Fast Eddy's Flandria Cafe

Photo of the day: Adidas Eddy Merckx Super shoes

2012-03-01T05:45:00.000-08:00

More retro. Back in '77, this was one of the shoes you very likely wore. Most guys used Detto Pietro, Adidas or Puma then. A rare few had Sidi's, or 'Colnago'.

All were black, leather, and you needed to polish them all the time to keep the uppers soft and shiny. Even back then, dirty shoes were not very 'pro'. You needed a shiny gleam to match that patent leather strap helmet. 'That's what we're talkin 'bout'.

And with the Adidas, you had to nail the (included) white plastic cleats on. So did the riders on the Fiat, Miko-Mercier, Peugeot-Esso and A.C.B.B teams that used them. You had to really invest time and take care to get the location just right. More art than science back then in those pre FIT-KIT rotational adjustment days. You'd take a few short rides without the cleats, then nail them just ahead of where the back pedal cage left a mark, leaving there was few mm gap between your toes and the toe clip. Sounds simple. It wasn't.

Puma Olympia Sprint Shoes
(Photo: manilafixedgear.blogspot.com)

The plastic soled Puma Olympia Sprint (photo) were pretty popular then I recall, introduced by Adidas' cross-town family rival they made a well publicized debut at the 1976 Montreal Olympics used by several winning German pursuiters. And they seemed to be distributed everywhere in US in '77. The integral adjustable and replacable cleats eliminated the nailing, and was a pretty welcome innovation. But the screw holding the cleat in would strip pretty easily, and plastic sole got soft pretty fast as I recall...

Used a pair of those Puma's as a junior, then upgraded to a pair of those Colnago shoes... lighter, narrower, and softer uppers that fit like a glove when you pulled on thin cord laces. The cleat was pre- nailed in a fixed (straight on) position. I remember the guy who sold them to me told me that this was 'the currently accepted idea in the Italian racing, fixing cleats straight so that you 'trained' your body/legs to pedal straight'...(!)

Primitive, eh?

Photo of the day: Eddy Bosberg

2012-02-21T18:11:00.000-08:00

"Where have you gone Eddy Bosberg. A nation turns it crying eyes to you... What's that you say Noël Foré? Eddy Bosberg's left and gone away..."

The photo isn't from the Bosberg.. it's De Muur, where in 1989 Edwig Van Hooydonck softened up the selection in a cold, wet rain soaked Ronde van Vlaanderen before the killer attack on the final cobbled climb that gave him his nickname for eternity.

Look closely at Edwig's face. And see emerging belief. This is exact point when the mind says: "You can win DeRonde"
The Muur was where the battle is won. The Bosberg? The coup de grace.
(photo Miroir du Cyclisme No. 417, April 1989)

That '89 Ronde was a real flahute special. Riders coming in one by one. Wasted, wet and cold, covered with mud, with frozen fingers and numb feet. On the podium, the 22 years-young Edwig burst into tears of joy and relief. Which didn't stop. For long minutes. But every Flemish heart watching, understood completely. Hearts that lament the loss of the Muur-Bosberg finale this year.

'Eddy Bosberg' pulled the same trick again, two years later. Final blow on the Bosberg after everyone was on their knees. But it's this first recital that will always remain so special. The quintessential red-haired fair flemish boy - tall, rail thin, meek, unheralded, strong and hard - winning De Ronde in the most flemish of weather. And in the most appropriate manner. A big ring attack on the Bosberg that left a hard Norwegian commando named Dag-Otto Lauritzen with no response. The final elimination, followed by a triumphal procession to the coronation.

It was a finale that often took the rhthym of a bullfight. Big long battle to wear down the bull. The final faena op de Muur. The kill on the Bosberg. A triumphal procession...

He had two legends in the officials car guide and exort him in to Meerbeke. Ex winners Noël Foré, and Eddy Merckx. Imagine you're 22. You're a few k from winning the Ronde. Your two wieleridols are banging on the car doors.

You'd cry too.

Today's photo is a tribute to the flahute in his natural habitat. De zone: The final half hour of a seven hour battle.

And it's an ode to a traditional finale that will be sorely missed this year. The Muur, and the Bosberg. They are De Ronde. Hopefully will be again.

This year's revised route might well be a great classic. A great race, and a great spectacle. And be great commercially. I don't doubt it. But I don't care. They could run a kermesse up and around the Kwaremont 20 times too. That would probably be a great race too. But it wouldn't be the Ronde. The Monza 1000km. is a great sports car race too. But it's not the Mille Miglia.

The Muur-Ronde combo was a perfect finale. A drama with choreography timed as perfectly as a corrida de toros. It was 'death in the afternoon' with rain, under leaden skies.

Some things are better left alone. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Film Review: The Race for the Yellow Jersey

2012-02-15T19:27:00.000-08:00

The nostalgia keeps on coming jongens.

Here's a documentary the "Tour Cycliste de L'Est," a stage race in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, in 1971. Just put up on youtube courtesy of Kopp's cycles in Princeton NJ. This period film profiles the Century Road Club team - John Allis, Stan Swaim, Doug Dale, Bobby Phillips and Flip Waldteufel - back before they became the now legendary "Raleigh Boys".

I first saw it on Boston Channel 2 PBS back in '79. Seem to remember staying up till about 1:30 in the morning to watch it. (Understand that while I'd probably raced close to a hundred races by then, I could still count on one hand the number of times I'd actually been able to see a bicycle race on film, or on tv!)

I remember that John Allis used to have a film copy he'd bring to project on a wall after giving a coaching talks for Boston area clubs in those pre-VCR, pre web days. Never tire of watching it... It's well done, check it out: (Parts 1 & 2 below)

More links to watch Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

The 'Tour of the East' wasn't all just US and Quebec Amateurs though. There were a few 'ringers' in addition to the great John Allis.

Vincenzo Meco, '62 Giro
Foto: courtesy Wilfried Journée, De Wielersite

The guy who just edged John to win the overall was an Italian ex-professional named Vincenzo Meco. Meco was a pro from 1962 - 1967 before emigrating to Canada. He embarked with quite the pedigree. As a neo-pro riding for Gino Bartali's San Pellegrino team in the '62 Giro d'Italia, Meco started with a bang. In six days, he was four times in the top ten, taking the Maglia Rosa after Stage 6 for one day. Then, to prove it was no fluke, he soloed through a snowstorm to win the mountainous 14th stage to Passo Rolle ahead of ex-world champion Ercole Baldini and super-scalatore Imerio Massignan.

This was the famous blizzard-shortened stage - a story told so well in Herbie Sykes book "the Eagle of the Canavese." (Great read, buy it!) Rik Van Looy, Charly Gaul (who'd won the Giro in 1956 in a similar weather) and a score of others abandoned the Giro that day. Meco took 3rd in the Mountains competition in that Giro. So no slouch. He never really came close to that form again as a euro-pro, but in his second life as a reinstated amateur in Canada, he was a scourge, winning most of the major races in Quebec between 1969 and 1972. Meco was still riding in his seventies they say, one report just a few years ago said he did 10k km a year. Hope he's still flying.

Sigi Koch was another guy with a big win list in Canada. He led the Canadian team in the 1972 Tour de Nouvelle France - a five day, 610 mile stage race. The Tour de Nouvelle France in '71 and '72 was the first time the big European teams: (KAS, Molteni, Sonolor, GBC, Flandria) came to North America to race. Despite the Quebec 'French connection', I'm pleased to report the final overall in both years was a flahute fest: The rapid Guido Reybrouck won both years -- in '71 over Joseph Bruyere, and in '72 over Herman Van Springel. And some young guy named Roger DeVlaeminck won 3 stages in '71, back before he became 'Monsieur Paris Roubaix.'

The film puts the non-existent economic return of top level North American racing back then in stark perspective. I'm pretty sure the three New England cycling legends portrayed in The Race for the Yellow Jersey all gave a helluva lot more to this sport than they ever took from it. Stan Swaim, John Allis and Doug Dale all paid it forward - in spades! I'd bet you a Hoegaarden they did more to teach bicycle racing to more young riders, than any other three top riders you can grab off any team today.

Dorset Training Group, mid seventies.
That's John Howard in the center
(Anne Cram photo, courtesy Ted Furtado)

A few years after this film, Stan Swaim started and ran the Dorset Training Group in Dorset, Vermont. Lots of young New England riders from the seventies learned le metier up there in the beautiful but steep rolling hills and white washed villages of southeastern VT. That green and yellow striped DORSET jersey was a New England secret-society in those days. I remember that John Howard would hang there at times. My good pal and neighbor Ted Furtado was a disciple who coached there too.

Dorset was New England spartan. And, reminiscent of the Biagio Cavanna school that bred Fausto Coppi, Stan's Dorset group was built around that same philosophy of 'big miles.' Old school baby. Ride the bike, ride the bike, ride the bike. The modern coaching 'experts' can scorn LSD all they want, but it works. Had two junior teammates go in '78. They came back at another level. Like many others.

I remember getting some 'on-the-fly' advice from 'Stan the man' while racing the Mt. Washington Hillclimb back in the late seventies. Or maybe it was 'on-the-grovel'. I was hammering myself, riding like an idiot. No sense of pace. Blowing up, ugly, a calvary. Stan caught me and taking pity, counseled me to take it really easy on the flatter sections, and save the big efforts for the steeps. I climbed with him for the rest of the climb, listened, watched, learned.

John Allis training the Harvard University team
(Photo Harvard University Gazzette / Rose Lincoln)

John Allis was a great cycling champion, but is an even greater person. He still coaches the Harvard cycling team, but he was, and is, the kind of guy that would help anyone...really generous with his time, selflessly sharing his experience. Most know of his three Olympic teams and national championships, but few remember that this was also a guy who went to ACBB in France years before the foreign legion in the early sixties, and won some big races 'over there'. Seeing first hand how mentally tough he was, I'd wager John could have won a lot more over there if he'd chosen to.

I remember once after getting a top result in a national level race, getting some welcome advice from John. I was explaining that my bike shop job at the time kept me on my feet all day after training. He said, "Well, get a stool and try to sit as much as you can, and wear some really tight, knee-high nylon socks. It will help." This was 30 years before 'compression garments' existed. The knowledge, you see. John had a ton, and would impart it for free to those who would seek it. He'd counsel hard training rides in low gears, wearing lots of clothes while training, the importance of chewing your food to help digestion and save energy, and attacking, generous racing. Timeless advice. I'll always fondly remember winter roller racing duels with him at the Bicycle Exchange in Cambridge back in the eighties. Those were good times.

And you've got to love seeing the young Doug Dale hammering off the front in this film. Doug went on to later coach the Citius Austro Daimler team that dominated US Junior, then Senior racing between '76 - '81. I think his guys comprised almost the whole '77 Junior World's road team! Doug's another really great guy, a rock of the sport who can still make the bike go very, very fast. I heard he's recovered well from his terrible accident at Battenkill last year, and riding again. Hope to see him in the masters peloton again.

As a teen discovering cycling back in the seventies, all three of those guys were my heros.

They still are.

Cyclisme's coming home.

2012-02-11T12:36:00.000-08:00

Yannick Noah, and Le Boss.

You might have noticed that Le Coq Sportif will produce the Tour de France's leaders jerseys this year.

Cyclisme's coming home.

It's been since 1988 that a French brand provided the jerseys for the event that's much more than a race. It's a national institution.

The Maillot Jaune is a prime attribute of the Tour's brand personality. And Le Tour is big component of France's brand personality. It showcases, and sells the beauty and diversity of France, and French culture, to a 'rest of the world' doing it's utmost to dilute it. Putting it into a technology-fueled, melting pot called globalization.

Somehow, keeping Le Tour French seems pretty important to me. Even in an age when money talks perhaps more than ever.

For most of its century-plus of existence, having a French brand supply the official sportswear to the Tour was a fait accompli.

In the thirties and forties a small Parisian sportswear company located on 40 rue de Maubeuge called Unis-Sport furnished the TdF organization with jerseys.

All those classic flag-like national team jerseys, the maillots Jaune et Vert, and the iconic apres-velo t-shirt that you often saw on somebody hovering in the background in old black and white Tour photos. It was the official 'chemise' of the Tour.

In those draconian days, the Tour organization used to supply each rider with a few jerseys, caps and an 'apres-velo' tee shirt. And you had to wear that T shirt those few dazed waking hours you weren't on your bike, or pay a fine.

The Swiss company Vintage Velos acquired rights to the Unis-Sport brand a few years ago. You can still buy a replica Wool Unis-Sport Maillot Jaune or T-Shirt, here.

In 1951, Le Coq Sportif took over the Tour kit supply gig. Their maillot jaunes were marked by the "H.D." initials on the breast, to remember Tour founder Henri Desgrange.

In the Sixties they added their Rooster-in-triangle logo to the chest under the zip, and then to the sleeves. Until 1988, the rooster was a prominent icon associated with the summit of cycling.

On the eve of the '57 Tour, debutant Anquetil visits Aladin's cave...

In '67 and '68, when national teams made a brief reprieve, Le Coq Sportif supplied those as well.

Le Coq Sportif 'owned' the Maillot Jaune until 1989, when the bidding began. Castelli bought the deal. Then Giordana. Then Nike came along in the with American cash and along with Coca Cola, a guy named Lance, and a lot of loud-talking, mono-lingustic fans, Americanized the Le Tour for a decade or so.

But times they are a changing. The Tour's supplier have definitely become more French. Vittel again supplies the official 'drink'. (Just like in 1968, when the Tour nicknamed the "Tour of Health" began in the spa town of Vittel.)

68 Tour. Le Coq Sportif supplied all the Jerseys.

In the early 80's Le Coq Sportif tried to make a big push into the US market. They agressively launched a line of lower priced cycling apparel (lots of cotton blend jerseys) and some half decent 'Hinault' shoes (actually licensed Adidas shoes, used by Bernard Hinault to win the '81 Tour). Used a pair myself for a year.

The stuff had a big sell in during '81-'83, then was gone.

Hinault Competition Shoe.

Don't expect Le Coq Sportif to supply kit for 'serious' cyclists soon though.

This mass market brand seems to be pursuing the recreational cyclist route again, launched a fashion-oriented collection around 'l'Eroica'. Really nice marketing execution...not sure I can say the same about the product though. I wonder if we'll see that stuff over here again?

It does do my heart good to see that rooster back on the Maillot Jaune though. Just feels right somehow.

Let Nike's Phil Knight have every other Sport. He can't own cycling. Can't 'own' Le Tour.

Vive la France!

Flahute's WAG 'tale': Before Brady, there was Coppi.

2012-02-10T16:45:00.000-08:00

WAGS get Flahute's
tail wagging

Hoi cafesupporters! Flahute here! Fast Eddy's pretty tired from a three hour ride with two hours of tempo, but as I've been MIA for awhile, I'm writing today's post... Another raging bull-etin from your favorite no-bull terrier.

"Ik ben sneller, sterker"

"Thank GOD the Super Bowl is finally over. Living here in New England, the media hype was over the top. Forget the game, I'm most annoyed that so many commercials portrayed canines in stupid situations.

That said, I think they should have casted me, Flahute, for that Sketchers ad! I'd kick that bulldog's butt in any sprint, anyday. Bah, those French bulldogs are just a passing fad. Poseur! Alas, hard cyclists must not be Sketchers market target...

You go girl!

And the wall-to-wall coverage didn't stop when the game ended either. This week was all about a post game video of Pats QB Tom Brady's supermodel wife, Giselle Bundchen, giving it back to of some New York heckler fans after the match who were slagging her 'Tommy'. In the heat of the moment, her retort inadvertently threw the Pats receivers under the bus. It generated another frenzied case of stupid media overkill beyond belief, as they spun a simple statement of fact into something more than it was. 24/7.

Now if Giselle had drop kicked or bitten one of them, that would be news! Jeez, you can't blame a girl for standing up for her man to a bunch of dumb ass lager louts. (And by the way, since when does any lager lout worth his salt take the elevator down from his luxury box, anyway? I swear, even football hooligans are getting soft. Thank God we wielersupporters have Koksijde, eh?

Lugano. Fausto gives Guilia that 'uh-oh' look
as he realizes his public image might have just
'jumped the shark'...

Ah, WAGS. Those oh so glamorous wives and girlfriends of sports superstars. Always mouthing off, getting their men in hot water. It even happens in cycling. Like in the Giro di Lombardia, way back in 1956.

Let's set the stage: Fausto Coppi was at the tail end of his reign. After his illicit affair with 'la dama bianca' Giulia Occhini was so publicly 'outed' on the '53 World's podium in Lugano, his image and popularity took a body blow ofTiger Woods proportions.

1954 was a tough year in the rainbow. He was spit at and heckled through the Giro, but salvaged his season with a great win in the Tour of Lombardy - winning a group sprint on the Vigorelli velodrome. Then in '55, despite winning the Italian National championship, he was dropped by Bianchi at the end of the season. Unthinkable.

But Fausto wasn't ready to exit the stage yet. For 1956 he teamed up with the progressive and astute Vincenzo Giacotto to form his own team, G.S. Carpano-Coppi. It was an all-Piedmont super-squad. Juventus on wheels. The Turin aperitif brand provided the cash, Coppi provided the bikes, and hand picked the riders.

You've got a dama bianca, so why not a squadra bianca? Coppi's
men in white. Photo Pier Rossi, cyclingarchives.com

GS Carpano-Coppi had a rough start. Fausto was been plagued by more crashes and injuries, and reached autumn staring at a big fat zero on his win list. Something that had never happened before. In October his form starting coming back He won the GP Lugano Time Trial, and turned his attention to the next week's Giro di Lombardia. The final classic, the last chance hotel. Lombardia was his race. He'd already won five, one more than Binda, but wanted to make it six and put the record out of reach. Il campionissimo was desperate to win, to show the world he still 'had it'. To shut up all those louts who said that la dama bianca was the behind his fall from the summit.

A situation not unlike Tom Brady's at the Super Bowl this year.

Celebrity WAGS. Can't live without 'em.
Can't muzzle'em either!

In a rainy race, Coppi attacked on the Ghisallo as he'd done so many times before, exploding the lead group, and getting away with Bianchi's 21 year old Diego Ronchini. The duo dropped Bobet, DeBruyne, Van Looy, Magni and a host of other stars. The tifosi was delirious. It was like old times again.

But it's a long, long way to Tipperary. And what feels like a longer way from the summit of the Ghisallo to Milan's Vigorelli Velodrome. On the long descent, Coppi drove the gap to over a minute. Then it got interesting. Bianchi's Director in the Ammiriglia ordered Ronchini to stop working, because he had an ace in the hole - a young French sprinter named Andre Darrigade who made the selection and was still in the chasing group. Ronchini didn't have the heart to tell Coppi, he complained of a sore knee, and didn't take a pull. But Coppi knew the game, and was in a familiar situation. Un uomo solo, al commando. He just put his head down and raged against the wind, over wet roads.

Behind, a following car pulled up to the chasing group. Inside it, Coppi's white lady, la dama bianca Giulia, rolled down the window, and in her excitement, mouthed off to Fiorenzo Magni, sneering 'Ha! my man just screwed all of you'. Actually it was "Il mio Fausto, ancora una volta vi ha fregati tutti!" Probably sounded better and more dramatic in Italian. Probably a hand gesture too, for emphasis. Magni said it was a 'sneer'.

Now it was no secret in the peloton that Magni and Occhini disliked each other pretty intensely. Fiorenzo, Il Leone di Fiandre, was also at the end of his career. He was dividing his training and racing with running his car dealership in Monza. Conservative, hardworking, a traditional Toscano - he liked his rival Fausto, but disapproved of his affair. And of her.

After a third Giro win in '55 he'd said '56 would be his last season. He'd battled through that famous broken shoulder and blizzard on the Monte Bondone to finish a close 2nd behind Gaul in his last Giro. He had nothing left to prove... but he was riding what he knew was his last classic...

On the line it was Darrigade over Coppi by a hair, with Magni 3rd.

The white lady's taunt had the effect of waving a flag in front of a bull. And Magni was the original raging bull. His style? Break 'em, with power. Or as Raphael Geminiani put it, "He got his successes with the subtlety of an axe."

Nothing if not proud, Magni went to the front and raged like Jake LaMotta. Raged even harder than Coppi. After all, there's nothing like a little hate to make you go really deep.

Practically single handedly, he pulled the regrouped chasers back, catching Coppi and Ronchini with just 12k to the Velodrome. A group of 18 would sprint for the win.

Onto the track at first it looked like young Belgian Rik Van Looy would take it. But despite doing the lion's share of the work, the still raging Magni passed him in the finish straight. The final effort.

Then, as if in a dream, almost unbelievably, a desperate Coppi came around Magni, passed him, and the man they said couldn't sprint was a few meters from a spint to that 6th win. One meter from redemption. From immortality.

"The show is over, say goodbye"

Enter the spoiler. Another French bulldog, Bianchi's mercenary recruit, Andre Darrigade. With a pure-sprinter rush in the final few meters, he lunged over the line just inches ahead of Coppi. Bianchi's director said afterward it pained him to do that to Fausto after all their years together. But business is business.

Coppi was distraught, inconsolable. He burst into bitter tears, as if he perhaps finally realized that this time, it really was all over.

That autumn day in Milan's cathedral of cycling, a setting where he'd set the hour record sixteen years earlier, where he celebrated many Lombardia and Giro d'Italia victories, was the last time he'd contend for a win in a major professional road race. He staying in the peloton for a few more years though. The decline was not pretty.

Magni probably had probably helped turn on the water works. "If your woman hadn't been so offensive," he sneered, "I'd never have had the incentive to come after you. And then the Frenchman wouldn't have beaten you, would he?" More detail here.

It remains to be seen if last Sunday in Indianapolis was Tom Brady's 'Vigorelli moment'. I don't think it was. But I do think it would be interesting to have been a fly on the wall during family dinners at casas Coppi and Brady the day after their respective post WAG-incidents.

I'll bet you a Milk Bone the dialog was identical.

Picture of the day: Pour le Maillot Jaune

2012-02-08T03:58:00.001-08:00

Here's a poster for a 'long lost' movie from 1940. Shot in 1939 on the eve of WW2, release in a year that saw France fall, this film was hugely popular according to Jean Bobet.

In Petain's Nazi occupied France, cultural rallying points like this were a lot more than necessary. They were a lifeline. The bike was a symbol of lost freedom, liberté.

The plot? 30's film star Albert Prejean stars as the Tour de France favorite who does poorly in the early stages, and wants to quit. But thanks to the help of a journalist, he wins the maillot jaune. In the end, the hero loses the jersey, but wins the girl.

This film truly might be as lost. No sign on the web anywhere, not even a B&W photo.

Spring, in Winter.

2012-02-07T21:58:00.000-08:00

The groundhog saw his shadow last week, falsely predicting six more weeks of winter. Hard to believe this year. It's been incredibly warm. And guys are FLYING too.

Did a great Sunday ride with the Arc En Ciel team last week - a hilly one they call their L-B-L ride... a winter ritual. It was a little above my current form, hard as a race. Ex-Pro Mark McCormack was leading the dance, smoothly churning a big gear up and down some tough climbs. Steady tempo, but one that mortals and old guys like me struggled to hold at times. Markie, seeing me struggle, pushed me a few times - telling me I had to 'make the selection'. Good guy.

My buddy Keith Kelly was chatting with me as I starting going OTB at one point, on the toughest long climb, about halfway through the ride. He was chatting away like it was nothing, while I was pulling the bars harder, rocking, losing form, fighting the bike with everything I had, finally audibly swearing.

Add caption

Kel's exhortions to fight back had the predicted effect, much like the red flag in front of a bull. Nothing like the promise of good fight for no important reason at all to an get an Irishman to totally kill himself.

I once (somewhat infamously) explained to one of 'Milwaukee's finest', "When a guy takes your chair officer, you've got to fight him, whether you're drunk or not!"

So, summoning up the ol' genetically instilled warrior code, I did the requisite, textbook 'close-it-now-or-never' sprint effort to get back on... 100%. Only closed about halfway. 500 meters later, KABLOOM! "Arrrggh...Kel, I think I'll wait for the next group". Rationalized it of course. It's only January, after all. A little brawl is one thing. But charging over the top into a machine gun emplacement is quite another.

So I watched as Keith just danced back up to the front group like it was nothing. What a motor. Gotta git me one of those one of these days.

Good time though. I'm exaggerating of course... it was a totally enjoyable ride with a great bunch of fit guys. After a mercy feed stop regroup, some high speed double paceline followed by the final showdown on Shannock Hill blew the winter carbon out of the lungs and legs. It was the first time I'd dirtied the big ring this year. Had to. No snow, not slow.

The last week's warm weather helped continue the mileage fest, several 3-4 hour rides. Wed. did a 3 hour ride with 2 hours of tempo. Friday another 3 with some more tempo. Saturday, four hours with Dr. Brad - long steady distance. Incredible weather. Got to get the rides in when you can.

The Rik's got one dirt climb like this one it's namesake
blugeoned his way over.

Yesterday, in between a work crunch caved out another long ride on a route I christened the 'Rik van Bastard' about ten years ago. (Because it's as 'haahd as a bastid,' stoopid...)

It's a loop from Lincoln Woods over mostly lightly traveled backroads of northern RI towns like Smithfield, Cumberland and Lincoln. And it takes in every big climb in the area I could string together. 14 or so, most close to a mile or more long, and the shorter ones are steep. There are a few variations, but the basic route is the same, anywhere between 45 and 70 miles of all up and down. You'll use the 21, 23, maybe even the 25 in few parts if you're in a spinning mood. De Rik is flandria cafe's "L-B-L" ride.

"Dave's a Killer!!!" And so's the RvB.

And it's a killer. The climbs on the Rik may not have names like Stockeu or La Redoute, but they have names that can conjure up that same pit of the stomach feeling: Breakneck Hill, Capron, Burlingame, Brayton, Iron Mine Hill, Manville Hill, Staples Road, Bear Hill, Scott Road, Tower Hill.

The pain cave antidote. Slainte!

Yesterday it was about 50 degrees. At first I felt like a load, but after settling down and not trying to battle the climbs, after a hour or so, the old rhythm started to come back. The gears a little less granny. The power coming back. One of those rides when the legs never really tired, every climb felt better than the one before.

Tonight was a one-hour session at the Pain Cave at the Tri Fit studio in Warren with the BikeWorks team. The operative word being pain. A one hour computer controlled criterium that kicked my butt. Tomorrow will be a well earned rest.

...or maybe just one more easy spin. After all, it's going to be almost 50 degrees again. After all, Puxatawney Phil the Groundhog says we're due for winter again at some point.

Photos of the day: 'A Sunday in Hell'... the year before.

2012-02-03T04:08:00.000-08:00

If you're reading this blog, there's little doubt you've seen the 1976 Paris Roubaix race immortalized by Jorgen Leth in his documentary "A Sunday in Hell". Arguably the best film ever made about cycling.

But what you may not know is that as exciting as that '76 race was - when Flandria's colossus Marc DeMeyer beat DeVlaeminck, Moser and Kuiper in a 4-man sprint - the prior year saw another four man finale that was perhaps even better.

Excepting the 5th place of the then-young Franceco Moser, the 1975 Paris-Roubaix was dominated by Belgians, taking 8 of the top 9 places.

Much like this year's World Cyclocross championship, it was an all-flahute throw-down. This one held over seven hours that included 130k of wet, muddy pave.

Surviving were four helmetless faces with windswept hair, crusted in mud that had set them in perma-grimace. Drawn magnetically toward the border of their homeland by thousands of their faithful gathered for the annual wielerfanatic's 'easter mass' at the high church called the Velodrome Municipale de Roubaix.

Approaching Roubaix, the four breakaways - Eddy Merckx, Roger DeVlaeminck, Marc DeMeyer and Andre Dierickx - had long separated themselves from the rest. No small feat when you consider those left behind included the likes of Walter Godefroot, Roger Swerts, and Freddy Maertens.

Just a few K from the velodrome finish, drama. Merckx suffered a lekke band - a flat tire. Sensing opportunity, DeVlaeminck and Dierickx hit the final pave sections like demons, trying to make sure the cannibal didn't get back to devour this one...

DeVlaemick and Dierickx coude-a-coude,
trying to distance Merckx.

Amazingly... Merckx chased back after a quick wheel change to catch the three leaders in Roubaix, just a few k from the finish. Most mortals would have caught back up, and taken a breather in their wheels, happy to be back before taking their final chance in the sprint. But Eddy Merckx was not most mortals. He sprinted straight past, and tried to drop them all. DeVlaeminck was all over him like a spider monkey though... and the result was a 4-man winner take all sprint on the Velodrome.

"I'm back boys" One last look back before the sprint.

Onto the track, it was a throwdown between four of cycling's hardest men. Context: Merckx had already won three Roubaix, and was going for an unprecedented fourth victory. DeVlaeminck had already won twice in '72 and '74, and wanted a third. Dierickx and DeMeyer sought first wins in a monument.

Flandria's strongman DeMeyer led down on the fringe, but Merckx made the first major move down the middle on the backstretch as DeVlaemick, teeth bared simultaneously jumped on his right, struggling to close on Merckx. No cute tactics in this one. No quick jump speed. It was a head-to-head drag race of pride, with the win going to the one who could squeeze the motor for just a little more horsepower after seven hours of redlining.

On the line, Merckx was oh-so narrowly bested by Le Gitan. The gypsy of Eeklo, Roger DeVlaemick, beat the reigning world champion by inches, equalling Eddy's tally of three Roubaix victories. Setting the stage for the rematch that Leth immortalized in "A Sunday in Hell". I wonder how much the head-down-dejected DeMeyer crossing the line in fourth was motivated by this race to come back the next year to exact sweet revenge.

Jim McKay would call this these two contasting photos 'the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.'
More like the agonized relief of victory.

The C word: Cycling's essential element.

2012-01-30T06:15:00.000-08:00

“The Muur is a rendezvous with your character”
- Eddy Planckaert

At this moment, what matters?

Last month , I posted a 'wee rant', taking a poke at the advent of 'halo bikes,' and their skyrocketing super-premium prices. It surprisingly spawned exponentially way more traffic to our little wielercafe than any other topic posted since its inception. Picked up by a few forums, the debate kept going for quite awhile.

Learned something. People love to talk about the bike. And that for many, their top-level bike is it's a sacrifice they're happy to make, a hard-earned possession, and their true passion. Challenge it at your peril!

Fair enough. Many who love cycling express that with a real passion for the best cycling technology, and really get joy from it. Thankfully a high-end bicycle is one 'luxury' where the absolute best is still an accessible stretch for many who really, really want it.

I'd always thought of the bike somewhat more practically, and narrowly I admit, as a sports tool, a consumable. More like a hockey stick, or a pair of skis: Something that's bound to get beat on, used up. forgetting that to many, their bike is more than that. I kinda forgot the 'aficionado principle' - something I recalled reading about some years ago in Fast Company in an article about a 'futurist' named Watts Wacker - a guy who always has an interesting take on consumer behavior, and the trends that shape it.

"More and more people (Wacker says), are becoming 'aficionados' of something in which they have an intense personal interest. It's a way of focusing themselves in a period of change and chaos. Aficionados will dramatically overspend in one category -- wine, audio equipment, computer games -- and underspend in most other categories...."

He later in another article cited it as part of trend he calls 'downward nobility':

"Satisfaction and domestic contentment are the status symbols of the future. The market is supersaturated with physical stuff, so instead of depending on conspicuous consumption, status will hinge on what's scarce - spiritual experiences. That's downward nobility, and it will become a fundamental organizing premise of the desires of humanity....Downwardly noble consumers are aficionados who overspend in categories in which they perceive themselves to be leaders and underspend in all other categories. Status marketers will have to appeal to customers as collectors rather than as consumers. Remember: self-esteem becomes the great motivator."

Interesting, eh? But I digress. The motivating thought behind that halo bike rant, was not that high end bikes were too expensive, whether or not we should buy them, or why we buy them. Let me reboot, and try again.

"An athlete cannot run with money in his pockets. He must run with hope in his heart and dreams in his head."
- Emil Zatopek

For each of us who think of ourselves as cyclists - regardless of our level, shape, ability or ambition - the ingredients that comprise the dedicated pursuit of our own, personal cycling nirvana are common, and multiple.

And most of those ingredients happen to have a business joined at the hip... a revenue stream. Each holding out the promise of increased performance, enjoyment, experience. Wielernirvana jongens. It's quite an industry.

Bikes, equipment and clothing quite naturally make up the biggest slice of the pie. Then there's the growing world of personal and professional coaching, and the closely allied, fantastic data capture devices that enable them to bring the best of sports science to joe-public. There's a whole sports nutrition business with the latest supplements, foods, drinks. For some, there's even sports psychologists who can help you visualize dropping your nemesis and soloing in with no one else in the photo.

But wait... there's more. The 'experiential', like cycling themed travel and trips, and training camps in warm weather venues. And the 'peripheral', like health clubs and gyms to keep you fit and strong through the winter.

And in our consumer culture, each, with the simple swipe of a credit card, can edge the aficionado a step up their personal ladder to self-actualization.

Now don't get me wrong here. I'm NOT dissing these businesses. Nor those that patronize them. Hell, I covet stuff and experiences as much as the next guy, and have piles of 'stuff' and credit card receipts to prove it - no luddite hypocricy here. After all, it's what makes the world, and the wheels, go round. Plus, lots of close friends earn good and honest livings, in this good industry. It's all good.

So what's the point?

It's not just the pros for whom a 'muur' tests their character.

Simply that in the midst of a consumerism blitz, I find it very comforting that the single most determinant ingredient to delivering the cycling aficionado his/her own cycling 'nirvana' - whatever level they're at, whether finishing their first charity ride, staying with the pack in their first race... or sprinting to win a stage of the Tour de France - is maybe the only thing that will never be bought with a credit card. The only ingredient where 'purchasing' - and the means to purchase - is arguably counterproductive to the quest.

I'm talking about Character.

In devouring pages and pages of cycling magazines over the decades, I'm always amazed that there's so precious little written about it. No surprise I suppose. 'Character' doesn't have an ad-media budget. And nobody's figured out a business model for how to sell it. Maybe most people just aren't that interested in it anymore. After all, it is a bit old fashioned, character.

Yet I think it's interesting that when you pick through the lines, and really listen to the wise old pros when they're interviewed, how 'character' emerges as a consistent common denominator they tend to focus on when they talk about cycling.

“Character cannot be developed in ease and comfort. Only through trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.”
- Helen Keller

Statement of the obvious du jour #37: Cycling requires character.

Fortunately, cycling also builds it, helps forge it. While you can't buy it, you can instill it over time. Work, discipline, sacrifice and suffering all comprise the currency required to obtain it.

It's as intangible as 'form', but fortunately less temporal. Once 'character' is in a person, it tends to stick. And be there when tests arise.

The cool thing about character is that it doesn't require a high VO2 Max, Indurain-esque lung capacity, or 5% body fat. It doesn't discriminate by gender, age, ethnicity or income. And it can't be measured by a number either.

After all these years, I'm still facinated by the 'quest for C', this intangible, key success criteria. It is cycling. Been seeking it for decades, and never feel like I get enough. Still get disappointed when it goes missing - both in my self (like just yesterday in a tough throw-down during a four hour 'L-B-L' ride where I got shelled by the kopgroep on a steep climb) - and when I sense its importance eroding and examples of it ever more scarce in modern society around me.

The quest for a lighter bike? Nee meneer. The quest for character? That's what matters.

One thing's for damn sure: You can bet your winter booties that I'm personally not qualified to write or lecture anyone how to 'attain' character. But I can observe it, admire demonstrations of it, and be a small reminder of it's primal importance amidst the blitz of 'stuff'.

Way better to reflect on the tea leaves dropped by the 'old pros':

Cyrille Guimard in an interview bemoaning the lack of character in the current crop of French cyclists, wanting to change their attitude. "Hinault’s version of a “fun” race was running everybody off his wheels, while with today’s generation fun has come to mean finishing in the pack. "

Guimard again, on why he recruited Greg LeMond: "I'd been watching the results of the American for a while but I wanted to see what he could do." At the circuit de la Sarthe, Le Mond was 20 miles from the finish and pulling ahead of a pack of Russians when he flatted and suffered a too-slow wheel change. Enraged, LeMond picked up his bike and hurled it at the team car. "You can understand why he did it, he saw all his dreams just being thrown out the window. That day showed me he had character."

Or Briek Schotte, just before he passed away, on why Belgium hadn't had a Tour winner in 25 years. "I don't know. I think a lot of it has to do with character and mentality. Whenever I see Andreij Tchmil on TV, I see myself. Tchmil, that's a guy I've never heard or seen complaining. Maybe he didn't have the sheer class of a Frank Vandenbroucke, but a very strong character. Even if he had a bad day, he never gave up.

Eddy Merckx in interviews often cites 'character', for example here recently, on Philippe Gilbert: "Philippe is a rider I like. He is 100% committed to his job. He's a rider with strong strength of character, but also enormous abilities."

Hinault some years ago on who might step up to replace Armstrong,“There are Basso and Valverde and Cunego, who won the Giro with panache,” observed Hinault. “All three of them seem to have character, and they won’t be giving anything away for free. He (Ullrich) won’t ever find it easy.

One could go on and on, but you get my gist. If Wacker is right about us moving to seek 'spiritual experiences', then I'd submit that character, more than purchases, provides all cyclists the key to unlocking that box.

I'll leave the last word to Freddy Maertens*:

"My first bike was handed down by my cousin Rene. 'If you can do well on a bike like that, you shouldn't have any trouble on a better one' was my father's opinion. The bike was reasonable, but it was a cheap one. When I go to youth category races nowadays I'm amazed at the gleaming machines I see, some of which must have cost tens of thousands of francs. Sometimes I think they've convinced that the prize is going to go to the one with the most impressive cycle. They seem to have forgotten that a race is not a sort of Miss Bike competition, but a matter of pedalling as fast as you can. On that score, my dad's way of thinking was right.

"(when I started racing), the paper round which until then I had only done during school holidays became my responsibility entirely. It was hard work, but I enjoyed it. I would get up at half past five in the morning and most months of the year the job was finished by ten o'clock, I had every afternoon free and could go training or compete in races. Nowadays the young riders are too mollycoddled. They don't get up until nine o'clock to go training, completely missing the early morning when the quality of the air is at its best. It's no coincidnce that the best riders of all time have, to a man, come from less well-off families. A background from 'Dallas' is no breeding ground for hard working Flandrians. "

*from 'Fall From Grace', Freddy Maertens & Manu Adriaens c 1988.

Photo of the day: Bobet winter training

2012-01-26T05:37:00.000-08:00

Cold, but not frigid today. Kind of like this day over 60 years ago, when this photo of Louison Bobet training with Antonin Rolland (rt.) was taken.

(photo from www.delcampo.net)

Hands on the tops, spinning side by side, smiles all around. All the essential ingredients for the perfect winter training spin.

Lost Equipes: Sonolor

2012-01-22T15:57:00.000-08:00

You've just gotta love the sixties-seventies when it came to pro cycling sponsorship.

No multi-million dollar budgets then jongen. In those days, pro cycling title sponsors tended to be, well, a little more provincial.

Back then, refrigerator and kitchen manufacturers (Ignis, Salvarani, Frimatic, SCIC, Fagor) - for some reason I'm not too sure of - were really big supporters. Then there were the ice cream men (Miko, GIS, Sanson, Sammontana), beverage magnates (KAS, Pepsi, St. Raphael, Watneys, Maes Pils), and household consumer packaged goods brands (Mars bars, BIC lighters, Faema espresso machines).

And then there's consumer electronics, which in that pre-digital time, meant televisions and radios, tubes and transistors. If you were a cycling fan in France or Belgium back then, there was a pretty fair chance you listened to Radio Tour in your Citroen on a Sonolor radio, or watched LeTour on Eurovision at home on a Sonolor brand TV set.

Jean Stablinski

And if you lived in northern France up near the Belgian border, you might even have purchased your TV set at a retail store in Valenciennes called 'Jean Stablinski'.

That's right. The Jean Stablinski. Hero of the North, world champion in 1962 in Salo, winner of many stages and classics, and Jacques Anquetil's right hand man for most of his reign. Stablinski was son of Polish immigrants (nee Edward Stablewski) who clawed his way to a stellar pro career, escaping the poverty and mines of northern France where his step-father worked and he seemed destined as well. Just a few trips into the damp dark tunnels under the Arenberg forest were enough for Stab.

As famously crafty as he was successful, Stablinski invested his hard-earned winnings wisely. And he made a lot of friends along the way too... one of them a supplier to his store and the big boss of the French Sonolor electronics company, a cycling aficionado named Andre Bazin. Near the end of Stablinski's pro career in '67, the two friends raced a 'gentleman' two-up time trial together that Stab helped organized in Valenciennes. It was a rendezvous that led to more significant collaboration.

Sonolor - "B

Bazin had started Sonolor in rue Faubourg Poissonier in Paris in 1948. His business quickly outgrew that cramped Montmartre venue, so he moved the factory north outside the peripherique to La Courneuve, near St. Denis, in 1959. During the peaceful boomtime fifties and sixties, Sonolor surfed the consumerism wave, becoming a successful regional brand in both France and Belgium.

When Stablinski retired at the end of the '68 season, he and Bazin formed the Sonolor professional cycling team, with the ex-champion behind the wheel of the team car.

The team that Stab and Sonolor built grew into one of the greatest of all time.
(images - ledicodutour.perso.sfr.fr)

First allied with Parisian bicycle brand LeJeune, and later with Cycles Gitane, Stablinski's Sonolor team was a combination of hardman teammates from his earlier career (Jean Graczyk, Lucien Aimar, Jean Jourdan, Barry Hoban), and a string of young discoveries like Robert Mintkiewicz, Yves Hezard, Mariano Martinez and a young Belgian neo-pro with climbing talent named Lucien Van Impe.

Only Van Impe and Joop Zoetemelk
could stay with Merckx in '71

It was Van Impe, who by climbing alongside the raging Eddy Merckx in the Tour de France in '70, '71 and '72, put Sonolor on the map. The team's results were modest, but it was in the Tour during the Van Impe years they provided their most important ROI for Bazin. The '72 Tour de France campaign was the team's summit. Van Impe took the KOM prize for the 2nd year in a row, and the team won 5 stages in total (three by Belgium's Willy Teirlinck, one by Van Impe, and one by Hezard).

In October of '74, Stablinski's final Sonolor team hosted the neo-pro debut of a stagaire named Bernard Hinault. But while le Blaireau entered the peloton, his team's longterm sponsor was preparing to exit the scene.

While Stab was keeping the Sonolor brand in the sports news between '69 and '74, Sonolor the societe was going through a high drama period that saw the company featured in business news as well. The '70's were a turbulent time in France, when a strong socialist government, labor unions and private business were figuring out how to co-exist.

The summit for Sonolor: Tour '72, van Impe dances
to the King of Mountains prize.

In the beginning of the '70's, Bazin had sold a majority interest in the company to ITT On the Night of February 28, 1974, a serious fire broke out at the Sonolor factory. The arson was claimed by a clandestine group protesting the arrival in Paris of the new Ambassador of Chile, and the ITT Group for their role in the fall of Chile's President Salvador Allende.

Lucien Van Impe's 'King of the Mountains' years were the summit years for Sonolor's business as well. For Sonolor, after pulling out of the peloton at the end of '74, it was - if you'll pardon the pun - all downhill.

In November '75, more than 80% of the Sonolor workshops went on strike. In 1977, the left proposed the nationalization of nine major French companies, including Sonolor. More labor strikes followed in 1978. In 1979 the company was renamed Ciate, and came under new ownership. But up against the onslaught of global competition, the business finally closed for good in 1985. The plant in La Courneuve was razed to the ground.

The peak: Sonolor's 1972 Tour de France squad.
(Miroir du Cyclisme photo)

And what became of the team Stab built? Well the equipe birthed in northern France morphed into one of pro cycling's most successful juggernauts - ever.

After Sonolor pulled their sponsorship, the squad became Gitane-Campagnolo for 1975. Stablinski again directed Lucien Van Impe to another Tour KOM title (the first year a Polka Dot jersey was used for the mountains leader).

Climber Mariano Martinez was one of
Stablinski's charges in '74, taking bronze
at the Montreal World Championship

But that same year, Stab had a well publicized falling out with neo-pro Hinault over 'how-much-is-too-much-racing'. The Gitane brass decided to make a change, opting for youth to direct the team for '76,bringing in a newly retired pro star named Cyrille Gumard. Pushing aside the guy who'd built the squad, step by step. The usual story, generations change, the circle turns, youth pushes out the old.

So in '76, Stab had to watch while his prodigy Van Impe won the Tour, pushed by Guimard behind the wheel. And the rest, as they say, was history. Later sponsored by Renault, System U and Castorama, Guimard continued Stablinski's 'develop young talent' methods, reinforcing the Gitane squad he inherited over with stars like Fignon, Mottet and LeMond. It became the team that dominated the Tour - and arguably world cycling - for well over a decade.

These days you can buy a lot of iconic retro jerseys: Molteni, Faema, Salvarani, Renault. You rarely see a replica Sonolor jersey. You can order one though. here.

Stablinski rode his bike long into his years. He was famous for not carrying a water bottle on his bike - preferring to stop in a cafe for a drink and a chat with strangers if he got thirsty. Always liked that story, my kind of guy. Sadly, Stab passed away from a long illness in 2007.

I can't speak for cafesupporters across the Atlantic, but over here in the states it's pretty hard to find anyone who remembers Stablinski's Sonolor team.

Kind of a shame, don't you think?

Steel Flandria frames

2012-01-22T11:51:00.000-08:00

For all you fellow retro-bike fans, at Velofollies show in Kortrijk, Belgium this weekend, Flandria just debuted two steel framesets: A road and a track model.

Both made in Belgium from Columbus SL Niobium tubing, with chrome fork, chain stay and rear dropouts. Only in flandria team red, of course! Perfect for battling over cobbles or broken urban roads.

Pretty schweet. Check out more photos here.

Photo of the day: Cyclists downhill skiing

2012-01-15T17:19:00.000-08:00

Maitre Jacques working on l'oeuf position.

Yesterday was an 'off day', but not a rest day.

Went downhill skiing at nearby Mt. Wachusett with my son, always a great day out. I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that they had enough snow to have most of the mountain open and ski-able- because we haven't had much this year. It wasn't so crowded either - just a 1-2 minute lift line for most of the day - not bad for a holiday weekend Saturday...

Out on the pistes, just when I'd get my turns linking nicely, and feeling like Henri Duvillard or Gustavo Thoeni (giant slalom stars from my generation baybay), some guy who could really carve fast would come blowing by me, bursting my balloon and exposing me for what I am - an aged road racing cyclist trying to pass himself off as an expert downhill skier.

Q: What's the biggest lie in skiing.

A: "Advanced Intermediate"

Koblet, Bobet, Kubler. Skiing. Back before
QR safety bindings existed.

Not that impefection on planks has ever stopped roadies going downhill skiing from time to time. Back in the early-to-mid sixties, St. Gervais in the French Alps was the winter gathering spot for the elite of professional cycling. Anquetil had a house there, he was the ring-leader, despite the fact that based on this video his ski form was nowhere close up to his style on the bike contre la montre.

For fun, the Italian aperitif producer Martini used to sponsor an annual ski race there in the French Alps, with professional cyclists competing with journalists. Check out the video of the 1965 edition here. OK, they're not exactly Jean Claude Killy, but it looked like good fun, surely a day lubricated by some bottles of the sponsor's product. The clip of a snowplowing Jean Robic (47 Tour winner) getting telescoped from behind is a slapstick classic

Jean Robic on skis. Without the leather helmet.

It wasn't all laughs though. In the video, you can see then-world champion Tom Simpson smiling briefly... it must have been shot before he infamously broke his leg in a ski accident, ruining his earning prospects for a 1966 season when he'd hoped to cash-in on his rainbow jersey.

Solving world problems in a headwind.

2012-01-13T19:20:00.000-08:00

Today was something else jongens. Work done, this afternoon I was lucky to escape for almost 3 hours out on the bike in strong winds that were gusting between 40 and 50mph. (I know, I know, it only January, but you've got to get the miles in when you can, right?)

Our Tony T. could barely walk last summer...
but still conquered Plateau de Beille.

I was hoping for a nice, 3 hour easy spin... but it wasn't to be. For today was one of those binary, on-off switch rides. The giveaway is that loud audible of flags whipping the gust. In the 'on' position, my low fixed gear was easily spun out at well over 20 mph. In the 'off' position, I was flirting with my anaerobic threshold while struggling to hit a wimpy 15mph thanks to killer headwind gusts that were blowing the bike all over the place. Pretty wild, but also pretty fun.

Solo, a ride like this would be enough to drive one to drink. But fortunately, I had Flandria Cafe's worldly fellow francophile, Tony T. for company. Despite coming back from a major hip replacement surgery in the fall, Tony's riding remarkably strong. And like a lot of my close pals, he's a perfect riding partner for many reasons: Of a certain age, old enough to remember racing at Hanscom field in the early 80's. An eager willingness to met de kop in de wind for 3 hours in January. The experience and savvy to not half wheel you the entire ride, instictively knowing when to push hard, when to back off. And most important, a diverse, well read intellectual curiosity ensuring an interesting ride-long conversation covering politics, social issues, business, rockclimbing, life in France, cuisine, and of course... bikes and bike racing.

Jacques, what are we drinking
tonight with the oysters?

In an attempt to accept that killer headwind in the best Zen fashion, Tony and I attempted to, as we used to say after a night in the pub, 'solve world problems'. Here's a brief random sample of just some of today's insights...

1. Winning the lottery would require an immediate migration to the south of France, bringing our cycling buddies along for a perpetual Riviera training camp - an endless soiree that would make even Anquetil envious. That's the easy part... the harder part would be figuring out how to sell the concept to our wives (a challenge unresolved at end of ride).

2. The over-under on the remaining life span for that kid Alex Honnold who was on 60 minutes a few weeks ago free soloing without any rope, is between 12 and 19 months. Two years max. Call Ladbrokes.

Le Blaireau. Le reference eternal.

3. In this new, politically-correct age, can a United States of America that - by definition - must stand for 'everything'... actually stand for 'anything?' (unresolved existential question -'talk amongst yourselves')

4. In a crosswind like today's, Bernard Hinault definitely would have shredded the bunch in a spring classic like Gand-Wevelgem. 100% sure. We calculated that attaining 24 mph in today's wind required putting out something like 600 watts. Maybe more. (14 mph was like doing leg presses).

The man with the most toys wins.
You won Andy. No contest.

5. Similar to recent laments in world football (soccer), where more and more of the wealth and revenues is concentrated in a handful of 'superclubs', eroding support/prospects for smaller clubs (e.g. the traditional base of the pyramid); the emergence of private equity, mega-rich individuals as the prime financial engine now funding professional cycling may be great for some beneficiaries, but it's making the sport 'top heavy'. Increasingly a rich man's private playground, less and less a viable business model for supporting sponsors. I'd love to know what cycling's greatest generation senators Jean Bobet, Raphael Geminiani or Ferdi Kubler think about all of this.

Junior racing, 1976. No halo bike.
No power meter. No coach.
Just get out and race.

6. Perhaps not entirely coincidentally, road cycling's becoming an old man's sport. Wait, no, no, no...scratch that. Make that an 'old men with scratch' sport.

When, for example, a 150 rider field for the master's 50+ category in April's Tour of Battenkill gets filled in about 20 minutes on a cold December night, while (as of right now, over a month later) just 29 young men have entered the Junior men's 17-18 race...well, I'm no rocket scientist, but something's wrong with this picture Bunky. (And as the by-product of a blue-collar family of modest means who found it quite possible to get into this fantastic sport at age 16 in 100 rider junior fields, it's a scenario that saddens me.)

7. Cycling out on America's roads is getting more dangerous, a phenomenon we hypothesize - based on admittedly unscientific (but definitely quantitative) observation - is largely due to two (2) sizable, and newly emergent demographic clusters:

First, there's the self-important, hurried, and distracted multitasking professional woman in her SUV, talking on her cell phone and/or texting while driving 50-60 mph on a narrow secondary road. She exists, and she's frightening: An educated Type-A whirlwind molotov cocktail of high achievement drive, and sensory overload.

We almost got taken out by not one, but two today. One was incredulous that we had the audacity to be out bicycles, on the road, during working hours.

This new coffee table book is a must-have for
the cyclist in your life.

Second there's the disenfranchised male in the mega-pickup truck. You've likely been buzzed by this guy at some point, I'm sure. He can be differentiated from most law abiding pick-up truck drivers by his sudden flooring of the gas pedal just as he passes way too close to you... enveloping you in a hemi and testosterone fueled, straight pipe exhaust cloud that unfortunately prevents you from seeing clearly whether he's got a gun rack or not.

Frustrated by seeing his future sent offshore along with his manufacturing job... or his construction work evaporating in the current economic downturn, he sees guys on 'pedal bikes in lycra' not only as an affront to his definition of all-American manhood, but an irritating obstacle to his immediate objective of getting to Dunkin' Donuts, and back home to see the last few rounds of Ultimate Cage Fighting on cable, as fast as the law won't allow.

Confronting either on the open road is not recommended. Be very careful out there wielersupporters.

29 degrees F...

2012-01-05T08:24:00.000-08:00

...relatively balmy compared to yesterday. Going out for the Fixed Gear bike for about 2 hrs dressed like I'm going on a moonwalk.

"Roger, do you read me Houston? What's that coordinate equation again?"

2H (39x16) + (no lunch) - (freewheel) = Wintertrainen!

In and around Boston, we call this a 'wintah-bike'.

Picture of the day. Maillots, mode classique.

2012-01-03T17:19:00.000-08:00

“The novelties of one generation are only the resuscitated fashions of the generation before last.”
- George Bernard Shaw (another Irish guy genetically unqualifed to comment on fashion)

Ah yes, New Year Day. The cue for Pro Tour teams to roll out their new maillots.

Rabobank, Saxobank, Green edge, Quick Step, Katusha are all going with the 'classic' look: solid, bold color blocks. I'm wagering Radio Shack and Garmin will follow suit with slight tweaks to last year's kit. The net effect is that it looks like we'll be better able to tell them all apart this year, eh? All in all an evolution in the right direction...

Green Edge looks like they snagged and tweaked the now defunct Lay-o-pard kit. ("No worries mate, watch this, easy...I'll just change that sky blue to green... now that's a real beauty, eh?)

Classic style? Here's a photo that's an icon of original classic maillot style: The Four Horseman of Notre Dame...des Cyclistes: Bobet, Geminiani, Anquetil and Riviere. I'm pretty sure this shot is from 1959. The rat pack had nothing on these guys, believe me.

I think France ought to have it's own version of Mount Rushmore. Only it should have these four faces hewn into the rock, overlooking some brutal climb, looking down on those struggling up the same climbs they conquered.

If the famous Tour de France cartoonist Pellos was still alive, I'd bet he'd get it. And would approve, don't you think?.

De Flandriens Van Het Veld

2012-01-02T13:45:00.000-08:00

In case you hadn't seen it, Sporza's Michel Wuyts just put together an extension to his great TV series last year 'De Flandriens', airing weekly now on Belgian TV station CANVAS. This new series - De Flandriens van het Veld - focuses on Belgium's legacy of cyclocross champions.

Clip below is from a Belgian talk show previewing the series... some cool old footage.

Here's the trailer for week one. Good footage of Erik DeVlaeminck. De beste crosser of all time? A lot of Duvel can get consumed in that arguement. Based on palmares and legendary story factor, I'd give Erik the nod, but you can weigh in. (More on that in a bit...)

Unfortunately more segments or clips are not on the web yet... hopefully they'll put them up once the series is over.

Erik De'Vlaeminck. The original acrobat
op Het Veld.

While Wuyts keeps the heritage thread alive and well, a new generation of Flemish cross stars have been providing great entertainment this fall and winter. I confess since cross season started, I've been more than a little addicted to watching the races live on www.cyclingfans.com.

Most start at 8-9am EST. Plug your laptop into the big screen TV, and bada-bing. You're right there in Koksijde. Or Baal. Or Overijse. With some strong coffee and waffles, and it's a perfect winter-weekend AM ritual. And motivation to get your butt out in the cold and kill it yourself later in the day.

And way, way better than Rosetta Stone for improving your vlaamse comprehension.

Cross is a great sport for TV. One hour, plenty of action. Exciting right from the start. Suspenseful racing full of duels, blowups and comebacks. There's the occasional spectacular wipeout, usually without serious injury. The races often go down to the wire too - although that said, Sven Nys has been starting to look more and more dominant of late riding away to several wins.

Cannibal from Baal, Nys takes his own race.
No one else in the photo. (Belga Photo)

The Cannibal from Baal. Nys was imperially impressive in winning his namesake GP Sven Nys, held in his hometown. This one was on a really technical course, full of mud, and lots of unridable sections necessitating some 'lopen' with a shouldered bike.

Kevin Pauwels was a solid 2nd. And Bart Wellens fought back to third. American Jonathan Page was top 10, he's been getting better and better every week. World Champ Stybar has been symied by this tag team onslaught from the new generation of Flandriens of het Veld. The talent is deep too, with Nys, Albert, Wellens, Vantornout, Pauwels, Meeusen, Aernouts, Peeters, Adams all possible winners or podium placers on any given weekend. 8 of the top 10 in the UCI rankings are Belgians right now.

Erik De Vlaeminck.

A few years ago, the Dutch and Swiss were just as deep as the Belgians in the top level cross races, but those days seem long ago now.

With Lars Boom's attention more on the road now, and Stybar seeming set to follow suit, the 'veld' is now dominated by Erik DeVlaeminck's spritual descendants. And with the world's are coming up soon in that sand pit called Koksijde, with the possible exception of really great French crossers (Mourey, Chainel) or a Styby miracle, I see little to stop a hometown victory from one of the new vlaamse guard in Koksijde. The biggest question might just be which one will it be?

What do YOU think cafesupporters? Time to kick off 2012 with another poll:

1. Who's the best Belgian crosser TODAY?
2. Who's the best Belgian crosser OF ALL TIME?
3. ...and who do you think will win the 2012 Elite Men's World Championship in Koksijde?

Take the survey here.

Flahute Awards 2011

2011-12-27T09:15:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas wielersupporters... hope you all had a good one, and didn't overdo the cookies, cake and beer.

Well, it's that time of year again. Time for Flahute to put down his cobblestone shaped Christmas cookies and announce our 2011 Flahute awards.

It's OK, pour just one more trappiste ale, sit back an savor a great year of cycling. Then get out on the bike and emulate these inspirations of 2011!

King Phillipe: OK, let's get the most obvious, expected one out of the way. Phil's doesn't top our list because of his cannibal like series of Ardennes classic victories. Nor is he here because of his maillot jaune. Nor for his solo to win the Belgian championship. He's here because of his old-school orientation. Don't need no steenking race radio, I'll slay you all anyway. Training on 'sensations'. And racing with teeth bared aggression in the finale. Attack, attack, attack. And because no rider has united supporters from both halves of Belgium like this since Eddy Merckx himself. Flandria cafe's man of the year.

Braveheart Johnny Hoogerland: Getting up to finish after sliding along a barbed wire fence? Say no more. Where does a guy get the strength of character to do that? Maybe it's in the wind, along the Zeeland coast.

Well ok, we'll say one more thing... How 'bout that attack in the finale of the World's with Voeckler, giving it all in a attempt to break Cav's royal coronation procession. Here's hoping Johnny will be as good in 2012. And less battered.

Quote of the year: Laurens Ten Dam. Another never say die hardman example, the Dutchman took a page out of the PouPou book by getting up from a smashed face to finish the Tour.

His Rabobank team called him 'hard as a rock'. His Tweet, "You don't quit the tour because of a fat lip" is our line of the year.

Crosser of the Year: Kevin Pauwels. The quiet man, the one who broke out this year, solidifying a hard-earned place in the top tier of world cyclocross. The kind who will 'nod yes to a radio reporter's question', Pauwels may not be the most loquacious of interviews, but to us it doesn't matter one bit. He's the anti-Cipo, and we like him for it. After so tragically losing his older brother Tim to a heart-attack during a race a few years ago, Kevin has, without fuss, quietly and diligently fought his way to the top of World cross. And based on his World Cup win in Zolder yesterday, it seems he's feathering back his top form just in time for the Worlds. A pro with class who lets his legs do the talking, we'd like nothing better than seeing him top of the podium in a rainbow jersey.

Jock, and team Rwanda: Sometimes, one good man is all it takes to bring hope to those whose lives seem devoid of it. Jock Boyer has spent the last several years slowly and patiently bringing 'the knowledge' to a group young riders in a nation that have personally lived through unspeakable horror (read this great New Yorker article).

Once a pioneer, always a pioneer. The first American in the Tour de France. First American in the top 5 of the World's Pro road race (1980, nearly winning it two years later). Ultramarathon RAAM winner. I'm betting Jock's shoestring program will see a Rwandan in the pro peloton before he's done.

The resurrection of Nick Nuyens. They'd all pretty much written him off. So close to winning the Ronde in prior years, after a succession of new teams and unfulfilled hopes culminating with an abandon into the Rabobank team car last year.

Last chance hotel at SaxoBank, where just like with Jens, and with Bobby Julich, Bjarne Riis' magic and quiet team ambiance re-instilled the faith and confidence that had somehow gone missing. Nuyens tactical savvy and sniper's instincts provided the rest. In the wheels till it mattered. On the right move in the end. Outsprinting the two strongest men of the race. The 'resurrection of the sniper' is our moment of the year.

Tommy V's podium. (Reuters Photo)

Image of the year - Thomas Voeckler on the Galibier. He was on our list last year, can there be any surprise he's there again. Just when you think this champion of heart has gone as far as his talent will let him, he surprises you again. This year, he surprised, and delighted an entire nation. In the process, he just might have surprised even himself.

He kept smiling at the cameras, saying he couldn't hope to win the Tour, and then proceeded to defend the jersey like not only his life, but the future of la Patrie of France depended on it. In the process, he gradually brought belief to a nation of passionate fans who'd perhaps over the past decade become conditioned to lose hope they'd ever see one of their own in a with a real shot at victory again. Hindsight is 20/20, but if it wasn't for that energy sapping desperate chase on the Galibier, Voeckler might just have been up there on the podium in Paris. No matter though, for Thomas Voeckler's podium was the roof of the world - the summit of the Galibier - mounted with one arm raised in relief at having saved the maillot jaune for one more day.

Unsung hero of the year: David Boily. Once upon a time, if a North American had led most of, and nearly won the Tour de L'Avenir, it would be the lead story in every cycling publication. If he came from the Northeastern corner of the continent, his name would be on everyone's lips in these parts as a tip for the future.

Perhaps after a decade filled with an embarrassment of talent riches, we North Americans have almost come to expect an endless stream of young cycling talent. With a few exceptions, we tend not to celebrate the victorious stepping stones of new hopes anymore, saving the media plaudits for when they hit the top rung. A shame I think.

Almost unnoticed this year while the cycling world came to race the ProTour in Quebec and Montreal, a young rider from Quebec City was across the pond, wearing the maillot jaune in the Tour de L'Avenir right up until the final day, only beaten into second by a mere 17 seconds. David Boily is a member of Steve Bauer's Spidertech team who certainly looks like he's got a great future ahead of him. For this is no fluke result, but the race of the future. The Tour de France for U23's. The race who's yellow jersey adorned future stars like Gimondi, Zoetemelk, Baronchelli, LeMond, Soukhoroutchenkov and Indurain.

Boily. Remember the name. And learn a little more about him here and here.

Photos of the day: Kim Andersen going solo

2011-12-18T15:20:00.000-08:00

Wow. That last little rant on top end pro bike pricing went pretty viral. Flahute's building me up to add fuel to the fire with addtional commentary to come. But for now, something completely different!

Just a good old shot of a good old solo artist to connect today with 'my generation bay-baaay'...

Andersen in the Ardennes. Fleche Wallonne, 1984.
Photo: Miroir du Cyclisme, Feb. 1985

Photo: Miroir du Cyclisme, Feb. 1985

Many may not remember that the Directeur Sportif for Leopard Trek this year (and with Riis at Saxo Bank in prior years), Denmark's Kim Andersen was quite the monster back in the day.

Here's a look back to the year he was at his peak of his powers: 1984. That April, he soloed to win the Fleche Wallonne, after pulling along a nine man early break containing Henk Lubberding of Panasonic and eventual second place finisher Willi Tackaert. Andersen left them all, and authored a long solo to a four minute victory.

The quinessential rouleur, Andersen was a master of the long solo escape.

Later that same year, he tried to pull off the same stunt during the World Road Championship on the hilly Montjuich circuit in Barcelona. On a super hot day while other favorites like Hinault, Kelly and Moser wilted, he took his chance with a 45km solo. This time, it didn't work. The Italians chased, Kim was reeled back in, and like most that day, he ended on the sidelines.

Andersen's solo wasn't the only one that day. His came after American Tom Broznowski's. Broz had won the Nationals at Bear Mountain in NY '81 I recall, a pretty strong boy!

After that, Spain's Juan Fernandez gave it a go, but to no avail. Finally, it was Claude Criquielion whose solo lasted to take the arc-en-ciel. It was a day of one after the other heroic, suicidal efforts. A killer-hard worlds.

Ah, the solo. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But every glorious time, it requires guts and character - as well as fitness and strength - just to even attempt.

Something that will fortunately never change in cycling.

Will the real one percent please stand up: How much should your bike cost?

2011-12-13T15:32:00.000-08:00

Bernard Thevenet, in a 1975 Tour time trial. Averaging 27.9 mph on a stock
steel Reynolds 531 frame, with crap (sorry) Mafac, Simplex and Stronglight components.

Read with some amusement the other day that article about the advent of the $10,000+ road bike. 'Halo bikes' they call them.

Halo Bikes. Hallelujah, let the pigeons loose.

Ten to twelve grand for a race bike? Utterly ridiculous. On oh, so many levels.

It got me shaking my thick-mick head, and thinking longingly back to the good ol' days. The mid '70's, when road racing bicycles were all hand brazed, lugged steel tubing. Your wheel choice? Pick 28, 32 or 36 spokes. Grouppo? Either Campagnolo Nuovo Record, Super Record or maybe Shimano DuraAce. There were a lot of bicycle company 'brands' (e.g. frame designers, brazers and assemblers), but the basic ingredients were all about the same really. Funny thing was, guys still rode 30 mph on them, no problem. In fact, I think they could handle them a heckuva lot better in a peloton too.

And the best stuff, and by that I mean the bikes and technologies used by top professionals - even by winners of the Tour de France - weren't the luxury goods they've become now. Their prices were startlingly cheap. But what would yesterday's pro team bikes cost in today's dollars? Here's a fun and illuminating archival magazine dig, and quick analysis using an online inflation calculator...

If you take the PX10 'outlier' out of the equation (my first race bike), it seems the sweet-spot present value for a pro-level ride hovered between $2,000 and $3,000. For quite some time.

Van Impe's '76 Tour winning Gitane w/Campy Super
Record. $10 says he'd drop Andy Schleck with it.

In the late '90 though, the cost of the best inexorably started creeping up. I recall back in 2002-2003 when I owned a retail bike store, the top of range race bikes - like an all Campagnolo Colnago C40 - sold for around $4,000, or so. Most people thought that was insane money. $4k would be ~$5k today.

It's just in the past few years, flying in the face of global economic crisis, that 'pro team' cycling equipment has rocketed to levels of absurdity. A $10,000 -$12,000 Halo bike is between 4 to 6 times the cost of Thevenet's, Moser's or Battaglin's grand tour winning rides. Does this application and transfer of available- albeit high-priced - technology deliver a real competitive advantage to the elite pros it was designed for?

Can you say 'PLA-CE-BOOO'...?

It's a diminishing return on investment if you ask me. As much as they'd have us believe it, engineers don't win bicycle road races. Heart does.

I respect engineers. It's just that I think they should spend their valuable, expensive time figuring out how to make our road and bridges better, and come up with a substitute for nailing power lines to poles that every snowstorm and hurricane takes out. Just one man's opinion.

Raphael Geminiani said it better, in his new book 'mes quartre verites'. "I want to pass a message on to the youth...you can still hope to be a champion, even in the age of WiFi, the iphone and the i-pad. My message is clear. One isn't born a champion, like one is born rich or poor, white or black. One becomes one. By work, and only through work."

Not by buying a better bike, Gem. So is this new technology 'worth' such a premium? Depends on to whom you're referring to jongen...

"Hmm..I guess I'll take the
one in the middle"

Pricing strategy 101: I once read an interesting article on some research done on consumer shopping behavior using wristwatches. Two watches were presented to a pool of shopping subjects, bearing two different prices. A pretty low percentage (naturally) chose the more expensive of the two. But an interesting thing happened when for a second test group, a third, super-high priced watch was added to the line-up. A much greater percentage of the total 'upgraded' to the middle watch than with the first group. Marketing types call it the law of the middle choice. Adding a third luxury item 'pulled' more consumer 'up' to a more expensive item

Hey, what do I know, I'm just a simple caveman. But I think these stupidly-expensive luxury bikes are there to get more consumers feel like they're actually saving money, by (gladly) spending up to $4,000-$5,000 on that next bike instead of the more prudent $2,000- $3,000 option that's still available, probably more appropriate and frankly, way more than good enough for their ability.

'But honey, look how much I saved 'us' by only buying the $4,000 model!'

Last time I checked, real road cyclists crash and break stuff. All the time. You don't need the very best stuff. Just adequate and reliable.

Just say no to $10,000 bikes.

It's a disturbing trend for the cycling as a sport I think. Increasingly positioning cycling as an 'elite' activity. It parallels other developments in professional cycling. I know it has never been the 'real world', but the sport is increasingly moving into an elite bubble. Literally and figuratively. With teams formed and supported by private equity benefactors vs. the 'commercial' sponsors ever since Nivea and St. Raphael used pro cycling to sell affordable stuff to normal people.

Young Coppi. He'd drop you.
All of you. And on this bike. Guaranteed.

Today, we've got bike companies playing NASA, supplying teams with bikes that are only really marketable to the '1%'. A positive development? Maybe if you're Mike Sinyard at Specialized, or one of the other oligarchs of Chinese carbon-layup. But I can't help but think it's all become a little bit sick. Especially when you think about where this sport came from, and what it's really about.

Give me the artisinal. A Masi working in a tiny shop in the far corner of the Vigorelli Velodrome making frames for Simpson, or Merckx.

Contrast the investment banker (1% in income) buying a 'halo bike' to ride in the PanMass challenge with the story of young teen named Fausto Coppi (1% in ability) dropping the local racing team on his butcher's delivery bike. Or of flower delivery boy Lucho Herrera doing the same thing in the Colombian Andes. That jongens, is cycling. Won by heart, legs and the head. Not with the pocketbook. And not with technology.

Road cycling is a sport of the people, (or so they say anyway... I'm starting to wonder). Let's see how that 4-6X rise in pro level bike prices compares to other things 'normal people'... we 99%... bought over the same time span...

OK, you can probably quibble with the calculation, but I don't see a 4-6X increase in these other items, do you?

Now I many of you cafesupporters who know me, also know I'm a founding member of 'cheap p****s anonymous.' I admit I still have a dated 10-speed Campy group on my Flandria. The cranks are not carbon, nor are the bottle cages. And you know what, it doesn't flippin' matter one iota.

What does matter is the eternal quest to ride the thing longer, higher, faster.

OK, I admit it, I'm a retro grouch. Maybe an increasingly cantankerous one. A pal recently labelled me the Andy Rooney of cycling.

Maybe he's right. I put in over 50 miles on a 42x16 steel winter fixed gear bike this past Saturday. And you know what, it was great. Thank you very much. Didn't go much slower than my race bike either. Still spanked it along at 18-20mph for three hours. Halo bike, me arse.

What do you think about 'Halo bikes', cafesupporters? Weigh in...

Photo of the day: Joop, Francoise, and a Derny.

2011-11-28T19:24:00.000-08:00

Joop Zoetemelk has just released a new Nederlands language autobiography, 'Open Boek', to celebrate his 65th birthday this coming Saturday. The book's made big news over in de plaatland because of it contains some sensational personal revelations by this champion who was ironically criticized during his long career for being less than sensational.

Question of the day: Does your significant other motorpace you? No? Didn't think so.
Here, Joop Zoetemelk's wife Francoise handles a derny like a pro. (Photo from Motel de Jong)

Joop appeared Friday night on the TV show Motel DeJong (video here) - the show of Netherland's top TV journalist Wilfried DeJong- to promote this magnum opus volume that looks like it weighs as much as a Paris-Roubaix Pave-stone trophy. Cool book.

For those of you who don't remember him. Joop is the Netherlands' greatest cyclist ever. Born and raised near Leiden, he trained to be a carpenter dreaming of being a top speed skater in the elfstedentocht (eleven cities) race. He started cycling to stay in shape because the canals didn't freeze one winter.

As an Amateur, he worked his way into the elite Amstel Bier squad, and was 1968 Olympic 100k TTT gold medalist before going on to win the '69 Tour de L'Avenir. He turned pro in '70, and was 2nd in the Tour behind Eddy Merckx, right out of the blocks. (His suffer to stay with Merckx strategy prompted that old lame joke: "Why does Joop never get a suntan? Because he's always in Merckx shadow." Totally lame. He, and VanImpe were the only ones who could stay with Merckx.

Despite a near fatal crash in the Midi Libre in '74, Joop went though rest of the seventies as 'eternal second' in the Tour de France (five times he was 2nd behind Merckx, Van Impe and Hinault). He finally won for himself, in 1980, riding for Peter Post's TI Raleigh Dutch Armada. Joop was the leader but too nice to be captain on the road. Post fixed that, he had Knetemann give the orders, and the rest all rode Joop to Paris in Jaune. It was a Tour full of drama.

First, there was the weather. It rained almost constantly. There was an epic stage over the cobbles to Lille, where Hinault and Hennie Kuiper slayed the rest of the peloton. It was an exploit that cost le Blaireau. He developed tendonitis, and despite being race leader, his days were numbered.

Injured, Hinault was 5th in the big time trial. The sharks were circling. Then, in Pau, the night before the first mountain stage was due to start, Hinault abandoned while still in the yellow jersey. The press went ballistic.

2nd overall, Joop would have been the new race leader. But he refused to wear the yellow jersey until the next day's stage was over. (He'd done the same thing in '78, after Pollentier was kicked out at Alpe d'Huez.)

Then, Joop got taken down accidentally by his teammate Johan VandeVelde on the finish climb to Pra Loup in the Alps.

He came back from that mishap, and the next day lost a lot of time on the Galibier to '78 Giro winner Johan DeMuynck, Kuiper and a few others. Never panicked though. He just doggedly fought back up to the front group. Jersey saved, he sealed his victory with a win in the final TT over his rival and countryman Kuiper, the same finale scenario that had seen him lose the jersey to Hinault two years earlier. And Holland had it's second tour winner.

There hasn't been one since. It will be 32 years this summer. (And 36 years since the last Belgian, lowlands are due I think)

He wasn't done though. At age 38 when he was getting ready to hang up the bike, he unexpectedly won the 1985 professional world road championship in Bassano. Classic attack. He just rode off with under 2k to to. Argentin and LeMond played 'after you', and voila. Joopie wins the regenboogtrui!

I ask you cafesupporters, has there ever been a more deserving world title winner? If so, post and let me know. It that wasn't enough, for an encore, he won the Amstel Gold race in '87. At age 41.

The 'sensation' in that his new book contains private revelations that his late wife Francoise (the daughter of a Tour de France executive) suffered for many years from alcoholism; and the detrimental effects it had on their family and their hotel business outside Paris in Meaux. Not to mention the effect it had on Joop's cycling career, and frame of mind. It's a sad story really. More here if you're interested.

Joopie was always a favorite of mine. And no, not just because he started his professional career with Briek Schotte at Flandria. More because of his quiet tenacity, and modesty. A quote from his old amateur JABO teammate Ton van der Valk in the book JOOP says a lot about where that tenacity came from.

"He always rode low gears, 48x20 I guess, but he could always follow us. The rest of us rode a 49x17. Those legs of his were like pistons, up and down very rapidly. He was really a 'souplesse-jongen'. Back then, I never thought he would be a good climber. I only discovered his talent when we went to a race in Germany, near Hanover. It was there that I saw that Joop was fantastic going uphill.."

He still goes up big climbs pretty good. Check out this profile video of Joop doing a charity ride at Alpe d'Huez a few years ago.

Joop is living proof you don't need to be a loud, 'table-pounder' to be a great champion. Just 100% dedicated to Le Metier. The new revelations this week make Joop's racing career - and his character and dedication - all that much more impressive.

Benotto dreams...

2011-11-23T19:04:00.000-08:00

Before the US National Road Race Championship, August 1982.

Hard to believe now jongens, but once upon a time I could sprint a bike through a crowd fast enough that somebody actually saw fit to sponsor me.

It's a faded memory I needed to keep drawing upon several times this past season...

Way back in 1981 I was recruited by Constantin Negulescu to join his Northstar Bicycle Club. The ex-Romanian national team rider had put together an elite US Amateur team, sponsored by a slate of leading Italian cycling brands: Bicicletas Benotto, Gipiemme components, Ambrosio rims, Hutchinson tires and IscaSella Saddles. With the exception of Hutchinson (who still makes killer tubeless tires... raced this whole season on one pair), most are brands either dead, or largely missing in action. But back in '82, well, it was the perfect gear.

"Good enough for Roger DeVlaeminck or Moser,
good enough for you!"

Talk about Christmas morning... I can still remember being in Connie's Malden, Mass. basement on that pre-season day as he distributed the fruits of his considerable multi-lingual, entreprenurial talents to a group of hollow-cheeked, wide-eyed and hungry aspirants. Big boxes came open. He gave me my gear first. An omen, as it was the last time I'd be 'first' on that team, one filled with some really talented riders.

My Benotto was a 54cm, Columbus steel-tubed Benotto frame. Mine had diamond shaped chainstays, but some were oval. It was Benotto team issue, not sure if my frame was made in Mexico or Italy. It could have been made of stovepipe, it didn't matter one bit to me. For you see, it was a team issue Benotto.

What did matter was that it was painted in the exact same team metallic gold, with the same blue oval logo decals. A team issue Benotto. A pro bike.

Belivacqua solos to Roubaix, 1951 on his
Benotto.

This was the same frame that you've probably seen featured in the opening title sequence of 'A Sunday in Hell': Moser's bike getting prepped for the Race to Roubaix. And it was the frame that he won his World Championship in Cristobal Venezuela on, in 1977.

The brand his Sanson teammate Ole Ritter rode in his Mexico hour record attempt in 'The Impossible Hour.'

And it was the brand that Antonio Belivacqua rode to Win Paris-Roubaix in 1951.

De Vlaeminck, Braun, Mount and Argentin. They all rode Benotto.

Same frame that Roger DeVlaeminck won Milan San Remo on in '78. Same frame Francesco Moser soloed over the pave with to win his first Paris-Roubaix that same year, and later that year would threw over the line on the rainy Nurburgring to lose his rainbow jersey by inches to Gerrie Knetemann. Same frame that my wieleridol Freddy Maertens rode on in the '80 SanGiacomo team.

Moser's Benotto nailed at the line,
Nurburgring Worlds, 1978

Same frame that smilin' George Mount rode in the big time San Giacomo and Sammontana-Benotto teams those same years, in the big professional show in Italy. Had a poster of George on my bedroom wall. And one of Moser too. In that team, George rode shotgun for leader Roberto Visentini, where his job was to help him over the climbs and be there to switch bikes in case he needed it.

My basement had a Benotto calendar featuring a young Sammontana rider - not well known at the time - named Moreno Argentin. I used to look at it while cleaning that Benotto, the saddle and bars hanging from old sew up tires as a workstand, and think, "I'm 21, that kid's 21, and he's already on the pro squad. Why not me too?"

It was a thought seeded by Signore Giacinto Benotto himself at the New York International cycle show earlier that year. Connie introduced me to him at the booth. He pointed to the Poster of Mount and said to me, "If you can ride like him, we'll bring you to Italy too". When you're young, anything seems possible - even if it isn't. A truth that only set in when I watched Argentin win the Worlds in Colorado in 1986.

Giacino Benotto, and his team issue Benotto, circa 1982.

An Italian bicycle brand founded in Torino in 1931 Benotto was founded by a 24 year old racer - that same Giacinto Benotto. He moved some production to Mexico a few decades later, where the brand became one of the strongest there, and in Latin America. A total of 11 world championship rainbows were won on Benotto. Giancino passed away in 1990, but Benotto continues on today. For more, check out their website.

Our sponsorship didn't end with a Benotto frame. There was also a full Gipiemme grouppo, which was actually a mix of outsourced and relabeled components made by other manufacturers: The same brakes that were also labeled Modolo or Mavic at the time; Simplex derailleurs that had really super retro-friction, never-slip down tube shifters. Then there were two pair of Ambrosio dark-grey anodized 32 hole rims; a leather covered IscaSelle turbo look alike saddle, and a fistfull of Hutchinson tubular tires.

And then there was Benotto cellotape. The non-slip candy colored plastic tape in a wild range of colors that was the rage in the pro peloton in the 80's. For us you could pick any color you wanted, as long as it was blue. You had to file the sharp flash off the matching plastic end plugs though, otherwise you'd slash your leg at some point and get blood all over.

This 3rd in Manchester, CT was one of the few podiums my
Benotto ever saw. Must have been the 'no socks, no gloves'

And then there was the 'kit': A blue lycra skinsuit for the crits
and time trials. A white long sleeved wool team jersey with flocked lettering for allenamento. Black long wool tights and a few pair of black lyrca shorts which all had BENOTTO embroidered in white down the sides, and a semi-perforated white short sleeve synthetic blend jersey which was great in hot road races in days when wool was still de-rigueur in summer. A half dozen white cotton Benotto caps with rainbow stripe for training, and some thin white wool similarly-striped Benotto socks. And to top it all off a white vinyl Benotto shoulder bag to put it all in. The only things we were left on our own to supply were shoes, leather strap helmets and freewheels.

Professionally outfitted head to to toe, from there, as in the best Euro tradition, the rest was largely up to us. That Benotto saw a lot of motorpacing miles, a lot of battles in all weathers and roads, and a lot of sweat. So much sweat, that by the end of the season, the paint was literally flaking off the tubes. Not the best of paint.. but that didn't matter to me. It was a team issue Benotto you see.

Moser in maillot jaune, on a Benotto in the 1975 Tour de France.
The most impeccable TT stylist ever.

It did matter to Connie though. At the end of the season, we all returned our bikes with the same war weary, unsentimental resignation with which I imagine G.I.'s probably returned their M1's and helmets after VE day. Later, I heard from a teammate through the grapevine that Constantin was (justifiably) complaining about the paint-stripped, oxidized condition I'd returned my bike in.

I admit, toward the end of the season, the care was getting less loving. It was a bike after all, a tool. And I was a guy who, well, when it came to 'profuse, corrosive sweating', was world champion material, no question about it. Maybe the mystique had gone out of the bike, as on it I'd struggled to only a paltry handful of top 5 places, and no wins... a palmares far from the results needed to earn that berth in Italy. Never mind maintain 'protected-sprinter' status on a squad that was continually searching for, and taking on more talented hopefuls in a rotating, rolling mind game that should have been the prototype for a reality TV show called 'Ciclismo Idol'. It was every man for himself.

Old school trick
(photo courtesy raydobbins.com)

Two teammates later told me about my D.S.' indignation over my frame's condition: "Bah..this Eddy...just look at how he brings his bike back to me? Back in Romania, this would NEVER happen... we weren't spoiled like you Americans. We appreciated and took care of our bikes. Why, I even used to polish the spokes....every detail...yada yada.. why we knew enough to hammer a piece of wood up the steerer tube at the fork crown. The broken roads might cause a failure, and the wood would keep it together.."

As he spoke, he flipped my rusty beat-up Benotto upside down... and lo and behold...discovered a piece of wood (it was an old broomhandle actually) that I'd jammed up the steerer tube as insurance the very day I put the Benotto together. Yup, Belgian-bred old school baby - Gus Van Cauwenberghe had already taught this 'spoiled' 20 year old American le metier pretty darn well. No eastern bloc flies on this flahute!

My teammates couldn't believe it, they about bust a gut holding it in, but didn't dare laugh until they told me the story later. It may well qualify as the one and only time my direttore was left speechless in mid-tirade.

Ole Ritter was Benotto boy.

A year or so later, ambitions unrealized, I went back home where I belonged to my beloved CCB. I met up with Constantin in Spain about a decade later where he'd emigrated and worked for the Shimano distributor. In magical Castillian city of Segovia, on a sweltering July day I remember thanking him for his help and apolgizing for being such a young wise-ass. We shared laughs and recalled old stories of those Benotto glory days over roast pig and gambas al ajillo and vino tinto at Meson Candido, under the ancient Roman Aqueduct. A heckuva lot easier than being lined out at 30+ mph on that Benotto, in the wind, trying to stay with Steve Bauer and Davis Phinney.

With my ol' D.S. Constantin and Pilar in Segovia.

Nostalgia. Miss old Constantin, hope he's doing well. I still have Benotto dreams of those days. Some center around an opening gap that I can't ever close no matter how hard I pull against blue plastic handlbars. But in most, the pain has faded, and only fond memories remain. Mostly they're of a really good guy who helped a lot of young riders like me, when there was little to nothing in it for him, other than a love of the sport, and a desire to create a great squadra.

Connie's team moved to other bike sponsors in following years. Batavus, and Colnago. Benotto left the international Pro peloton by the early 90's, but the company still is prominent in Latin American cycling.
Constantin has his own bike brand now, available in Spain. Check it out here. I noticed in the photos there that Pedro Delgado is riding one. Says a lot I think.

Happy Thanksgiving cafesupporters. My best to your families, and eat some turkey (but not too much!)

Meanwhile, over in Arizona

2011-11-21T05:15:00.000-08:00

Here at the flandria cafe, it's generally acknowledged that even the hardest of the hardmen need to escape the cold north Atlantic from time to time. To ride in sunnier warmer climes.

"Hey, that guy looks strong, sign him up."
Izeren Doug, neo-stagaire onscript Brian,
and Brad, up at the crack of dawn. Not a bier in sight.

After all, Rik Van Looy and the original red guard used to escape the flats around Antwerp for Lake Garda and Riviera winter training camps. Freddy Maertens would go to Torremolinos in sunny Spain for a November break. And current euro-wielerthrongs -from topsporter profis to wielertouristas alike -flock to Mallorca, or take up winter residence Monaco.

But for our Dr. Brad, nothing - not outrageous airline baggage fees, late season barriers to keeping form, nor the non-participation of his plaatlander comrades (despite-continual-exhortations) - nothing keeps him from his annual pre-Thanksgiving ritual-raid to Arizona. Out there, it's a rendezvous with our cafe outlier, his faithful Lieutenant Shoeless Doug, and that season finale throwdown known as "El Tour de Tuscon."

Service Course 'chez Doug' .
Carefully making sure nothing gets left behind.

111 miles of sun, dry heat, wind, and more than a bit of climbing. And the several dry creek beds you need to cross en route provide some tangible flahute points ...but only if you ride over them. I'll let the good doctor tell us about this year's edition in his own words...

"Overcast, with more wind than anticipated. Our new South African neo-pro stagiere Brian - (who we had to pull in to reinforce out squad because certain 'so-called' flahutes who will remain unnamed here continually refuse to fly out with me for this major classic) - stormed away from his wingman at mile 49 after the 2nd river bed to a fine 5:00.32.

''the 'Bronical', the Windswept and the Bottleless"
Team Flandria is ready for that truly Burgundian 'post-Tour' feast.

"I struggled with 'bronichal exacerbation and lost contact with a mini-peloton at mile 94, but ducked into another group and rode in with a 5:06 'personal best' to use a triathlon term that I know is normally banned from this discourse" (N.B. it was 5:09:17 according to the official timing for 341st of 3169 Brad... Goed wedstrijd jongen!)

"Shoeless Doug left a bottle in the car but regrouped for a solid 5:38."

Great riding guys!

Speaking of great, Brad also pointed out that the great John Howard finished 17th overall, at age 64. In a 4:35. Pretty fast.

Age? Just a number wielersupporters, just a number.

Herman Van Springel, and the spirit of 68.

2011-11-20T18:16:00.000-08:00

Herman Van Springel and co-author Mark Uytterhoeven launch '68'
Buy it here.

Herman Van Springel has just launched a new book about his career. It's called '68'.

"Who? Why '68?"

OK jongen, just answer one of those analogy questions, the kind they put on the SAT test:

"Laurent Fignon" is to "1989"...as "Herman Van Springel" is to___?

A. "1968."

It was a year a lot like this year. Unpopular wars, unrest around the world. Students protesting in the streets. Economic woes. The music was better though...

And it was a summer when the Tour de France was lost in a heartbreaking final day time trial to Paris. Just like Fignon in '89, only that year, the yellow jersey wearer was a flahute named Herman VanSpringel, a man as soft spoken and modest as he was hard.

Wearing jaune, Herman lost the TT, and the Tour to Jan Janssen, Holland's first Tour winner , by 38 seconds. At that time, it was the closest Tour finish ever.

Many would have been crushed by the loss. But I particularly like that the Tour loss didn't seem to faze the unflappable VanSpringel one iota. He shrugged it off, and laughs about it now. Because 1968 was Van Springel's best year in a pro career that spanned 17 of them. It was the year he won Het Volk, the Tour of Belgium, and the Giro di Lombardia. And the year he was 2nd in Paris Roubaix, the Pro world road race championship, and the Grand Prix des Nations time trial. Check out this good clip of him holding Eddy Merckx all the way to the Roubaix Velodrome that year.

Flandria legend VanSpringel during one of his
Bordeaux Paris victories. His pacemaker totally rocks.

Herman Van Springel just might be the best rider most nowadays have never heard of. He's perhaps best known for winning the now defunct (but totally awesome) marathon derny-paced classic, Bordeaux-Paris. Not once, mind you, but seven times. You read that right. Seven freakin times. Just the thought of riding it once makes me want to sleep for a month.

A peloton of old pros. An almost uncountable list of wins.

After a stint as leader for the Poeders MANN team, he went into Eddy Merckx Molteni team in 1971 as an equipier de luxe, and a pretty hefty pay increase. And that year, he became Belgian pro road champion and finished 2nd in a Giro D'Italia that Eddy Merckx passed on riding.

Eddy himself said it in Velo magazine a few years ago, "That 1974 World Championship in Montreal? I never would have won it without you, Herman..." It was Van Springel who'd gone to the front, and pulled back Thevenet.

The two are still close it seems. Noticed that Herman's been riding a series of Merckx bikes for a few years now...

His career continued into the late seventies, riding for a succession of Belgian teams: Flandria, Ijsboercke, Marc-Zeepcentrale, Safir-Ludo. He rode as a pro until he was 38. And he's still riding the bike at 68, looking just as fit and like he can still make it really go. To celebrate the book launch, he did a ride with former mates and opponents Merckx, DeVlaeminck, Godefroot, In't Ven, Vekemans, Verhaegen, Jos Huysmans, De Schoenmaeker and Rosiers. (News article here.)

Click the video link here

Herman's been on a 'media Tour' this week, even doing a segment on De Laatste Show, kind of a Belgian version of the the Tonight Show. along with co-author Mark Van Uytterhoeven, who's a Laatste regular when they feature cycling stars. Good clip link here with TT footage from that dramatic '68 Tour finish. Another here from Sporza.

Click here to see a Sporza clip on Van Springel

Photos of the day: Knicker and Fender season.

2011-11-18T08:19:00.000-08:00

Fausto had it right: Still the undisputed king of training fashion.

Brrrr... Cold this morning wielersupporters.

Winter's finally knocking. The kind of 'winter's knocking' day you pull those old wool knickers and socks out of mothballs.

Here's a photo gallery centered on two pieces of gear that used to mark the end of the go-fast season. We're talking knickers (or 'plusses' for our UK friends). And fenders. They go together like moules and frites.

I'm still nostalgic for 'em, but not in the current urban-fixie-hipster wearing fashion. No I'm thinking more like Les Issambres or Lago di Garda, circa 1957. Back when off season training was by 'feel'. Or as Luciano Pezzi advised, "Da novembre al dicembre, i chilometeri percorsi in bicicletta anche a scopo turistico e ricreativo" Time to just ride the bike.

Knickers and Fenders. At this time of year, back in the day, both provided a practical, and useful visual demarcation to tell the rest of the world that your intensity switch is flipped to 'off ', but your intention to keep putting in base miles is undeterred by the cold. The beret? Well, that was optional.

Old flemish adage: "Ride into the cold, and you'll ride through the cold."

Louison, ou Jacques: 'Qui est mas macho?'

Things I've heard from 'good' riders in knickers and fenders:

The 'Butcher of Bettembourg' awaits his rendezvous
(Photo from Marcel Erzner, in "Charly Gaul, l'Ange de la Montagne
et son equipe", G. Zangerle, 1988)

- "I'm on a training ride you knucklehead, will ya stop half-wheeling me and chill, for chrissakes!"

- "Hey, you riding on Thanksgiving morning?"

- "You go ahead and chase that mail truck...I'm good"

- "Allora, dove il tuo caffe di ficidcia?" (Where's that favorite coffee stop of yours again?)

- "You wanna do another hour?"

- "C'mon jongen, finish yer trappisten and let's blow this clambake... it's going to be dark in a hour and I don't have lights on."

- "Whoa...I see you went with the argyle today, schweet"

Speaking of argyle, I'm kinda surprised that Jonathan Vaughters hasn't had Castelli equip his boys with knickers with argyle socks for training yet. JV's a fashion victim - it would be an appropriate statement, don't you think?