bar.” Maybe Phil needs to pay more attention to the constant ads for The Feed that Peacock keeps showing. And I need to pay less, obviously, since it’s pretty sad that I’m even aware of them. I have a grudge against The Feed. I was led to believe that as a high school mountain bike coach I could get some free product, but it was a scam … though I abandoned the “registration” process midway through, The Feed now spams the crap out of me and I had to set up an email filter. Bastards. Don’t go for the “free water bottle” offer … your inbox may never recover.

It’s a long way to the final climb so I’ll fill you in on what’s happened so far in this Tour. Even though Vingegaard has won the last two Tours, he came in as a big question mark because he had a brutal crash this spring and was in the hospital for like ten days, and until a few weeks ago nobody was sure he’d even start the Tour. Pogacar, on the other hand, has been on fire all season, destroying his so-called rivals in the Giro d’Italia. I was starting to worry that this was going to be a totally boring Tour, but then Pogacar got COVID not long before the Tour started. So it looked like there might be some drama. So far, it’s been pretty good. Pogacar won the fourth stage, taking 37 seconds out of Vinegaard, but at least the Dane seemed to be on reasonably good form (as opposed to former winner Egan Bernal of the Ineos Granadiers who never really recovered from a bad crash a few years back, and lost 2:42 on this first mountain stage). Pogacar had a great Stage 7 time trial, taking another 25 seconds out of Vingegaard and 22 seconds out of another GC rival, Primoz Roglic (Red Bull-Bora Hansgrohe). Meanwhile, Evenepoel has been riding well, winning the time trial. In Stage 11, Vingegaard managed a stage win but didn’t take any time back from Pogacar, though he did distance Evenepoel by 25 seconds. In Stage 12, Roglic crashed hard and had to abandon the Tour, alas. Then, yesterday, Pogacar took another stage win and 39 more seconds out of Vingegaard, who at least took 31 seconds off Evenepoel to move into second overall. Vingegaard now wears the polka-dotted KOM jersey though it actually belongs to Pogacar.

Tobias Johannessen (Uno-X Mobility) has clawed his way back to the breakaway, making it five. But their lead is down to just 2:41 over the very strong GC group, and I think this break is probably doomed. I have to confess, it’s always slightly annoying when I’ve devoted some energy describing the breakaway, naming its participants, etc., all for nothing. Now you’re laughing at me and saying, “Poor baby! These guys are slaying themselves for a chance at glory, but your poor fingers hurt from all that typing?” Well, yeah. And remember, these guys are getting paid. I’m just here as a public service … and you might be the only person ever to lay eyes on this text. What a waste, all around.

Now the same commentator who had sat in an inflatable pool earlier has put his shirt back on and is interviewing some random Slovenian fan.

INTERVIEWER: Why do you like Tadej Pogacar so much?

RANDO: You’re pronouncing his name wrong.

INTERVIEWER: It’s not TAD-ay Po-GOTCH-ah?

RANDO: No. It’s Tad-AY Po-GOTCH-arh.

INTERVIEWER: Sorry.

RANDO: [huffs]

INTERVIEWER: So why do you like him so much, even though you said you’re not much of a sports fan?

RANDO: Because he’s so young but already so accomplished. He’s at the top of the leader board for a reason.

INTERVIEWER: Do you think that actually passes for insight?

RANDO: No, I never said I knew anything about sport. I was just minding my own business here when you came and stuck a mic in my face.

INTERVIEWER: Do you want to sit in the baby pool with me later?

RANDO: Please just leave me alone, you’re kind of creeping me out.

Okay, I have to admit something. I didn’t even try to give you an accurate transcript of that interview. My job is to entertain, and although that’s ostensibly the job of the commentators as well, they don’t always deliver. This is the trouble with live journalism … the footage they get, which deserves to end up on the cutting room floor, is just shoved at you like cafeteria-grade gruel in real time. They hoped this rando would be entertaining but he just just wasn’t. And who is this commentator? Where did they find him? Why is he ever on camera when he knows nothing about cycling?

They’re showing a list of past Plateau de Beille winners. I’m kind of surprised to see Lance Armstrong on the list, for 2002 and 2004. “Contador and Pantani won officially,” Bob Roll explains, “and Lance Armstrong won but was then disqualified … fairly or unfairly, time will tell.” Huh? WTF? I had kind of thought that after Lance made a fool out of himself on “Oprah” that the matter was settled. Isn’t that the acid test? I mean, after Tom Cruise jumped up and down on Oprah’s couch nobody has ever taken him seriously again … why would posterity ever return Lance’s past glory to him? This makes no sense.

Here’s an aerial shot of the final climb. A lot more interesting than a football field or a basketball court, innit?

The peloton reaches the base of the Plateau de Beille, and Kelderman, completely knackered, sits up and goes straight out the back.

The American Matteo Jorgenson, Vingegaard’s super-domestique, drills the pace on the front.

The gap to the breakaway is tumbling with a quickness. At the front, Carapaz attacks!

The GC group is down to nine riders. I’m not giving you their names … several more will get dropped soon. Suffice to say Evenepoel is still in there … for now.

What a waste of an exclamation point a couple sentences ago … Carapaz was reeled in like a retiree watching a timeshare seminar. (You won’t get metaphors like this with mainstream sports coverage.)

Jorgenson continues to drill it on the front, like a boss. Pogacar picks his nose. (His own nose, I mean. Not Jorgenson’s.)

The breakaway is breaking up. Mas, wearing an exquisite death-rictus, hammers on the front but it won’t be long until they’re caught. Note that Carapaz not only failed to get a gap, but slipped off the back of these two.

Carapaz regains contact and immediately attacks again. I’m sticking with a period this time, no exclamation point for him.

Vingegaard attacks! Only Pogacar can hang with him.

The duo blows by the dropped breakaway riders like they’re nothing, which they are. Look how weird De Plus looks in this photo. Some kind of A.I. auto-retouching, perhaps?

Now the leaders fly by the remaining breakaway riders. Carapaz latches on.

Evenepoel has already lost 30 seconds. And now Carapaz is dropped.

Evenepoel overtakes Carapaz. “He’s riding well and putting his rubber stamp on this race,” Phil says cryptically. I’ve certainly heard of “stamping your authority,” but the rubber stamp thing … doesn’t that normally indicate something very rote? I’m not getting this metaphor at all.

Pogacar has been out of the wind this entire race. He’s just sucking Vingegaard’s wheel, which is of course perfectly appropriate. And it’s a 9% grade so they’re probably not going all that fast, so it’s not like Vingegaard is being taken advantage of, exactly. But still, you wonder how long he can last. He had to attack early, so that in the unlikely event of Pogacar faltering, the Dane would have enough road to stretch out his lead and take the yellow jersey. But Pogacar looks super comfortable.

Peacock is patching in audio from their random, clueless baby-pool commentator who I just learned is named Steve. “I’ve already summited,” Steve says, as though being driven up a mountain is  some kind of heroic achievement. “I can tell you that it is very steep up here,” he continues, as though providing value. “Later I’m going to visit a day care center and hope to get some graham crackers and a juice box,” he does not go on to say, though he may as well.

Evenepoel is hemorrhaging time. He looks pretty demoralized. Or maybe he’s just hurting. I mean, of course he is.

And now Pogacar attacks! Rude! Gosh, with three miles to go, this really isn’t the prudent move of a GC leader with a decent lead who seems like he could theoretically lose the race by digging deeper than necessary. Very cheeky. Don’t get me wrong, I love panache, but this just seems gratuitous. Pogacar looks back, to taunt the Dane.

They ask commentator Christan Vande Velde, on the motorbike, to comment on Vingegaard’s unfolding nightmare. “He’s really suffering,” Christian says. “I haven’t seen him look this horrified since his family accidentally abandoned him in ‘Home Alone.’” Christian is to be forgiven for confusing Vingegaard with the child actor Macaulay Culkin because after all, the two are very nearly identical. Also, I made all that up, needless to say.

Pogacar goes under the 1-kilometer kite. Why is it called a kite? I don’t know. It just is.

Pogacar gets the win. He does the controversial “I’ve just woken up and am stretching” victory salute, as if to rub his rivals’ nose in it.

Vingegaard crosses the line, 1:08 down. His elbows are locked, as though even his arms have given out. I know the feeling.

Evenepoel finishes, losing 2:51 to Pogacar and 1:43 to Vingegaard. Presumably, more riders trickle in as the footage turns to Pogacar drinking water and once again being congratulated by various staffers. Yawn.

Now Carapaz limps through, well over five minutes down.

Bob Roll describes Pogacar’s win as “pure joy.” I’d say killjoy is more like it. Remember when riders were vulnerable and occasionally cracked, especially after winning races all season long? Pogacar has 16 pro victories this season, which is a similar number to the races he’s entered. He dominated the Giro and is now poised to be only the eighth rider in history to win the Giro/Tour double, and the first since the fully lubed Pantani in 1998. Some might find this exciting; to me it’s a lot like that egghead kid in the schoolroom who’s always got his hand up when the teacher asks a question, and who goes “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” when she pretends not to see him.

As they show a super-slo-mo of Vingegaard crossing the line, they play a recording of what his director said over the race radio: “Really, really good job. You did everything Jonas … Pogacar is better, and we have to accept this, huh?” Gosh. That guy should moonlight as a motivational speaker. (And no, I didn’t actually fabricate that quote, for once.)

As Pogacar warms down, of course he’s on his phone. What’s he doing? Doomscrolling? Social media? The Wordle? We can only speculate.

My online correspondent writes, “Well, the Tour is officially boring.” True, true.

And now it’s time for the uncomfortable conversation: could Pogacar possibly be clean? Well, I just read on cyclingnews.com that “Dutch journalist Thijs Zonneveld reports that Niki Terpstra has calculated [Pogacar’s] climbing time as 3:39 quicker than Pantani’s 1998 Plateau de Beille record.” So … how would this amazing feat be achieved clean, knowing that Pantani was coked to the gills throughout his career? Is it because Pogacar has electronic shifting? Better nutrition? Just wanted it more? Uh-huh. I’m not sure what to do about this. Maybe the TV networks will sue WADA for failing to police doping better, so that the stages could last longer and provide more advertising opportunities. Think of how much revenue they’ve lost through the curtailed coverage since every day the riders come through far sooner than expected.

They’re interviewing Pogacar.

INTERVIEWER: Well, thanks to your absurd dominance today, the Tour is officially boring.

POGACAR: I never would have imagined this. It was really hot, a super hard day, incredible, I’ve been cooling down and everything.

INTERVIEW: Half of your [stage] victories have been in the Pyrenees. What do you make of that?

POGACAR: Well, think about it. There are two mountain ranges used in this Tour and I didn’t win the time trial, so … duh.

INTERVIEWER: How did you pull this off, taking so much time out of your rivals?

POGACAR: They didn’t have the legs. More specifically, they didn’t have my legs.

INTERVIEWER: That sounds rather arrogant—did you really just say that?

POGACAR: No, I have said very little actually, which is why this blogger is taking liberties.

INTERVIEWER: What were you doing on your phone a bit ago, during your warm-down?

POGACAR: I was reading albertnet, of course.

Here’s the stage result:

And here’s the new GC:

Mark Cavendish (Astana-Qazaqstan Team), who won Stage 5 to set a new world record for most career Tour stage victories (click here for details) crosses the line, flanked by teammates, less than two minutes before the time cut would have ended his Tour.

And now the French sprinter Arnaud Démare comes over the line, a minute before he’d have been cut. Why is this remarkable? Well, he’s an amazing climber, having set a new Strava KOM for the final climb of the Milan-San Remo classic back in 2016. Of course, he had a bit of help in that he was hanging on his team car the whole time up the climb in what must be the worst example of unpunished cheating in the history of sport (click here for details). The good news is, Démare totally sucks now, failing to win a Tour stage since 2018, and I love to watch him lose. And I’m glad he made the time cut so I can watch him lose the next flat stage as well.

Jorgenson really sacrificed for his team leader today, losing 9:30 and dropping from 10th to 12th on GC. But hey, he was doing his job and I respect that. In other news, they’ve awarded Carapaz the Combativity award for today’s stage, which he totally deserves.

They’re interviewing Evenepoel now.

INTERIEWER: Well, you blew big greasy chunks today. How do you feel about that?

EVENEPOEL: Actually, I am happy. I consolidated my third place and my white jersey.

INTERVIEWER: But you lost big time to Pogacar and Vingegaard.

EVENEPOEL: I was getting my time gaps to them over my radio, but I didn’t want them. I just wanted to hear about the guys behind.

INTERVIEWER: That’s really defeatist of you.

EVENEPOEL: …

INTERVIEWER: Why the COVID mask? Do you really think I’m gonna give you COVID?

EVENEPOEL: Well, you do seem to spit a lot when you talk. But actually, I’m wearing this mask because earlier my directeur sportif was giving me a hard time about my yellow teeth. So I’m just covering up.

INTERVIEWER: Is that true?

EVENEPOEL: Of course not.

Well, I was hoping they’d interview Vingegaard, but they never did and now the coverage has concluded. Tune in again next year because I’m not going to bother blogging any more about this officially boring Tour.

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Tour de France FAQ - A Guide for Newbies

Introduction

The 2024 Tour de France bike race is about half over, and presumably the most exciting stuff is still ahead. It’s been really good so far—at least, to me, a bicycle road racing afficionado. But what about the typical American sports fan, who doesn’t know a white jersey from an albino cow? That’s what this guide is for. Now, even if you already know all about the Tour, you should still read on, because the real point of this post is, “What’s funny about this race?”

2024 Tour de France Frequently Asked Questions

How do I watch the Tour de France live?

In America, you have to either subscribe to Peacock Premium ($6/month) or Flobikes (which literally doesn’t post any pricing—if you have to ask, you can’t afford it). Otherwise, you can use a VPN to pretend you’re in Europe and watch Eurosport. If none of these options appeals to you, you can watch highlights on YouTube, or (best of all) move to Europe. Then you won’t have to get up so early.

What does “GC” mean?

It stands for “good climber.” Kidding! It’s actually General Classification, meaning the overall race. The GC leader is the guy whose cumulative time, across all days of the race, is the lowest. Whoever leads the GC at the end of the final (i.e., 21st) day has won the Tour de France. For all those who aren’t in contention for the GC, the there’s the prospect of winning a single day’s event (aka stage) of the race … that’s also a pretty big deal.

What is a time trial?

In the time trial event, each racer rides by himself and his time is taken. It’s basically the same format as downhill skiing. The time trial is called “the race of truth” because tactics, psychological gamesmanship, and drafting don’t come into play. Frankly, I think these more complicated aspects of cycling are the best things about it; by that measure, time trials aren’t the true test at all. Moreover, I think mass-start downhill ski races would be awesome.

The Tour de France sometimes features team time trials. They are totally badass, featuring each nine-man team going alone against the clock. I wish TTTs figured in every Tour.

What are the special jerseys about?

There are basically three categories of jersey: standard, leader’s, and what I’ll call “other.”

The standard jersey is what almost everyone on a team wears (i.e., if he’s not wearing a leader’s or “other” jersey). It’s basically a billboard for the team’s sponsors. This is how this sport gets its money: through advertising, like with NASCAR. Otherwise there’d be no feasible way to pay all the salaries, since nobody has to buy a ticket to watch the Tour. If you’re lucky enough to live in France, you can just stumble out your door and wander out to the road to see them all go by.

Then we have the leader’s jerseys, for those leading one of the overall categories of the Tour. The yellow jersey, or “maillot jaune,” is what the GC leader wears. Then you have the white jersey with red polka-dots which is worn by the King of the Mountains (aka KOM) leader. You’d think this would indicate the best climber of the race, but often it’s actually not. It’s the guy who wins the most sprints to the tops of climbs and is awarded points for doing so. Obviously this guy needs to be consistent, but not perfectly; if he lost 20 or 30 minutes on a mountain day he’d miss the opportunity for more points on that stage, but could hang on to his overall KOM lead. Why is this jersey polka-dotted? Beats me.

Next is the Points jersey, which is green, and identifies the guy who’s most consistent in the races that end in a sprint finish, and for extra (“intermediate”) sprint opportunities along the way. This jersey is green because … money? I have no idea. Doesn’t matter. Finally, we have the plain white Best Young Rider jersey, for the highest-placed GC rider under age 26. This jersey is white because this rider is also required to be a virgin. (No he’s not.)

The “other” jerseys exist because of distinctions riders have earned beyond the Tour. For example, the winner of the previous season’s World Championship road race gets to wear a white jersey with rainbow stripes for the entire season, including the Tour. Also, many countries have their National Championship road race before the Tour, and the winner of each gets to wear his champion jersey, which often resembles the country’s flag. This can be confusing, of course.

Has a rider ever won more than one jersey?

Yes, it happens sometimes. For example, Eddy Merckx won all the jerseys on offer back in 1969. More recently, in both the 2020 and the 2021 Tours, Tadej Pogacar won the yellow, white, and polka-dot jerseys. Note that if a rider is leading in more than one category, he wears the jersey for the most prestigious one, and the next highest rider in the lesser category wears that jersey. For example, right now in the Tour, Pogacar is leading the KOM category but also the GC, so he’s in yellow while the second place rider in the KOM, Jonas Abrahamsen, is in polka dots. There are cases of one jersey trumping another as well; for example, in this year’s Tour, Remco Evenepoel wore his white jersey (for best young rider) during the time trial, despite being the current time trial World Champion. (No, nobody else wore the rainbow stripe jersey for that stage.)

I’ve heard announcers call the Tour a “chess game on wheels.” Is it?

Well, not exactly. In chess, only half a player’s pieces (the pawns) match one another in terms of what they do and how, while you’ve got all these other pieces that move in unique ways. Imagine a cyclists who could only go in an L-shaped direction, like a knight. It’d be ridiculous. Cycling is really more like checkers.

But in terms of the more general question about tactics and strategy, this is a team sport where most teams have a single leader (occasionally two), and the rest of team members are trying to help him (or them). And some teams aren’t even trying for the GC victory but only want stage wins, based on what they can realistically hope to accomplish. So they might have one guy who goes for sprint wins and another for mountaintop wins, and the rest of the team supports that day’s leader.

What makes cycling so tactical is that you can save gobs of energy by riding right behind another rider, or ideally a bunch of them. (If you wondered what I meant by “drafting” earlier, that’s what it’s called.) So a team’s job is to a) keep their star rider out of the wind, and b) force other teams’ star riders out into the wind. This is why riders “attack,” which means to sprint off to try to “break away” (i.e., get ahead of the rest and build up enough of a gap not to get caught by the end). In cycling, “attack” rarely means to hit, kick, or bludgeon. When that does happen, it’s usually hilarious.

What is a domestique?

A “domestique” is literally a servant. Per the teamwork discussion above, sometimes a domestique’s job is to attack other riders to “put them into difficulty” (to use a favorite term of the sportscasters’), but at other times their job is to ride back to the team car to pick up water bottles and then carry them forward to the star riders. They’re also around to offer up their bike if a leader’s is broken, or to pace him back up to the group if he goes off the back for any reason.

There is a documentary about cycling domestiques called “Wonderful Losers: A Different World.” It suggests that a domestique’s main job is to crash his bicycle. I’m not sure how this movie got to be so warped; perhaps they just had gobs of crash and first aid footage they couldn’t resist using. I don’t recommend this one if you are a cyclist with a significant other who worries about your safety.

The riders all seem to have hearing aids, or maybe earbuds. Are they music lovers, or deaf?

Those are the race radios, which keep the riders in constant contact with their team directors. The directors give them instructions, warnings about road hazards, encouragement, and sometimes recite poetry.

Do the directors really recite poetry to the riders?

No. Of course not. What gave you that idea?

It seems like the helmets are just getting out of hand. Is this some kind of joke?

I assume you’re talking about the time trial helmets, like this one:

These helmets, designed to confer an aerodynamic advantage, are no joke, mainly because they’re not funny. They’re proof that people will do just about anything to gain an edge, when their careers are on the line. I think goofy helmets should be banned, for the good of the sport. And yet, for some reason, the Union Cycliste Internationale (aka UCI, the governing body of cycling) has not asked my opinion on this. Shoot, I’d be the arbiter for free, just to be nice.

By the way, if the helmet above doesn’t look like it would even cut through the wind very well, bear in mind it’s designed for a rider who’s got his head down. With any luck, said rider would run into something and learn his lesson.

I guess the silver lining is that cycling helmets seem to work pretty well … maybe the NFL should try them.

Why are pro bike racers so dang skinny?

It turns out that humans can be pretty close to starving and still perform at a very high athletic level, if their nutritional needs are being met (e.g., balanced diet). The Tour de France features gobs of brutal mountain passes, and to be competitive every rider needs to have a very high power-to-weight ratio. So Tour riders eat as little as possible in training, so they come to the race extremely lean. They do eat a lot during the race but then they’re burning probably 5,000 calories a day.

Of course not all the riders are that skinny (except by the standards of other sports like baseball and curling). The sprint specialists, who go for victories in the flatter stages, are pretty muscle-bound. But they still have to get over the mountain passes, and within a time limit based on when the leaders finish. So, they can’t be as ‘roided out as, say, an American football player.

Speaking of which, do the Tour riders use performance-enhancing drugs?

Short answer: probably. Surely not all of them, and maybe not even most of them, but the sport will never be rid of doping no matter how much it claims to have cleaned up. I base this on current race leader Tadej Pogacar’s absolute domination of this year’s Giro d’Italia (aka Tour of Italy, similar to the Tour de France), where he won by an extraordinary margin while setting a new record for the highest average speed ever in that race. Higher, even, then in the years where infamous dopers like Marco Pantani and Ivan Basso were winning it.

Couldn’t this mean only Pogacar is doping? No, because he lost the last two Tours de France, and there are plenty of other riders who, on a given day, manage to beat him. Too many riders are putting up overly impressive numbers (that is, data points like average speed, power output, and the ratio of rider’s power to his weight, which many consider to be the smoking gun). Even the domestiques are turning out unrealistically strong performances.

All that being said, cycling is probably no dirtier than most pro sports. At least the footage isn’t embellished with CGI like in the movies, and all the riders do their own stunts. As long as the doping arms race doesn’t get too unbalanced, it’s still a fun sport to watch.

In the context of bike racing, what does “stack” mean?

It means to crash. All the road cyclists I know use this term (e.g., “Dude, I hit some gravel and almost stacked!”) but, oddly, none of the commentators ever say it.

Speaking of commentators, they keep talking about this or that rider “getting back on terms.” What does this mean?

I think only the Peacock commentators, Bob Roll and Phil Liggett, say this. It means “catch back up” or “get back into favorable position,” but nobody else on the planet uses this term. I think those two are trying to start a thing.

Is there an official anthem of the Tour de France?

No, but in 1983 Kraftwerk recorded a song called “Tour de France” and you can watch the video here. Although Kraftwerk is German, the lyrics are all in French. They’re not all that interesting, but if you croon along or sing this in shower, you can substitute this line: “An American will never win/ Tour de France, Tour de France.” That’s what I was doing in the mid-‘80s before Greg LeMond surprised everyone. Actually, I still do this. Force of habit.

What has been the highlight of this year’s Tour so far?

I would say the highlight so far was Mark Cavendish breaking the record for most career Tour de France stage wins, with 35 of them, at age 39. What makes this so special, at least to me, is that it came after a long dry spell. Cavendish failed to win a single Tour stage between 2017 and 2020, and many thought he was all washed up. Perhaps he’d become a bit jaded, kind of lost the hunger. I think a lot of us can relate, especially as we age. For example, another middle-aged superstar, Eminem, has rapped eloquently about this:

Man, in my younger days
That dream was so much fun to chase
It’s like I’d run in place
While this shit dangled in front of my face
But how do you keep up the pace
And the hunger pangs once you’ve won the race?
When that dual exhaust is coolin’ off
‘Cause you don’t got nothin’ left to prove at all
‘Cause you done already hit ‘em with the coup de grace

Miraculously, in 2021, Cavendish suddenly regained his form, and perhaps his mojo, and won a remarkable four stages of the Tour, picking up the green jersey in the process and matching Eddy Merckx’s record for most career stage wins. It looked like Cav was back on track and positioned to break the record the next year. Amazingly, though, his Deceuninck Quick-Step team director, Patrick Lefevere, didn’t put him on the team for the 2022 Tour de France, and in fact terminated Cav’s contract at the end of the year. While Lefevere didn’t really explain himself, it’s widely acknowledged in cycling circles that he’s is a vainglorious, narcissistic, power-crazed douchebag. (Note: by “widely acknowledged” I mean it’s my personal opinion.) I can imagine this was very inspirational for Cav, to come back and show the world what an idiot Lefevere is for not believing in him.

So Cav changed teams for what he thought would be his final Tour in 2023, only to crash out early before winning anything. I think all us cycling fans thought that would be it, but Cav decided to go one more year and take a final crack at Merckx’s record. Clearly, he put in all the work required—which is a lot, for a 39-year-old trying to beat the young bucks in pure speed—and his sprint victory in Stage 5 of this Tour was glorious. He lived up to the rest of Eminem’s rap:

Still you feel the need to go full tilt
That Bruce Willis, that blue steel, that true skill
When that wheel’s loose, I won’t lose will
Do you still believe?

(Does Eminem have any idea who Mark Cavendish is? Surely not. But Eminem doesn’t read albertnet either, so it’s all good.)

Belief came up in the post-race interview after Cav’s amazing win. The journalist asked, “But that makes you the best? That mindset—that mental strength that you have?” Cav replied, “It’s definitely a benefit, you know, especially when you’re not physically as good as everybody else.”

Do exploits like Cav’s—coming back from the doldrums, persevering, and achieving great triumph—cut across all sports, inspiring all of us whether we’re cycling fans or not?

Why, yes. Yes they do. And thanks for asking!

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Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2021 Vuelta a España Stage 18

Introduction

Why is it that when the governing body of a sport, in this case cycling’s UCI, decides to allow widespread fraud, the media have to nevertheless adhere to the highest standards of journalistic integrity? When the UCI—apparently seeking to avoid embarrassment over their sport still being filthy—cleared Chris Froome after his positive drug test, journalists should have talked all kinds of smack and started throwing popcorn at the screen. Instead, they just keep biting their tongues. Well not me. Rest assured, I pull no punches in my blow-by-blow reporting and may even throw punches randomly if that enhances your experience. So read on for all the action in the final mountain stage of this very gripping Vuelta a España.

Vuelta a España Stage 18 – Salas to Alto del Gamoniteiro

As I join the action, one of the announcers, Anthony, is talking about the Church of San Pedro. He’s saying something about its nave. This is where having two announcers can be so powerful: the co-announcer, Hannah, should say here, “You seem to know a lot about churches … perhaps you could explain to me something I’ve always wondered about, which is: does the nave truly extend from the transepts to the chancel? I always thought it did but my mother insisted that that’s only true for the basilica-type buildings.” Then Anthony would have to admit that, though he did a great job of sounding conversational just now, he was reading right off the prompt sheet and actually has no idea what a nave is. Unfortunately, Hannah is as wary of being discovered a fraud as he is, so she just nods knowingly, which we can’t even hear.

There’s a sprint for points. Two riders from a rather large breakaway contest it. Wow, nobody else wants it but these guys are really throwing down. I’m reminded the two drunks at a wedding who actually try their damnedest to catch the bride’s thrown garter, while the rest of the guys kind of recede to the back of the room. Will these two feel embarrassed later?

Looks like Jens Keukeleire (EF Education-Nippo) took the points over Stan Dewulf (AG2R Citroën Team).

The riders are starting the second big climb of the day, the Category 1 Alto de la Cobertoria. I don’t know who all is in this breakaway, but presumably no GC hopefuls since nobody is chasing very hard.

I don’t know how this is a Cat 1 climb. It’s neither long nor steep that I can see. Easy for me to say, of course. Now, as cold as it looks in these photos, Hannah is saying it’s 20 degrees out. Celsius, of course, which like all metric units is useless. I absolutely hate it when somebody gives me the temperature in Celsius. Oh geez, I always think, now I have to do that cumbersome conversion. It’s barely worth it, but fine, here you go: it’s 68 degrees. Why did I even compute that? It’s not that hot, I don’t care if it’s 85% humidity.

A rider attacks from the breakaway: it’s Michael Storer (Team DSM), who has won two stages of this Vuelta already.

He’s looking for KOM points (having taken the last climb already). And look, he’s got them!

As the break begins the descent I’ll fill you in on what’s happened in this race since my Stage 14 report. In Stage 15, Rafal Majka (UAE Team Emirates) soloed but the GC didn’t change. Stage 16 was a flat(-ish) sprinters’ stage, and for the third time in this Vuelta Fabio Jakobsen (Deceuninck-QuickStep) won handily (making the announcers look silly because all they could talk about in the run-up to the sprint was Arnaud Démare, widely considered a top contender for these flat stages but for no good reason because he sucks and finished 16th). And then yesterday, well, that was an amazing stage. I’ll tell you all about it in a minute.

The peloton is over the summit. Anthony is talking about how difficult the rest of this race will be, especially given “how cold it is.” You see how confused people get when they have to use Celsius? (Or does he just like to contradict his co-commentator?)

Anthony would tell you this rider, Damiano Caruso (Bahrain-Victorious) is getting ready to stuff newspaper into his jersey for warmth during the descent. Good guess, but it’s actually not accurate. Caruso is such a good descender, he sometimes gets bored and likes to sit up and leaf through the paper.

Storer wasn’t just looking for KOM points but looks to have ambitions for the stage. He’s descending aggressively and now has over a minute. Meanwhile, he’s now the virtual KOM over his teammate Romain Bardet, winner of Stage 14.

As Storer rounds a curve, Anthony-the-commentator does this thing where, in an earnest attempt to not dominate the mic and talk over Hannah (which he still does whenever things heat up), he asks her a question that of course he knows the answer to, as if throwing her a bone. “Hannah, why is Storer hanging his leg out like that?” he asks. Hannah, perceiving his condescending tone, snarls back, “He’s sticking his leg out like a dog pissing, marking his territory as is typical of all males of every species.” Anthony gently corrects her, mansplaining that Storer is actually doing this in lieu of braking, hanging his knee out there like a sail to catch the wind. This is of course completely untrue. In fact Storer is airing out his balls, which Anthony needs to go do privately now, and I hope he doesn’t come back until he’s cooled off a bit.

Returning to my recap, Stage 17 was epic. It was raining on and off all day, and the riders went twice over a Cat 1 climb and finished on an HC. The race leader, Odd Christian Eiking (Intermarché-Wanty-Gobert Matériaux), went out the back pretty early, weighed down by all the ink in his jersey required to spell out his team’s name. Egan Bernal (Ineos Grenadiers) totally attacked on the penultimate climb, dusting everybody except race favorite Primoz Roglic (Team Jumbo-Visma) who latched right on. Bernal led all the way over the climb. They had a minute lead at the summit, which they doubled on the gnarly, wet descent where Roglic started taking turns at the front. Eiking totally stacked and though he got back up, he went on to lose lots of time and also his red jersey. On the final climb, Roglic rode away from Bernal and soloed to a stage win and the GC lead. Bernal was caught by the GC group, which had sawed off Guillaume Martin (Cofidis), who lost several minutes and slipped from second to fifth overall, 4:16 behind Roglic. With lots of help from his supercharged Bahrain-Victorious teammates, Jack Haig moved up to fourth on GC, 3:46 behind, and Miguel Angel “Superman” Lopez (Movistar Team) moved up to third, 3:11 down. His teammate Enric Mas now sits second, 2:22 behind Roglic.

The peloton reaches a little town and Movistar sets the tempo. This is the first time I’ve seen them at the front; just like yesterday, mostly it’s been Bahrain-Victorius, riding as though they owned the GC.

Now Anthony is explaining how the riders don’t lose any weight during a stage race like this due to their “nutrition.” He’s not telling the whole story. In the olden days, riders did lose weight … you would see, for example, that Greg LeMond looked husky and robust at the beginning of the Tour and gaunt and haggard by the end. But these modern riders get blood bags, which weigh over a pound apiece. (Do all riders get them? Well, I’d hate to go that far, but a lot of them must, based on the average speed of these mountain stages. Yesterday it was 24.6 mph, despite a net elevation gain of 3,600 feet. Unreal.)

Storer pushes on, extending his lead over the giant breakaway. He’s got over two minutes, as the rest of the break loses time to the GC group.

Finishing up my recap, there was one other cool thing about Stage 17: Roglic’s super-domestique Sepp Kuss was able to just sit in and chill in the chase group, and at the finish he launched a tremendous sprint to take second on the stage. Over the last fifty meters or so, he had this huge grin on his face. NOOICE!

As Storer approaches the penultimate climb with 30 kilometers to go, the GC group has almost caught the breakaway. At the back of the group, Aleksandr Vlasov (Astana-Premier Tech) suffers to hang on. I’m actually surprised to see Vlasov at all … he had a gnarly crash on a descent yesterday and looked really bad, lying in the road while other crashed riders were still getting up. I see now he lost 35 minutes … such a pity, as he was having a good Vuelta, having started Stage 17 in 11th on GC.

Now the peloton is all back together, other than Storer who still has 2:10. And now Fabio Aru (Team Qhubeka Nexthash) attacks. He hasn’t had any big results in years and will retire at the end of the season, so this is one of his last chances to show the world he’s not totally washed up.

I was trying to figure out who that DSM guy is with Aru, but never mind … they’ve both already been caught. So much for that.

My online correspondent, a former American pro, says, “Give it to me straight … do you think I could hang with the lead group?” I reply, “Hell yeah, so long as you were riding for Ineos or TBV!” As I mentioned to my daughter on the phone last night, I’ve decided I loathe Team Bahrain-Victorious even more than the Ineos Grenadiers. My daughter replied, “That’s an amazing turnaround, almost like when you decided Little Star is actually even better than Zach’s!” She’s right, as I’ve hated Ineos since the Sky days. But they’re just so hapless lately … bagging on them is like teasing a very small child. Ineos’ top rider now is Bernal, whose big move yesterday came to nothing unless you count propelling Roglic into red; Bernal is still only in sixth. Bahrain-Victorius, meanwhile, has been ascendant with their shocking out-of-nowhere performances in the Criterium du Dauphiné and the Giro d’Italia. And Bahrain’s Vuelta leader, Haig, is really boring … he never attacks, he just sits on his teammates’ wheels and hopes other riders falter. He’s somehow managed to climb up to fourth overall without having taken a single bit of initiative.

With 2.6 km left in this climb, Storer still has 2:20 over the peloton.

In the GC group Mikel Bizkarra (Euskaltel-Euskadi) attacks and Bardet bridges across with him, surely looking to minimize his losses in the KOM competition.

Bardet takes the front. I gather he wants to keep that strange blue-and-white-spotted-cow jersey by chasing down Storer and beating him to the finish. That would be very selfish, of course, because Bardet and Storer are teammates. For Bardet to suck Bizkarra’s wheel would be fine, or to attack him … but dragging him up? Madness.

Storer is over the summit and makes his way down the final descent toward that brutal finishing climb, the Alto del Gamoniteiro. Maybe I have time for a quick bio break … wish me luck!

Okay, I’m back and Bardet has dutifully dropped Bizkarra.

As the peloton reaches the final climb, Movistar takes the front, setting up Mas. Man, look at the profile of this beast!

Bardet is either nibbling his nipple or talking on his race radio. I will assume the latter. Now he looks over his shoulder, and sits up. Ooh, he looks pissed. He’s probably just gotten orders to stop chasing Storer.

With just over 12 km to go, Storer still has 2:22. That could evaporate if Mas or Bernal launches a huge attack. Speaking of not looking too happy, look at Mas’s teammate setting tempo. Looks a little grumpy. Kind of a little eye-roll here too, like he’s thinking, “Sure, I’ll just keep the pace high and then Mas will destroy Roglic and take the red jersey. Yeah, right.”

Some AG2R guy attacks. I really don’t like his BMC bike. I know that clean, cable-free style is more aerodynamic and everything, but it’s a bad look. Brings to mind a pogo stick or something.

The attacker is Geoffrey Bouchard, AG2R’s leader, who has had a lousy Vuelta, sitting all the way down in 17th. This doomed attack won’t do much to burnish his image. He seems to be riding well but he looks kind of depressed. He’s thinking, “How did I choose such a difficult career? I could be working at some marketing agency, tinkering with words all afternoon and then leaving early.”

David de la Cruz (UAE Team Emirates) bridges across to Bouchard.

De la Cruz takes the front and immediately their gap increases hugely.

Wow, Storer’s lead is coming down fast as de la Cruz hammers the pace. Am I supposed to capitalize “De”? It’s a preposition, which suggests not. But it’s also the beginning of a proper noun. I hope this guy gets caught so I don’t have to worry about this anymore. But only if he’s caught by somebody cool, with an easy name.

Bouchard detonates and slinks back to the GC group with his tail between his legs.

Man, de la Cruz really looks miserable! I think I hurt his feelings making fun of his name! Now I feel bad. I’ll capitalize De from now on. Hell, I’ll even capitalize La.

De La Cruz has taken a minute out of the GC group. It’s being paced by Bahrain-Victorious who still have four riders here.

It’s a freaking long climb, averaging almost 10%. Still 8 km to go as Storer starts to fade. I can’t see him finishing with the leaders … I think he’ll be caught and shat out the back.

Storer waits for De La Cruz, looking back as if to say, “Dude, are you coming? We need to work together breaking the wind on this 10% grade.”

De La Cruz latches on, pulls for a while, and now looks back at Storer as if to say, “Planning on taking any pulls here, Chief?” Storer shakes his head as if to say, “No, man, I’m too fried. Also, don’t call me Chief.”

Back in the group, Bardet doesn’t look too good. He’s just hanging on the back. Perhaps he’s sulking.

The gap is coming down as some Intermarché-Wanty-Gobert Matériaux rider, I think it’s Jan Hirt, works to set up his leader, Louis Meintjes, who sits 12th on GC. Look at Hirt climbing in the drops, like a boss.

De La Cruz sheds Storer and now his lead starts to increase.

Bernal attacks! Roglic instantly responds! Bernal is wearing his standard poker face, which always strikes me as slightly nonplussed and adenoidal.

And now Bardet is going out the back!

Only a few riders can go with Bernal! It’s Roglic, Mas, Lopez, and Kuss.

Kuss takes the front to keep the pace steady for Roglic.

Superman seizes his opportunity to attack!

Wow, he’s instantly got a huge gap, disappearing into the mist like one of those gorillas! And the gap to De La Cruz drops quickly!

De La Cruz looks more miserable than ever, even though he’s being cheered by a ‘70s-era rock-and-roll fan!

And now Lopez can see the front of the race! He’ll catch De La Cruz very soon!

Lopez catches De La Cruz and goes straight past him!

In the GC group, Adam Yates (Ineos Granadiers) goes out the back. He’s not having any fun. He’s ashamed of his neck, which is weird in a man.

In the GC group Kuss continues to set the tempo. (Kuss looks a lot like my nephew John … click here and check it out.) Mas, behind him, has a band-aid on his nose. Apparently he cut himself shaving this morning … but who shaves his nose? It’s mind-boggling.

Now Roglic attacks! He doesn’t like Superman taking much time! So far only Mas and Bernal can follow!

Now Bernal attacks again! Roglic is again right on him, as is Mas.

Bernal accelerates yet again! Roglic and even Mas seem to have no trouble staying with him, though. Mas is even kind of smiling a bit, as if to say, “Hey, guys, this is really fun!”

Roglic counters, and Mas is still there, still kind of smiling! His sprit animal is the golden retriever!

Lopez isn’t growing his lead much, but with less than a kilometer left he’s looking really good for the stage win.

The mist is getting ever thicker, making the spectators wonder why they bothered to hike for six hours to get here! And yet Superman is still rocking his sunglasses! What, does this guy use echolocation?

And Lopez has the win! It’s impressive he could even find the finish line!

He chooses the “punch the air” victory salute, probably because he’s not going fast enough on this 17% grade to take both hands off the bars. Plus, he needs to be near the brakes, because who knows what spectator, staffer, dog, or even pangolin could be wandering across the road through the mist?

A little ways back, Roglic has attacked the shit out of Mas and Bernal! He’ll take a few more seconds plus the second place time bonus.

Bahrain-Victorious drills it to try to limit Haig’s losses to Bernal. You can see De La Cruz tucked in there, admirably maintaining his composure after failing to solo.

Somehow I missed it, but Bernal and Mas obviously finished … not sure yet what order. And now Haig comes across to take fifth, followed by De La Cruz in sixth. How do I know it’s Haig, given all the mist? Just a guess … surely this team leader would do something other than sitting on his teammate’s wheels all day long. He needs to remind them that he’s the man.

Some 12 seconds later, much of the rest of the lead group comes over. Wow, this is interesting: Meintjes and Kuss are getting pushed across the line by staffers! Is that even allowed?! Probably these staffers just figure they won’t get caught, due to the poor visibility. Can you imagine if this became standard? It’s all well and good on a mountaintop finish, but imagine if these guys were running along at 45 mph during a field sprint, huffing and puffing through their COVID masks and then being totally in the way when they stop pushing. (I for one am all for such an innovation.)

Kuss doesn’t look nearly as happy at the finish line today as he did yesterday … and yet, even if he lost a bit of time, others have lost more. Kuss will leapfrog Martin on the GC, for example.

Now they’re interviewing Lopez:

INTERVIEWER: A-yo, what it do, Big Mig?

LOPEZ: This is a very meaningful victory for me, my first in the Vuelta in two years.

INTERVIEWER: Bruh, you be straight wylin’. You aint won a Vuelta stage since 2017.

LOPEZ: Actually, my Astana team won the team time trial here in 2019. How come nobody remembers TTTs?

INTERVIEWER: Speakin’ of crews, Movistar is rollin’ deep for reals this year.

LOPEZ: Yes, I’d really like to thank my teammates for making this win possible, along with my sports director, the team mechanics, our sponsors, and all our families for supporting us in our careers. I am grateful to Rosalinda Tejada, our team chef, whose nourishing meals both fuel and comfort all the riders. I’d also like to thank my soigneur, Amanda Bates, who not only soothes my tired muscles but is something of a guru to me. And I’d like to give a shout-out to all the unnamed riders in the peloton who gave me my nickname, Superman, which pushes me to achieve great things so that this lofty moniker doesn’t become embarrassing to me. And I’d like to thank Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, who originally created the Superman character, and DC Comics for making this classic archetype of the heroic figure into something recognized globally.

INTERVIEWER: Word up.

Here’s today’s stage result.

And here’s the new GC. Bernal, Yates, and Kuss all moved up a spot, Martin dropped from fifth to ninth, Gino Mäder (Bahrain-Victorious) moved up from tenth to eighth, and Meintjes jumped from twelfth to tenth.

Now they’re interviewing Roglic.

INTERVIEWER: You seem to be in good spirits, despite your loss today.

ROGLIC: Um, well, yeah, maybe I didn’t take the stage, but I further padded my GC lead. I wouldn’t exactly call it a loss.

INTERVIEWER: I’m talking about your sunglasses. Do you even realize you lost them?

ROGLIC: What are you talking about, they’re right here on my head!

INTERVIEWER: That’s a replacement pair, obviously. Once again, we have to replace them because you can’t be bothered to keep track of your gear. You’re just totally spaced out, carrying on like you don’t have a care in the world. Your mother and I have worked very hard to buy you nice things and look what you do with them.

ROGLIC: I don’t think I even had them at the start. It’s been foggy all day.

INTERVIEWER: Look at you! Hat on crooked, sunglasses askew … you’re a disgrace. You know why you keep losing your sunglasses? It’s because you just stick only the very tips of the temples into your helmet vents. Those sunglasses are practically asking to fall out. Why do you think your jersey has pockets?

ROGLIC: Leave me alone, Dad! I’m leading the Vuelta a España! I don’t have to take this from you!

INTERVIEWER: Oh, Mr. High & Mighty with his flashy red jersey. There’s more to life than sports, you know…

Well, I guess we can see where Roglic gets his drive … must have been a difficult childhood. By the way, I didn’t make all of that up. Lopez really did thank his team, mechanics, and sponsors.

Well, that’s probably about it for this year’s Vuelta. Tomorrow has a few climbs but they’re early in the stage, so it’ll probably be a breakaway of nobodies. Saturday has five categorized climbs, finishing on a Cat 2, but I don’t see Mas or Lopez taking 2:30 out of Roglic and even if they somehow did, Sunday’s final stage is a 34 kilometer time trial which surely favors the Slovenian. As my brother Max likes to say, it’s all over but the cryin’.

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