Tour de Force

Right, so the the 106th Tour de France (or at least 106 years since the first one, I can't be bothered with the maths when you exclude the races missed by war) started last Saturday, and my love of the Tour has been re-kindled once more. The Tour de France is something of a mastermind topic of mine, thanks to a 100th anniversary book that my uncle bought my dad in 2003 which details every single year of the race through a combination of stunning photography and wonderful writing that perfectly captures the essence and spirit of the race. At my peak I knew every winner since World War Two, yes I know thats sad but I would argue that all that knowledge was more accumulated through wider reading that specific learning, cause that would be really sad.

I digress. The point of this blog is just to explain why I like it so much, and if anyone does happen upon this humble weblog and is un-initiated in the ways of the Tour de France, maybe they could have a look.

Firstly though, is the true star of the Tour de France: France itself. I would like to point out that I am in no way enamoured with the Gallic people, but my God, they have some stunning scenery. The great mountain ranges of the Pyrenees and the Alps are the stars of the show, but also the rolling countryside and quaint villages that le Tour sweeps through in a blur of colour and cheering Frenchmen plays a significant part too. The sight of a line of riders powering up narrow mountain passes then flying down the steep and exhilirating descents is inspiring. The great mountains of the Tour de France have been edified by the years, and the great moments of the Tour have been held on their slopes, like last years weightless ascent of Carlos Sastre up l'Alp D'Huez, supported valiantly by the Schleck brothers, or the crushing solo break-aways of Eddy Merckx. The mountains have even seen death, for instance the tragic demise of British rider Tom Simpson on the slopes of Mont Ventoux in '67 or the more recent crash that saw Fabio Cassartelli carrer of the road on a descent and plough into a bollard in '95. I feel these moments, though tragic, heighten the mysticism of the Tour; its man pitted against nature at its most extreme.

The Tour is the most demanding event in the sporting calendar: three long weeks through the French countryside is no mean feat, yet this utmost level of difficult leads to glory, and in search of glory come great men. The tour has played host to many charismatic and talented athletes, from the early begginings of Maurice Garin, vía such greats as Fausto Coppi, Jacques Anquetil, Eddy Merckx, Bernard Hinault, Miguel Indurain and most recently, Lance Armstrong to name but a few. These men not only have the ability to win, but also to entertain. They are charismatic and enigmatic, not to mention oft controversial. Jacques Anquetil, the joint most succesful Frenchman never won the admiration of the French public in the same way his great rival, Raymond Poulidor did, and Eddy Merckx, usually seen as the greatest rider ever was said to be relentless ruthless, and didn't even have the courtest to 'leave the smallest of crumbs' for his rivals during 5 domineering years in Yellow. I could ramble on for hours about the greats of the Tour, but I'm not going to, because it would be boring and I'd run out of adjective.

However, the yellow lions main is flecked with striped of black, for the Tour does have a dark side which in recent years has come perilously close to de-railing it altogether. Of what evil do I speak? Shortly: drugs. Such are the demands that are placed upon the body during the race, it is of little surprise that the weaker of the men with a poor conscience have resorted to drugs to gain an advantage over their rivals. And after one does it, the dominoes all start falling. It is a problem that has dogged the sport as a whole, not just in the Tour, but across all disciplines of cycling, and even now the Tour has been unable to shake it off. The drugs scandal peaked in 1998 with the Festina affair - large amounts of performance enhancing drugs were found in the car of the director of the Festina team, bringing the race to a standstill for a few days.

Unfortunately, as methods of detecting doped-up riders became more effecient, so did the ways of staying undetected. Blood doping, the method by which the rider removes a pint of blood a few weeks before a race, then injects it back in to gain a huge red blood-cell bonus, is almost impossible to detect, only finding the bags filled with blood is reliable evidence. Riders continue to be found using: last year saw several main protagonists found guilty of doping during and after the race, though the winner was clean, unlike 2006 when Floyd Landis was found guilty after wearing yellow down the Champs Elysee.

Fortunately there does seem to be light at the end of the tunnel. Previous doper David Millar, a Scottish time-trial specialist has been waging war against dopers, and he seems to be having some success. Several teams, notable Millar's Garmin-Chipotle team have declared themselves dope-free, and operate entirely transparently, and several other teams have followed suit, pleasing with British riders being the loudest advocates.

Anyways enough of this, I'm dragging on. In my eyes the Tour de France is the greatest annual event on the sporting calendar. It has everything sport should: it has passion, adversity, glory, defeat, great entertainers, great winners and great losers. Vive le Tour!