Written by: Colin Batchelor

I do, that year I raced in France, (where true to form I got my arse handed to me on a plate), that year I got a new 753 road bike and a new track bike, that year I got pissed off with the British winter and went to Australia for a few months, all exciting stuff. But you know the best thing about 1986? The Tour de France.
Yes, yes, I know I trumpeted my lack of interest in the Tour on many occasions, but back then, back in the ‘good old days’ I loved the Tour and of all the Tours I loved, of all the Tour I hated and of all the Tour’s I slept through 86 was, pretty close to my favourite.

And guess what? I’m starting to enjoy the 2009 Tour almost as much. Of course there are a lot of miles on the clock, a lot of hills and a lot of cynicism. But you know this one is shaping up to be a belter.
So then, 1986! La Vie Clare turned up with a team of all the talents, Hinault, Lemond and Hampsten – I’ll just say those names again Hinault, Lemond and Hampsten, now that my friend is a fine, fine team. Ooohhhhh look, Astana, Armstrong, Contador, Leipheimer and that bloke who spends a lot of time at clinics in Austria (poor lad, he’s obviously not well if he needs to see so many doctors).
So two teams with talent to spare, two teams that could happily fill the podium, if only…..
What makes a great Tour? Evenly match champions fighting it out over the mountains of Europe until one of them gains a slight advantage and his opponent nobly waves the white flag? Or a single team ripping itself to shreds, bleeding with internal infighting, attacking each other in the mountains and with any luck over the dinner table at the end of the day?

I know which I’d sooner have! Why have the excitement finish at the end of the stage? If it’s a good race you want it to continue until lights out and even then you’d hope for a little spat or two before their heads hit the pillow. We all love a good drama and a family turning in on its self is far more dramatic than having them fight their neighbours.

Of course back then things were slightly different, as a rule what happened at the dinner table stayed at the dinner table, but today gut reactions are twittered across the world and a thousand journalists fight for quotes to twist and turn into perceived fact. Which of course provides even more entertainment. In 1986 you could wake in the early hours of the morning and have half a day to kill before you got you dose of infighting and intrigue, today you just fire up the laptop and here you go a thousand opinions and a million attitudes all slightly different and all claiming to have the blessing of their chosen rider.

And of course the riders know exactly what’s been said and man does it get them worked up (which from where I’m riding is a great thing, entertainment wise). Today the Tour is like a giant school playground , hundreds of kids running around telling each other that ‘He said you smell’ , ‘That man said your dad’s a drunk’ or ‘Your mum used to be your dad’ or whatever. Merckx got abused by the odd Frenchmen (why is it that the words odd and Frenchmen go together so easily?), Anquetil by the odd Italian and Hinault by the odd American, but in 2009 everybody abuses everybody else and they do it all of the time. In 2009 abuse and insult are like Martini (who’s advertising motto was once: ‘Anytime, anyplace, anywhere) it’s a 24 hour festival of slagging each other off.

And the great thing about 24 hours rolling abuse (like 24 hours rolling news it doesn’t change for 24 hours) is that come race time the riders have gone from mild annoyance and well concealed contempt with each other to downright hatred and loathing. Now whilst this may not be good for their mental health it is the best thing that could happen to the fans, pissed of riders’ equals attacking racing, pissed off riders that hate their team mates equals a blood bath that children should be kept away from.
When Contador attacked on stage 7 it wasn’t an attack that was in the plan, it wasn’t an attack to gain time on Armstrong or Evans it was an attack born out of total 100% apoplectic anger, the sort of attack that in civilian life would result in a court order, community service and 24 months on an anger management course. An attack no one could follow and they couldn’t follow because when someone is that angry something deep in your brain kicks in and shouts to your body DANGER, don’t go near him, you’ll get hurt.

So was Contador stronger on the day? I don’t honestly know, but he was angrier and more pissed off than anyone else and it made for great viewing, which is good enough for you and me. Of course as any physics student will tell you, action, reaction, equal and opposite. So sit back, crack a cold one, put your feet up and enjoy the fight.

My TV is crap!

In 1986 Eric Vanderaerden won the points jersey. In 1986 the points jersey was green. In 2009 Mark Cavendish (the Manx Express, the Manx Missile, the cannonball, the Sprint Air Force, the Boy Racer) is listed as being in the green jersey.

Last week I bought a very expensive new TV, (that’s expensive as in ‘Feck me, I could have bought a frame for that money’ expensive). And I have been using it to watch the Tour and each day I have seen Mark Cavendish pull on a jersey that isn’t green. With my new and expensive TV Mark pulls on a lime green item that looks like it will glow in the dark. As they would say on the Star Ship ‘It’s green Jim, but not as we know it’.

I bloody well hope this isn’t a trend we’re seeing here:
2009 jerseys – Yellow, red poker dot, white and lime green.
2010 jerseys – Yellow, pink poker dot, white and lime green.
2011 jerseys – Yellow, pink poker dot, magnolia and lime green.
2012 jerseys – pale lemon, pink poker dot, magnolia and lime green.
That really would make the riders angry.

Photo by: CorVos Pro