LLB and I had a huge surprise this morning - we were trying to decide if it was worth trying to find a stream so that we could watch Omloop, as Eurosport ("the home of cycling") have totally failed to offer us any coverage at all.
Trouble is, the illicit streams are absolutely terrible in quality: not only is the picture dreadful, but the picture keeps locking up, so we gradually get further and further behind, to the point where other people are tweeting triumphantly about who won, while we are still yelling at the screen with 50m to go.
So imagine our surprise and delight to find a new, hitherto unheard-of tv channel called BIKE.
We watched in amazement as a very nice girly called Fillipa, overdubbed by a repressed middle-England actor, cycled around a lake somewhere in Italy, meeting a variety of men who were all overdubbed by the same male actor, which was slightly disconcerting. She was moderately enthusiastic about the scenery of the lake, and the map which had been provided by - I think - the local tourist office. She meets a chap at the landing stage where she proposes to cut short her 39k round-the-lake cycle ride by taking a boat back across the lake, and asks him about an island.
"Does it have any legends?" she asks.
"Yes, it has many legends," come the overdubbed reply.
"do you have a favourite legend?"
"Yes, I have a favourite legend, it is said..."
Thrilling stuff, eh?
It would appear that it's an Italian channel, which someone has bought in, and added quick (and cheap) English dialogue to, then pushed out on UK tv. The quality is not exactly HD, but frankly after the streams, it seems perfectly acceptable to us. It started on 10th December, but we didn't know about it until this morning.
And now, here we are, happily watching Omloop in perfectly acceptable quality, and with the inimitable Rob Hatch commentating, all alone, and with no backing music to help him. It's not easy to keep talking continuously for 2 hours, and he's doing a sterling job - particularly when you think that the content of each race, ie the riders, are constantly changing. I can only assume that commentators have a large print version of the start list, another list sorted alphabetically, and a quick crib of what each rider has done in the past. That, or a wonderful memory.
I always enjoy watching the cobbled classics, it's probably a combination of the truly lovely scenery, which is the very best of middle England, but without the mess, and the constant changes to the leading groups, due to the constant presence of punctures, crashes with road furniture, etc.
Talking of crashes, Tony Martin comes down a whopper with 44k to go, he just loses his front wheel on a cobbled corner, taking out a couple of other riders as he does so - luckily he does not appear to be damaged, and hops back on it. This might well be a relief to the front groups, which include our very own Luke Rowe, who is out there with the leaders in a small group of 8, which is now forming a very small echelon as they encounter a slightly more open section.
At this point there is a massive crash towards the end of the peloton, and we see Philly Gilly hit the deck and stay down for a worrying length of time, although in the end, he's the one who gets back on his bike and rides on, leaving a fellow BMC rider sitting on the bank, along with Jempy Drucker from Loooks'm'burg (as Rob Hatch says it).
There are far too many black kits in the not-just-pro peloton! At this rate I am going to have to start learning which bikes they are all riding, in order to work out who is who. "No, you won't," says LLB reassuringly, "it just takes a while to get your eye in, that's all."
Let's hope so, otherwise you will have to read about Specialized (Veranda's Willems), Pinarello (Team Sky) etc, instead of "and the lovely Jakob is looking good today."
We all remember the ludicrous ending of this race last year - three Etixx guys and one lone Sky rider (Stannard) for about the last 20k, and the lone Sky rider beat the lot of them and won it.
So this year, we are expecting Etixx - with their prominent Diddlye-Dee (Lidl) advertising on the shoulders - to make an effort not to be left behind too badly: if they don't at least pull the break back, they will be laughed out of the peloton. And width 11k to go, there is still a break of five guys nearly a minute up the road, one of which is Peter "Jammy Dodger" Sagan is seen tightening up his shoes in preparation for a sprint effort.
With just 7k to go the gap is not coming down at all, and it looks as though we are all going to laughing at Etixx, with no mercy and much pointing of fingers: in fact, they have had to ask Direct Energie (formerly Europcar) to do some pulling, and finally the time is starting to come down.
However, they left it far too late, despite Sylvain Chavanel in his unfamiliar balck kit doing his utmost to bring the time down, and it's a big sprint by the lead group at the line. Poor Luke doesn't quite have the oopmh to take it right to the line, and settles for 4th place, with Greg van Avermaet just beating Sagan to take the lead.
Well, we are very happy with the new BIKE channel and we look forward to watching it again in future!
Saturday 27 February 2016
Thursday 25 February 2016
Tour of Oman 4-6
Another stage, another grey mountainous martian landscape.... today's stage is due to end on the alleged Green Mountain, which - you will note - is not Green at all, but is the same murky grey martian colour as the rest of the landscape. Such a disappointment.
We start our brief coverage with a small break, containing not one but two members of Wanty "Go, Bears!" - presumably they had to send two ordinary riders to take the place of Kenny de Haas and his flowing barnet - and then suddenly it's 10k to go, and Daniel 'Oss is panting like a dog at the front of the bunch, closely followed by Richie Porte who I simply cannot recognise in his BMC ladybird kit.
The lovely Jakob Fuglsang is pulling on the front for Nibbles again (I do hope he is being well paid for all this domestiqueing, considering he left Leopard Trek in order to flower and grow and no longer have to domestique for the Schlecks...), and Romain Bardet clips off the front - so I really don't know who to cheer for.
I'm impressed to see Tom Dumoulin (who looks like being quite a contender for the gc later this year) "doing a Frome", ie he gets dropped on the climb, but instead of giving up, or overstraining himself trying to catch up, he is plugging away at his own pace, and steadily gaining ground.
Romain pings off the front! Nibali goes with him! While the eyes of the world - well, the couple of hundred of us watching Eurosport, at any rate - are on those two, Jakob cleverly sneaks up on the other side of the road, which is so wide that he can do so unobserved quite easily.
Dumoulin is still plugging away remorselessly, gaining on the lovely Jakob as the finish line - 2k further away than it was last year, cruelly - comes into sight.
"Not exactly the Alps, is it?" comments LLB: no, there's a five foot high wall on one side, a wall of grey rock on the other, you can barely see the sky, and certainly can't see any scenery.
In the end, Nibali takes the stage, with dear little Romain in second place, Jakob in third and Dumoulin bringing up a very respectable fourth place.
Bardet is interviewed (en Francais, so I have no real idea what he was saying) surrounded by a pushing, jostling crowd of other riders, and then it's Nibali's turn: oh, they've found him a folding chair to sit on, hmmm, guess that shows who is the senior rider, then?
Stage Five is a short stage, ending with three times up and down the final hill, but going twice up on side of it, and once up the other side, just to stave off boredom for the riders.
As always, there is an unintentionally hilarious commentary from Rob Hatch, doing a sterling job of commenting all alone, and totally failing to conceal the fact that he knows perfectly well what the outcome of the race would be. This gives a lovely "psychic" slant to his commentary - he mentions what riders are going to do just before they do it.
Still flabbergasted by the lack of scenery and colour, LLB and I wonder if the climbs - particularly the repeated one - are completely soul-destroying for the riders. With grey mountain on one side, and grey walls on the other, all they can see is an unending ribbon of perfect grey tarmac as they toil upwards and onwards, tongues hanging out.
Today's finish is apparently at the "Ministry of Tourism" which I assume to be a building, rather than a political movement. Very 1984....
With 1k to go, the "could try harder" DDDs come to the front and pull like trojans, and it's all worth the effort as EBH takes the stage: he truly is the best of the second tier sprinters.
Once again we have Jakob on the podium along with Nibali and Romain: and my attention is distracted by seeing a real, live woman walk past the back of the podium - clearly the Ministry of Tourism is monitoring this blog, and have taken steps to address my concerns about the repression of women.
Now we are onto Stage 6, final stage of the race: this is the third and final race set in the arab peninsula - we didn't see Quatar but we know it's pretty much the same as Dubai, ie hot and flat: this is the first hilly race of the season, so it's good to see everyone stretching their legs and weaving from side to side.
Kristoff is charming in his pre-race interview: I still can't believe that he's not a Dark Lord at all (although he is riding for the Dark Lords) but is Norwegian! Nibali has clearly been bribed to say nice things about the race, and comments "there's a lot of different scenery here" which is an absolute fib, of course: it's yet more of the grey, martian landscape with sand at the bottom, and rocks sticking up.
The start is quite nice, all things considered, with crowds of European spectators (which you can tell because not even the women are wearing dresses) at least one or two deep all the way along the barriered section.
Our coverage jumps to 50k to go, with the break just over a minute ahead and an embarrassed peloton determined not to repeat the fiasco of this stage last year, where was was supposed to be a sprint finish was ruined by letting the break get too far ahead, so the sprinters wasted their day.
Not this year, though! At 11k to go, Gianni Meerkat sticks his head above the crowd in the break, and scampers off the front, just for the fun of it, as there are no KOM points to be won. We assume that someone told him this, before the race? Maybe not... but his move whittles down the leading group to just 4 riders with 7k and one lap to go.
There is an Incident: as they go round the 180 degree turn at the roundabout for the last time, I distinctly see one rider take a sneaky shortcut, apparently unnoticed by anyone else!
Daniel 'Oss is once again in good form, pulling like a train on the front of the main bunch (which did, of course, catch the break) and managing to give the Dark Lords a scare by creating a gap: however, the Dark Lords get it together, pull back the gap, and by 1k to go they are on the front, and pulling hard for Kristoff (the Norwegian) who wins the stage.
The men in white dresses applaud politely.
As always, I am staggered that these guys - the riders, not the men in white dresses - can ride in the hot desert sun for 3 hours or more, yet within a minute of finishing, can calmly give interviews, without even being breathless, and with their hair all fluffy and dry. I would be a grease-spot, with sweat running down my nose and my hair plastered to my head.
What it is to be fit, eh?!
We start our brief coverage with a small break, containing not one but two members of Wanty "Go, Bears!" - presumably they had to send two ordinary riders to take the place of Kenny de Haas and his flowing barnet - and then suddenly it's 10k to go, and Daniel 'Oss is panting like a dog at the front of the bunch, closely followed by Richie Porte who I simply cannot recognise in his BMC ladybird kit.
The lovely Jakob Fuglsang is pulling on the front for Nibbles again (I do hope he is being well paid for all this domestiqueing, considering he left Leopard Trek in order to flower and grow and no longer have to domestique for the Schlecks...), and Romain Bardet clips off the front - so I really don't know who to cheer for.
I'm impressed to see Tom Dumoulin (who looks like being quite a contender for the gc later this year) "doing a Frome", ie he gets dropped on the climb, but instead of giving up, or overstraining himself trying to catch up, he is plugging away at his own pace, and steadily gaining ground.
Romain pings off the front! Nibali goes with him! While the eyes of the world - well, the couple of hundred of us watching Eurosport, at any rate - are on those two, Jakob cleverly sneaks up on the other side of the road, which is so wide that he can do so unobserved quite easily.
Dumoulin is still plugging away remorselessly, gaining on the lovely Jakob as the finish line - 2k further away than it was last year, cruelly - comes into sight.
"Not exactly the Alps, is it?" comments LLB: no, there's a five foot high wall on one side, a wall of grey rock on the other, you can barely see the sky, and certainly can't see any scenery.
In the end, Nibali takes the stage, with dear little Romain in second place, Jakob in third and Dumoulin bringing up a very respectable fourth place.
Bardet is interviewed (en Francais, so I have no real idea what he was saying) surrounded by a pushing, jostling crowd of other riders, and then it's Nibali's turn: oh, they've found him a folding chair to sit on, hmmm, guess that shows who is the senior rider, then?
Stage Five is a short stage, ending with three times up and down the final hill, but going twice up on side of it, and once up the other side, just to stave off boredom for the riders.
As always, there is an unintentionally hilarious commentary from Rob Hatch, doing a sterling job of commenting all alone, and totally failing to conceal the fact that he knows perfectly well what the outcome of the race would be. This gives a lovely "psychic" slant to his commentary - he mentions what riders are going to do just before they do it.
Still flabbergasted by the lack of scenery and colour, LLB and I wonder if the climbs - particularly the repeated one - are completely soul-destroying for the riders. With grey mountain on one side, and grey walls on the other, all they can see is an unending ribbon of perfect grey tarmac as they toil upwards and onwards, tongues hanging out.
Today's finish is apparently at the "Ministry of Tourism" which I assume to be a building, rather than a political movement. Very 1984....
With 1k to go, the "could try harder" DDDs come to the front and pull like trojans, and it's all worth the effort as EBH takes the stage: he truly is the best of the second tier sprinters.
Once again we have Jakob on the podium along with Nibali and Romain: and my attention is distracted by seeing a real, live woman walk past the back of the podium - clearly the Ministry of Tourism is monitoring this blog, and have taken steps to address my concerns about the repression of women.
Now we are onto Stage 6, final stage of the race: this is the third and final race set in the arab peninsula - we didn't see Quatar but we know it's pretty much the same as Dubai, ie hot and flat: this is the first hilly race of the season, so it's good to see everyone stretching their legs and weaving from side to side.
Kristoff is charming in his pre-race interview: I still can't believe that he's not a Dark Lord at all (although he is riding for the Dark Lords) but is Norwegian! Nibali has clearly been bribed to say nice things about the race, and comments "there's a lot of different scenery here" which is an absolute fib, of course: it's yet more of the grey, martian landscape with sand at the bottom, and rocks sticking up.
The start is quite nice, all things considered, with crowds of European spectators (which you can tell because not even the women are wearing dresses) at least one or two deep all the way along the barriered section.
Our coverage jumps to 50k to go, with the break just over a minute ahead and an embarrassed peloton determined not to repeat the fiasco of this stage last year, where was was supposed to be a sprint finish was ruined by letting the break get too far ahead, so the sprinters wasted their day.
Not this year, though! At 11k to go, Gianni Meerkat sticks his head above the crowd in the break, and scampers off the front, just for the fun of it, as there are no KOM points to be won. We assume that someone told him this, before the race? Maybe not... but his move whittles down the leading group to just 4 riders with 7k and one lap to go.
There is an Incident: as they go round the 180 degree turn at the roundabout for the last time, I distinctly see one rider take a sneaky shortcut, apparently unnoticed by anyone else!
Daniel 'Oss is once again in good form, pulling like a train on the front of the main bunch (which did, of course, catch the break) and managing to give the Dark Lords a scare by creating a gap: however, the Dark Lords get it together, pull back the gap, and by 1k to go they are on the front, and pulling hard for Kristoff (the Norwegian) who wins the stage.
The men in white dresses applaud politely.
As always, I am staggered that these guys - the riders, not the men in white dresses - can ride in the hot desert sun for 3 hours or more, yet within a minute of finishing, can calmly give interviews, without even being breathless, and with their hair all fluffy and dry. I would be a grease-spot, with sweat running down my nose and my hair plastered to my head.
What it is to be fit, eh?!
Sunday 21 February 2016
Tour of Oman 3
Our Stage 3 coverage starts, bizarrely, with a red scrolling banner across the bottom of the screen saying "Tour of Oman Stage 3 won by Kristoff who takes race lead from Boassen Hagen" which is a bit annoying, as this is the first screening of the race coverage, and now the suspense is gone! Gone!
We watch it anyway - we're quite accustomed to knowing the end result before we start, as we don't often get the chance to watch live coverage, so it doesn't really spoil our discussion or enjoyment of the race.
The pre-race section includes a brief interview with Gianni Meerkat - er Meersman, now also riding for AG2R, who seem to have sent a team-full of my Pets, which is nice. I have no idea what happened to his hair, though.
Race coverage starts with Kenny de Haas of "Wanty: Group, Go, Bears!" (as we call them) leading the break, and taking all the sprint points, to the accompaniment of cries of Go, Bears! and waving of imaginary Wanty flags. (Hmm, must make a Wanty flag.)
The soundtrack is back to Tangerine Dream, with strange gaps where (presumably) Rob Hatch has to stop and rewind the cassette... actually, that's a terrible fib, I tweeted him yesterday and asked about it, never expecting a reply: but 2 hours later, he replied:
I've said it before, but these people have no idea what a thrill it is to us "little people" when they respond to our tweets! It's such a small thing for them to, but it means so much... Andy, are you listening? *laughs*
(Meanwhile, somewhere in Lux:
TinkerJil elbows Andy sharply in the ribs and says "See! Go on, send her a tweet!"
Andy: "Not likely, you remember what happened that last time I "engaged" with a fan, it took me years to get rid of that awful Italian Stalker Woman"
TinkerJil: "Oh, go on with you, Coug has far more sense that that sad old hag - besides, she lives a thousand miles away,"
Andy: "Only 456, actually... not that she has looked it up or anything.")
So, where were we? *coughs in embarrassment* Oh yes, so the choice of music is that of ASO, and no, Rob Hatch is not having to turn the cassette over every so often. Good to know. Also good to know that he does not choose to do the slushy travelogues! Back to the race...
It's very odd to suddenly see filthy black clouds in the sky. Does it rain in Oman, then? Oh - yes, it does! Most of the teams are completely lacking rain capes, but it doesn't matter too much as, after about ten minutes of rain, the roads are dry again. In fact, at one point we can see blobs of rain coming down onto the moto camera lens, but the road is still dry, which is presumably a reflection of how hot it is out there. (Although not as hot as last year, when it was over 40 degrees and riders, I seem to remember, were passing out in the heat.)
So, apparently it rains in Oman, but that does not help the greenery at all, as the scenery is just rock - rocks - more rocks. I suppose it makes a change from Quatar which was just sand - sand - sand. And the rain doesn't make the slightest difference to the race, on account of them being on beautifully tarmaced four-lane highways, with no bends to speak of.
Suddenly the soundtrack changes to smooth 90s easy listening, as poor Rob is forced to give us a brief travelogue on the beauties (?) of Oman, then just as suddenly that is all over, and we are back to the race, admiring the disc brakes of Roompot,
Don't worry, you are not going be subjected to an indepth assesment of disc brakes V calipers, nor a critique of the "spinning blades of death devices", I don't have any particular views one way or the other, other than to say that push-bikes are incredibly light, and there doesn't seem to be much point in improving the stopping of the wheel spinning, when it is still only contacting the ground with a piece of rubber about the size of my thumbnail.
So it seems to me that anyone leaning too hard on their disc brakes is just going to be sliding along the road at the same speed that everyone else is going to be slowing down at, but with slightly less control.
We shall see.
Back to the race - and as always, the sight of a handful of spectators in long white dresses (men, of course - women aren't allowed out in daylight) makes me wonder what they, voluminously and decorously covered, must think at seeing a bunch of blokes wearing basically nothing more than swimsuits, go whizzing past in broad daylight.
Suddenly it's a big sprint finish through a building site (?) and guess who wins? Yes, it's Kristoff, who would have thought it. He takes the race lead as well. Yay for the Dark Lords (waves limp flag unenthusiastically).
However, there is one final surprise in store - I didn't realise that Kristoff was Norwegian! I know, I know, how long have I been following pro cycing? But he rides for the Dark Lords, and his name is about as Russian-sounding as it can get, so you can't really blame me!
We watch it anyway - we're quite accustomed to knowing the end result before we start, as we don't often get the chance to watch live coverage, so it doesn't really spoil our discussion or enjoyment of the race.
The pre-race section includes a brief interview with Gianni Meerkat - er Meersman, now also riding for AG2R, who seem to have sent a team-full of my Pets, which is nice. I have no idea what happened to his hair, though.
Race coverage starts with Kenny de Haas of "Wanty: Group, Go, Bears!" (as we call them) leading the break, and taking all the sprint points, to the accompaniment of cries of Go, Bears! and waving of imaginary Wanty flags. (Hmm, must make a Wanty flag.)
The soundtrack is back to Tangerine Dream, with strange gaps where (presumably) Rob Hatch has to stop and rewind the cassette... actually, that's a terrible fib, I tweeted him yesterday and asked about it, never expecting a reply: but 2 hours later, he replied:
I've said it before, but these people have no idea what a thrill it is to us "little people" when they respond to our tweets! It's such a small thing for them to, but it means so much... Andy, are you listening? *laughs*
(Meanwhile, somewhere in Lux:
TinkerJil elbows Andy sharply in the ribs and says "See! Go on, send her a tweet!"
Andy: "Not likely, you remember what happened that last time I "engaged" with a fan, it took me years to get rid of that awful Italian Stalker Woman"
TinkerJil: "Oh, go on with you, Coug has far more sense that that sad old hag - besides, she lives a thousand miles away,"
Andy: "Only 456, actually... not that she has looked it up or anything.")
So, where were we? *coughs in embarrassment* Oh yes, so the choice of music is that of ASO, and no, Rob Hatch is not having to turn the cassette over every so often. Good to know. Also good to know that he does not choose to do the slushy travelogues! Back to the race...
It's very odd to suddenly see filthy black clouds in the sky. Does it rain in Oman, then? Oh - yes, it does! Most of the teams are completely lacking rain capes, but it doesn't matter too much as, after about ten minutes of rain, the roads are dry again. In fact, at one point we can see blobs of rain coming down onto the moto camera lens, but the road is still dry, which is presumably a reflection of how hot it is out there. (Although not as hot as last year, when it was over 40 degrees and riders, I seem to remember, were passing out in the heat.)
So, apparently it rains in Oman, but that does not help the greenery at all, as the scenery is just rock - rocks - more rocks. I suppose it makes a change from Quatar which was just sand - sand - sand. And the rain doesn't make the slightest difference to the race, on account of them being on beautifully tarmaced four-lane highways, with no bends to speak of.
Suddenly the soundtrack changes to smooth 90s easy listening, as poor Rob is forced to give us a brief travelogue on the beauties (?) of Oman, then just as suddenly that is all over, and we are back to the race, admiring the disc brakes of Roompot,
So it seems to me that anyone leaning too hard on their disc brakes is just going to be sliding along the road at the same speed that everyone else is going to be slowing down at, but with slightly less control.
We shall see.
Back to the race - and as always, the sight of a handful of spectators in long white dresses (men, of course - women aren't allowed out in daylight) makes me wonder what they, voluminously and decorously covered, must think at seeing a bunch of blokes wearing basically nothing more than swimsuits, go whizzing past in broad daylight.
Suddenly it's a big sprint finish through a building site (?) and guess who wins? Yes, it's Kristoff, who would have thought it. He takes the race lead as well. Yay for the Dark Lords (waves limp flag unenthusiastically).
However, there is one final surprise in store - I didn't realise that Kristoff was Norwegian! I know, I know, how long have I been following pro cycing? But he rides for the Dark Lords, and his name is about as Russian-sounding as it can get, so you can't really blame me!
Saturday 20 February 2016
Tour of Oman 1 and 2
We're only getting a 30minute "magazine" version of the footage, so it's just a quick intro, a brief travelogue, highlights and the finish, with my pet commentator Rob Hatch over-enunciating enthusiastically as always, doing a brave job of commenting all alone, but - strangely - trying to make it sound as though he doesn't already know the ultimate outcome of the stage.
Stage one went past so briefly that I don't remember much about it, other than noting that there was background music, which seemed very odd for a cycle race. Presumably that was added to fill in the gaps when the poor lone commentator had to stop to draw a breath, or sneeze, or take a drink? Oh, and Bob Jungels from Lux won the stage, which was probably very pleasing for Our Andy, assuming he was watching the race.
(Meanwhile, somewhere in Luxembourg:
TinkerJil: Andy, love, the Tour of Oman is on, aren't you going to watch it?
Andy: (grumpily) No.
TinkerJil: Aww, come on, Jungley is in it.
Andy: (grumpily) No.
TinkerJil: (wheedling) Men in lycra? Cross winds? Come on, you'll enjoy it. (craftily) There might be echelons.....
Andy: (leaps in front of tv) Any chance of a cup of coffee, love?
end of digression.)
Stage two started with some seriously groovy background music - very much the 70s in style, like one of those self-indulgent 15-minute LP tracks by Pink Floyd in their experimental phase, or Tangerine Dream, in which case it could have been from any one of their albums.
The scenery was strange... if they had painted it red, it could easily have passed for Mars, being mostly sharp pointy unweathered rocks, sprouting directly out of flat level sand. I couldn't quite decide if the sand had been dropped on to top of the rocks, or whether the rocks had shot up out of the sand. Either way, it looked more like a film set than anything else - certainly not like anywhere that anyone would voluntarily want to live. The background music rose to a bit of a crescendo as the helicopter shot swooped over this strange landscape - I was expecting a tambourine solo at any moment, but luckily all we got was Rob Hatch pointing out that Romain Bardet - another Schleckland Pet, team leader for Ahh Djzhee Durrs Air - was working hard, which is what I would expect of him. Alas, no mention of Johan van Summeren, who no doubt did sterling work as a domestique for Romain: maybe we'll spot him later, and we can see if the new team are allowing him to tuck his sleeves up in the now-traditional JVS style.
Nothing much happened for most of the stage, leaving me time to reflect how nice it was that, even with just a 30 minute programme, Eurosport manage to find time to include a few pre-race shots of the riders relaxing before the start, sitting around in teams on the grass verges (honestly, this is the weirdest and loveliest sport there is: where else could you just walk along the roadside and say "hi!" to your favourite competitors?) including a quick word with the lovely Jakob Fuglsang, still working hard for Ass-t'na.
There is a sudden silence, with 20k to go - oh, it must be C30 tape and Rob has to stop and turn it over.
Dan Martin (and his teeth, now both riding for Etixx) make a tactical error and get caught in the second group when the side winds cause the inevitable echelons.
Bob "Yungly" Jungels (Rob Hatch can't decide if it is Jungles or Yungels, hilariously. Mind you, we distinctly heard him refer to the Tourist Injury earlier) gets dropped on the final climb, he goes phut! and starts drifting backwards, when Dimension Data, proud new addition to the Pro peloton, get on the front and really start to pull. I have a personal interest in DDD (as their race abbreviation calls them, much to the amusement of LLB who points out that it looks like a very poor school report) as, last year, I donated money and bought bicycle number 3,448 of their target of 5,000. Proud!
Romain is still in the front group, along with the lovely Jakob who is working his socks off for Nibali as usual, when suddenly little Pozzaviva pings off the front, and we note that the AG2R (you can pronounce it for yourselves this time) kit now has a Ass-t'na blue sleeve. Just the one. Very odd.
EBH of DDD (heh heh!) comes from nowhere to take the stage, just as the soundtrack changes from Tangerine Dream to Lord Of the Rings soundtrack, which is a bit disconcerting: both Romain and Jakob make the top 10, which is great: and EBH gives a typically modest winner's interview round the back of the podium, accompanied by what sounds like someone wrestling with a set of bagpipes.
Well, it's short coverage, and not hugely exciting, but at least it's men in lycra!
Stage one went past so briefly that I don't remember much about it, other than noting that there was background music, which seemed very odd for a cycle race. Presumably that was added to fill in the gaps when the poor lone commentator had to stop to draw a breath, or sneeze, or take a drink? Oh, and Bob Jungels from Lux won the stage, which was probably very pleasing for Our Andy, assuming he was watching the race.
(Meanwhile, somewhere in Luxembourg:
TinkerJil: Andy, love, the Tour of Oman is on, aren't you going to watch it?
Andy: (grumpily) No.
TinkerJil: Aww, come on, Jungley is in it.
Andy: (grumpily) No.
TinkerJil: (wheedling) Men in lycra? Cross winds? Come on, you'll enjoy it. (craftily) There might be echelons.....
Andy: (leaps in front of tv) Any chance of a cup of coffee, love?
end of digression.)
Stage two started with some seriously groovy background music - very much the 70s in style, like one of those self-indulgent 15-minute LP tracks by Pink Floyd in their experimental phase, or Tangerine Dream, in which case it could have been from any one of their albums.
The scenery was strange... if they had painted it red, it could easily have passed for Mars, being mostly sharp pointy unweathered rocks, sprouting directly out of flat level sand. I couldn't quite decide if the sand had been dropped on to top of the rocks, or whether the rocks had shot up out of the sand. Either way, it looked more like a film set than anything else - certainly not like anywhere that anyone would voluntarily want to live. The background music rose to a bit of a crescendo as the helicopter shot swooped over this strange landscape - I was expecting a tambourine solo at any moment, but luckily all we got was Rob Hatch pointing out that Romain Bardet - another Schleckland Pet, team leader for Ahh Djzhee Durrs Air - was working hard, which is what I would expect of him. Alas, no mention of Johan van Summeren, who no doubt did sterling work as a domestique for Romain: maybe we'll spot him later, and we can see if the new team are allowing him to tuck his sleeves up in the now-traditional JVS style.
Nothing much happened for most of the stage, leaving me time to reflect how nice it was that, even with just a 30 minute programme, Eurosport manage to find time to include a few pre-race shots of the riders relaxing before the start, sitting around in teams on the grass verges (honestly, this is the weirdest and loveliest sport there is: where else could you just walk along the roadside and say "hi!" to your favourite competitors?) including a quick word with the lovely Jakob Fuglsang, still working hard for Ass-t'na.
There is a sudden silence, with 20k to go - oh, it must be C30 tape and Rob has to stop and turn it over.
Dan Martin (and his teeth, now both riding for Etixx) make a tactical error and get caught in the second group when the side winds cause the inevitable echelons.
Bob "Yungly" Jungels (Rob Hatch can't decide if it is Jungles or Yungels, hilariously. Mind you, we distinctly heard him refer to the Tourist Injury earlier) gets dropped on the final climb, he goes phut! and starts drifting backwards, when Dimension Data, proud new addition to the Pro peloton, get on the front and really start to pull. I have a personal interest in DDD (as their race abbreviation calls them, much to the amusement of LLB who points out that it looks like a very poor school report) as, last year, I donated money and bought bicycle number 3,448 of their target of 5,000. Proud!
Romain is still in the front group, along with the lovely Jakob who is working his socks off for Nibali as usual, when suddenly little Pozzaviva pings off the front, and we note that the AG2R (you can pronounce it for yourselves this time) kit now has a Ass-t'na blue sleeve. Just the one. Very odd.
EBH of DDD (heh heh!) comes from nowhere to take the stage, just as the soundtrack changes from Tangerine Dream to Lord Of the Rings soundtrack, which is a bit disconcerting: both Romain and Jakob make the top 10, which is great: and EBH gives a typically modest winner's interview round the back of the podium, accompanied by what sounds like someone wrestling with a set of bagpipes.
Well, it's short coverage, and not hugely exciting, but at least it's men in lycra!
Thursday 18 February 2016
Ooh, Betty!
For once in a way, the cycling press and the BBC news website have the same article - and it's not about doping!!
It's nearly time for the annual Comic Relief fund-raising day and there is an offshoot of the organisation called Sport Relief in which, as you might expect, athletes do daft things for charity.
Presumably someone somewhere realised that half the population in the UK doesn't give a toss about Great Bake-Off competitors hurling cake mix at each other, but will watch a footballer do just about anything - and so, Sport Relief was created, to extract money from blokes.
And this year, Sir Bradley Wiggins (or "Wiggo" as he likes to be known) is going to be participating, which is quite remarkable really, as he is not generally known for being light-hearted or game for a giggle.
And what will be the subject of the cycling supremo's contribution to comedy? Frank Spencer... a name to strike fear and loathing into the hearts of everyone over the age of abut 40 or so, who remembers the long-running tv series about the hapless, hopeless, idiot and his whining, why-the-heck-did-she-marry-him wife, Betty.
In case you are too young to remember it, Frank Spencer was a tall skinny chap in a tightly-belted raincoat and a beret (yes, I know this makes him sound like a flasher but he appeared to be harmless) who lurched from crisis to disaster, breaking everything he touched and accidentally driving everyone around him demented with anger and frustration.
He was usually seen looking horrified, or simpering - left - in an annoying way, and twisting his arms in such a way as to suggest an urgent desire for the toilet.
Mmm, sounds fun, doesn't it. It was actually a comedy, although I don't remember ever finding it very funny. I do remember getting a day off school, though, when a sequence was filmed in the local shopping centre, and they wanted a bunch of kids to scream and laugh in the background. It started off at my local roller-skating rink, at Picketts Lock Sports Centre, then he burst out of the fire door and inexplicably found himself at the top of the footbridge, three and a half miles away.
If you are a real glutton for punishment, here is the clip:
And there he is, an idiot on roller skates, pretending to be out of control while skating down a hideous concrete footbridge flyover thing, long since demolished, thank god, as it was possibly one of the ugliest and least practical ways to get across the road.
You might notice that it has steps in it, so you couldn't get prams or pushchairs or wheelchairs or mobility scooters (not that we had them, when I was at school!) up or down it: but it did make for good comedic effect to see Frank Spencer jolting his way down it on roller skates. And we got a day off school.
Apparently the "plot", if you can call it that, of the Sport Relief effort revolves around the hapless, hopeless Frank Spencer having a chance encounter with Wiggo at the Olympic velodrome....
...and I would bet money that it will involve one of them sitting on the handlebars of a bicycle, or possibly Frank Spencer sitting backwards on a Derny bike while screaming "Betttttyyyy!" in a high pitched voice.
The actor who played this idiot is Michael Crawford, who went on (picture me pulling an uncomprehending face) to star in Phantom of the Opera and other serious stuff, although I would (again) bet money that every night, someone in the audience would shout out "Frank! Think of Betty!" or something like that.
Why uncomprehending? He's one of those unfortunate actors who was so utterly brilliant and totally convincing in the role of "total prat" that virtually no-one (including me) can ever take him seriously again, for the rest of his career, poor man.
I can hardly wait to see what hilarity he gets up to with Wiggo....
It's nearly time for the annual Comic Relief fund-raising day and there is an offshoot of the organisation called Sport Relief in which, as you might expect, athletes do daft things for charity.
Presumably someone somewhere realised that half the population in the UK doesn't give a toss about Great Bake-Off competitors hurling cake mix at each other, but will watch a footballer do just about anything - and so, Sport Relief was created, to extract money from blokes.
And this year, Sir Bradley Wiggins (or "Wiggo" as he likes to be known) is going to be participating, which is quite remarkable really, as he is not generally known for being light-hearted or game for a giggle.
And what will be the subject of the cycling supremo's contribution to comedy? Frank Spencer... a name to strike fear and loathing into the hearts of everyone over the age of abut 40 or so, who remembers the long-running tv series about the hapless, hopeless, idiot and his whining, why-the-heck-did-she-marry-him wife, Betty.
He was usually seen looking horrified, or simpering - left - in an annoying way, and twisting his arms in such a way as to suggest an urgent desire for the toilet.
Mmm, sounds fun, doesn't it. It was actually a comedy, although I don't remember ever finding it very funny. I do remember getting a day off school, though, when a sequence was filmed in the local shopping centre, and they wanted a bunch of kids to scream and laugh in the background. It started off at my local roller-skating rink, at Picketts Lock Sports Centre, then he burst out of the fire door and inexplicably found himself at the top of the footbridge, three and a half miles away.
And there he is, an idiot on roller skates, pretending to be out of control while skating down a hideous concrete footbridge flyover thing, long since demolished, thank god, as it was possibly one of the ugliest and least practical ways to get across the road.
You might notice that it has steps in it, so you couldn't get prams or pushchairs or wheelchairs or mobility scooters (not that we had them, when I was at school!) up or down it: but it did make for good comedic effect to see Frank Spencer jolting his way down it on roller skates. And we got a day off school.
Apparently the "plot", if you can call it that, of the Sport Relief effort revolves around the hapless, hopeless Frank Spencer having a chance encounter with Wiggo at the Olympic velodrome....
...and I would bet money that it will involve one of them sitting on the handlebars of a bicycle, or possibly Frank Spencer sitting backwards on a Derny bike while screaming "Betttttyyyy!" in a high pitched voice.
The actor who played this idiot is Michael Crawford, who went on (picture me pulling an uncomprehending face) to star in Phantom of the Opera and other serious stuff, although I would (again) bet money that every night, someone in the audience would shout out "Frank! Think of Betty!" or something like that.
Why uncomprehending? He's one of those unfortunate actors who was so utterly brilliant and totally convincing in the role of "total prat" that virtually no-one (including me) can ever take him seriously again, for the rest of his career, poor man.
I can hardly wait to see what hilarity he gets up to with Wiggo....
Monday 15 February 2016
Yay, Midge!
It's always a thrill to hear my name mentioned on Eurosport, and yesterday was nearly as good - while watching coverage of the Vuelta a Valencia, which finished a week ago, but which we have only just got around to watching, Carlton Kirby was fumbling for the correct Spanish expression for Grupetto compacto, or "the groups are all back together now" meaning that the chasing peloton have caught the breakaways.
He was making things up, frankly, as neither he nor Matt knew the phrase, but then it was Midge to the Rescue!
"We've had a tweet," said Carlton, "with thanks to Midge Tremayne, the phrase is agrupado [errr, I didn't actually catch it, I was too busy squealing "Midge! Midge!" to a baffled LLB] so thank you Midge, @ParisWheels"
I was thrilled by proxy!
So why were we watching a week-old race?
Well, there isn't much on tv at the moment, and LLB hadn't realised that Sky were in this one, so he hadn't bothered to record it. When he found out that they were, he had to scrabble around to find any repeats or catch-up covereage, and in the end we only managed to see stages 4 and 5, but they were strangely satisfying: real, proper racing, despite being a shitsmall race, and even the shitsmall teams were having a go and working hard.
The surprise of the race, of course - apart from Midge getting a name check, that is - was that Wout Poels won just about all the jerseys!
Despite the race being very much in the bag for Team Sky, the last day was a thrilling race: the last 55k were filled with our commentators telling us that the on-screen km ticker was wrong, until with 15k to go they were finally told that the race had been shortened from 10 loops of the final circuit to 6.
Then Stijn Vandenbergh - now and forever known as Vandenbag - making a lone break for the finish line, picked up a large plastic bag which wrapped itself around the back end of his bike (luckily, not on the chain side) and rustled and squeaked all the way to his brave solo across the finish line, with the sprinter teams panting down the back of the plastic bag but not quite able to get there in time.
Bizarrely, neither Etixx, Stijn's team, who won the stage, nor Sky, who won the race, have photos of the last day. It's not on Steephill - it's such a shitsmall race that no-one covered it, it seems!
But I for one am happy to have seen it, not least for the plastic bag incident, but mostly for hearing Midge getting a name check.
Yay, Midge!
He was making things up, frankly, as neither he nor Matt knew the phrase, but then it was Midge to the Rescue!
"We've had a tweet," said Carlton, "with thanks to Midge Tremayne, the phrase is agrupado [errr, I didn't actually catch it, I was too busy squealing "Midge! Midge!" to a baffled LLB] so thank you Midge, @ParisWheels"
I was thrilled by proxy!
So why were we watching a week-old race?
Well, there isn't much on tv at the moment, and LLB hadn't realised that Sky were in this one, so he hadn't bothered to record it. When he found out that they were, he had to scrabble around to find any repeats or catch-up covereage, and in the end we only managed to see stages 4 and 5, but they were strangely satisfying: real, proper racing, despite being a shitsmall race, and even the shitsmall teams were having a go and working hard.
The surprise of the race, of course - apart from Midge getting a name check, that is - was that Wout Poels won just about all the jerseys!
Despite the race being very much in the bag for Team Sky, the last day was a thrilling race: the last 55k were filled with our commentators telling us that the on-screen km ticker was wrong, until with 15k to go they were finally told that the race had been shortened from 10 loops of the final circuit to 6.
Then Stijn Vandenbergh - now and forever known as Vandenbag - making a lone break for the finish line, picked up a large plastic bag which wrapped itself around the back end of his bike (luckily, not on the chain side) and rustled and squeaked all the way to his brave solo across the finish line, with the sprinter teams panting down the back of the plastic bag but not quite able to get there in time.
Bizarrely, neither Etixx, Stijn's team, who won the stage, nor Sky, who won the race, have photos of the last day. It's not on Steephill - it's such a shitsmall race that no-one covered it, it seems!
But I for one am happy to have seen it, not least for the plastic bag incident, but mostly for hearing Midge getting a name check.
Yay, Midge!
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