Astana Politics

Cross-posted from Facebook. When the hell did I become an essayist?



So Heather asked me a good question this morning, and I'm finally getting around to answering it as best I can. And of course, knowing me, there's not enough space to do so except in a note. So.

Heather Johnson: Please explain (you are the one that would know!): I've been following bits and pieces of the Tour. If Armstrong isn't the team lead and I know cycling places so much emphasis on the team perspective, what happened that he got the lead over his teammate, and why are they saying it's now a battle between him and his teammate? Wouldn't that cause considerable friction in the team? As much as I love Armstrong doesn't this just prove to the French that he can't take a backseat on anything and reaffirming that he is "pompous"? I'm confused.




Okay, this isn't a simple answer. Well, maybe it is. Lemme 'splain.

The press chatter about the "battle" between Contador and Armstrong's been going on since the second Armstrong announced he was coming out of retirement. It's not at all new. Armstrong would never go to any team but that which was being directed by his longtime friend and staunchest supporter, Johan Bruyneel. But Bruyneel had moved on after the collapse of the Discovery team to build Astana, to which he'd signed, among other current and rising cycling stars, the winner of the '08 Tour de France, Alberto Contador. So immediately, there was the question of who would be team leader: the guy who won the Tour seven times, or the guy who won it most recently.

Contador was, understandably, pretty miffed. He'd hoped-- like so many riders and spectators-- that once the dominating figure of Armstrong was out of the picture, other riders could show what they could do and make their own stars shine that much brighter. Early on in the season, and even during the Tour, he made a few inadvisable comments that, while understandable, showed how unhappy he was to be eclipsed, and were thus fairly unprofessional. No matter what goes on in the team meetings, never let your competitors see ANYTHING but a unified team front. Division in a team makes that team weak, and cycling is a brutal, unforgiving sport.

Everyone else on the team has been smart enough to hold to the party line, which not only shows unity, but has the added advantage of being true: whoever is the stronger rider will be revealed as the race progresses, and no matter who's on top at ay given stage, they're still a team with unbelievable power and breadth, not one but two past Tour winners, and perhaps three potential future winners, including Levi Leipheimer. As a team, no one can beat them-- that's what they all need to remember. It's the truth, and it shuts down the drama. Honestly, a team leader is appointed on the first day, or if there's one obvious star. But anything can happen on the road: circumstances change, and the team rides in support of whomever is strongest, smartest, and can get the best time. At present, in fact, Astana is officially riding in support of all three of their top men, any of whom could have a great day and seize the lead. That's just how it goes. Any rider can start as the favourite, and find himself a lieutenant if a teammate's legs prove stronger. Lance rode very well in the Giro d'Italia a few weeks ago, and showed he was riding into his top form. Everyone knew it. Including Contador. It's no surprise to anyone that he's currently strongest man on the team, no matter what the press may insinuate.

Also, though this might be something Contador doesn't really seem to want to admit (it's hard to see through the haze of sensationalism), Armstrong is eleven years older, much wiser, and will probably be part-owner of the team one day soon. Contador is a superstar, but possibly could still use an occasional pointer. The break in Stage Three wasn't a fluke: the Mistral blew the peloton into pieces, and Contador was stuck on the wrong side of that break. Armstrong knew how to read the wind, and grabbed the number three spot in the race. He knows these things. As he himself remarked, perhaps some people might be willing to finally admit he knew what he was doing. And sure enough, Contador spent the next few stages all but umbilically attached to the older rider.

As for the French, they are notoriously...well, French. Lance is exactly the type of personality they love to hate: cool, logical, determined, unsentimental, almost invincible, and American. The French are fanatical about their race and its history and traditions, its pomp and circumstance, and to them, Armstrong's just too businesslike about their beloved national obsession. Although, to be fair, they've warmed to him considerably since his early years-- helped, undoubtably, by Lance's learning French and working harder to court the French press. There are still, however, entirely too many people there who loathe him, and, unfortunately, a lot of them work in the Tour's infrastructure and French press. It sounds like a conspiracy theory to out-of-hand dismiss all the "scandalous doping revelations!" the French newspapers throw at him constantly, but sadly, some people just hate him that thoroughly. (This, by the way, is why I still think Floyd Landis got screwed.)

Also, scandal and conflict sell ad space. Newspapers, websites, and television commentators all know this, and it's in their best interests to play up internal strife that may or may not exist to the extent they say it does, without pointing out that these are grown men who know the realities of a giant, grueling game of moveable chess. Contador may bitch, but he's a smart guy, and in the end, he'll do whatever it takes to put his team on top, even if it means riding in support of someone else. And so will Lance.

Does that help?

Stage 06: Gérone to Barcelone (181.5km)

It was inevitable that someone was going to make the joke: today, the rain in Spain did not stay on the plain.

Well, we've done wind, we've done heat, now today we have rain. Up, down, up, down we go through the lesser mountains of Spain, passing by what is, more or less, the epicenter of second homes for cyclists. Many of the men in the peloton today conducted their ubiquitous interviews with their kids in their arms and their wives and/or girlfriends at their sides, after having spent the night in their own homes, in their own beds.

It's been a fairly exciting stage, if only because there's always a slightly sick thrill at watching these men speeding down mountains in the rain. Sure enough, it looks at first like several riders were taken out in a roundabout by an all-too-common hazard: white road paint. Though closer examination shows it may have just been a moment's misjudgment and not that paint, next time you cross the street, take a look at the stuff, glistening in the rain. It looks pretty innocuous, right? Now imagine hitting it at speed with a total of perhaps six square centimeters of rubber and nothing else. While it's wet. With 169 or so of your best buddies all around you. Yeah, good luck with that.

Mick Rogers of Columbia and Tyler Farrar of Garmin-- two highly-rated stars of the Tour-- are looking very, very much the worse for wear. Rogers, especially, looks utterly broken. A tenth of what he's probably feeling would put me in bed for a month. These guys? These guys hobble back to their bikes, carefully swing a leg over, and keep going. Whether they can do it again after a night's stiffening "rest" is another matter entirely. And this, of course, if nothing's broken, torn, or otherwise unfixable. (CyclingNew.com reports that Rogers will indeed start tomorrow. I just hope he can finish! But these men are made of stronger stuff than most.)

We're less than eight miles from the finish now, in damp, overcast Barcelona, and coming into a turn, it even happens again. Surprisingly, though, this time, it happens at the front of the peloton, while they're chasing two groups up ahead. Well, one group, and one solo rider. That solo rider is Garmin's Brit, David Millar. 29km from the end, he's holding off the whole peloton single-handedly, and it's amazing to watch. For a while, back there in the rain, he was even the race leader. That's some serious heart.

Crap! 6.7km to the end, and ANOTHER curve takes out ANOTHER group-- including Belgian National Champion and ass-kicking sprinter Tom Boonen-- one of my favourite riders. He landed full-length on the street, and worryingly, didn't get up too fast. Eventually, he limped to his bike, and was off. But he's NOT looking happy.

The crowd is unbelievably loud, five and six deep solidly, screaming, mile after mile through the city. They may not have the slightest idea who the hell this lonely rider is, but they're behind him. It's impossible to watch him go past, here at the end of grueling hours in the saddle, and not cheer your brains out for him.

Another broad turn, and oh, my G-d, this is a beautiful city, shown to perfection even in the grey light. (It's the Catalonia Art Museum-- you have to go look it up. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Museu_Nacional_d%27Art_de_Catalunya) Go David, GO!

But no. Dammit.

Less than 2km from the end. Astana, who have been pushing the pace and staying safely at the front for hours now, lead the pack that swallows him up whole. The entire race is back together, now, as the course climbs uphill towards the finish, each team pushing, pushing, leadout men testing each other, pounding to the line-- and coming up like a train, it's The God of Thunder, Norwegian rider Thor Hushovd of Cervélo, his white kit grey with rain and dirt, throwing his arms up in the traditional, instinctive victory dance of a stage sprint winner. Spain's Oscar Freire is inches behind.

The race leaders arrive safely in the pack, which means that they all retain the same times. Cancellara keeps yellow.

I know I always say, "Hey! Tomorrow's gonna be great!" And I admit, I'm biased. I like almost every stage. But this time, it's the riders themselves who are saying tomorrow should be...interesting. Tomorrow, we hit the real mountains, up to a finish on a mountain rated "Hors Catégorie," or "Beyond Classification." Cancellara himself admits straight-up that he's not the best in the mountains, and will more than likely lose the Maillot Jaune. He's fairly laid-back about it, though. He's had a good run, and is by no means out of the running for the Tour as a whole. And it's early days, yet, which means everyone's still comparatively close on time. Strange things happen in the mountains. Desperate, fabulous, scary, exciting, crazy things. A guy who's three minutes back in the GC and dozens of spots down can catch a break, be at the right place at the right time, and grab the lead out of nowhere. A tour leader can be in the wrong place at the wrong time, or fall, or get caught behind a crash. Worse, he can bonk-- he's forgotten to eat or drink enough, and uses up all his energy, going from 60 to zero in a few agonizing miles. It's horrible to watch. All the other riders, pedalling smoothly, pass this one poor SOB as if he's standing still, but he's sawing back and forth on the bike, dragging himself up the mountain by sheer force of will because it's either that or give up, crawl into the back of the team car, and die.

So yeah. Like I always say, tomorrow's gonna be great.