The Tour – Sports Best Annual Sorting Hat

As it does every year, the Tour de France makes you think about life choices.

So what did you do on Saturday? If you were someone sane you did stuff with the family, maybe some shopping, had a lie in, went out to the movies, gardening perhaps. Or you could have been a poor fool who for some unknown reason was born with a synapse in your head that sends impulses zinging around your brain that make you want to become a professional road cyclist. Even worse, you could have been born with the physique – wiry yet strong – and mentality – insanely dedicated and impervious to pain – that would have you aspire to be one of the “General Classification” riders in the Tour de France.

If so, you will have dedicated your life – forgoing normality and that aspect in life we mortals call fun – to getting selected on a professional racing team. And then more than that, you will seek to have a number that ends with a 1 on your back, for that will mean you are the leader of the team – the man around whom all else in the team will dedicate themselves.

Mountain bikes? You most likely did your stint. You may even have ridden on the track – perhaps some time trailing over a very lazy 4,000m. But not for you is the embanked oval. Not for you is the life of following round a motorbike in “Keirin” races. Not for you the hulking diet of Ryan Bayley types, who can brag about eating KFC before races.

No you have chosen a different path – the path less travelled perhaps, and definitely the path less travelled well. You have included yourself in a select group of a select group. There are those in the Tour who will be happy to finish – happy that they have served their master. There will be those who will have lusted for stage wins, who want nothing more than to ride 190km coasting along, only to go insane over the final 500m.

But that is not you either. You are among that group that is so far beyond special, that elite only touches at your definition.

Elite? What is that? Surely all in the Tour are elite. You are not elite; you are nothing less than a god cycling the earth.

There are 22 teams in the Tour. And yes some of the leaders like Thor Hushovd and Mark Cavendish are there for the Green Jersey, but of the 22 teams, we are down to six of whom remain.

Six out of 198 riders. Three per cent. But let’s not just say that – for many, many riders who many, many others would think of as elite didn’t make it to the Tour. Three per cent? Six out of 198? Try six out of 6.932 billion!

The rest? Done, well, tried hard, but go win yourself a stage, don’t bother us with your Yellow Jersey talk. Don’t bother us with your talk of how you like climbing mountains.

Talk is cheaper on the Tour than in just about any other sporting event.

You got a good team? Great, but they aren’t all going to be able to haul you up the side of a mountain.

You haven’t got a great team? Tough, look around you – it’s you and the other six out of 198. Are you better than them?

Six out 198.

Last night if you were one of that insane sextet. Here is what you faced:

The last climb – 15 km of calf muscle screaming silliness. What did you say about it? Cadel Evans. You’re one of the six, give us your views:

"It was a long, but not a steep climb.”

Not steep? Let’s describe it officially shall we:

Plateau de Beille - 15.8 km climb to 7.9 % - Category H

Only a 7.9% gradient. Pffft. Maybe for the other 192 that means something, but for the supreme six? Is that all you’ve got, earth?

Andy Schleck – you want to be more than just one of six, what say you?

"The climb wasn't selective enough”

Not selective enough?

Stuart O’Grady, Schleck’s team mate, had flogged himself stupid at the front of the peloton giving Schleck a nice pace. They were together at the start of the final climb. O’Grady ended up finishing 22 min 57 second behind. Now sure his race was done, but imagine losing nearly 23 minutes over 15 km.

How impervious to mathematics and logic are these riders? Here’s the 16th Stage:

What do you say? Do you say, Please Mum why on earth did you not slap some sense into me 25 years ago when I said, I want to be a bike rider? Do you ask your Dad why didn’t he give you a golf club and send you out so that you may complain about having to play in the wind and rain? (Yes Bo Van Pelt would describe walking around 18 holes as “"Brutal"; Trevor Immelman said it was like going "18 holes with the heavyweight champion of the world." Yeah, truly.)

But no you don’t say that, and you won’t even get any commentators saying it either. Instead you get this:

As we’re heading towards the Alps, this stage is not flat, which is what you would expect, but it isn’t too hard either as it just rises steadily throughout.

You’re riding 151 km on a steady rise of nearly 1,200m, but hey – quit your crying, it “isn’t too hard”.

What you need to look towards are two glorious selection sorting days in the Alps. Let’s start with Thursday and Stage 18:

Three Highest Classification climbs. Three chances to have a bit of a play of the game – can 6 become 5, or 4 or 3 or…

Here are the six:

Standing	Rider	Rider number bib	Team	Time	Gaps
1	VOECKLER Thomas	181	TEAM EUROPCAR	61h 04' 10"
2	SCHLECK Frank	18	TEAM LEOPARD-TREK	61h 05' 59"	+ 01' 49"
3	EVANS Cadel	141	BMC RACING TEAM	61h 06' 16"	+ 02' 06"
4	SCHLECK Andy	11	TEAM LEOPARD-TREK	61h 06' 25"	+ 02' 15"
5	BASSO Ivan	91	LIQUIGAS-CANNONDALE	61h 07' 26"	+ 03' 16"
6	SANCHEZ Samuel	21	EUSKALTEL - EUSKADI	61h 07' 54"	+ 03' 44"
7	CONTADOR Alberto	1	SAXO BANK SUNGARD	61h 08' 10"	+ 04' 00"

Ignore the first guy – Voekler. He did well to get through the Pyrenees retaining the Yellow Jersey (he did much the same in 2004 – but in the end in Paris he finished more than 35 minutes behind the winner, Armstrong, so he doesn’t count).

Frank Schleck doesn’t have the 1 at the end of his name, but he finished 6th and 5th in 2008 and 2009, so he’s a big show. So here’s who we have:

1. Schleck, F
2. Evans
3. Schleck, A
4. Basso
5. Sanchez
6. Contador.

These six can look anyone else in the eye and know they are better than them when it comes to the overall.

Others may climb better; others may time trial better; many more will sprint better.  But only these six can claim they have a chance at being able to look down on everyone. Everyone not only in the cycling world, but also we poor newts who when God was handing out muscles, stamina and intelligence, gave us neither the frame, nor lung capacity, nor insane drive.

At other times in the year there will be races – some important like the Giro in Italy, some magical in their brutality like the Paris–Roubaix – but this is the one time each year where the six get to look not so much into each other’s eyes, but each other’s souls. Getting left behind on a mountain stage in the Tour is not blinking in a starting contest, but more having your very life’s purpose crushed.

All those years without fun? Special diets? Life spent in Europe away from family and friends? Miles and miles of training done in heat, cold and wet? Well done, congratulations, valiant effort. But on this day it has been for nought. Maybe you should have tried golf?

Last night the Schlecks attacked up the hill. Evans and Basso reeled them in (Voekler doing his bit as well). Basso had a go – that too was covered. Evans tried once (covered).

Nothing was discovered, no one blinked. Each man’s reason for living remained intact.  

Stage 18 may sort some out. But three idiotic climbs over mountains may not wreak the havoc one would think – especially as this is the last climb:

Col du Galibier (2 645 m) - 22.8 km climb to 4.9 % - Category H

Long, but not particularly steep. (Heard that before?)

But if you look closer you see the last kilometre is a lovely 9 per cent gradient. Expect attacks as well with 4 km to go – where the black shows another 9 per cent incline.

You can lose a lot of time in 4 km. Time enough to know that the sextet is now a quintet or perhaps a quartet ready to do a cycling version of Pachelbel's Canon. And at such a point you will know that the Tour de France game of musical chairs has found you standing when the music stopped.

And then – because why on earth would you expect any less – the very next day you get out your bike and head again along the sides of mountains, and face this:

Forget the first climb – they’ll all go up that together. It’ll all be won and lost (as it always is won and lost when the Tour regularly arrives here) on the final climb up Alpe-D’Huez.

Here’s how the Official website describes it:

The stage everyone is afraid of

For us gloriously non-deluded types who can enjoy the Tour not from atop a bicycle, but atop a couch – potato chips, beer and remote at hand – this is a wonderful stage. Short so it won’t keep us up too late, and on Friday night, so we can put the week behind us and get ready for the weekend by enjoying the delights of watching men’s souls crack open in agony.

The last climb? Have a look:

It starts with 2 km of at least 10 per cent incline. But the real fun begins with about 5km to – when the road tilts to the sky and goes up at 11.5 per cent.

The only guarantee is that by the end of this stage we and all those in the tour will know.

All will have been revealed.

Sure there will be a time trial the next day – but the likelihood is that will be for looks and for minor placings.

If you’re not there at the end of the Alpe-D Huez; if you’re not still looking at others in the eye; if you’re not still answering attacks and doing some yourself, then you, my friend, are no longer in the Tour.

Yes you will keep riding. Yes you will still have the number 1 on your back. Yes you will still get to Pairs. But you might as well be sitting on the couch next to us.

You didn’t come here to finish second, and you sure as hell didn’t come here to have your mouth open so wide gaping and groping for oxygen as you hit the 11.5 per cent gradient that some evil god was able to reach his hand inside and tear out your heart.

No other sport has this foreshadowing. Yes in a long distance running event packs will emerge and only the winners will come from the front. But in a marathon you don’t look at a point in the race and say – up till here everyone will be in it; after here only the best will remain. Mostly the pace will be constant and those who can keep up do, those who can’t, won’t.

In the Tour at the bottom of the Alpe-D Huez there will be a majority of the pack. Within 100m it will be a minority. Within a kilometre it will be a selection.

And the thinning will continue all the way up the climb.

Who will remain at the top? For Contador he not only has to be at the top – but also has to do it more than 2 minutes better than the rest – which is why I think only if Contador wins this stage may the time trial still be relevant to the final outcome.

Evans looked strong last night – but will he hold on when the real inclines take over. The Schlecks will work in tandem – it didn’t crack anyone last night, will it next Friday? Basso and Sanchez are less likely, but don’t tell them that – you don’t get to be one of the six by admitting self doubt. 

The Tour – as it always does – comes down to a few moments – moments when the great is sorted out from the very good. Moments where viewers will hold their breath then scream for their champion; knowing the next 10 minutes will matter more than the rest of the entire tour. With a week to go we can foresee where they will happen; at this point we know to whom they will happen; but we have no idea of what the result will be.

Sport at its best.

As it is every year.

All mountains, no molehills

This is what the riders in the Tour de France face tonight.

Just look at that first climb! If that wouldn't make you reconsider your career choices, then you should be considering your sanity. But then Tour riders are never the ones you would search for if you were after people to chat about sanity at a high school "talk about my job day".

That first climb takes the riders over a mountain higher than Mt Kosciusko (2,228m). Now, ok we here in Australia inhabit a pretty flat land, but even still, that is pretty impressive. And what's more, after doing it, they have to climb another mountain (you know, just for kicks - sort of a, hey that was fun, let's do it again type operation).

When I was young, I ran middle-distance races, and I always knew before the start of a 3,000m race that it was going to hurt - I hated sprinters who did their 12 second sprint then searched for a drink and a seat in the stands - but the pain of the Tour rider is a completely different zone. Tour riders start each day knowing they will probably face moments where they will feel their chest scream in pain as though some evil French imp has reached inside their stomach and is yanking on their oesophagus and heart, and for good measure is squeezing their lungs for laughs. They know the muscles in their thighs will gain the ability to speak, and will be shouting to their brain for mercy, then abusing the mind with the most foul language imaginable. And most likely at some stage the muscles will then sob like a man who has accidentally knocked on a CIA prison and enquired if anyone within knows where the nearest water-boarding party is happening.

They are true insane fools. And God bless them for it.

This year's Tour hasn't been as riveting as previous years. Basically it was over the moment the organisers decided to re-introduce the team time trial. It meant that the ridiculously loaded Astana team was assured of having the winner. And this was confirmed when Astana beat Team Saxo Bank (containing rider Andy Schleck) by 40 seconds, Cervelo Test Team (containing last year's winner Carlos Sastre) by 1 min 37 secs, and Team Silence-Lotto (Cadel Evans' team) by a whopping 2 min 35 secs.

The team time trial is a truly dumb inclusion for a race that rewards one person with victory. What it does do however is highlight how often the winner is the rider who has the strongest team. At least they have got rid of the time bonuses for finishing in the top three of a stage.

After the time trial, it meant the race was between Alberto Contador of Team Astana and Lance Armstrong of Team Astana. And when in Stage 7 Contador beat Evans, Sastre and Armstrong by 20 seconds the tour was over. This was confirmed on Sunday night when up the climb to Verbier, Contador beat Sastre by 1 min 6 secs with Evans a further 20 seconds back.

And yet with the Tour effectively over (Team Astana will not let anyone else control the race from here on in), they still have to suit up, jump on the bike and go through hell.

And yet tonight's is not the worst climb to come - that is on the second-last stage, the stage the organisers were hoping would decide the tour - the climb up Mount Ventoux (known as Mount Baldy because it is a volcanic waste land - no nice green hills here).

Just in case you doubt the torture involved, here's the final climb of the stage in detail:

In 21 kms you go up 1.6km. The black bits show where it is most steep - yep the last 2 1/2 km are the steepest.

It is on Mt Baldy where Sastre and Evans have their only hope. Team Astana will do all it can to protect Contador, but the stage is pretty flat up till that point, so no one will have had to work particularly hard (unlike previous years before final climb up Alpe d'Huez).

I don't hold out much hope for Evans, or Sastre (or anyone else) beating Contador up the Mountain - he is just looking far too strong. But damn, if I don't marvel at their ability to try.

I'd be hopping off and pushing the bike up, and thinking why I hadn't decided to pursue an easier career - pit-bull wrestling perhaps.

Tour de France Diary

8:45pm: Cadel Evans starts in about 3 1/2 hours time.

I'll update his progress, and maybe keep a count on the amount of chicken chips I'm going through.

At the moment I'm watching the Crows play Sydney, switching over to watch the Wallabies V All Blacks, and also watching a bit of a replay of the Yankees-Boston Game.

It's a good night!

* * *

9:30pm: Well the Crows have done the job on the Swans (still 5 minutes to go, but I'll write this one down as a win). Tip for posterity (not a real outlandish one, but still) Jason Porplyzia will captain the Crows one day (and hopefully by then I won't have to spend 2 minutes on google trying to work out how to spell his name).

The Wallabies look to be doing well also. (Plus the Yankees won... this is looking like being a very good night; time to break open a big bag of potato chips....mmmm potato chips)
* * *
10:00pm: Cadel getting interviewed. Sounds confident, but very respectful of Sastre. He seems like a good guy (though I have to say, I don't like how he often mentions the others riders have better teams - it's true, but you don't need to always point it out).

Phil Ligggett takes the usual cautious line. You just know the guy has seen it all before, and has probably lost count of the number of times the expected did not happen.

Evans' bodyguard is positive Cadel will win. (Yes hold the front page for that one).
* * *
10:10pm: Liggett and Mike Tomalaris now seem to be saying that Sastre is cherry ripe, and fresh as a daisy (actually they didn't say that, but I'm going into full-on sporting cliche mode).

Taste of France! My favourite; Gabriel Gate cooking up rabbit. Are there any French dishes that don't involve browning the meat, putting in mushroom, garlic, shallots, and stock, and whacking it all in the oven for 1 1/2 hours? I'm just saying, all that talk about French cooking, and all they seem to do is make chicken or rabbit casseroles. Would it kill them to to do a stir fry?
* * *

10:36pm: David Millar is coming second on the road. An interesting rider - got done for doping back in 2004 (EPO). Is now a huge anti-doping campaigner, and is often called on for comments by journos when a rider gets done. He has certainly rehabilitated his reputation. Not sure how. Compare it with the hoo ha over British sprinter Dwain Chambers. On this topic, if you have time, check the letter written by Victor Conte (head doping guy for the BALCO scandal) to Dwain Chambers. It details how athletes beat the doping tests. It is amazing reading.

Fabian Cancellara looks to be the one to beat for the stage. Evans still and hour and a half away.
* * *

10:45pm: Just flicked over to Channel 9; I Am Sam is on. Never seen it; personally any movie with actors playing mentally disabled people are complete crocks. There should be a sub-rule in the Oscars that such roles are ineligible for winning an Academy Award. If there was, I would bet my house you'd never see another actor playing the role.
* * *

10:47pm: They've crossed to Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen. Sherwen states the "statistics favour Evans, BUT Sastre is in yellow..." Wish they'd just stop saying the "but". I know the "but", stop saying "but"!!! Positive thoughts, positive thoughts.

Sherwen just said that Evans needs to pull back on average 1.77 seconds a km. Sounds a bit of a doddle, not sure why I'm bothering to stay up.
* * *

10:50pm: Just had a squiz on imdb (to get the I Am Sam link), The Dark Knight is now the number 1 rated film. I haven't seen it yet, but I can't imagine it actually being better than The Godfather (or that favourite of all footy players, Shawshank).

Such polls always favour recent films. Back in the mid-late 90s you couldn't have a movie mag polls of the greatest film with tripping over Pulp Fiction as Number 1. Now it'd probably be in the top 10, but I can't see time improving anyone's view of it.

Cancellara just set the best time. Good that Evans has the world time trial champion's time to aim for.
***

11:06pm: Sherwen just reports that 14 out of the 19 team managers think Cadel will win the tour (only CSC and the Spanish teams think Sastre will win). I preferred it when he was saying "but". Stop trying to jinx him!!!!
***

11:11pm: Had another quick look at I am Sam. Can you believe Michelle Pfeiffer is 50? How can that be? And did you know that since 2000 she has only been in 7 films? Bet you can't name 3. Just an amazing fall from her previous heights.

By comparison, in the first 8 years of the '90s she was in 12 films AND played Mindy Simmons in one of the greatest Simpsons' episodes.

And now I see she is going to be in a film with Ashton Kutcher. Sad. Very sad.
***

11:57pm: Erik Zabel just finished - he's 38 and on his 14th tour. Way to make me feel like I've done nothing with my life Erik.
***

12:00am: 10 riders left to go. 17 minutes till Evans. Mike Tomalaris asks yet a-fricken-gain if we are about to witness a slice of sporting history.
***

12:03am: We got foxtel about 4 months ago, and I have to say we'll never go back to being without it. How else could I see Flags of Our Fathers on 2 channels at the same time? Seriously are they thinking there are people around who switched on the "Movie One" channel at 11:30pm and thought, "damn I've missed the start of Flags of Our Fathers... oh whew, it starts on "Movie Two" in 30 minutes, I'll stay up then (rather than just go to my DVD collection and get it from there)?
***

12:07am: The Pelican Brief has just started on Channel 9 - Cynthia Nixon is in it apparently, and John Lithgow? This seems like something I normally would know; it also seems like something I normally wouldn't give a damn about. I think my mind is starting to wander a bit.

What happened to all the late night infomercials? Back in the late 90s I could stay up past midnight and know that I would be able to learn all about the latest advances in the science of microwave cooking (hello Brown'n'Crisp) from a short guy pretending to be a chef purely because he wore a floppy chef hat. The amazing thing about all the cooking infomercials (whether for microwave stuff, knives, a portable BBQ, stomach crunching equipment) is they always ended with an upside down pineapple cake. Who the hell has ever eaten one? Enqiring minds need to know.
***

12:13am:
Evans is up next!!!!

12:17am: Go Cadel Go!!!!

12:22am: Liggett makes mention that is 80 years since Hubert Opperman became the first Australian to ride the tour. 80 years? Not really a magical number, but what the heck, I'll take any omen today so long as it's good.

12:24am: Sastre starts...his form looks a bit poor (because of course I know what the hell the difference between good form and bad form on a bike is - has something to do with not falling off??)

12:28am: Just read on news.com that Obama denies his tour of Europe was a victory lap. No Obama it was a subtle incognito fact finding mission, where 200,000 of your close persoanl friends just happened to be passing by when you gave a speech in Berlin.

12:32am: A dopey French TV stat suggests Evans is not doing that well. Liggett and Sherwen dismiss it. Good work guys, keep the faith!!

12:37am: Menchov went through 3rd fastest at the firs time check - Phil and Paul talk about him vaulting over Evans!!! Then they mention that everyone says this is a course for Evans. Stop giving me mixed messages!!! First check coming up for Evans.

12:39am: Evans goes through 6th fastest. 16 seconds down on Menchov. He needs to pick it up. Menchov is going mad!!! The dopey French TV stat was right!!!!

12:44am: OK, I'm officially worried.

12:48am: Sastre is doing ok. Bugger. Wonder how The Pelican Brief is going...

12:54am: According to Liggett, Cadel Evans in danger. Hey there's a Columbo episode on TV1, that might be worth a watch! (Sport is stupid, why do I do this to myself?)

12:57am: Menchov isn't doing as well - maybe he went out too fast (yes he did, yes he did, say it enough it'll come true, yes he did, you you do have the power to affect the outcome of the race). I need a drink. Or two.

1:00am: Evans is 7th through the second check. Bugg. Er.

1:05am: It must be the most impossible feeling to cope with - the feeling that your hopes of winning the Tour are slipping away with each km. Evans would be getting reports through his earpiece, and must be wondering what the hell is going on, and knowing that probably the harder he tries the worse it will get.

1:09am: At the 36km Sastre is only 23 secs down on Evans. Not good. If he has been holding back to go hard over the last part of the course, now is the time to start going for it...

1:14am: Sherwen says Cadel's team manager might be starting to panic. Starting?? Ya think??

1:16am: Apparently Sherwen reckons no one factored into the "yellow jersey factor". No, they just mentioned it every other bloody minute. Never considered it though.

1:19am: Menchov finishes - seems to have slowed over the last few kms. Liggett calls it for Sastre. Unfortunately he's going to be right.

1:21am: Evans finishes with the 7th best time. Just not his day. It's a long tour, and you get the feeling he has had to work harder than Sastre (yes, I'll mention it - you need a good team around you)
Well this is just a bugger.

Liggett just compared Sastre to Armstrong. Geez Phil, let's reach for the hyperbole jar and smash it open.

1:31am: That's it, Sastre wins. Goodnight. See you next year, if I can be bothered. Stupid sport.

11:01am: Just watched Offsiders - Evans' interview was pretty grascious (though he did point out again the strength of CSC - and yes he has a point, it's a wierd sport: all about the individual, but impossible to win without a good team). Ah geez. Oh well at least I can get back to going to bed early and finishing the novel I'm currently reading - only 2 weeks till the Olympics; I better read fast.

Tour de France

This is Exhibit A in the case for why I am not a professional road cyclist:




This is what the riders in the Tour de France were faced with yesterday. It’s not often that a picture can convey the excruciating agony of a sporting contest, but this goes close. It looks fake. To someone like me from flat Australia, where the highest mountain is 2,228m (that’s right, only 113m higher than the Col du Tourmalet), such a step rise looks other worldly.

The final climb looks like the draftsman has just got bored and took out a ruler and decided to not even bother pretending that the picture is meant to represent any reality. But once you take in the fact that such climbs do exist, and that the riders in the tour were all expected to climb them (and the leaders expected to race up them), well then it’s just plain scary.

The tour is one of the few great sporting contests. It is one of the even rarer great international sporting contests which happens annually. Because of its length I compare it more to the Olympics as a whole than an event in the Olympics. It is Wimbledon – the one everyone wants to win. It is the US Masters – it’s invitational. It is the Champions League – it goes on forever and is swamped in money.

But it is better than all of them. It has the tradition of Wimbledon and the Masters, but the commentators aren’t obliged to act as though they are broadcasting a religious act (remember there’s no rough at Augusta National, only “second cut”); and the event does not need to be moribund in traditional foolishness – make sure those tennis shirts are white thank you.

While the riders are extremely well paid and as covered in sponsorship as a footballer for Man United, they never take a dive and roll around on the ground in the hope advantage – in fact they are expected to shrug off a crash that would send you or I crying home to Mum, or at the very least flinging our bikes in the shed and swearing never to ride the bloody thing again.

The riders are thin and wiry, yet strong and tough. They hurl themselves up a mountain with muscles screaming in pain, and then scream down the other side at a manner simultaneously utterly insane and completely in control.

When you look at the picture you wonder what it must be like to see the event live, and pity yourself that you must make do with television, which cannot replicate being there. But here again the tour bests other sports; because while undoubtedly to be among the throng of spectators on the side of a mountain road must be thrilling, watching it on television is no poor substitute.

In fact watching the tour on television is a treat. The vistas of the French countryside and the villages through which the riders pass make the viewer yearn to be able to sell up, move and take up a job perhaps working in the local bakery, and going home each day by bicycle to your lovely little 16th century cottage.

Truly, when you see France through the prism of the tour you understand why it has been invaded so many times throughout its history – it is achingly beautiful, and looks for all the world a paradise; no heavy industry, no garish architecture, just mountains, vineyards, rolling hills, brooks with men in waders fishing, and the greenest grass in plentiful supply for cows to leisurely feed upon.

But the tour on television is also great because, unlike other events where the action is missed because the camera can only cover so much – the AFL telecast that renders the viewer blind to the leads and moves by those in the forward line while the ball comes from defence – in the tour the cameras are part of the event.

The motorcycles are there with the riders, focusing on their faces, zipping past those who have been dropped by the peloton, and above all, giving the viewer an accurate picture of the incline the ride must climb. Last night at time the road seemed to disappear behind the riders, and their legs completed revolutions in slow motion – it seemed to me a pace that I would have ridden (were the mountain a slight incline, and I much younger and impossibly more fit) – it looked hard.

Through out the stage, their faces changed from studied blankness to badly acted blankness. They tried not to show pain, they desperately attempted to keep their facial muscles relaxed – look at me they say to the others, it ain’t so bad, anyone care to have a surge, you know just to break the monotony? And then bit by bit up the Hautacam the pain broke through the relaxed jaw, and twisted itself into an expression that fooled no one. They were living pain, and when they finished they all knew more days of pain waited.

Last night Cadel Evans took the lead by one second. His comeback from a bad fall on Day 9 – a fall that so easily could have broken his oft broken collar bone, or dislocated his shoulder – to take control of the leaders group and go up the mountains on his own, surrounded by riders from CSC and Saunier Duval was breathtaking. And it was great because it was so human. He never zoomed ahead as though he were powered by a force made by man in laboratories. All of the riders in fact struggled and inched either ahead or behind. Truly it was riveting.

I needed to go to bed, but Evans kept me awake, on the last climb I dared not leave the couch for fear of missing a surge. Then to watch the clock turn over as we waited to see the leaders’ group come round the final bend to see if he would take the lead was as thrilling as the end of close AFL match.

Evans will likely give up the yellow jersey over the next few days – it does not matter, so long as he wears it down the Champs-Élysées – but he has proved himself, and if he does win it will rank with the greatest of Australian sporting achievements. He won’t be on any breakfast cereal boxes in this country, but he will stand in the pantheon of Australian greats.

The next two weeks will be exhilarating.