Mark Cavendish: Climb Was ‘Grim, So, So Grim’

Columbia’s Mark Cavendish, asked by Frankie Andreu on Versus whether he took special pleasure in beating Thor Hushovd this morning:

No, not at all. It’s irrelevant. It’s beating the mountains that gives me more gratification. You know that was a hard climb at the finish and it was about getting over that. I put the top of the climb as my finish line, and if I could get there I could get to the real finish. We only had three guys [George Hincapie, Tony Martin, and Maxime Montfort] after it and what a job those three guys did, all three of them emptied the tank the day before Mont Ventoux. That takes guts, that takes determination, that takes will, you know. to put me in the best position to win, and for me that goes down as my nicest victory just how it went with the climb and the way the guys rode. You know, we were on the back foot but we came through.

FA: Talk about emptying the tank, how much did you have to empty the tank to stay on that climb when Menchov was really going?

MC: It was hard. It was really hard, but you know when you’ve got guys staying with you and you give up then it’s not fair on them. I said if the guys stay with me, there’s no way I can give up, I have to go go go until I can’t go any more. It was grim, it was so, so grim at the top, it got really hard, my saddle was going further and further up my ass (laughs) and when I got over, it was a case of there wasn’t time to recover on the descent because we were full-gas chasing, but you know, we did it and it was nice.

Tour de France: Stage 18 Lessons

Out of the blogging world all day after seeing the last third of the time trial on the tube. The lessons:

Contador is in an amazing place as a rider. At age 25, he’s already showing himself to be the all-around force Armstrong was when he came back from cancer. Who can stop him? The doping cops. Anyone else? Maybe himself, if he insists on stunts like ignoring his team director and dropping a teammate on a decisive climb. Then again, the apparent me-first bull-headedness — if that’s what it is — is reminiscent of Armstrong’s youthful reputation.

Listen to Armstrong when he says that he doesn’t have what it takes to win the Tour. That’s what he said after Contador rode away on the Verbier climb on Sunday. I haven’t been able to decide whether it’s genuine belief or a ratings-driven need to stay on board the Armstrong train, but it’s been fascinating to watch the various members of the Versus TV team pick Lance to win in the mountains day after day after day. No matter that he hasn’t been close even once, and no matter that Contador has shown himself capable of riding away almost at will–the predictions keep on coming. But for all that, there’s something about watching Armstrong in this Tour that gives him more dimension as a man and racer; and there’s something that makes me realize how amazing his domination of this race for so long really was. I’m actually looking forward to seeing him race again next year.

Other topics that could be spun, perhaps will be some day: Wiggins. The Schlecks. Kloden. Bruyneel. Vinokourov. Splendor and Death at the Tour de France. The Armstrong who rides in our heads.

Again with the Apparitions

Short barn owl clip:

Longer, narrated barn owl sound:

As earlier disclosed in this space, some barn owls have moved into the neighborhood. We've been hearing them during our late night walk almost every night for the last month or so. A few nights ago, I remembered an episode while visiting my friend Randy when he lived just outside Twin Falls, Idaho. He had a house down in a little canyon, and some barn owls roosted in the clefts of a sheer face right along the road. He mentioned that they'd fly out around sunset, and one evening we walked up to watch. I think we saw two or three owls on the cliff face, apparently asleep. After sunset they all seemed to wake together and, as if on a signal, they flew out into the dusk.

We went up to the date palm where the local barn owls are nesting, also just after sunset. After watching for 10 minutes at most, we saw a pair of owls emerge from the fronds and wing off to the west; a minute or so later, a second pair came out and flew east. Until dark, we could see them flying all over the neighborhood. It made us wonder how many times they've been around and we've failed to see them.

We also met the woman above whose home the owl palm stands. She's become a student of the birds. She thinks they are an adult pair and two or three young. She had a great story about their arrival: On night one they began clearing dead palm fronds from a section of the tree; on night two, they "cleaned house," throwing down small-animal skeleton, bits of old nests, and other debris they found in their intended perch. She said she loves having the birds there, though they've gotten pretty messy what with discarded owl pellets and daily excreta.

Last weekend, I tried to record some of the sound we've been hearing. I have no idea how it will come out, but I've embedded a couple clips above. The first is short (30-some seconds) and includes what I thought was a warning or alarm from one of the birds. The second is longer (11 minutes) and includes me narrating the "action." Don't know how they'll sound via Typepad — in an earlier experiment the sound was awfully low.

Tour de France: Stage 17 Notebook

Your Paul Sherwen Quote of the Day: On Astana’s plans for Andreas Klöden: “Over the last couple of days, it appears they’ve been keeping him in reserve as if they’ve been trying to keep him maybe as a protective dark-horse joker.”

‘Paging Cadel Evans’: He trailed from the very start, dangled off the end of the peloton at the top of the first climb, and finished 29:43 behind the leaders. It’s a performance reminiscent of Greg LeMond’s 1992 Tour campaign, which he abandoned. LeMond announced soon afterward that he was suffering from mitochondrial myopathy, possibly related to his 1987 hunting accident. Evans started raising questions about his own health after losing more than 3 minutes on Stage 16. He reported via Twitter, “I don’t know what is the matter with me at this #tdf, obviously I’m not at my usual level. I’m going to a Doc now :o(.” (Yes, with emoticon.) No word on what the doctor might have told him. On his finish today, Evans writes: “My first gruppetto in the #tdf ever. It was… fun actually. Strange talking to Aussie’s while riding, normally have everything to loose!”

The Ox from Grimstad: Thor Hushovd turned in a stunning ride today. The massive, Norwegian, annoyingly nicknamed “God of Thunder” hauled himself across today’s climbs with enough alacrity to beat Evans across the line. Early on, he stayed close enough to dominated the front to win two intermediate sprints and pick up 12 points in the green jersey sprint competition. His nemesis, Mark Cavendish, was nowhere near the front and took zip today; he now trails Hushovd by 30 points — 230 to 200. While being no match for Cavendish in a two-up sprint, Hushovd looks like he’s locked up the green by having a more effective all-around game.

Liggett & Sherwen, Stained Jerseys, and Biscuits: Watching Thor Hushovd go over the second col of the day ahead of all the climbers:

Phil: This rider is still stinging from the words of Mark Cavendish, saying ‘there will always been a stain on your green jersey because you took if from me on a protest down in Besancon, and I wonder if that’s inspired Thor Hushovd today to go out, beat the climbers, win six points, and probably the green jersey with it.

Paul: You could probably say that he’s taking that green jersey to the laundry, Phil, to get rid of that stain this afternoon, because if he can get himself 12 points on a mountain stage, that really does take the biscuit, because this is a very brave move by a man who probably weighs in 10 or 15 kilos more than the guys in the group behind him, the climbers. He weighs in at 80 kilos … which is … I’m not sure … you can do the calculation … multiply by 2.2.

Phil: I will, yeah, when I’ve got time. It’s a lot.

Jens Voigt: ‘I Was Very Lucky’

 Here's the English version of the Saxo Bank statement (original in Danish) on Jens Voigt's condition. The best news, after seeing the violence of his crash and the way he lay still on the pavement, is that he was able to issue any sort of statement.

Jens Voigt Is OK Under The Circumstances

[21.07
21:56] An examination at the University hospital in Grenoble this
evening has initially given positive reports on Jens Voigt's health
after the nasty crash during today's stage of Tour de France. He has
incurred a fracture of the right cheekbone and a concussion. For now he
is staying at the hospital for further observation.

Jens has sent this greeting to the team:
"I
think I was very lucky not getting severely hurt from today's crash.
Now I hope that you can focus on the race and I wish you all good luck
with the hard stage tomorrow”.

The whole team in France and
the whole staff at Riis-Cycling wish Jens Voigt a speedy recovery and
hope to see him and his strong and joyful spirit back on the team soon.

Even the casual fan of pro racing is familiar with Voigt's toughness and elan. From what you see on the tube and read in the racing press, he's the consummate teammate.

Tour de France: Rest Day Notebook

Your Phil Liggett Quote of the Day: Uttered during Sunday evening’s recap show in an otherwise entertaining mini-segment on the Italian TdF champ Gino Bartali. Phil needed to explain why Bartali’s two Tour championships occurred 10 years apart. This is what came out: “It was done either side of World War Two. And of course World War Two spoilt many, many millions of people’s lives.”

Memo to Versus sound mixers: Here’s a trend. Versus is using that newfangled “rock and roll” music as soundtrack for some of its rider profiles. Sweet. But it’s mixing the music so loud in some of the segments that you can barely hear what the “actuality”–the person talking–is saying. I don’t think this is strictly a matter of having fogey ears.

Versus ratings: After three years of doping scandals, Lance-less pelotons, and sagging ratings, Versus is seeing a big bump in viewership this year. During the first 10 stages of this year’s Tour, the live morning telecasts have jumped from 270,400 viewers to 479,800 viewers. As MediaPost notes, the ratings are also substantially higher than they were during Armstrong’s last Tour, in 2005.

Enraha! After his show of strength on the Verbier climb that ended Stage 15, Garmin’s Bradley Wiggins got lots of attention. He talked almost manically about his “day by day” focus. The rhythm of “day by day,” the accent, the vehemence: it was all very familiar. It came to me: Wiggins was channeling Scott, the crazed driving instructor in “Happy Go Lucky.” Scott has nicknamed the rear-view mirror “Enraha” as an arcane mnemonic device. His reminders to use–“Enraha! Enraha! Enraha!–are grating in the extreme. (And for the record, here’s part of what Wiggins said: “I never think too far ahead. Eveyone keeps talking to me about what’s ahead, what’s ahead. That doesn’t help my concentration. No, I go day by day. i’ve trained myself mentally as well as physically, and i go day by day, that’s what we do. How can you think three days ahead when you’ve got two days before that? That’s how you crack. That’s how you cock things up. So, day by day.”

Who’s Your Cronkite Now?

You could call this “All Cronkite’s Children.” Not to blame him, or to praise him, but just as a nod to the news wreckage we’re left with world that evolved in his wake.

(Featured on the ABC News home page right now: Nude Video of ESPN Reporter Stirs Controversy; Will ‘American Idol’ Bid Adieu to Paula Abdul?; Do Circumcised Men Do It Better?; Woman’s DIY Plastic Surgery Nightmare; ‘He’ Becomes ‘She’: Husband’s Transformation. ‘Nuff said.)

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Walter and Rudy

I admit to being unmoved at news of the passing of Walter Cronkite. I'm sure he was a decent guy on a personal level. And professionally, yes, he became the news industry's voice of authority for a time. But that age, that industry, passed long, long before Cronkite did. I never liked his "and that's the way it is" sign-off. It bespoke a certainty that the papers, the networks, and the wire services understood stories and could be relied upon to get them right, a certainty that the product never justified. Some notable exceptions aside, I'd argue that the strength of the news media then was the persistence to get the story right eventually. The process might take years, but you'd get there. In the meantime, you settled for what appeared to be a straightforward recitation of the facts. Sometimes, you'd get more, as with Cronkite's famous pronouncement against the Vietnam War; but remember that Cronkite and many other journalists arrived at that view and became willing to voice it only after years of seeing that our government's story about the war didn't hold water.

Listening to a radio show this morning on which Cronkite's name came up, I considered how I'd convey to my kids the scope of Cronkite's reputation. Then I thought: Rudy Vallee. He was still kicking around on TV throughout my teenage years and beyond. I was given to understand that he was a big, big star once. The impression I had was a guy in a raccoon coat and funny hat, crooning corny ballads. Impossibly quaint and dated stuff. There was no way to look at him from the culture in which I'd grown up and understand why anyone would have cared.

Unlike me and my siblings, whose TV news world was dominated by Cronkite, Huntley and Brinkley, and Howard K. Smith, my kids grew up in an age where the vision of "Network" had started to become reality. Rather, Brokaw, and Jennings presided over shows increasingly infused with entertainment values; their audiences shrank as CNN, Fox News, and the rest of the cable menagerie came to life. Like many people of their generation and mine, they've come to see comic versions of news as a more compelling reflection of reality than network news is inclined to offer. The culture in which they've grown up simply doesn't have a Cronkite. He's the guy in the raccoon coat.

Today’s Top Scam

We have some dining chairs we'd like to sell. After the usual months of procrastination, I took pictures and posted them on Craigslist, where I've always had pretty good luck unloading things quickly. I think if I really wanted to sell these in a hurry, I'd post them on a Friday or early Saturday, when I think people are in garage-sale mode. But add Factor P (for procrastination again) and it was Sunday afternoon before they were actually online. I got one email soon afterward, from "Kelly Walker," who asked whether the chairs were still available. Yes, "Kelly," they are, I responded. I didn't check my email again until this morning. I had another note from "Kelly":

Hello,

I appreciate your response to my inquiry.I am interested in buying the items and i am ok with their description and conditions and i am also satisfied with their price($150).I would have love to come and check it myself but am not chance now,because I just got married and am presently on honeymoon trip to Honolulu in Hawaii with my wife and I would love a surprise change of furniture in our home on our return because my wife like surprises. Please do withdraw the advert from the website with immediate effect,as i don't mind adding $50 for you to do that for me,so i can be rest assured that the items are held for me,I will be making the payment to you via a Certified Check in us dollars which my secretary in united state will mail across to you and as for the pick up,i will know how to handle that with my mover that has been helping me to move in new furnitures into our home. My Mover will come for the pick up once the Certified Check has been cashed and i will like to complete this transaction before Wednesday the 22nd of July.If this arrangement is ok by you kindly send me both your name and full address to post the payment immediately and i would appreciate you include your phone#,i.e….

(1)..Your full name
(2)..Your full home address or your office address
(3)..your zip code
(4)…your phone number to contact you

And please i don't want a P.O BOX address because i want the payment to get to you at your house or your office address to make the transaction fast.Thanks and get back to me with the full info as soon as possible.Thanks

"Kelly," who wrote me from kellywalker100@gmail.com, sounds like quite a guy. So thoughtful and generous. He's on his honeymoon in Hawaii, and he stops to shop Craigslist just to find some new furniture to surprise his wife! Such solicitude, too. He'll pay 50 bucks just to get me to hold the chairs for his "mover." And he wants to make sure I get his bunko check without delay. Really the only less-than-glowing thing I can say about him is his English needs a little polishing.

I was tempted to write back: "Dear Kelly: The sale terms are cash only. For scammers, the cash price is double, plus a $500 handling charge. You're responsible for your own attorney's and bail fees upon your arrest and trial for grand theft." When I did write back, though, I stopped at "cash only."

Like everyone else, I've seen multitudes of online scams. Craigslist is apparently rife with them. I'm not sure anyone has ever approached me directly and individually this way before. It's disturbing and offensive, especially when you consider that "Kelly" and his like do manage to sucker the unsuspecting.

Curbing My Enthusiasm

Since an early age I have had an inflated opinion of my athletic abilities. It took me until sixth grade to realize that even my friends picked me last for their teams in gym. In three years of summer softball my batting reputation was so renowned that when the outfielders saw me step up to the plate, they slowly moved toward the infield. No one plays tennis with me more than once, unless he likes me a lot or likes to run a lot, or both. What I lack in skill I make up for in an unbounded enthusiasm and a willingness to try.

 I was never fast on the bike but as a kid I could make running mounts and dismounts. Ride hands-free. Slow down to catch a branch of the plumb tree and let the bike roll out from under me. By the time I was twelve my twin brothers had left home and left their bikes behind, so I had my pick of two generic 10-speeds to tool around town in. Even with the seat all the way down my feet barely reached the pedals, so upon coming to a stop I had to be careful to lower one foot at a time to the ground and   daintily maneuver around the top tube or risk losing my innocence to Montgomery Ward.

 Pedaling around San Francisco I admire and am inspired by so many cyclists, every day: Captain Fixie, with your measured cadence and balletic stance at red lights; Ms. Racer, keeping pace with the streetcars; Messenger Maniac, bag bulging, basket brimming, legs of steel spinning—I think I love you. In my mind I take you all on, I mop Market Street with your Lycra and Vans and still we laugh, we hit it off, we hang out, become fast friends…

 But you, Commuter Guy on the hybrid, you did me in.

 Wheeling west on Market, approaching Kearney, a bus was a little too close to the curb for us to pass, but you did not stop when I stopped, or even slow down, you hopped up onto the edge of the sidewalk and rode around. Wow, thought I. I wanted to follow you, considered hiking my bike up off the asphalt and getting on out of there. But the light changed and we all rolled. You were gone, but I remembered you.

 My destination was at the corner of Sixth and around the mid-point of the block there is a cutout where delivery vans park. That spot was empty this day, and the suggestion being so fresh in my mind, I knew what I wanted to do. "I'm on a cyclocross," I said aloud. "Why not?"

 Traffic was light and I crossed to the left, headed for the curb—which is lower on this block than the one I saw jumped just moments before. "Yeah, this will be great." I did not say this out loud, but I did believe it.

 A friend to whom I described my experience put it quite well when I reached this point in the story: "Don't you have to pop a wheelie to do that?" Indeed you do; and I did not. Nor did I brake. Or turn away when I still had the chance. What was going through my head as the decisive moment approached was, "Wait…what do I…" at which point my front wheel hit the curb, the bike stopped, and I kept going, though somehow I pushed back on the handlebars in time and with enough force to keep myself from flying over them. I was able to avoid falling completely and face-planting in the grime and filth of the pavement, but it all went awry too quickly for me to remember what was automatic so many years ago—to mind the cross tube—and thus I got to know my unders in a brand new way.

 As I unstraddled and righted the bike, I smiled and gave a little chuckle to let any potential Good Samaritan know I was OK. Maybe I thought a happy face would make me look less like an idiot. Perhaps I was remembering a bit of advice someone once gave me: "Laugh at yourself before anyone else has a chance to laugh at you."

 I would like to thank the good people of Mid-Market not only for not laughing at me but for actually ignoring me in my most awkward situation. I know your miseries are far greater than mine and you would have had many good reasons to delight in my spectacle, so I very much appreciated your blank stares and vacant gazes while I gathered what bits of my composure had not toppled to the sidewalk and proceeded to my meeting, walking a little funny but with my head held high, thinking, "Next time…"