ON ATHLETICS:NO ONE in their right mind ever gets into journalism for the money. First a pay freeze. Then a pay cut. Next, it seems, will be pay your own way. This is not a pretty time for any profession and our slow and old-fashioned trade is no exception.
According to Vanity Fair, the last ever newspaper will be printed in 2016, somewhere in Kazakhstan. The final countdown is well under way. The saddest part is we'll hardly be missed. Hunter S Thompson always said journalism is a strange, seedy world full of misfits and drunkards and failures – and that a group photo of the top 10 journalists in America on any given day would be a monument to human ugliness. Indeed.
It can be a dirty business, but like prostitution, someone has to do it. There are times when the few benefits we have left make it feel vaguely worthwhile; mileage, lunch allowance, and – this is one of them – the option of working from home. Truth is I’ve been working from home all this week so that I don’t miss a moment of the Tour de France. Live, every afternoon, on Eurosport. Beautiful.
Even better I’ve been working al fresco, the back patio my office space, with the TV set up on the kitchen windowsill. There is a certain art to working from home, and that includes sounding sober and mildly stressed when the Sports Editor rings up around lunchtime demanding to know “what is it you’ve got?” – while at the same ensuring your house guests remain quiet. Some people would rather eat their own flesh than watch five hours of cycling through the French countryside. Not me. Halfway through I’m already looking forward to the rerun later that evening. There is no other sport on television quite like it. Part travelogue, part documentary, always spectacular, dramatic, and the first seven days of the 2009 Tour have been exactly that.
What makes Eurosport’s coverage all the more enjoyable is the co-commentary of David Harmon and our own Seán Kelly, the four-time winner of the Tour’s green jersey. Kelly has come a long way since he famously responded to questions in a radio interview with a nod of his head, and described all 50 of his major classic wins as “super”. These days Kelly offers some astute commentary – delivered in that unmistakable Carrick-on-Suir accent. When a breakaway rider is about to be caught “he sure-tainly is now suffrin’ majorly big time” and if he’s struggling on the hills “he sure-tainly has over-coo’kd it”. He is “inter-restingly” rarely proved wrong.
When Mark Cavendish captured stage two and three with his astonishing turn of speed, Kelly put it down to his “fast twitchy muscles” – and that’s something the 24 year-old from the Isle of Man sure-tainly isn’t short of.
Except it’s not that simple. Sprinting flat out on a bicycle is as much about nerve and tactics as it is fast twitchy muscles. At least I assume it is. That would help explain the notable absence of any African American or Caribbean riders in the peloton. You would think if they could transfer their leg speed to the bicycle then someone would have signed one up by now. Surely Cavendish would be no match for their fast twitchy muscles.
Imagine, for instance, Usain Bolt in a bunch finish. The fastest man on earth would probably out-sprint the lot with only one hand on the handlebars and the other waving free. Then they’d need a parachute to slow him down. But would he have the nerve, the tactics? Sprinting on the running track is still all about fast twitchy muscles. Bolt proved that yet again in Lausanne on Tuesday when he ran the fastest 200 metres of all time. In the rain, that is. It was pouring down when he clocked 19.59 seconds, into a slight headwind – and the only people to have ever run quicker are himself (his 19.30 world record), Michael Johnson (his 19.32 old world record), and the 19.58 Tyson Gay ran in New York in May.
This was evidence there are no tactics in sprinting. It’s ready, steady, go! Bolt had no lead-out man, no gap to find. It was pure, natural speed and that, it seems, is the difference between sprinting on a bicycle and sprinting on foot. It was evidence, as well, that fast twitchy muscles aren’t something you can cultivate. They’re not something many people born on this side of the world are blessed with in the same way as the Jamaicans or African Americans. That’s why no white man has yet run the 100 metres in under 10 seconds.
Move up to 400 metres, however, and the benefits of fast twitchy muscles begin to wear off. That would help explain why David Gillick was ranked equal fourth-fastest in the world in the event after the amazing 44.77 seconds he ran in Madrid last Saturday. It was almost half a second quicker than Gillick had ever run before, and would have been good enough to win him the bronze medal at the Beijing Olympics last summer. Gillick is blessed with natural speed, but it’s far from his only blessing. There were plenty who believed Gillick needed to move up to 800 metres to fulfil his true potential, and maybe he still should, but his 44.77 seconds was as much down to his total dedication through the highs and lows of recent years. It’s a lot easier when you’re born fast, and Gillick has done it the hard way, trained himself to be faster still.
But that’s for another day. The Tour has just finished its first mountain stage on top of the 2,240-metre high Andorre Arcalis and suddenly, it’s all about the slow twitchy muscles. The way the Alberto Contador pulled away from his rivals, including team-mate Lance Armstrong, was like watching a Kenyan or Ethiopian playing with the rest of the world in a 10,000 metres race. Which also raises the question: why aren’t there any Kenyans or Ethiopians in the Tour? Given their renowned endurance reserves, and unbearable lightness of being, surely even Contador would be no match for the likes of Kenenisa Bekele. Except it’s not that simple. Climbing a mountain on a bicycle is also about nerve and tactics as much as it is slow twitchy muscles. At least I assume it is. It’s also about being afforded the chance to do so, and cycling remains a little too elitist a sport to allow that. Anyway, Contador has made his point. The slow twitchy muscles will ultimately win out in the Tour.
