My Da is a very wise man.
As I watch stages of this year’s edition of le Tour de France, sadly, his reflections on human nature have never rung more true: “Darlin’, there are dickheads everywhere.”
And so there are: hairy-backed men dressed in mankinis sprinting up HC climbs beside tiny world-class bike riders; morons shaking fists, flags, and other assorted accouterments that endanger the progress of the race and the safety of the whippets; anonymous bloggers and tweeters with no brains, or no valve between their brains and their mouths…
It’s enough to make you think this sport isn’t about the bike riders!!
When Andy Roddick admitted to the word that pro tennis players were just overpaid ‘entertainers’ and needed to understand the implications of that, the rest of the players got nervous.
Shit, what would this mean? They would have to be entertaining? Accountable? That it wasn’t about them? YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS!
It raises the debate that is so pertinent now, as we approach the closing week of the Tour de France: is this about the fans, or the riders?
We saw Brad Wiggins give his 25-words-or-fewer answer (or was that an audition for the next season of Deadwood?) in a brief press conference after stage 7 and understandably, people were a little miffed.
Cyclingnews forum posted an extraordinary retort to Wiggins’ poorly-timed tantrum and it struck a chord with many cycling fans, a demographic which seems to be growing more vocal, passionate, and (dare I say it) unforgiving with every day. Many of the points raised were completely valid, absolutely reasonable expectations for ‘civilians’ at home on the couch, who have followed and adored bike racing for decades.
Aye, there’s the rub. Professional male cyclists aren’t normal civilians. They’re men whose lives have revolved around performance, mileage, power to weight, crashes, injuries, failed contracts, failed seasons, near misses, doping, suspicions, and never-ending disappointments.
Finally, (and probably thanks to the social media backlash), somebody from Team Sky obviously shook some sense into Wiggo and they drafted a very sympathetic, expanded version of his cranky outburst days earlier
Whether you like Wiggins or not, believe him or not, it gives us a window into that life. Most of us can’t imagine the dull, painful drudgery and sacrifice associated with being a career bike rider.
And we certainly can only fantasise about the euphoria and stability that comes with a beautiful team, incredible support staff, seemingly limitless funds at your disposal, kisses from podium girls, thousands of fans screaming your name, your own mattresses in team hotels, your own chef to cook at your beck and call… (I won’t go on, it’s making me want to slap a few skinny-armed osteoporotic men for behaving like churlish teenagers).
But le Tour is the bit where they get to reap rewards. Or be exhausted and dropped on world-wide television. Or win a stage and change their destiny forever.
There are only so many jobs for all these boys after they retire, only so many coaching positions, mulleted DS roles, commentator spots, or male model opportunities they can take advantage of. They know it and we know it.
The rest of the worlds’ civilians keep their jobs, their steady incomes, their partners, children and reputations without getting fatter, less famous and more despondent when they retire.
They keep watching cycling, loving the battles of the personalities, and they keep the sport alive. The ProTour boys need to be reminded of that every once in a while. The reason David Beckham gets paid a kajillion bucks to do the thing he was born doing well? Because his market value says he’s worth it.
For Sky, BMC and Liquigas, their GC men are worth the huge salaries. The whopping dollares they make from advertisements, endorsements, merchandise, back-room deals, and the effing British lottery system.
Wait a sec, and that’s due to customers, audiences, revenue and… FANS!!
Last night I read a great tweet from a die-hard BMC fan, an Aussie who is the perfect example of a passionate, informed, slightly hysterical and completely loyal cycling fan.
This is a clearly a co-dependent relationship, folks. Look it up in the DSM but know this: neither the rabid nor the righteous could exist without the other. But we can do our best to tone down the ‘dickhead’ factor.
I mean, why can’t we all just get along, man?
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