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Stage Three (99 miles, 159.5km) Anvers to Huy
Third verse, same as the second.
Here we are on the road again, and once more, we have four men off the front. This has made the rest of the pack a bit edgy, and I have to tell you, there are certain things you don’t want to be around when they’re nervous: horses, teenagers, and the Tour de France peloton in the first week. Riders are full of energy, jockeying for position, and edgy as hell. And when there’s someone out front on a clear, dry day, the need to catch them is primal. That leads to speed, and that, combined with the aforementioned nerves, leads to—
And oh, man! there’s a HORRIBLE crash 36 miles from the finish— no TWO! The first one is just skidding piles of bodies and bikes— bikes literally flying through the air!— and when it starts to unravel, right there in the middle is the Maillor Jaune— Fabian Cancellara is waving his hand in front of his face and—-
I have never, ever seen this before. They are stopping the race. Christian Prudhomme is up out of the official’s car, everyone is sitting up and coasting. The race is neutralised. They keep moving, but there is no racing.
It’s only a few minutes, and they release the race again. Team Sky goes to the front, but everyone else is going to have to reorganise.
No— they’re stopping again! Oh, my G-d, this is insane.
Tom Dumoulain, Best New Rider, has abandoned. One other rider was by the side of the road, flat on his back, covered in blood. There’s no tally as yet of who else has abandoned. The entire peloton has come to a complete stop in narrow Belgian town streets. The officials’ cars are there, with the peloton in a crowd around them, standing up, drinking from their water bottles, looking grim. Simon Gerrans has abandoned. Fabian Cancellara is on his way back in. I have no idea what has happened.
They are announcing they’re starting again, but will end the race at the beginning of the climb up Huy. And no, they’ve stopped again. Cancellara has caught up, but he’s talking to his team managers.
Another complete stop, hoping to allow any riders left behind to catch up. The current tally is three riders sent to hospital. This is horrible. Just horrible. The race will continue to the original finish line in Huy, but is still neutralized for now.
The race has begin to move again, cautiously, but there are entirely too many shredded jerseys and pale, bloodied bodies. The King of the Mountain competition has been eliminated for the day— no, up to this point in the day. Laurens Ten Dam is reported to have dislocated his shoulder, had it put back in (while writhing in pain), and rejoined the race. An FdJ rider— the one laid on by the side of the road— has gone off on a gurney. Simon Gerrans is likely to have a broken arm or wrist. Tom Dumoulain is also thought to have a dislocated shoulder— he’s in the team car, and will see a doctor at the finish line. Fabian Cancellara, who had severe back problems this year, has been spotted holding his back and grimacing. Reports of the second crash are sketchy, because no cameras were present. The medical team was also taken with the first crash and unavailable for the second, which is another very good reason to truncate the race. No medics, no mechanics. Neutralizing it was the right thing to do.
The official’s car has moved out of the way at the top of the climb up the Cote du Huys, and the race has been restarted after 18 minutes of neutralization, 50 miles from the end. The road is narrow, the riders are bloodied.
William Bonnet— that bloodied FdJ rider— is shown to have been the rider who touched wheels back at the first crash. At 30-35mph, it is a disastrous domino effect, even worse because of the damned lamppost into which the entire mass of cartwheeling bodies flew. He is, of course, out of the race. A Katusha rider, Dmitry Kozontchuk, has abandoned. Simon Gerrans is reported now to have a fractured wrist. This is dreadful.
The race has begun again now on the comparative flats, and the peloton is in tatters, splayed in chunks down the road. The sun is out, and the fields are golden and bright, and the remaining riders are dirty, bloody, and determined. Through another town, and we’re suddenly at a sprint point! And again, it’s Andre Greipel! He’s definitely gunning for the Green Jersey this year. 75 points so far.
Update on William Bonnet: “Head trauma without loss of consciousness, cervical trauma without neurological effects.” I hope he’ll be okay. What a terrible way to finish your season. Well…possibly finish your season. These guys are so tough it’s literally unbelievable. Maybe he’ll try for the Vuelta. Who knows?
20km to the end, and the teams have reorganised. Pushing at 60kmph. Fabian Cancellara is obviously in terrible pain, but hanging on to the back of the peloton. They have yet to get to the final climb— the Mer du Huy, which is a 25% gradient, and I am just dreading what it’s going to look like. I’m glad the riders who are able to continue are still going: not just because I despise seeing someone forced to abandon, but because keeping their bodies moving now may lessen the stiffness and pain they will, overwhelmingly, feel tomorrow.
The sprinters have fallen off the back as we start the climbs leading up to the final climb. I am reminded that tomorrow’s stage covers the route used in another race: Flèche Wallonne, a Classic which is charmingly called The Hell of the North. Why? Cobblesones. Fucking cobblestones. These battered and bloodied men will, tomorrow, race over cobblestones. I’m nauseated just thinking about it.
Sky is pushing the pace now, up at the front, protecting and shepherding Chris Froome. There’s a shot of Dennis Rohan, the first day’s winner, looking comparatively cheerful. But there are plenty of sharp curves, turns, and bends to keep the guys busy. Richie Porte of Sky is not screwing around. Tinkoff is coming to the front for Contador. Quickstep is surrounding Michal Kwiatkowski, World Champion and their GC man. Today, though, they could be looking to put Tony Martin— second place— in Yellow! (If Mark Cavendish hadn’t bloody well sat up a quarter length from the end yesterday and had beaten Cancellara to third, he’d already have it. Martin was utterly crushed, and I can’t blame him.)
1km to the start of the penultimate climb. Cancellara is now 4 minutes back, and will be out of Yellow no mater what. They’re over the top of the climb, on the descent now. A fast descent through towns— not pleasing to watch today. All the big names are in the front, though, and they’re being, well, comparatively careful. Tinkoff-Saxo looks like today’s the day they want to make their move for Contador. Well— hell, one rider has gone straight into the trees at the bottom of a curve. Not a hard crash— looks like he may not have even fallen over. Back to the road, back to the race.
3km to the end. Alejandro Valverde is in the front. Geraint Thomas (after whom I named a character: your trivia for the day) is there, too. Chris Froom. Nairo Quintana. They’re all bracing for the climb, lining up to start. Under the 1km banner! Katusha is at the front, but Contador is pushing, with Peter Sagan behind him! Froome is there with Contador tucked in behind him, and the steepest part of the climb about to come.
The road narrows, the riders are bobbing and pushing— Froome is at the front, grinding away! It’s 450m to the end! Has he gone too early? Yes! Joaquin Rodriguez of Katusha is in front with Tony Gallopin behind him and Froome behind him! Froome moves to second— can he pass the former winner of Flèche Wallonne? No! Rodriguez wins! Froome right behind him! Tejay Van Garderen is in third!
The rest of the field is staggering in slowly. They’re anywhere up to ten minutes or more down, but by G-d, they’re going to finish. Fabian Cancellara is there, which, considering the pain written across his entire body, is a miracle. But probably the most heartbreaking story of this particular finish is again Tony Martin— he is ONE SECOND out of yellow today. ONE. He’d better get that damned jersey at one point in this race or I will strangle my beloved Mark Cavendish myself.
11.42 behind in the end for Cancellara. Oh, G-d. Can he come back from that? I seriously doubt it, but then again, he IS a good climber. And, of course, it’ll depend on how the next few days affect his body. He’s not in his 20s any more.
So that’s one for the books, now. I’ve seen bigger crashes, but I’ve never seen crashes screw up a race more. I fully understand the reason they stopped the race for eighteen minutes: one massive crash takes all the medical staff and ambulances out of commission. With another crash right on top of it, there was absolutely no one there to help the second set of injured riders. While some folks are going to debate the decision over and over, I think those eighteen minutes were the very, very least they could have done. Astana rider Jacob Fuglsang, interviewed post-stage, even posits the entire stage could have been neutralized, and it wouldn’t have been the worst thing. I agree.
Chris Froome is getting his moment in the sun, presented with the Maillot Jaune, while the last riders are still staggering in. The next few days, as muscles lock up and injuries get louder, will strip the field down further, especially after going through the tumbler of The Hell of the North tomorrow. Sadly, I’m sure I’ll be reading about abandonments through the afternoon. Such is the Tour.
Also: Geraint Thomas calls his team captain “Froomie.” And now you know.
Third verse, same as the second.
Here we are on the road again, and once more, we have four men off the front. This has made the rest of the pack a bit edgy, and I have to tell you, there are certain things you don’t want to be around when they’re nervous: horses, teenagers, and the Tour de France peloton in the first week. Riders are full of energy, jockeying for position, and edgy as hell. And when there’s someone out front on a clear, dry day, the need to catch them is primal. That leads to speed, and that, combined with the aforementioned nerves, leads to—
And oh, man! there’s a HORRIBLE crash 36 miles from the finish— no TWO! The first one is just skidding piles of bodies and bikes— bikes literally flying through the air!— and when it starts to unravel, right there in the middle is the Maillor Jaune— Fabian Cancellara is waving his hand in front of his face and—-
I have never, ever seen this before. They are stopping the race. Christian Prudhomme is up out of the official’s car, everyone is sitting up and coasting. The race is neutralised. They keep moving, but there is no racing.
It’s only a few minutes, and they release the race again. Team Sky goes to the front, but everyone else is going to have to reorganise.
No— they’re stopping again! Oh, my G-d, this is insane.
Tom Dumoulain, Best New Rider, has abandoned. One other rider was by the side of the road, flat on his back, covered in blood. There’s no tally as yet of who else has abandoned. The entire peloton has come to a complete stop in narrow Belgian town streets. The officials’ cars are there, with the peloton in a crowd around them, standing up, drinking from their water bottles, looking grim. Simon Gerrans has abandoned. Fabian Cancellara is on his way back in. I have no idea what has happened.
They are announcing they’re starting again, but will end the race at the beginning of the climb up Huy. And no, they’ve stopped again. Cancellara has caught up, but he’s talking to his team managers.
Another complete stop, hoping to allow any riders left behind to catch up. The current tally is three riders sent to hospital. This is horrible. Just horrible. The race will continue to the original finish line in Huy, but is still neutralized for now.
The race has begin to move again, cautiously, but there are entirely too many shredded jerseys and pale, bloodied bodies. The King of the Mountain competition has been eliminated for the day— no, up to this point in the day. Laurens Ten Dam is reported to have dislocated his shoulder, had it put back in (while writhing in pain), and rejoined the race. An FdJ rider— the one laid on by the side of the road— has gone off on a gurney. Simon Gerrans is likely to have a broken arm or wrist. Tom Dumoulain is also thought to have a dislocated shoulder— he’s in the team car, and will see a doctor at the finish line. Fabian Cancellara, who had severe back problems this year, has been spotted holding his back and grimacing. Reports of the second crash are sketchy, because no cameras were present. The medical team was also taken with the first crash and unavailable for the second, which is another very good reason to truncate the race. No medics, no mechanics. Neutralizing it was the right thing to do.
The official’s car has moved out of the way at the top of the climb up the Cote du Huys, and the race has been restarted after 18 minutes of neutralization, 50 miles from the end. The road is narrow, the riders are bloodied.
William Bonnet— that bloodied FdJ rider— is shown to have been the rider who touched wheels back at the first crash. At 30-35mph, it is a disastrous domino effect, even worse because of the damned lamppost into which the entire mass of cartwheeling bodies flew. He is, of course, out of the race. A Katusha rider, Dmitry Kozontchuk, has abandoned. Simon Gerrans is reported now to have a fractured wrist. This is dreadful.
The race has begun again now on the comparative flats, and the peloton is in tatters, splayed in chunks down the road. The sun is out, and the fields are golden and bright, and the remaining riders are dirty, bloody, and determined. Through another town, and we’re suddenly at a sprint point! And again, it’s Andre Greipel! He’s definitely gunning for the Green Jersey this year. 75 points so far.
Update on William Bonnet: “Head trauma without loss of consciousness, cervical trauma without neurological effects.” I hope he’ll be okay. What a terrible way to finish your season. Well…possibly finish your season. These guys are so tough it’s literally unbelievable. Maybe he’ll try for the Vuelta. Who knows?
20km to the end, and the teams have reorganised. Pushing at 60kmph. Fabian Cancellara is obviously in terrible pain, but hanging on to the back of the peloton. They have yet to get to the final climb— the Mer du Huy, which is a 25% gradient, and I am just dreading what it’s going to look like. I’m glad the riders who are able to continue are still going: not just because I despise seeing someone forced to abandon, but because keeping their bodies moving now may lessen the stiffness and pain they will, overwhelmingly, feel tomorrow.
The sprinters have fallen off the back as we start the climbs leading up to the final climb. I am reminded that tomorrow’s stage covers the route used in another race: Flèche Wallonne, a Classic which is charmingly called The Hell of the North. Why? Cobblesones. Fucking cobblestones. These battered and bloodied men will, tomorrow, race over cobblestones. I’m nauseated just thinking about it.
Sky is pushing the pace now, up at the front, protecting and shepherding Chris Froome. There’s a shot of Dennis Rohan, the first day’s winner, looking comparatively cheerful. But there are plenty of sharp curves, turns, and bends to keep the guys busy. Richie Porte of Sky is not screwing around. Tinkoff is coming to the front for Contador. Quickstep is surrounding Michal Kwiatkowski, World Champion and their GC man. Today, though, they could be looking to put Tony Martin— second place— in Yellow! (If Mark Cavendish hadn’t bloody well sat up a quarter length from the end yesterday and had beaten Cancellara to third, he’d already have it. Martin was utterly crushed, and I can’t blame him.)
1km to the start of the penultimate climb. Cancellara is now 4 minutes back, and will be out of Yellow no mater what. They’re over the top of the climb, on the descent now. A fast descent through towns— not pleasing to watch today. All the big names are in the front, though, and they’re being, well, comparatively careful. Tinkoff-Saxo looks like today’s the day they want to make their move for Contador. Well— hell, one rider has gone straight into the trees at the bottom of a curve. Not a hard crash— looks like he may not have even fallen over. Back to the road, back to the race.
3km to the end. Alejandro Valverde is in the front. Geraint Thomas (after whom I named a character: your trivia for the day) is there, too. Chris Froom. Nairo Quintana. They’re all bracing for the climb, lining up to start. Under the 1km banner! Katusha is at the front, but Contador is pushing, with Peter Sagan behind him! Froome is there with Contador tucked in behind him, and the steepest part of the climb about to come.
The road narrows, the riders are bobbing and pushing— Froome is at the front, grinding away! It’s 450m to the end! Has he gone too early? Yes! Joaquin Rodriguez of Katusha is in front with Tony Gallopin behind him and Froome behind him! Froome moves to second— can he pass the former winner of Flèche Wallonne? No! Rodriguez wins! Froome right behind him! Tejay Van Garderen is in third!
The rest of the field is staggering in slowly. They’re anywhere up to ten minutes or more down, but by G-d, they’re going to finish. Fabian Cancellara is there, which, considering the pain written across his entire body, is a miracle. But probably the most heartbreaking story of this particular finish is again Tony Martin— he is ONE SECOND out of yellow today. ONE. He’d better get that damned jersey at one point in this race or I will strangle my beloved Mark Cavendish myself.
11.42 behind in the end for Cancellara. Oh, G-d. Can he come back from that? I seriously doubt it, but then again, he IS a good climber. And, of course, it’ll depend on how the next few days affect his body. He’s not in his 20s any more.
So that’s one for the books, now. I’ve seen bigger crashes, but I’ve never seen crashes screw up a race more. I fully understand the reason they stopped the race for eighteen minutes: one massive crash takes all the medical staff and ambulances out of commission. With another crash right on top of it, there was absolutely no one there to help the second set of injured riders. While some folks are going to debate the decision over and over, I think those eighteen minutes were the very, very least they could have done. Astana rider Jacob Fuglsang, interviewed post-stage, even posits the entire stage could have been neutralized, and it wouldn’t have been the worst thing. I agree.
Chris Froome is getting his moment in the sun, presented with the Maillot Jaune, while the last riders are still staggering in. The next few days, as muscles lock up and injuries get louder, will strip the field down further, especially after going through the tumbler of The Hell of the North tomorrow. Sadly, I’m sure I’ll be reading about abandonments through the afternoon. Such is the Tour.
Also: Geraint Thomas calls his team captain “Froomie.” And now you know.