Okay, I realize that BSlim previously promised to never mention cycling on this blog again. And, granted — it’s a good goal to set.
I mean, seriously. It’s like the one sport in the world that’s actually more boring than soccer. Because at least in soccer, there’s the occasional fight, except — as with everything in soccer — you can’t use your hands.
I know there’s a good sex joke there somewhere, but I’m at a loss right now.
Let me get back to you on that.
Anyway, I was thinking about how boring cycling is the other day when a profound thought invaded my brain: Nobody would give a rat’s about cycling today had Lance Armstrong never gotten cancer.
Okay, I know — you think I’m a jerk. Join the club. Even I think I’m a jerk. In fact, at this very moment I’m fantasizing about head butting myself on a soccer field. But hear me out.
Had anyone really heard of — not to mention given a crap — about cycling before the story about Armstrong having cancer? Because, you know, he won his first Tour de France in 1993 — not that anyone knew about it. But then in the late 90s, everyone started wearing those yellow bracelets, and I was like: “Hey, what’s up with the yellow bracelet?” And then someone else was like, “It’s Lance Armstrong’s thing.” And then I was like, “The astronaut dude from the moon?” and the other person was like, “No, man — the cyclist who won Tour de France.”
Now before I’d ever heard of Lance Armstrong, my knowledge of cycling was limited to the movie “Breaking Away,” which, incidentally, was filmed in my former hometown, Bloomington, Indiana. (And, NO, I do not know Bob Knight, tip cows or play banjo.*) Pretty good flick, I must say. Holds up over time, too.
Anyway, so suddenly, everyone’s wearing yellow bracelets and talking about Lance Armstrong. As they should. Because it was a great inspiration — the dude was given a 1 percent chance of living. And while the ordeal did cost him half his cojones, Hollywood hotties don’t seem to mind. (My guess: prosthetics.)
But then suddenly people are actually watching bicycling, and I’m like: “Get real.”
It’s kind of like those dorks who watch World Cup soccer just because Europeans watch it, and they want to be like them. Except, I guess, no one really wants to be like Lance Armstrong if it entails getting cancer.
Anyway, my point is, ah . . .
I’m not sure, really.
Cancer sucks?
No, wait — I think it had something to do with Sheryl Crow. Or that dude who played Mooch from “Breaking Away.”
Ah, crap. Nevermind. I shoulda never started this post to begin with. Sorry, Slim. Next time I’ll write about Joe Torre.
* Okay, I admit — I DO have a banjo.
You are my hero. Thanks for contributing. Welcome to WCBias. PP. Surf nooner?
Pembertonian, I have long suspected and now it’s confirmed, knows absolutely nothing. I can say that, I know the man. Apparently he doesn’t know how to shave either, and not having seen Ole PB in a while I hope that he has figured out where the barber shop is as well. The truth is that it was long before Lance started winning the Tour de France, sans testicle, (1999 was the first one, not 1993, come on that’s common knowledge) that people started paying attention to cycling and to Lance Armstrong. He was world champion and ranked No. 1 in the world in 1996. In 1986 Greg LeMond won the first of three Tours de France and a world championship; he was the 1989 Sports Illustrated Sportsman of the Year. Trust me, people paid attention. I was 11 years old and I remember that. So that must’ve put PB at what 49 at the time? But then again the main argument is why should you care? I know that PB probably throws wheat grass smoothie empties out the open roof of his purple Del Sol (Sigma Kappa called, they want their car back) as he cruises by lycra clad cyclists riding down LOVR on his way to his weekly workout that includes an hour of prancing (I’ve seen him run) up and down a blue basketball court with a bunch of newspaper nerds without an athletic bone between them. I know this because I used to be the only cool athletic one of the bunch. What Pembertonian doesn’t understand, and BSlim does but won’t admit, (he owns two bikes), is that cycling is the most painfully grueling sport there is, second to triathlon of course, and that if he just got his hairy feature writing ass onto a bike and tried to ride across a freeway overpass he would realize that these are some amazing athletes. To be able to ride up an 8 mile long mountain pass road with 21 switchbacks at an average 8 percent grade in under 40 minutes as they do every year on the Alpe d’Huez in the Tour de France is one of the most amazing feats in sport. A close second might be Simon Lessing running 13.1 miles at Wildflower in 1:13:38 after riding 56 very hilly miles on his bike. That’s ridiculously fast. And for PB, that means 1 hour, 13 seconds, just to clear that up. So get out there, borrow a bike from BSlim, and try to ride up Perfumo Canyon Road sometime. After you give up, drive your Del Sol to the top (I don’t know, tie the bike to your hood), that’s only a mile and a half. Take BSlim’s bike off and ride down as fast as you can. I guarantee that your hands will hurt from squeezing the brakes all the way down to slow down those fat mountain bike tires that you’re riding on and know that road bike tires are less than an inch wide and these riders top 50 miles an hour on descents. vive le Tourviva la Vueltaviva la GiroLong live the Tour
Lambo:You might have made some good points here, but truth is I dozed off after wheat grass smoothies.It’s true — I have a bruise on my forehead from where it hit the desk. In fact, if it gets worse, I might have to sue you for insurance money.But I suppose cycling must indeed be draining. Because whenever you played basketball, you pretty much stopped moving after a half a game.Or were you just really into setting picks?