Book review: What a ride, by Rupert Guinness

I think the difficulty for Rupert Guinness (an incredibly talented wordsmith on this most gruelling of sports) is that in the past 25 years that he has covered Le Tour, thanks largely to his own impeccable efforts, Australian sporting fans have become all too familiar with it. No longer is this a totally foreign event raced by very few outside of continental Europe, it has become an Australian obsession each July. No longer are highlights packages wedged into unholy hours on television, but front and centre every night as Mum, Dad and the kids sit down for tea.

Courtesy: fishpond.com.au

This book by Guinness are his perspectives, memories and hindsight reflections from a year in year out love affair he has had with the event since the mid-1980s. Guinness over this time has elevated himself not just in the eyes of the Australian cycling fan fraternity but in the eyes of the tour as a whole.

The book is actually more a memoir of Guinness' time as a cycling journalist, centred around the one race every year that everyone really cares about. The sophistication of his writing methods, connection to those in and around the peloton, and his courage in tackling stories front-on grow with each passing years description of what he got up to during July.

Because of our increasing familiarity with the tour, and its marathon rather than sprint character, we have all been granted time and space to become couch bound experts on just what each rider is doing, planning to do, or should have done. The stories in the book therefore are all too familiar and repetitive, and shed no further insight on what occurred in the race.

There are a couple of redeeming features that make the work worthwhile for the more passionate cycling fan to have a copy of it on their bookshelf. Firstly, Guinness does not just focus on the Australian riders who have become our staple diet. O'Grady, McEwan, Evans, Stephens and Anderson all receive pages of description on their heroics, but lesser known guys happy to have just been in the event in the first place such as Scott Sunderland, Allan Peiper, and Matt White are extolled also and provide the reader with a more rounded education of how Australia has grown to be a major force in providing talent to the tour.

Secondly, that the Australian sports journalism landscape is dominated by craftsperson's who have cut their teeth writing on football (be it any code) the tendency for them to miss the point of cycling stories or just describe them poorly is common. Guinness comes from this background also (Rugby Union) however his immersion in the sport of cycling has him better placed to write comment on difficult issues such as doping, and his rhetoric is enjoyable and far more enlightened than others. Two stars.

Note: The book finishes at the conclusion of 2010s tour, therefore does not include description of Cadel Evans' General Classification win in 2011.

Pure Cycling: Cadel Evans - winner, champion, legend?

Ben Roberts

In the past ten years Australia has largely ignored what a champion cyclist Cadel Evans is. Focussed solely on the dream of thumping our collective chest at the first Australian to win the Tour de France, the blinkers have filtered all other prizes that Evans has collected, and truly the way he has conducted himself.

Cycling remains an incredibly misunderstood sport in a nation that refuses to let go of its expectations that its own competitors should fare no worse than victory. What most fail to grasp is that twice finishing second, four top ten finishes overall, six days in yellow overall, and stage victory is far more than most have won from the Tour. To dismiss Evans' record at this race is the same as saying Gary Ablett senior was not a champion footballer because he never won an AFL premiership; it's plainly not true.

Also in Evans' record is his wearing of the leaders jersey in both other Grand Tours, the overall points classification in the 2010 Giro d'Italia, his 2009 World Championship, his collection of overall stage race wins (including 2011's Tirreno-Adriatico), and a few one-day classics. I haven't even gone back to his efforts in mountain biking before he joined the professional cycling tour; truly a champion in the history of Australian cycling and probably beyond.

Cycling fans in this country have no problem accepting two other champions of the modern era in Robbie McEwen and Stuart O'Grady. Owing to different skill sets, their success has been without the burden of a country with eyes only for yellow. Yet Evans has done as much, and one (not I) may argue more, across more disciplines. Further people argue that O'Grady and McEwen are more likeable figures than Evans. In my eyes such a view is just snobbery. Evans is an individual, and isn't afraid of that, and like all should be accepted. He has had a few moments where he hasn't endeared himself, but he isn't alone. McEwen and Graeme Brown have the ability to carry on like children toward each other in even the most minor race.

Evans has broken free of the shackles that haunted him in 2009 up until the end of the Tour that year. So focussed was he that he saw utter dedication to winning the Tour as being the same as removing all flair and enjoyment from riding in favour of conservatism. His fight in the 2009 Vuelta and his World Championship attack was evidence of his talent and a returning love for the sport. Throughout 2010 and now in 2011 he has continued to compete and win with flair, his demeanour is calmer and his exertion on the bike more natural than ever. Most of all he isn't afraid to risk losing if it gives him a chance of winning.

Retired tomorrow Evans should be remembered a champion of the sport and a legend of Australian cycling; he continues however in pursuit of more victories. May he win that elusive Tour that more might take notice of his great career, though without it he is still great.

Pure Cycling: The Lance Armstrong Effect

By Balanced Sports columnist, Ben Roberts.

I must admit to mixed feelings upon the second retirement Lance Armstrong. Maybe it is the nature of a second retirement that I am neither happy nor sad, nor feel any great pull of nostalgia. However it has just struck home for me, having returned from a quick spin on my bicycle after finishing work for the day, that the main reason why I developed an affinity with the sport is the effect that was Armstrong.

I, with a large number of other westerners, rode the wave of attention poured onto Armstrong as he began his run of seven wins in the Tour de France, astonished with his success and his return from testicular cancer. We also loved that he was a rebel, a straight talking man's man in a sport dominated by continental Europe. Yes, there had previously been Greg LeMond, but he was more an ad hoc curiosity than an icon. Lance was LANCE.

Armstrong’s autobiography, It's not about the bike, still continues to sell strongly 11 years since its release. Most of us who have a copy will have lost count of the times we have read his story, following a struggling childhood, through the rigour of cancer and onto the podium of the Champs-Élysées. Maybe this is where the trouble is in loving Armstrong now – you can only become the champion once. While you are becoming the champion, you can be rebellious, but you wear the risk that it will all fall through. Once you are the champion its harder to rebel as it's only against yourself.

The Tour de France became secondary to the phenomenon that was not just Armstrong's immense cycling talent, but the one-way PR machine that followed. Not only would Lance speak with a confident and brash manner, so would team mates, sponsors, fans, and Johan Bruyneel, the Team Director. Everything became stage managed and controlled so much that the media and other riders built up strong resentment towards him and Bruyneel. Throughout it all Lance remained Lance, no mellowing with time.

Every month more circumstantial evidence is released that points the finger at Armstrong for use of performance enhancing drugs. Former team mates, masseurs, and doctors have bleated loudly that he used drugs. The more the circumstantial evidence builds the more we doubt him. But despite this as he has always pointed to his negative test results. He remains innocent until proven guilty as it should be.

He didn't just win, he would romp it in. Outside of 2003s victory that was by a mere 61 seconds, his wins were by relative miles over his challengers. Every year for seven years the cycling world would watch Armstrong dominate the race from any position. He had a team around him that seemingly frightened the field into falling into line – these were Lance's races; don't even bother. All things being equal you cannot question his right to be called one of the greatest cyclists, but in the world of cycling in many opinions (including my own), he is not the greatest.

Though there are other greats, I will restrict this analysis to those who have won the tour five times as they most likely compare more easily to Armstrong's talent. The Spaniard Miguel Indurain who claimed his five wins consecutively from 1991 through to 1995 was probably the most like Armstrong. He won like a finely tuned machine, surviving in the mountains, and killing them in the time trials. I believe Armstrong the stronger rider than Indurain. To go with the Armstrong machine he had the talent on the climbs and showed a dynamic ability to take the race on when challenged.

Jacques Anqetil had his career somewhat defined not just by his success, but his success at the expense of fellow Frenchman Raymond Poulidor. Anqetuil was chased to his tour wins by a hungry Poulidor. The unfortunate Poulidor continued to challenge well beyond Anqetil's retirement for that victory that always eluded him. Armstrong by contrast was able to dominate an era that had great riders, but not the sort that fear would drive him. Marco Pantani and Jan Ullrich both collected a tour win prior to Armstrong's first, but history leaves the late Pantani as an incredibly troubled individual and Ullrich inconsistent and flaky.

Bernard Hinault and Eddy Merckx are the main road blocks, however, against me lifting Armstrong to the title of the Greatest. Whereas they were riders who rode to win everything, Armstrong rode the tour and any race purely in preparation for the tour. Hinault added to his five tours, three Giro d'Italias and two Vuelta a Espanas. He won all three jerseys in the tour at least once, and a number of one day classics.

'The Cannibal' Merckx was even more ferocious and hungry. His five tours were added to five Giros and one Vuelta. Displaying his hunger further is that he won every jersey in the tour and in 1969 won all three. Add to this he is one of the few cyclists to have won all five monument classics, and he set the 'Hour record' on the track. Merckx and Hinault raced for everything, every time they were on a bike. Pre-cancer Armstrong did win the World Championship and a number of other races, but post-cancer Armstrong had eyes only for 'Mellow Johnny', the Maillot Jaune. Armstrong was a phenomenon, but compared to these two he is miles behind.

Cycling didn't need Armstrong to return, Armstrong wanted Armstrong to return. His stated motivations appear to have been purely about raising the cancer awareness, but his desperation in the 2009 tour said that there was more. That he finished third was incredible after four yours since his last victory. But very few champions in any sport are irreplaceable, others will always rise to prominence rendering the past a memory. Perhaps outside of Bradman only Nicklaus and Jordan will endure above all others in their sport.

Reading back through what I have written I realise what a 'wet blanket' I must appear. But this is Armstrong's second retirement, his first left behind a phenomenal performance, his second a serviceable encore. In time, mine and others hearts will warm to reminiscing about Armstrong's glorious seven consecutive tour wins, but in the mean time we move on. He definitely was the reason I came to love the sport of cycling, but as an individual he can never be bigger than the game; he isn't the reason I continue to love it.