The Mesmerizing Tour de France
Just got back from "Inception." (Don't worry. I won't spoil it.) It was great fun. Fresh, thrilling, and dazzling. Well-acted, and well-written (for a Blockbuster, at least). It has almost nothing to do with what happened in the Tour de France on Monday, but it does deal with a few elements of human existence and emotion typical to epic stories - in fiction and sport. Teamwork. Dreams. Complication. Guilt. Regret.
The outcome of sports dreams is much more black and white than the dreams of characters in great fiction. I lived to see Syracuse win a National Championship in basketball. It was a dream come true. Fans of the Netherlands (and Bills and Cavs) may never live to see their team reach the pinnacle. It's either/or. Win or lose.
The road to the decisive end is not quite as neat in sports. Syracuse would have lost the 2003 title game if Kansas had hit even a decent percentage of their free throws. IfArjen Robben finished one of his two breakaway chances, the Dutch would have hoisted the World Cup, though few would have been convinced they were the best team in the tournament. If Scott Norwood doesn't miss the field goal, the New York Giants lose to the Buffalo Bills.
Even worse is when the decisive result is seemingly affected by external forces. The most notorious outside force is, of course, officiating. What if... What if Frank Lampard's tying goal is properly spotted by one of the officials against Germany? What if that momentum carries England through that game, and into the rest of the tournament? I'll always believe it was a massive moment. Maddeningly, they missed it.
How about the Joba-bug game? Game 2 of the 2007 ALDS. Yankees in Cleveland. The wind calmed down in northern Ohio just long enough for a bunch of bugs - some kind of swarming gnats or something - to mess up the dominant Joba Chamberlain. The Indians picked up a tying run that inning just before a breeze came in and blew the bugs away. Cleveland added the winning run later. As an unabashed Yankee hater, I was delighted. But to be on the other end of that debacle must have been brutal.
Part of the beauty of races like Tour de France is that outside factors have a minimal effect. The officiating is relatively minimal. (Well, Mark Renshaw might disagree, but it's true.) In fact, we never even see the faces of the referees in the Tour de France.
If they have an effect at all, outside factors effect all Tour riders equally. Phil Mickelson bemoaned the weather on the first day of the British Open this week because his round coincided with a rough patch that other golfers missed. If it pours on Thursday's massive mountain stage in France (as is forecast) every rider will have to deal with it.
Rasheed Wallace once said, "Ball don't lie." I think it lies a little. Wilt Chamberlain's stats were impressive, but when it mattered, Bill Russell beat him more times than not. There's room for debate there. You know what really doesn't lie? Clock. Clock don't lie. It don't lie about Usain Bolt on the track. It don't lie about Jason Lezak beating Alain Bernard in the pool.
It don't lie in the Tour de France. It don't lie in each stage, such as Monday, when Thomas Voeckler rode away in his unique, herky-jerky style to a minute and 20 second victory over everybody else across a tough route through the Pyrenees. It DEFINITELY don't lie in the individual time trial stages, which Fabian "Spartacus" Cancellara has won multiple times. And it don't lie in the overall standings.
Except when it does, and that's why doping is so distressing to fans of the Tour de France. It's even more distressing than in baseball, where performance enhancing drugs ruined hallowed statistics, but don't really make us seriously question the World Series results of the past. Over time, I think baseball fans will learn how to factor in the steroid era as they debate the great questions in baseball's past. What wasn't debatable, before PEDs and blood doping, was the clock in the Tour de France. Lance finished the route in the shortest amount of time for seven straight years. Unbelievable! Spectacular! Ugh, but he might have cheated. But everyone was probably cheating. But still...
And now (finally) we come to Monday's events on the Port de Balès, where the themes of great stories, great sporting moments, and life itself coalesced in a moment of drama. A moment of complexity, not clarity.
Teamwork. Tour leader Andy Schleck's team had set him up perfectly for an attack on the final massive climb of stage 15.
Dreams. For thirteen out of fourteen stages, Andy Schleck had appeared to be at least equal to two-time Tour winner and pre-race favorite Alberto Contador. Only on the short-but-steep final climb on stage 12 had Contador managed to cut into Schleck's lead by ten seconds. On the longer, more typical, more endurance-testing mountain stages of the tour, Schleck seemed to have an advantage. But Schleck can't beat Contador in the time trial on the penultimate stage. Monday offered an opportunity for Schleck to gain time on his rival, to take one great step towards the Yellow Jersey of his dreams. And he was feeling good.
Complication. Towards the top of the final climb, the Port de Balès, Schleck attacked. He burst ahead, and only Contador's tireless teammate, Alexandre Vinokourov, was able to immediately match the acceleration. Contador was, for a moment (and such moments tend to be decisive in the Tour de France) left behind. Schleck moved away, but then his rear tire bounced off the ground, and his peddling was abruptly taking him nowhere. He looked down and found his chain had disengaged. At the exact same moment Contador dug into his peddles, rode up behind Schleck, and then flew past the tour leader as Schleck hopped off his bike to fix the problem.
(Important note: Contador was still behind Schleck when the chain came off in a clear position to see what had happened. He would have been staring at Schleck, his sole rival, as Schleck peddled away. When the chain came off Schleck's bike, Contador, a professional cyclist, must have known what had happened.)
Guilt. Other great Tour de France riders would have stopped and waited for Andy Schleck. I am certain of this. Lance waited for his rival Jan Ullrich in 2001 when Ullrich went off the road. (And that incident wasn't directly caused by any of the aforementioned "outside factors.") Ullrich waited for Lance in 2003 when a spectator's bag snagged on Lance's handlebars sending the champ crashing to the road. Lance would have waited. Jan would have waited.
I was furious at Contador as he peddled away. I was even more bitter when Andy couldn't catch up, despite a valiant effort. So I twittered, "Contador is a coward. Say what you will about Lance, but he would have waited for Schleck." And I felt vindicated for my feelings as I read the vast majority of reactions from pro cyclists and learned followers who seemed to agree with me.
But then I went and saw Inception, and when I got home I found this. And then I felt a little bad for Contador, because Contador feels guilt. That's the only explanation for that video. As much as I want Contador to be a bad guy, he clearly isn't. He's a brilliant cyclist who was caught up in the moment of competition and didn't have enough time to realize what the right thing to do was.
Regret. I guarantee you Contador wishes he had waited. He wishes he could win the Tour without the blemish of the events on the Port de Balès. And you know what, if I can get past my own affection for young Andy Schleck, I have to admit that Contador probably was going to win the tour without the 39 seconds he picked up Monday. His time trialing is just too good for Andy. At the same time, in the moments when Schleck pulled away from Contador before the chain came off, it seemed that Andy could do it after all. And as commentator Paul Sherwin remarked on the Versus coverage, it's possible that Contador attacked out of his own growing sense of vulnerability to Schleck.
In the aftermath, confronted by questions from observers of the Tour, Contador regretted what happened. (It's unfortunate that he couldn't help but grumble about the stage to Spa in his YouTube apology. Schleck's team sort of slowed down the race to allow Schleck to catch back up to the main field. It wasn't as big a deal as Monday's incident.) But there is no going back. The race continues. Schleck is in a difficult hole. Tuesday's stage should be fascinating. Thursday's stage should be unreal.
It always seems more satisfying in sports when the result is decisive. Alas, on stage 15 of the 2010 Tour de France, clock did lie. My instinct was to lash out with frustration at Andy's bad luck and anger at Contador's lapse in sportsmanship.
But on reflection, whether Schleck makes the time back or Contador rolls on to a comfortable victory, stage 15 was a great moment in sports. The moment the chain came off Schleck's bike was a moment of truth. Not a moment of decisive - Contador is a dick/Andy deserved to win - truth, but a moment of complex truth. Schleck may or may not have gained time on Contador if the chain hadn't come off. He tried to fight back and failed. He might still beat Contador, but he probably won't. Schleck lashed out in bitterness after the race, but eventually twittered "**** happens" and seemed to be calming down. Contador rode off. He should have stopped. Part of him knows this and regrets it.
There will be a first place and a second place celebrated when the Tour ends on Sunday. But in a way, I prefer this moment right now, between stage 15 and 16. Contador is a great cyclist, probably the best in the race, and yet he is being heavily criticized. He might go on to win. He might crash. He might get caught doping. He might stop at the finish line and give Andy back the 39 seconds. He might burst into tears. He might post another YouTube video lashing out in anger. Schleck is a great cyclist, perhaps the best in the race, yet he caught a moment of terrible luck (possibly a mechanic's error, maybe Andy's own peddling error). He might fight back. He might fall off the mountain. He might smile and shake Contador's hand then kick the crap out of him on the road. He might punch Contador in the face. Fascinating stuff!
Life goes on. We make decisions in split seconds. We work for and dream of things that ultimately we can and can't control. Endings aren't as decisive as we might like. The race goes on.
The outcome of sports dreams is much more black and white than the dreams of characters in great fiction. I lived to see Syracuse win a National Championship in basketball. It was a dream come true. Fans of the Netherlands (and Bills and Cavs) may never live to see their team reach the pinnacle. It's either/or. Win or lose.
The road to the decisive end is not quite as neat in sports. Syracuse would have lost the 2003 title game if Kansas had hit even a decent percentage of their free throws. IfArjen Robben finished one of his two breakaway chances, the Dutch would have hoisted the World Cup, though few would have been convinced they were the best team in the tournament. If Scott Norwood doesn't miss the field goal, the New York Giants lose to the Buffalo Bills.
Even worse is when the decisive result is seemingly affected by external forces. The most notorious outside force is, of course, officiating. What if... What if Frank Lampard's tying goal is properly spotted by one of the officials against Germany? What if that momentum carries England through that game, and into the rest of the tournament? I'll always believe it was a massive moment. Maddeningly, they missed it.
How about the Joba-bug game? Game 2 of the 2007 ALDS. Yankees in Cleveland. The wind calmed down in northern Ohio just long enough for a bunch of bugs - some kind of swarming gnats or something - to mess up the dominant Joba Chamberlain. The Indians picked up a tying run that inning just before a breeze came in and blew the bugs away. Cleveland added the winning run later. As an unabashed Yankee hater, I was delighted. But to be on the other end of that debacle must have been brutal.
Part of the beauty of races like Tour de France is that outside factors have a minimal effect. The officiating is relatively minimal. (Well, Mark Renshaw might disagree, but it's true.) In fact, we never even see the faces of the referees in the Tour de France.
If they have an effect at all, outside factors effect all Tour riders equally. Phil Mickelson bemoaned the weather on the first day of the British Open this week because his round coincided with a rough patch that other golfers missed. If it pours on Thursday's massive mountain stage in France (as is forecast) every rider will have to deal with it.
Rasheed Wallace once said, "Ball don't lie." I think it lies a little. Wilt Chamberlain's stats were impressive, but when it mattered, Bill Russell beat him more times than not. There's room for debate there. You know what really doesn't lie? Clock. Clock don't lie. It don't lie about Usain Bolt on the track. It don't lie about Jason Lezak beating Alain Bernard in the pool.
It don't lie in the Tour de France. It don't lie in each stage, such as Monday, when Thomas Voeckler rode away in his unique, herky-jerky style to a minute and 20 second victory over everybody else across a tough route through the Pyrenees. It DEFINITELY don't lie in the individual time trial stages, which Fabian "Spartacus" Cancellara has won multiple times. And it don't lie in the overall standings.
Except when it does, and that's why doping is so distressing to fans of the Tour de France. It's even more distressing than in baseball, where performance enhancing drugs ruined hallowed statistics, but don't really make us seriously question the World Series results of the past. Over time, I think baseball fans will learn how to factor in the steroid era as they debate the great questions in baseball's past. What wasn't debatable, before PEDs and blood doping, was the clock in the Tour de France. Lance finished the route in the shortest amount of time for seven straight years. Unbelievable! Spectacular! Ugh, but he might have cheated. But everyone was probably cheating. But still...
And now (finally) we come to Monday's events on the Port de Balès, where the themes of great stories, great sporting moments, and life itself coalesced in a moment of drama. A moment of complexity, not clarity.
Teamwork. Tour leader Andy Schleck's team had set him up perfectly for an attack on the final massive climb of stage 15.
Dreams. For thirteen out of fourteen stages, Andy Schleck had appeared to be at least equal to two-time Tour winner and pre-race favorite Alberto Contador. Only on the short-but-steep final climb on stage 12 had Contador managed to cut into Schleck's lead by ten seconds. On the longer, more typical, more endurance-testing mountain stages of the tour, Schleck seemed to have an advantage. But Schleck can't beat Contador in the time trial on the penultimate stage. Monday offered an opportunity for Schleck to gain time on his rival, to take one great step towards the Yellow Jersey of his dreams. And he was feeling good.
Complication. Towards the top of the final climb, the Port de Balès, Schleck attacked. He burst ahead, and only Contador's tireless teammate, Alexandre Vinokourov, was able to immediately match the acceleration. Contador was, for a moment (and such moments tend to be decisive in the Tour de France) left behind. Schleck moved away, but then his rear tire bounced off the ground, and his peddling was abruptly taking him nowhere. He looked down and found his chain had disengaged. At the exact same moment Contador dug into his peddles, rode up behind Schleck, and then flew past the tour leader as Schleck hopped off his bike to fix the problem.
(Important note: Contador was still behind Schleck when the chain came off in a clear position to see what had happened. He would have been staring at Schleck, his sole rival, as Schleck peddled away. When the chain came off Schleck's bike, Contador, a professional cyclist, must have known what had happened.)
Guilt. Other great Tour de France riders would have stopped and waited for Andy Schleck. I am certain of this. Lance waited for his rival Jan Ullrich in 2001 when Ullrich went off the road. (And that incident wasn't directly caused by any of the aforementioned "outside factors.") Ullrich waited for Lance in 2003 when a spectator's bag snagged on Lance's handlebars sending the champ crashing to the road. Lance would have waited. Jan would have waited.
I was furious at Contador as he peddled away. I was even more bitter when Andy couldn't catch up, despite a valiant effort. So I twittered, "Contador is a coward. Say what you will about Lance, but he would have waited for Schleck." And I felt vindicated for my feelings as I read the vast majority of reactions from pro cyclists and learned followers who seemed to agree with me.
But then I went and saw Inception, and when I got home I found this. And then I felt a little bad for Contador, because Contador feels guilt. That's the only explanation for that video. As much as I want Contador to be a bad guy, he clearly isn't. He's a brilliant cyclist who was caught up in the moment of competition and didn't have enough time to realize what the right thing to do was.
Regret. I guarantee you Contador wishes he had waited. He wishes he could win the Tour without the blemish of the events on the Port de Balès. And you know what, if I can get past my own affection for young Andy Schleck, I have to admit that Contador probably was going to win the tour without the 39 seconds he picked up Monday. His time trialing is just too good for Andy. At the same time, in the moments when Schleck pulled away from Contador before the chain came off, it seemed that Andy could do it after all. And as commentator Paul Sherwin remarked on the Versus coverage, it's possible that Contador attacked out of his own growing sense of vulnerability to Schleck.
In the aftermath, confronted by questions from observers of the Tour, Contador regretted what happened. (It's unfortunate that he couldn't help but grumble about the stage to Spa in his YouTube apology. Schleck's team sort of slowed down the race to allow Schleck to catch back up to the main field. It wasn't as big a deal as Monday's incident.) But there is no going back. The race continues. Schleck is in a difficult hole. Tuesday's stage should be fascinating. Thursday's stage should be unreal.
It always seems more satisfying in sports when the result is decisive. Alas, on stage 15 of the 2010 Tour de France, clock did lie. My instinct was to lash out with frustration at Andy's bad luck and anger at Contador's lapse in sportsmanship.
But on reflection, whether Schleck makes the time back or Contador rolls on to a comfortable victory, stage 15 was a great moment in sports. The moment the chain came off Schleck's bike was a moment of truth. Not a moment of decisive - Contador is a dick/Andy deserved to win - truth, but a moment of complex truth. Schleck may or may not have gained time on Contador if the chain hadn't come off. He tried to fight back and failed. He might still beat Contador, but he probably won't. Schleck lashed out in bitterness after the race, but eventually twittered "**** happens" and seemed to be calming down. Contador rode off. He should have stopped. Part of him knows this and regrets it.
There will be a first place and a second place celebrated when the Tour ends on Sunday. But in a way, I prefer this moment right now, between stage 15 and 16. Contador is a great cyclist, probably the best in the race, and yet he is being heavily criticized. He might go on to win. He might crash. He might get caught doping. He might stop at the finish line and give Andy back the 39 seconds. He might burst into tears. He might post another YouTube video lashing out in anger. Schleck is a great cyclist, perhaps the best in the race, yet he caught a moment of terrible luck (possibly a mechanic's error, maybe Andy's own peddling error). He might fight back. He might fall off the mountain. He might smile and shake Contador's hand then kick the crap out of him on the road. He might punch Contador in the face. Fascinating stuff!
Life goes on. We make decisions in split seconds. We work for and dream of things that ultimately we can and can't control. Endings aren't as decisive as we might like. The race goes on.
Labels: Tour de France
posted by Prof. A at 12:00 AM
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