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Stage Seven, Livarot to Fougères , 190.5km, 118m
Tuned in late tonight just in time to see a pretty incredible Go-Pro video I’ve never seen before: a mechanic trying to get his guys back on the road after the horrific crash at the lamppost on the third day. The one that broke Fabian Cancellara’s back? Yeah. That one. It’s insanity for these miracle workers, and they navigate it all in triple-time. This particular guy worked his wonders while rattling off commands, questions, and directions in French, Italian, and English. Wow.
So we’re back in the sunlight (it was noonish in France when this was shot), and out in beautiful fields. Today, we’re changing it up a bit: we have FIVE guys out in front. 189 men, total. One more rider taken out by the aforementioned crash: he’d been riding for three days with a rib broken in two places, and was finally a DNS this morning. These guys scare the hell out of me.
The peloton is picking up the pace a bit— 40kmph— and stringing out down the long, not-entirely-flat, gently curving lanes. It’s a gorgeous visual: riders evenly spaced against the green fields. But it means they’re beginning to put the screws to the front five, which includes the Tour’s current star Daniel Teklehaimanot, the Eritrean rider in the Polka-Dot Jersey. The group has about a minute on them, and for now, they’re holding. We have 73km to go, and the countryside is…Jesus. It’s gorgeous. Every year around this time, I want to pack up and go to France. Maybe rent a helicopter, follow the race’s route, and actually land and explore some of these staggering chateaux and villages. Ooo, and pet the horses. Cos there are always horses.
OMG. Saxo-Tinkoff’s domestique is wearing one of the most “Why Didn’t I Think Of That” things I have ever seen: a vest with pockets all over the back for water bottles. Since cars can’t get into the peloton to restock riders, one member of the team will drop back through the peloton to the caravan, take as many water bottles as he can carry, and catch back up to his teammates to distribute them. Usually, he drops them down the back of his jersey, which makes him look like a particularly bumpy turtle. I always think, “Eugrgh. Sweaty plastic. Thanks.” But this guy has a vest with big old pockets— almost like a flak jacket or photographers vest. Of course, it shoots his aerodynamics to hell, but hey, everyone will have water while he wears it! And it won’t be slimy and slightly warm!
Speaking of jerseys, we have no Maillot Jaune today, since Tony Martin wasn’t there to sign in. I believe, technically, Chris Froome could have made a case to wear it, but cycling is a very mannered sport, believe it or not, and no rider wants to wear a jersey he didn’t win fair and square. If Chris maintains his lead today— and it looks like he will— he’ll have it at the podium at the end, where it’ll be bestowed upon him with cheers, a big crowd, flowers, and a stuffed lion.
Here’s a better explanation from Barry Glendenning in today’s Guardian (http://www.theguardian.com/sport/2015/jul/10/mark-cavendish-tour-de-france-stage-seven-win-cycling):
“In Martin’s absence Chris Froome took over as race leader but did not don the yellow jersey until after the stage, as dictated by historical precedent and the president of the commissaires’ panel. Indeed, even if Froome had been given the option of wearing the maillot jaune, the Sky rider said it is not a garment in which he would have felt comfortable under the circumstances. ‘Out of respect for Tony I would never have worn it in any case,’ he said. ‘That’s not the way to get the yellow jersey due to someone else’s misfortunes. I was second on the GC so there was no way to wear it.’”
Okay, there’s a castle, with towers, and a guy on a rope between the towers, and he’s gotta be 40 feet in the air, and…what? Buh? Dude, that does NOT look safe.
Anyway. The chase is down to 39 seconds behind the five leaders. Teklehaimanot has done what he wanted to today: gotten another point in the King of the Mountains competition, which should keep him in polka dots through tomorrow.
Sigh. Filmed statement from Tony Martin: he really wanted to honour the Jersey just by starting today, but the doctor said absolutely not. So by the time you read this, he’s recuperating from surgery on an open fracture (as in, through the skin) in Hamburg, Germany. Six weeks, no racing at all, then he’ll aim for the World Championships in Virginia in September. You know: NO BIG DEAL. Jesus Christ. Apparently, he spent the entire ambulance ride begging the doctor to find a way to just let him start today. Just start! But no. He got a champagne toast from his teammates at the hotel last night, and a big cheer, before going back to Germany, accompanied by his mom. A “roller coaster,” he called this race. “Like a movie.” I’d ask for a better screenwriter, honey. You deserve more than this.
We’re hopefully heading towards a big sprint finish today, and I keep hearing Mark Cavendish’s name over and over. I’ve missed you, Mark— can you give your battered team a lift today? He’s safe in the peloton now, as it cruises through yet another OMG gorgeous French country town. (Amusingly, the closed-captioning won’t TOUCH the name.) The roads have widened a little as we leave the last buildings behind, past straggling car parks and— now I’m looking at a giant red, white, and blue bird made of people, with flapping wings. Out in a field, outside the town. The look on my face…they’d be gratified, I’m sure. Or call me a soulless American.
Aww. Teklehaimanot has dropped off the five front-runners, accepting the inevitable before the crazy that will ensue when the peloton catches up. One of the remaining riders apparently said he intended to “leave an impression on the road today.” What an…interesting choice of words, mister.
The remaining four are indeed starting to shake things up, challenging and answering each other.
(Photo of Tony Martin, who had surgery at 6am, sitting up in his hospital bed, flashing a V at the camera, while the Tour plays on a tiny TV at his bedside. I’m amazed he isn’t up fighting bears or rescuing kittens or something.)
Another giant agriculture bike on the side of the road, though the rider’s head seems a bit…truncated. Seems they ran out of field. Kind of creepy.
Bretagne-Séché Environnement riders Anthony Delaplace and Brice Feillu; a Lampre rider, Kristijan Durasek; and a Cofidis rider, Luis Ángel Maté: those are our still-suffering heroes today. I know they’re gonna get caught in a minute or so. Still, they’ve been away for 159km and counting, which is pretty damned impressive. It’s sad, as ever, to see the long shot of these guys, with the inevitable catch looming behind them. Ten seconds out, if that. It’s about now that breakaway riders will sigh, and reach out to shake hands with each other. Soon enough, it’s down to two. And then, inevitably….
Ahh. Here’s the catch. 178km all told, right from the gun. That’s fucking insane.
But now we’re all back together again, and the organizing is starting for the sprint finish. BMC and Tinkoff are spearheading the peloton, as we have a mass finish for the first time. Peter Sagan is up near the front, though you know ALL the sprinters are being carefully shepherded. Inside of 10km left. Sky is at the front— they want Froome safe over the line in the first group to assure him the Mailllot Jaune. American rider Tejay Vangarderen is also being closely guarded— he’s now in second on the GC.
Ugh— looks like an Etixx rider had a flat— he’s all the way back in the caravan, trying to regain the peloton.
Wow. 189 cyclists all together for the finish. It’s weird to think we haven’t had this at all before today, but it’s true. All the teams are there, everyone is determined. Through the 5km gateway. Giant is hoping to get John Degenkolb close. The Etixx rider with the mech failure has made it to the peloton, but at this rate, he’ll— no way. He’s actually trying to get all the way up the peloton to the front so he can do his part for Mark Cavendish at the end. He can’t possibly make it, but just the fact that he’s trying!
The peloton has stretched out a little to give the sprinters a clear stage on which to perform. Speeds up to 50/60kmph now— and they’re speeding up! 1.8km to the finish, and one of the Giant riders has gone the wrong way past a roundabout and screwed up their leadout. Lotto is up there— now it’s a long stretch of riders, but Lotto has Greipel right at the front!
Sprint, sprint boys! Degenkolb is there, Cav has lost his readout again— go boys! Greipel, Sagan— and HOLY HELL, FINALLY! Mark Cavendish has taken the sprint!
Cav, Greipel, Sagan, then Degenkolb. But oh, boy, Cav has his 26th sprint win! I can only imagine how happy that must have made his poor, battered teammate, Tony Martin, back in Germany. What a Tour it’s been for this team! And this is Cav’s first win since 2013— last year, the Tour had barely begun before he was taken out by a horrible crash.
There’s an interview with him backstage, and…man, it’s astonishing to think this was the angry young brat who used to throw tantrums and piss everyone off. Now, here he is, holding his GORGEOUS daughter Delilah, who has to be about two, now, talking about how he got the win today by being patient and not starting his sprint too early. Another interview with teammate Mark Renshaw, also speaking about Cav’s patience, and openly expressing his relief about finally getting the sprint for Cav. It must be a much-needed bit of happy for Etixx.
Peter Sagan has moved up to second, now, which shoves Tejay Van Garderen down to third, but it’s still so close. Contador, by the way, is in seventh. And Chris Froome has his lion, and a jersey that, while coveted, isn’t really a good colour for anyone.
And there’ s another interview with Peter Sagan, and I am a bad human cos I’m just giggling at his very nasal, slightly high-pitched voice. But he has the best attitude about his chance for taking the yellow jersey soon: “If come, come. If not, it’s okay.” It’s still early, in other words. There’s time for all kinds of crazy. And there surely will be.
Tuned in late tonight just in time to see a pretty incredible Go-Pro video I’ve never seen before: a mechanic trying to get his guys back on the road after the horrific crash at the lamppost on the third day. The one that broke Fabian Cancellara’s back? Yeah. That one. It’s insanity for these miracle workers, and they navigate it all in triple-time. This particular guy worked his wonders while rattling off commands, questions, and directions in French, Italian, and English. Wow.
So we’re back in the sunlight (it was noonish in France when this was shot), and out in beautiful fields. Today, we’re changing it up a bit: we have FIVE guys out in front. 189 men, total. One more rider taken out by the aforementioned crash: he’d been riding for three days with a rib broken in two places, and was finally a DNS this morning. These guys scare the hell out of me.
The peloton is picking up the pace a bit— 40kmph— and stringing out down the long, not-entirely-flat, gently curving lanes. It’s a gorgeous visual: riders evenly spaced against the green fields. But it means they’re beginning to put the screws to the front five, which includes the Tour’s current star Daniel Teklehaimanot, the Eritrean rider in the Polka-Dot Jersey. The group has about a minute on them, and for now, they’re holding. We have 73km to go, and the countryside is…Jesus. It’s gorgeous. Every year around this time, I want to pack up and go to France. Maybe rent a helicopter, follow the race’s route, and actually land and explore some of these staggering chateaux and villages. Ooo, and pet the horses. Cos there are always horses.
OMG. Saxo-Tinkoff’s domestique is wearing one of the most “Why Didn’t I Think Of That” things I have ever seen: a vest with pockets all over the back for water bottles. Since cars can’t get into the peloton to restock riders, one member of the team will drop back through the peloton to the caravan, take as many water bottles as he can carry, and catch back up to his teammates to distribute them. Usually, he drops them down the back of his jersey, which makes him look like a particularly bumpy turtle. I always think, “Eugrgh. Sweaty plastic. Thanks.” But this guy has a vest with big old pockets— almost like a flak jacket or photographers vest. Of course, it shoots his aerodynamics to hell, but hey, everyone will have water while he wears it! And it won’t be slimy and slightly warm!
Speaking of jerseys, we have no Maillot Jaune today, since Tony Martin wasn’t there to sign in. I believe, technically, Chris Froome could have made a case to wear it, but cycling is a very mannered sport, believe it or not, and no rider wants to wear a jersey he didn’t win fair and square. If Chris maintains his lead today— and it looks like he will— he’ll have it at the podium at the end, where it’ll be bestowed upon him with cheers, a big crowd, flowers, and a stuffed lion.
Here’s a better explanation from Barry Glendenning in today’s Guardian (http://www.theguardian.com/sport/2015/jul/10/mark-cavendish-tour-de-france-stage-seven-win-cycling):
“In Martin’s absence Chris Froome took over as race leader but did not don the yellow jersey until after the stage, as dictated by historical precedent and the president of the commissaires’ panel. Indeed, even if Froome had been given the option of wearing the maillot jaune, the Sky rider said it is not a garment in which he would have felt comfortable under the circumstances. ‘Out of respect for Tony I would never have worn it in any case,’ he said. ‘That’s not the way to get the yellow jersey due to someone else’s misfortunes. I was second on the GC so there was no way to wear it.’”
Okay, there’s a castle, with towers, and a guy on a rope between the towers, and he’s gotta be 40 feet in the air, and…what? Buh? Dude, that does NOT look safe.
Anyway. The chase is down to 39 seconds behind the five leaders. Teklehaimanot has done what he wanted to today: gotten another point in the King of the Mountains competition, which should keep him in polka dots through tomorrow.
Sigh. Filmed statement from Tony Martin: he really wanted to honour the Jersey just by starting today, but the doctor said absolutely not. So by the time you read this, he’s recuperating from surgery on an open fracture (as in, through the skin) in Hamburg, Germany. Six weeks, no racing at all, then he’ll aim for the World Championships in Virginia in September. You know: NO BIG DEAL. Jesus Christ. Apparently, he spent the entire ambulance ride begging the doctor to find a way to just let him start today. Just start! But no. He got a champagne toast from his teammates at the hotel last night, and a big cheer, before going back to Germany, accompanied by his mom. A “roller coaster,” he called this race. “Like a movie.” I’d ask for a better screenwriter, honey. You deserve more than this.
We’re hopefully heading towards a big sprint finish today, and I keep hearing Mark Cavendish’s name over and over. I’ve missed you, Mark— can you give your battered team a lift today? He’s safe in the peloton now, as it cruises through yet another OMG gorgeous French country town. (Amusingly, the closed-captioning won’t TOUCH the name.) The roads have widened a little as we leave the last buildings behind, past straggling car parks and— now I’m looking at a giant red, white, and blue bird made of people, with flapping wings. Out in a field, outside the town. The look on my face…they’d be gratified, I’m sure. Or call me a soulless American.
Aww. Teklehaimanot has dropped off the five front-runners, accepting the inevitable before the crazy that will ensue when the peloton catches up. One of the remaining riders apparently said he intended to “leave an impression on the road today.” What an…interesting choice of words, mister.
The remaining four are indeed starting to shake things up, challenging and answering each other.
(Photo of Tony Martin, who had surgery at 6am, sitting up in his hospital bed, flashing a V at the camera, while the Tour plays on a tiny TV at his bedside. I’m amazed he isn’t up fighting bears or rescuing kittens or something.)
Another giant agriculture bike on the side of the road, though the rider’s head seems a bit…truncated. Seems they ran out of field. Kind of creepy.
Bretagne-Séché Environnement riders Anthony Delaplace and Brice Feillu; a Lampre rider, Kristijan Durasek; and a Cofidis rider, Luis Ángel Maté: those are our still-suffering heroes today. I know they’re gonna get caught in a minute or so. Still, they’ve been away for 159km and counting, which is pretty damned impressive. It’s sad, as ever, to see the long shot of these guys, with the inevitable catch looming behind them. Ten seconds out, if that. It’s about now that breakaway riders will sigh, and reach out to shake hands with each other. Soon enough, it’s down to two. And then, inevitably….
Ahh. Here’s the catch. 178km all told, right from the gun. That’s fucking insane.
But now we’re all back together again, and the organizing is starting for the sprint finish. BMC and Tinkoff are spearheading the peloton, as we have a mass finish for the first time. Peter Sagan is up near the front, though you know ALL the sprinters are being carefully shepherded. Inside of 10km left. Sky is at the front— they want Froome safe over the line in the first group to assure him the Mailllot Jaune. American rider Tejay Vangarderen is also being closely guarded— he’s now in second on the GC.
Ugh— looks like an Etixx rider had a flat— he’s all the way back in the caravan, trying to regain the peloton.
Wow. 189 cyclists all together for the finish. It’s weird to think we haven’t had this at all before today, but it’s true. All the teams are there, everyone is determined. Through the 5km gateway. Giant is hoping to get John Degenkolb close. The Etixx rider with the mech failure has made it to the peloton, but at this rate, he’ll— no way. He’s actually trying to get all the way up the peloton to the front so he can do his part for Mark Cavendish at the end. He can’t possibly make it, but just the fact that he’s trying!
The peloton has stretched out a little to give the sprinters a clear stage on which to perform. Speeds up to 50/60kmph now— and they’re speeding up! 1.8km to the finish, and one of the Giant riders has gone the wrong way past a roundabout and screwed up their leadout. Lotto is up there— now it’s a long stretch of riders, but Lotto has Greipel right at the front!
Sprint, sprint boys! Degenkolb is there, Cav has lost his readout again— go boys! Greipel, Sagan— and HOLY HELL, FINALLY! Mark Cavendish has taken the sprint!
Cav, Greipel, Sagan, then Degenkolb. But oh, boy, Cav has his 26th sprint win! I can only imagine how happy that must have made his poor, battered teammate, Tony Martin, back in Germany. What a Tour it’s been for this team! And this is Cav’s first win since 2013— last year, the Tour had barely begun before he was taken out by a horrible crash.
There’s an interview with him backstage, and…man, it’s astonishing to think this was the angry young brat who used to throw tantrums and piss everyone off. Now, here he is, holding his GORGEOUS daughter Delilah, who has to be about two, now, talking about how he got the win today by being patient and not starting his sprint too early. Another interview with teammate Mark Renshaw, also speaking about Cav’s patience, and openly expressing his relief about finally getting the sprint for Cav. It must be a much-needed bit of happy for Etixx.
Peter Sagan has moved up to second, now, which shoves Tejay Van Garderen down to third, but it’s still so close. Contador, by the way, is in seventh. And Chris Froome has his lion, and a jersey that, while coveted, isn’t really a good colour for anyone.
And there’ s another interview with Peter Sagan, and I am a bad human cos I’m just giggling at his very nasal, slightly high-pitched voice. But he has the best attitude about his chance for taking the yellow jersey soon: “If come, come. If not, it’s okay.” It’s still early, in other words. There’s time for all kinds of crazy. And there surely will be.