Nineteen Ninety and All That

Eurosport is filling its pre-scheduled Tour de France time by celebrating the success of British winners and, as I type, is showing the iconic stages in Bradley Wiggins’ 2012 victory.  The trouble is that, with the exception perhaps of the La Plache des Belles Filles (won by that Chris Froome kid) any maybe the final time trial in Chartres, there was nothing terribly iconic about the racing itself.  After lauding a British rider in the maillot jaune, the excitement was somewhat dampened by Team Sky’s subsequent project management approach to bike racing and the daily “another box ticked” soundbites from the race leader. As a British cycling fan, it was certainly thrilling at the history being made but the racing was less so as Wiggins’ team defended the race lead while the likes of Vincenzo Nibali, Cadel Evans and Jurgen Van den Broeck hurled themselves at the Sky edifice.  Like a good many people, I celebrated that first British victory, but taking away the historic significance of the win, you can’t watch too many Tours like that.

Lazily flicking through an old copy of Rouleur recently, I happened upon Andy McGrath’s piece on Greg Lemond (now available in Lockdown-friendly podcast form too).  This in turn reminded me to buy Guy Andrews’ gorgeous “Yellow Jersey Racer” about the former World Champion and the Tour’s only (recognised) American winner.  Another box ticked.  But thinking about Lemond, the images that immediately sprung to mind were of him holding hands with Bernard Hinault atop Alpe d’Huez in 1986 and that jubilant, if slightly disbelieving, grin on the Champs Elysees in 1989.  What about his third win?  When was that again?

Lemond’s third Tour victory is his least-celebrated, largely it seems because he didn’t win any stages, neither road nor time trial.  He wore the Yellow Jersey for but a single day – the one that really counts, mind. It sounds dull, when you say it like that. But the story of Lemond’s hat-trick isn’t one of a healthy lead gained early in the race and then clung onto for the next fortnight.  The story of Lemond’s 1990 win is exactly the opposite: an unlikely and significant deficit lost by almost all of the GC contenders on Stage 1 (following the previous day’s Prologue) and a subsequent pursuit across the Alps and Pyrenees.  If, like me, 1990 is slightly before your cycling time, it’s most definitely worth a search of YouTube to see what by today’s standards would be the unusual sight of a team leader driving the troops to simultaneously take time from his quarry while also putting time into his rivals. Boring it is not.

So with me itching to get back to my blogging ways (oh, and thank you Orla and Richard from the Cycling Podcast for inspiring that thought!) and there being no new cycling about which to blog, I thought I’d kick things off on the 30th anniversary of a race that nobody seems to talk about. 

Bon appetit!

Gary