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ysobelleYeah, yeah. I know. But there's been a lot going on. So as there's too much to even sum up, just go here to catch up (it's okay; I'll wait):
http://www.olntv.com/tdf/
Today was the ultimate Alpine stage: not one, not two, but three mountains, the last placing the finish line at the top of the hors categorie (beyond category, or really freakin' difficult) L'Alpe d'Huez. It's the most brutal climb in all of cycling, and usually the stage that makes you fervently glad your own butt's on the couch and you don't have to have a car bring you water-- if it can get to you at all, that is. Also, depending on how outgoing and social you are, watching from home means you may or may not miss the half-million to a million spectators painting you eight-foot-high messages and waving flags of every region in your face, shirtless young drunks running along side you until they pass out in exhaustion or get yanked down by gendarmes, and, of course, the endless, overwhelming, deafening screaming and cheering that turns the entire eight-mile ascent of utterly sadistic switchbacks into a modern-day Tower of Babel. Up to you.
Floyd Landis had the yellow jersey, and then, on Stage 13, Phonak let it go in the longest breakaway in the post-war Tour era: over half an hour. Oscar Pereiro of Caisse d'Espargne took it for Stage 14 and the intervening rest day, but today, the Boy from Lancaster doled out a good old-fashioned Amish-country ass-kicking, and took it back. He came up behind teammate Axel Merckx, and you could almost see him screaming, "Axel! Go! GO!" until Axel turned around, saw his tour-contender teammate rising rapidly behind him, desperate for a lead-out man. It was almost like Floyd'd said, "Stop fucking around and help me, man!" If you can call grinding your knees to calcium dust up the side of a mountain fucking around.
But seriously, Team Phonak done good. Floyd himself said of the "controversy" over his team letting the maillot jaune go that if he couldn't get it back, he didn't deserve it, anyway. And strategically, it was wise, apparently, not to have to have Phonak defending the jersey on this, the most famously evil mountain of the stage. Now he has it, and now you can see everyone thinking, "Hm. But can he keep it til next Sunday?"
My beloved Levi Leipheimer has very much redeemed himself from his appalling time trial. From so-far-down-I-can't-see-daylight, he's now dragged himself up by his spandex bootstraps to an amazing 9th place overall. Sadly, my man George Hincapie, at 26:18 back, is in 38th position overall, and out of contention, though Team Discovery was ecstatic with a brilliant stage win by Yaroslav Popovych in Stage 12. He'd been part of a three-man breakaway for miles, and then, as they closed on the finish, he attacked again and again-- four times in the approach alone-- until he broke them, and finished all by himself. He crossed the line, zipped up his jersey, crossed himself three times, and lit up like a Christmas tree with sheer joy.
And lest we forget: who actually won today's stage? Frank Schleck of CSC-- the first rider form Luxembourg to ever win a stage. And as he's only an astonishing twenty-six, it likely won't be his last. Exuberantly, he said in his post-win interview that he's been rooming with Jens Voight, who loves to stay up late talking. Tonight, he grinned, they'd have lots to talk about.
Tomorrow? Even more mountains. Perhaps that's why I love this sport so much-- all the gothic suffering!
http://www.olntv.com/tdf/
Today was the ultimate Alpine stage: not one, not two, but three mountains, the last placing the finish line at the top of the hors categorie (beyond category, or really freakin' difficult) L'Alpe d'Huez. It's the most brutal climb in all of cycling, and usually the stage that makes you fervently glad your own butt's on the couch and you don't have to have a car bring you water-- if it can get to you at all, that is. Also, depending on how outgoing and social you are, watching from home means you may or may not miss the half-million to a million spectators painting you eight-foot-high messages and waving flags of every region in your face, shirtless young drunks running along side you until they pass out in exhaustion or get yanked down by gendarmes, and, of course, the endless, overwhelming, deafening screaming and cheering that turns the entire eight-mile ascent of utterly sadistic switchbacks into a modern-day Tower of Babel. Up to you.
Floyd Landis had the yellow jersey, and then, on Stage 13, Phonak let it go in the longest breakaway in the post-war Tour era: over half an hour. Oscar Pereiro of Caisse d'Espargne took it for Stage 14 and the intervening rest day, but today, the Boy from Lancaster doled out a good old-fashioned Amish-country ass-kicking, and took it back. He came up behind teammate Axel Merckx, and you could almost see him screaming, "Axel! Go! GO!" until Axel turned around, saw his tour-contender teammate rising rapidly behind him, desperate for a lead-out man. It was almost like Floyd'd said, "Stop fucking around and help me, man!" If you can call grinding your knees to calcium dust up the side of a mountain fucking around.
But seriously, Team Phonak done good. Floyd himself said of the "controversy" over his team letting the maillot jaune go that if he couldn't get it back, he didn't deserve it, anyway. And strategically, it was wise, apparently, not to have to have Phonak defending the jersey on this, the most famously evil mountain of the stage. Now he has it, and now you can see everyone thinking, "Hm. But can he keep it til next Sunday?"
My beloved Levi Leipheimer has very much redeemed himself from his appalling time trial. From so-far-down-I-can't-see-daylight, he's now dragged himself up by his spandex bootstraps to an amazing 9th place overall. Sadly, my man George Hincapie, at 26:18 back, is in 38th position overall, and out of contention, though Team Discovery was ecstatic with a brilliant stage win by Yaroslav Popovych in Stage 12. He'd been part of a three-man breakaway for miles, and then, as they closed on the finish, he attacked again and again-- four times in the approach alone-- until he broke them, and finished all by himself. He crossed the line, zipped up his jersey, crossed himself three times, and lit up like a Christmas tree with sheer joy.
And lest we forget: who actually won today's stage? Frank Schleck of CSC-- the first rider form Luxembourg to ever win a stage. And as he's only an astonishing twenty-six, it likely won't be his last. Exuberantly, he said in his post-win interview that he's been rooming with Jens Voight, who loves to stay up late talking. Tonight, he grinned, they'd have lots to talk about.
Tomorrow? Even more mountains. Perhaps that's why I love this sport so much-- all the gothic suffering!