Every year in July when I start talking about the Tour de France (incessantly, admittedly), people respond with a mixture of horror and hilarity. It’s as if Wayne Rooney’s confessed to doing cross-stitching in his spare time.
At first they don’t believe me. Then they accept it - reluctantly. Cue lots of bad Lycra jokes. And then they want to know why. What’s so difficult to understand? I know LOTS of people who share my fascination with the sport. Two, at least.
But, for the record, it’s all because of Phil Liggett. In the ‘90s we used to get a highlights show in South Africa, of Channel 4’s Tour de France coverage, hosted by Liggett (left) and his side-kick Paul Sherwen. Phil quickly became the Voice of the Tour (and, 30 years later, he still is – these days on ITV4). His passion for the sport was highly addictive, and he made it accessible even for those who could never get rid of their training wheels. He really has done more for cycling than Lance Armstrong ever could. People who grew up on the Tour with Phil’s commentary can’t look at it without hearing his voice. He’s a cult figure for cycling fans. And there are lots of pages on the internet dedicated to his Liggettisms:
- "To wear the yellow jersey is to mingle with the gods of cycling."
- "Once you pull on that golden fleece you become two men."
- "He's dancing on his pedals in a most immodest way!"
- "... his legs have turned to rubber and his effort reduced to mere survival."
- "It's rather like holding back the flood with a little finger."
- "Ullrich is pumping those pistons they calls legs."
- "Marco Pantani has crashed and Alex Zülle has followed him in sympathy. "
- "He'll have to reach into his suitcase of courage."
- "Well, I think you bring out something special in a rider when you throw in a few cobblestones!"
- "He's done his job at the front and now he must concentrate on getting his enormous carcass up the rest of the way."
- "Today he enjoys wearing the maillot jaune, tomorrow he'll wear little more than a pained expression."
But coverage of the Tour has never been just about the cycling. Covering different parts of France each year, including the Alps and the Pyrenees, there’s plenty of spectacular scenery along the way. Through Phil and Paul we also learn lots of trivia about the race and the towns they’re passing through. You learn to appreciate the competitions and motivations within the race. And between collisions with cows, dogs, policemen and drunken sailors, spectacular crashes on loose cobblestones and melted tar, down ravines or into the crowds, you’ll never get bored. If it was a movie, it would be Rocky – fights against adversity, the pain, the victories, the drama... Or, perhaps even The Terminator, judging from some of the quotes we heard this year ("My stomach is full of anger... The race is not finished and I want to take my revenge"). Wimbledon, in comparison, would be a bit like You’ve Got Mail.
Every year and every stage is different. And since the race is not as predictable as it used to be in the Tour de Lance years, it’s more enjoyable to watch. This year they race was frantic from the start, losing lots of riders in the cobblestone-minefield between Belgium and France. Lance Armstrong predicted it would be carnage and it was. You could hardly move for shattered collarbones and fractured wrists. The highlight of the Tour was undoubtedly the epic stage on the Tourmalet, with riders struggling to the top through sheep, fog and drunken fans, leaving most of us breathless at the end. And for extra entertainment, we had the ongoing feud between the leaders, Andy Schleck and Alberto Contador, who finished with only 39 seconds between them (after 3,600km).
Watching a stage of the Tour at some point, should be on every fan’s To Do list. But where you can watch every move and hear all the background information on TV, the live experience is mainly about soaking up the atmosphere, and mingling with fellow fans, or stalking your favourite team. (Yes, it’s allowed! Even positively encouraged.) If you’re used to Phil’s tangents in the background, though, you do feel a bit lost, and as if something’s missing from the experience.
In the past, I’ve seen a stage in Narbonne, and the Prologue in London in 2007, so this year I decided to go to Paris for the final stage. The overall classification is usually decided before this stage, and race etiquette dictates that the leader of the race (the yellow jersey) should not be attacked on the last day. At the beginning of the stage, the leader’s team hand out champagne, and once they’ve entered Paris they do a circuit of eight laps (towards the Arc de Triomphe, down the Champs-Élysées, round the Tuileries Garden, past the Louvre, along the Rue de Rivoli, and across the Place de la Concorde back to the Champs-Élysées). Only sprinters (like Mark Cavendish) make any real effort to win the stage but, traditionally, the riders don't attack each other until they’ve completed at least one of their eight laps in Paris.
The best place to watch would undoubtedly be on the Champs-Élysées, but you need to get to your spot at around 7am, and be armed with a Bladder of Steel and bags of patience (and snacks), because you’ll need to wait until 3pm at least before you see anything. Alternatively, you could go in a big group, and take turns to guard the spot. That’s a bit too hardcore for me. Though I’m sure my gran would be up for it.
I chose another spot on the furthest corner of the circuit, which just happened to be the Norwegian fans’ corner and (as luck would have it) close to a couple of bars. I wandered over there in the early afternoon, and had no problems getting a good spot, next to very nice people who would happily keep my place for me. The atmosphere was great, very festive. Ferris wheels and everything. But it was a long wait. And I was glad I packed an enviable picnic. We waited for absolute ages. I’m sure I’ve not had such long conversations with anyone since the days before TV.
An hour or so before the riders came, the publicity caravan drove around the circuit. It’s really like having to watch an extremely bad support band while waiting for U2 to come on stage. What makes it worse is that, unlike in all the other towns it passes through, it’s not allowed to throw millions of freebies into the crowd.
Meanwhile, one of my new best friends was following the race on his iPhone so we had a vague idea of when to expect the riders, but as soon as we could hear helicopters, every single person in the crowd forgot about the long hours (not all of which were exciting) standing around. Then the cars came, and the motorbikes. And then the peloton, led by the race leader’s team, emerged from the tunnel welcomed by huge cheers from the crowd.
If it wasn’t for the fact that they’d come round a few times, it would all be over in two seconds. But even if it was, most people would still be happy to wait for hours just to get a glimpse of the majestic site that is the peloton.
Read: The Tour de France for Dummies
Watch: Belleville Rendez-vous
Listen to: Kraftwerk – Tour de France
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I didn't take any particularly nice shots in Paris, but here's a taste of what it's all about...
But it's all very exciting. Trust me!
