Saturday 31 March 2012

Why do they all wear blue?

In which our heroine makes a shocking confession - she can't always tell the buggers apart.


Why?  Why must they all wear blue and black and white?  Not all of them, obviously, but enough to cause me real confusion. 

Even I can spot a Movie-star (thanks be to the green helmet) or a Katoosha or a Lampray.  But there is a conversation which happens very often in our house, and it goes a little like this:

Looks up from magazine.  'Is that Tom Boonen?'
'In a Garmin kit?'
Is that a Garmin?  I thought it was a Quickstep.'
'It’s quite clearly a Garmin. Quickstep's are turquoise.'
Squints at telly.  'Is that not turquoise?'
'Shut up.'
'So is it Geraint?'
Sighs.  'SHUT UP.'

Now, if I can’t tell the Garmin PE kit from the Quickstep PE kit, and let’s be honest, they really are very different, I don’t stand a hope in hell with Garmin and Sky. And Saxobank, now that’s bloody blue too.
Now I'm not thick.  Not really thick anyway.  Ok, I'm a bit thick.  A bit thick and prone to watching the cycling while flicking through a magazine or messing around on twitter etc and possibly not paying the attention to it that I should be, given that I can't even tell them apart.  And I'm very prone to asking bloody stupid questions.  And I don't listen to the commentators (hmmm, commentators; that's another post entirely) if I can possibly avoid it, but who I have it on good authority will actually identify the riders correctly up to 25% of the time.  But, in my defence, it can be difficult to work out who the hell is who.  (or whom.  correct the grammer yourself if you feel like it, I'm never sure on who/whom).

They're going a bit quick, they've all got sunnies and lids on and the vast majority of them are rocking 3 days worth of stubble and deep tans.  There's blimming loads of 'em, and most of the time they don't even have the decency to go in single file (although sometimes they do on an uppy bit or a windy bit) to give a girl a fighting chance of working out which team they're on, let alone who they actually are.  The camera work on certain races is not always great, and as I think I've already pointed out, the ones in the blue kits all look the same to me.

There are some clues that I'm learning to spot.  Like the cyclists names in big letters on the sides of the Sky kit for example (which is genius.  why don't they all do that?).  Or the ones in National Champions kits.  There are some riders I find instantly physically identifiable, for example Andre Griepel or Cadel Evans.  And some I can spot by telltale giveaway marks, like Sorenson who climbs like Paula Radcliffe runs.  I guess I'll have to keep watching, and pay better attention, and hopefully at some point I'll be able to actually tell my Sagan from my Spartacus.

And in the meantime, I can always make myself flashcards from old copies of Cycling Weekly.  Or do some more Top Trumps cards...




Wednesday 28 March 2012

The Olympic Kit

Or why our heroine is so disappointed in Stella.  And don't get me started on the volunteers and torchbearers. 

The Olympic PE kit. Bit divisive, innit?

I've looked at it.  And looked at it.  Then I had another look, just to make sure.  And every time I looked at it, there it was.  All blue and crap.  An ugly black sleeve for Chris Hoy; triangular crotch detailing for Jessica Ennis to draw the eye just in case there was a man in the UK not looking at her crotch; a cropped kimono and a face like a slapped arse for Vicky Pendleton (what? facial expression model's own?).

It's just bobbins.  And the fact that it's the wrong sodding colours, well yes.  I have a massive problem with this.  It's the GB kit for a once-in-a-lifetime home Olympic games.  Turquoise? What the FUCK?  Ours is one of the coolest and most iconic flags in the world.  It didn't need 'de-constructing', Stella, it just needed printing.

The adidas-designed volunteer uniforms are vile, and the white and gold torch bearers shell suit away strip appears to have been designed with the sole purpose of making everybody look like a tool.

My problem with the kit is my problem with the Olympics.  As far as I can tell the whole sodding debacle is being mishandled on an epic scale in all areas wherever it interfaces with public interest.  Style (and I use the word in the loosest possible term) over substance.  Logo?  Hideous.  Mascots?  Ugly.  Tickets?  Farce.  Post Games Strategy?  Corrupt. 

The cyclist made an excellent and insightful point when we were discussing this very topic the other night.  There are certain extremely important aspects of the Olympics which are being managed quietly and efficiently (interestingly though, by the ODA rather than LOGOC).  He pointed out that the construction of the stadium and associated facilities for the Games themselves were probably the best project-managed constructions the UK has ever seen - the words 'On Time and Under Budget' not usually synonymous with any project of this type and size.  Hell, the words 'Not That Late, and Only Twice What We Said' would probably have been a result under the circumstances.  And here there is no arguing, the cyclist is a highly respected and knowledgeable construction industry professional.  He also made excellent points about media coverage and spin - what we are being shown is surely not all there is to the picture.  I suppose we should remember that certain sections of the press/ media and government aren't exactly the best of pals right now.

I really think it's such a shame the public perceptions of the Olympics are so overwhelmingly negative, especially as the areas of public interest (with the exception of tickets to actually see the Games, obviously), like the design of the kit and the logo for example, are so basically unimportant in the grand scheme of things.  There are areas where great strides are being made, and these are by and large not the things people are talking about in relation to the Games.

Thursday 22 March 2012

Milan San Remo 2

In which our heroine simmers down a bit, and realises she gives a shit


What was more interesting than all the armchair DS comments made by myself and others was my reaction to it all....


What Milan San Remo 2012 really taught me was that I'm in too deep.  I care.

I got all arsey and defensive of both Cav and Team Sky.  I couldn't understand how others weren't seeing what I thought I saw.  Comments on twitter made me quietly seethe.  And then it hit me.  This has become a relationship.

I've been playing it cool.  I could take it or leave it, stop any time.  Cycling and me were keeping things casual.  If we saw each other, cool.  If not, whatever.  But I've been lying to myself.  I've developed feelings.  I'm not sure I want to see other sports.  I want to define what cycling and me are to each other.

If I'm honest, the signs have been there for a while.   I've progressed from idly flicking through the cyclist's magazines (specialist publications, as I like to refer to them) when I'm bored, and I'm avoiding doing the washing up and I've run out of celebrity gossip mags telling me breathlessly who Jordan's shagging that week, to scouring them with genuine interest, sometimes before he's even got to them.  I've even caught myself scanning the Tech sections on more than one occasion.  Certain races have had me glued to twitter when the telly's been held hostage by a small child and a repeat of Scooby Doo.  I watched the entire 7 hours of the live coverage of the World Championship Road Race in 2011, and cried at the ending.  I don't cry when Bambi's mother gets shot, people.  I should've known what was happening, should've recognised the signs.

And, like a medieval queen, I appear to have chosen my champions.  I didn't realise I'd chosen them, but there they are.  And of course if they fail to please me, I might just put them to the sword.  Or pick another team (BMC are quite fit, aren't they?).  But here we are.  I have a team.  I like riders, I dislike riders. I am fan, hear me yell at the telly.


So there it is.  You got me, cycling.  You finally got me.  You'd better be bloody sure you want me.

Milan San Remo 1

In which our intrepid heroine watches Milan San Remo, and gets stuck in as an armchair tactician.


It's almost impossible to watch a bike race and not embroil yourself in the drama of it all.  And even the least knowledgable amongst us (er, me, for example) can find themselves balls deep (metaphorically, obviously) in a full on dissection of the perceived tactics, or indeed perhaps lack of, of a certain team or teams.

And that's just what happened to me during Milan San Remo, when I found myself getting properly stuck in for the first time.  You see, I had fully expected Cav to romp it, and was looking forward to watching exactly that.  I bloody love Cav.  And I bloody love watching him win the shit out of a race.  So I felt pretty disappointed for him when he got dropped with about 90k to go.

But I disagreed massively with my fellow armchair DS's who leapt all over Team Sky's 'failure' on twitter the second it became clear Cav's race was over.  I became all high pitched and squeaky and defensive.  I shouted at the telly and I swore at my computer.

Is it important what I, or anyone else thought?  No, not really.  But I found it interesting how quickly people appeared to tear in to Team Sky, ready to pull their race to pieces.  Largely, the criticism centred around a general perception that Team Sky had risked it all on Cav and lost.  Failed to support other riders on their roster capable of delivering the win  This was, in general, defined as arrogance in both the rider and the team, a criticism of both Cav and Sky I have heard more than once.

And obviously, this is one I disagree with.  Why wouldn't they base their race around Cav?, I squeaked.   He's the world champion!, I squealed. He's won this before!, I bleated.  But what do I know?  I have no idea what Team Sky or any of the rest of them were up to.  I was not privy to the team talk, for all I know Brailsford looked up blearily from a can of Special Brew and said something along the lines of 'Fuck it, lads, sort it out amongst yourselves, I told you not to bother me 'til July' (the cyclist has cast doubt on the likelihood this scenario).  Or he said 'All for Cav, fellas, shut up and do what your told'.  Or 'Eddie, sneak up the road when no-one's looking, they won't suspect a thing'.

Of course, we could all accept that at this level, races for teams like this are run like military campaigns.  Tactics are planned far in advance, scenarios discussed and roles assigned and accepted.  Radios used to adjust the team according to what happens on the road, and to update the riders on the race they can't see, even on a minute by minute basis.  Riders are professional and obedient machines, wordlessly assenting to the next order as it arrives in their ear from the car.  They know what they're doing.

But where's the fun in that?