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ysobelleSo thanks to a fellow Tour enthusiast, I knew the score, so to speak, before I turned on the TV this afternoon. Damned day job messing up my life. But as Dave said, it's more than worth watching the stage, even if you know the outcome.
And it's true. Every day, we hear the commentary about this rider or that rider, and we tend to lose the sense that this isn't a race of individuals, it's a race of teams. Even the best rider in the world is up the creek without a strong, well-rounded team to carry him to yellow. I can't emphasis enough how important it is to have your teammates around you in a crunch: when you're in your team's slipstream, and not yourself being the windbreak, you save up to thirty percent of your energy. It it possible for a team to deliver their captain, or their sprinter, or whomever they need to win the stage, to the end of a grueling five- or six-hour stage relatively fresh, and with enough energy to pull out what seems a miracle in the final kilometer.
So each team, though it looks like nine guys on bikes doing pretty much exactly the same thing-- "Go that way, fast as you can't, don't fall down"-- is actually made up of highly-trained specialists doing what they do best. Some guys are mountain climbers. Some are sprinters. Some can push the pace on the flats. Some are domestiques: they fall back through the peloton to the team cars and get water and food for the rest of the guys, then pace back up to the team like a gravy train of one. Don't think, however, that a domestique is no more than a waterboy. This isn't the minor leagues: this is the most difficult, grueling sporting event in the world, and not only do these guys make supply runs, they still race, and do the windbreaking for everyone else. They work to control the pace of the peloton should their captain make a breakaway. They're just as much part of the engine as every other guy on the team. And it's still a team, and they all still pull together to do what needs to be done: at the Giro, it was Lance loading up on water bottles. And those bastards are heavy.
So here we are, almost at the end of the stage. It's been incredibly exciting. Saxobank started well, but they seem to be fading. BBox Bouyges Telecom lost not one but four riders on one turn. Columbia did a yeoman's job, and with Mark Cavendish pulling them by force of will over the line, they seemed to come out well. Today's WTF moment probably came when a moment's misjudgment in the Silence-Lotto team sent one rider down hard-- his bike going one way, his body going another, and team captain Cadel Evans-- mere inches behind him-- going BETWEEN the two and emerging unscathed. Garmin's made it through with the bare minimum of riders: I don't know what happened to their other riders, but they're down to the vital five. Why is five important? A team is judged not on the first rider to cross the line, but the fifth: this forces each team to stay together and work together, instead of sending their fastest rider up the road alone. Of course, on the other hand, they're not dragged down by their slowest rider, either: if one or two can't keep up, they drop off the back, and no harm done. That's dangerous, too: each rider takes a brief pull at the front, then fades back into the line. Everyone stays as fresh as possible for as long as possible. Fewer riders means everyone has to work harder. It can be a treacherous balance.
We're coming down to the line. It's bare seconds between Armstrong and Cancellara now. Six men now, teeth bared, legs pumping, faces set in grimaces of pain and determination, and they power across the line like an aqua-and-yellow machine. Could Armstrong move to Yellow? For a few moments, according to the numbers back on the road, Lance grabbed the top spot. But has he kept it? Cancellara's team, Saxobank, was so much slower at one point, but they picked up after the last time check. Was it enough? Did Lance make up the 40-second deficit? Yes-- yes, he has! But did he make up the additional tenths or hundredths of a second to get him into the Maillot Jaune? Can it be? Do we know? Aaaaand...it's a commercial break.
I'm thinking about the future of Astana, now, as I wait for the results. There are some big changes coming. Alberto Contador almost certainly will be out the door as soon as he can pack his bags. He's still young, incredibly strong, and no rider who's won the Tour de France will be content playing second-fiddle on his own team. Also, this team's been screwed around with enough by their main sponsor: Kazakhstan is not paying their bills reliably. Next year, rumours say, it'll probably be Team LiveSTRONG.
So now...ah, man. Team trophies have been given, with commentators Paul Sherwin and Phil Liggett still not knowing who's getting Yellow today. The Astana boys line up for their team victory award, tossing their brilliant red, white, and blue bouquets into the crowd. Lance deliberately places himself in the back row-- he knows he'll get all the attention tonight anyway, and this is about the team, not him. But will he come out again to get the Maillot Jaune? And surprise! Fabian Cancellara comes out! He's grinning, and holding up his fingers a fraction apart. He knows today came down to tenths, if not hundredths, of a second. (And is that ben Stiller handing him the ubiquitous stuffed lion?) Race officials had to go back to the fist stage's Time Trial to figure it out. In fact, as the final standings come up, Lance is listed as being 0.00 seconds behind. So small a difference, they don't even put it on the main screen.
So it's absolutely neck-and-neck, now. If Lance decides to attack tomorrow, I don't know if Cancellara can hold him off. But it's not a given: Lance is absolutely the kind of rider to make a powerful statement on the bike, and taking yellow is the most powerful statement a rider can make. But this early in the race, it's not always sensible to grab and keep the lead-- if you even can. The Maillot Jaune, it's been said many times, makes riders take risks they might not normally, and possibly shouldn't. It also makes you the target of every team's attack. But it's been a long, long time since this man was eligible to win the White Jersey of the Best Young Rider. This is a guy who's won this thing seven times. He knows exactly what he's doing, every single time. If anyone could handle painting a big yellow target on his back, it's him. And, really, not like it wasn't there the minute he announced he was coming out of retirement.
Tomorrow, then, will be absolutely electric. It's the last flat stage before the first set of mountains, the Pyrenees. There's no way of knowing who'll be on the podium at the end of the day tomorrow. And after the mountains, it'll be the same "Anything goes!" again. I may just have to tell the day job I can't come in the rest of the month.
Oh, and a bit of digging has revealed just how close Cancellara's lead is. You ready for this?
220 milliseconds.
Daaaamn.
And it's true. Every day, we hear the commentary about this rider or that rider, and we tend to lose the sense that this isn't a race of individuals, it's a race of teams. Even the best rider in the world is up the creek without a strong, well-rounded team to carry him to yellow. I can't emphasis enough how important it is to have your teammates around you in a crunch: when you're in your team's slipstream, and not yourself being the windbreak, you save up to thirty percent of your energy. It it possible for a team to deliver their captain, or their sprinter, or whomever they need to win the stage, to the end of a grueling five- or six-hour stage relatively fresh, and with enough energy to pull out what seems a miracle in the final kilometer.
So each team, though it looks like nine guys on bikes doing pretty much exactly the same thing-- "Go that way, fast as you can't, don't fall down"-- is actually made up of highly-trained specialists doing what they do best. Some guys are mountain climbers. Some are sprinters. Some can push the pace on the flats. Some are domestiques: they fall back through the peloton to the team cars and get water and food for the rest of the guys, then pace back up to the team like a gravy train of one. Don't think, however, that a domestique is no more than a waterboy. This isn't the minor leagues: this is the most difficult, grueling sporting event in the world, and not only do these guys make supply runs, they still race, and do the windbreaking for everyone else. They work to control the pace of the peloton should their captain make a breakaway. They're just as much part of the engine as every other guy on the team. And it's still a team, and they all still pull together to do what needs to be done: at the Giro, it was Lance loading up on water bottles. And those bastards are heavy.
So here we are, almost at the end of the stage. It's been incredibly exciting. Saxobank started well, but they seem to be fading. BBox Bouyges Telecom lost not one but four riders on one turn. Columbia did a yeoman's job, and with Mark Cavendish pulling them by force of will over the line, they seemed to come out well. Today's WTF moment probably came when a moment's misjudgment in the Silence-Lotto team sent one rider down hard-- his bike going one way, his body going another, and team captain Cadel Evans-- mere inches behind him-- going BETWEEN the two and emerging unscathed. Garmin's made it through with the bare minimum of riders: I don't know what happened to their other riders, but they're down to the vital five. Why is five important? A team is judged not on the first rider to cross the line, but the fifth: this forces each team to stay together and work together, instead of sending their fastest rider up the road alone. Of course, on the other hand, they're not dragged down by their slowest rider, either: if one or two can't keep up, they drop off the back, and no harm done. That's dangerous, too: each rider takes a brief pull at the front, then fades back into the line. Everyone stays as fresh as possible for as long as possible. Fewer riders means everyone has to work harder. It can be a treacherous balance.
We're coming down to the line. It's bare seconds between Armstrong and Cancellara now. Six men now, teeth bared, legs pumping, faces set in grimaces of pain and determination, and they power across the line like an aqua-and-yellow machine. Could Armstrong move to Yellow? For a few moments, according to the numbers back on the road, Lance grabbed the top spot. But has he kept it? Cancellara's team, Saxobank, was so much slower at one point, but they picked up after the last time check. Was it enough? Did Lance make up the 40-second deficit? Yes-- yes, he has! But did he make up the additional tenths or hundredths of a second to get him into the Maillot Jaune? Can it be? Do we know? Aaaaand...it's a commercial break.
I'm thinking about the future of Astana, now, as I wait for the results. There are some big changes coming. Alberto Contador almost certainly will be out the door as soon as he can pack his bags. He's still young, incredibly strong, and no rider who's won the Tour de France will be content playing second-fiddle on his own team. Also, this team's been screwed around with enough by their main sponsor: Kazakhstan is not paying their bills reliably. Next year, rumours say, it'll probably be Team LiveSTRONG.
So now...ah, man. Team trophies have been given, with commentators Paul Sherwin and Phil Liggett still not knowing who's getting Yellow today. The Astana boys line up for their team victory award, tossing their brilliant red, white, and blue bouquets into the crowd. Lance deliberately places himself in the back row-- he knows he'll get all the attention tonight anyway, and this is about the team, not him. But will he come out again to get the Maillot Jaune? And surprise! Fabian Cancellara comes out! He's grinning, and holding up his fingers a fraction apart. He knows today came down to tenths, if not hundredths, of a second. (And is that ben Stiller handing him the ubiquitous stuffed lion?) Race officials had to go back to the fist stage's Time Trial to figure it out. In fact, as the final standings come up, Lance is listed as being 0.00 seconds behind. So small a difference, they don't even put it on the main screen.
So it's absolutely neck-and-neck, now. If Lance decides to attack tomorrow, I don't know if Cancellara can hold him off. But it's not a given: Lance is absolutely the kind of rider to make a powerful statement on the bike, and taking yellow is the most powerful statement a rider can make. But this early in the race, it's not always sensible to grab and keep the lead-- if you even can. The Maillot Jaune, it's been said many times, makes riders take risks they might not normally, and possibly shouldn't. It also makes you the target of every team's attack. But it's been a long, long time since this man was eligible to win the White Jersey of the Best Young Rider. This is a guy who's won this thing seven times. He knows exactly what he's doing, every single time. If anyone could handle painting a big yellow target on his back, it's him. And, really, not like it wasn't there the minute he announced he was coming out of retirement.
Tomorrow, then, will be absolutely electric. It's the last flat stage before the first set of mountains, the Pyrenees. There's no way of knowing who'll be on the podium at the end of the day tomorrow. And after the mountains, it'll be the same "Anything goes!" again. I may just have to tell the day job I can't come in the rest of the month.
Oh, and a bit of digging has revealed just how close Cancellara's lead is. You ready for this?
220 milliseconds.
Daaaamn.