The true professional.

Professional: n. 1. A person following a profession, especially a learned profession. 2. One who earns a living in a given or implied occupation: hired a professional to decorate the house. 3. A skilled practitioner; an expert.

What does it take to be a real professional. The last week of the Tour de France has been somewhat of an eye opener for that and question over the just what it means to be a professional, let alone a cyclist who is paid to ride his bike.

Much of the focus of this debate has been the allegedly simmering tensions in the Team Sky camp. First the focus was on the lack of protection given to Mark Cavendish and the miscommunication between him and Edvald Boason-Hagen in the early flat stages but this has subsequently swung to the growing tension between Bradley Wiggins and Chris Froome. Or so we are led to believe. Nobody on the inside of the team has confirmed any tensions as would be expected and so the analysis has really involved reading between the lines from the outside.

Take for example Velonews’ take on the Wiggins-Froome rift. On Sunday L’Equipe published a an interview with Froome in which he stated that his riding for Wiggins was a “a very, very great sacrifice.” There is no denying that: Froome is in a purple patch of form which sees him lying in second place overall. But equally he is acknowledging that he, as a professional cyclist, has to sacrifice his own desires for the good of his employers. It may make things tense but it is the professional way of doing your job. He went on to say in the interview:

“If I feel that the Tour can be lost I will follow the best riders, be that [Cadel] Evans or [Vincenzo] Nibali, to preserve our chance and be sure of Sky’s presence.”

Velonews (shared by others implicitly if not quite as explicitly, was:

Imagine that. A top domestique hoping his leader gets dropped.

Slightly disingenuous I feel. Chris Froome’s comment could be read in that way. Equally, however, it is stating the facts of Sky’s strong position in the race: if something were to happen to Wiggins then Froome is ideally placed to ensure that the team takes the win. Again, a professional way of doing your job.  As he says, “I cannot lie to you, it’s difficult, but it’s my job.”

Which brings us onto what seems to be a vexed issue for some: that professional cycling is a job. During yesterday’s stage I spotted an exchange of tweets between various journalist during which Richard Moore – a journalist and author whose writing I have a lot of respect for – tweeted the following:

Exactly what do we want from sport? People to do job, or to pursue dreams & ambitions? #pragmatismorpanache

In some respects I am behind Moore’s statement. I despise video referees in sport: they slow the game, referees duck the decisions and importantly it removes the idea that all sports are refereed the same no matter which sports field they are played on.  However, the reason for introducing these kinds of measures is simple: money.  As more money comes into sport so the interestys of the investor need to be protected.  Sports stars benefit from this with increased salaries therefore making it possible to make a more than reasonable living as a domestique. Panache in the romantic sense was lost a long time ago, order has been increasingly placed on sport to make the outcome more controlled and palatable to the external funders.

All this talk about people doing jobs in a workplace. Really? Is that what we’re watching?

Yes, that is precisley what we are watching. At the end of the day this is precisely what professional cycling is, and it is no different from any other job. Some if the people can Chase some of their dreams some of the time. The rest are rewarded with a pay packet. The mark of a true professional is one who gets on with this. I have my doubts about some of the inferences that have made into Chris Froome’s actions and statements. Motives and explanations have been suggested where no concrete evidence exists to back them up. It is pure speculation and is disrespectful of a professional. That is the want of the press and many of its consumers. If Froome ultimately breaks from his role, decides to steal glory for himself and undermine his teammates in so doing then we can question his professionalism, For the time being is is making sacrifices and if not entirely happy he is being professional.

But for me there is one image from yesterday that encapsulates the true professional: Mark Cavendish, world champion and sent back to collect water bottles and rain jackets. Whilst he may not have liked it, he did it and his day of dreams will come around again. A professional is paid to do a job, but the true professional gets on with the job he is given.  Some who work in so-called professions would do well to consider this.

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The Art of Noise

The Thriller in Manila it was not. And though some “correspondents” would like to make it out to be it was far from being Anatoly Karpov versus Garry Kasparov. I’m talking about the last 5 km of yesterday’s stage of the Tour de France. In particular the “attack” made by Chris Froome which put his teammate Bradley Wiggins into trouble off the back of the leading group of contenders. A lot has been made of this move, the subsequent pressing of earpiece by Froome and the interview he gave immediately after the stage. Gripping and intriguing it certainly was, but there seems to be an appetite to turn every twist and turn into a Machiavellian subplot.

Of course differences within teams is nothing new. The 2009 Tour saw the Contador and Armstrong destroy the Astana team. 1997 witnessed Jan Ullrich dethrone his teammate Bjarne Riis whilst also chasing the green jersey for Eric Zabel which, as an article in Procycling magazine illustrates, created 3 teams of 3 under one banner. And of course there is the ultimate internecine battle between Lemond and Hinault which Richard Moore covers beautifully in Slaying the Badger.  Whilst this has the makings of such a battle, from the events of this Tour so far it still lacks much of the background which those others had.

Some argue this was Froome putting his marker down for leadership of the team.  Despite stating that he riding for Wiggins following his own stage 7 win and reiterating this yesterday correspondents – both professional and amateur – have taken to reading into his words and body language to suggest that there is frustration at having to play second fiddle. A second place in last year’s Vuelta is somehow the justification for the conspiracy theories. But one Vuelta does not a Tour winner make. Take into account Wiggin’s return to racing from a broken collarbone in that race and his superb form this season combined with Froome’s own fragile health since Spain and the equation being posed by some starts to look slightly lopsided. The most astute observation I have seen so far comes from my friend and Real Peloton’s Steve Trice in a Twitter conversation with Matt Rendell:

We don’t know how much Froome benefits from Wiggo bearing leader’s responsibility & attention. Stepping up to no. 1 is a big step…Being team leader is like in a sprint – you don’t know how strong your legs are until you leave the slipstream and take the wind.

I’ve not seen that in the reports I’ve read so far.

Over exuberance by the younger teammate? A coup d’etat at La Toussuire? A simple error of judgement in the heat of the race? Only Froome will know for sure. But I have a small theory of my own and it is all based on noise.

Anybody who has ever been to or ridden in a race will know how it is an assault on all the senses. Stand by the side of the road when the Tour of Britain whizzes past and the sights, the sounds, the smells all collide. So imagine being in the midst of that, on the other end of a thousand shouting spectators, pursued by mankini wearing self-publicists, dodging motorbikes and cars whilst trying to do your job. Workplace communications are never perfect at the best of times but this office is open plan to the extreme and instructions can be misheard and missed. When the boss can’t be heard and/or doesn’t respond you make what you think is the best decision and deal with the consequences later. This is the art of living with the noise. Maybe this is what happened, but as I said, none of us will ever really know.

The second part of my theory revolves around the reliance on race radios. As the riders are more accustomed to the input from the radio, so perhaps they adapt their behaviour and in so doing become more complacent? It is another noise and one which takes over (some of) the riders. Froome’s attack yesterday might well have been to help not hinder Wiggins, a response to earlier attacks from Wiggins’ rivals. And maybe he was waiting to be told what to do? Based on the pictures we saw of him alternating between earpiece and mic did the remote control not work? Not that this is the only time radios might actually be to blame. Whilst the first week crashes were blamed on various causes from climbers to road furniture and finally over-enthusiastic amateur photographers, I wonder if the ability of the professional peloton to work together and warn each other of dangers has been lost. Ride with your local club and there are shouts within the bunch to warn of imminent dangers. My theory is that riders have become to reliant on someone telling them what to do, when and how that the basics of racing are possibly dying. I’d be interested in the thoughts of others about this.

Whilst we are on the topic of noise, the external cacophony of armchair experts has been added to by so-called “Sky WAGs” Twitter-spat. Of course I am excited that there is a British rider with a real chance of winning the Tour de France, I’d be lying if I said otherwise. But these posts are trying to be as objective as is possible in commenting on these events. Earlier in the week I indicated the discomfort I have with some of the noise on Twitter and unfortunately the exchanges between Cath Wiggins and Michelle Cound take this to a new level. It is quite understandable for both to have intense feelings when watching the action but many is the time MrsAB has returned home from work, told me what has happened and I have wanted to vent my spleen to someone. I don’t, however. Please Cath and Michelle, you are intelligent people, let’s keep this “in house” if we must, you’re not Coleen and Victoria and I’m sure you’ll never want to be.

The story is so familiar: a potential British success undermined by both British fans and from those within. Could we not avoid the mistakes that other sports have made in this respect?

Release the pressure, open up.

Yesterday’s second post I realise was written in the haste of the moment, much like the comments on which it was based. I can see how some of you might have been offended by the language repeated in the quote and how opinions of me might have been formed in my apparent glorification of this. So I wanted to clarify my admiration for Bradley Wiggins “outburst” in front of a packed room of journalists by reflecting on personal experience.

It goes without saying that the Tour de France is a pressure cooker of expectation, emotion and rumour.  The pressure on riders such as Wiggins has been building throughout the year and the only “acceptable” form of release is results on the bike – though for some this is an excuse for more pressure. When our “stars” achieve those results we question them, tainted by the brush of association. Nick Hussey has written a fantastic piece on the erosion of our trust in cycling which encapsulates this eloquently. This negativity actually puts me off – I feel a worse person for consuming it, I just want to watch cycling, enjoy and admire. Increasingly I feel I can thanks to riders like Wiggins and Cavendish.  All of which has led me to cull some of those I followed on Twitter. Sorry folks but if I unfollowed it is because I find your arguments tiresome now, your negativity draining, and I see no magical end to your problems where I can see you will be happy. I’m going to reclaim some control, be happy again and enjoy my cycle sport without you.

I wanted through this post to put Wiggins’ comments into perspective based on realism, through personal experience of pressure and in so doing illustrate why I admire a statement bookended with “profanities”. I’m sure after the event Wiggins himself realised that the phrasing was not the best.  Yet it was uttered in the heat of the moment, in the fierce gaze of the world’s professional and amateur media at a moment that gave him the chance to look his both his visible and faceless critics in the eye.  As the saying goes its better to regret something you have done that something you haven’t.

Whilst I do not condone the language Wiggins used – especially not the c-word – I can see why and how he did. Neither am I going to join a growing crowd in the virtual world and throw the next hypocritical stone. These were words not punches, they hurt ears not bodies. And can you tell me you’ve never ever done the same? A defence based on “flight” can only work for so long and, as we have seen by some of the comments, silence and avoidance in Wiggins’ circumstance probably maks matters worse. I am speaking from experience here too. Under pressure I swear – MrsAB would say a little too much and often tells me off for my language. My use of expletive is born of frustration.  I am proud neither of its use nor of the things that make me feel the need to resort to it. However, I was told as a child “swear too much and it loses it effect”. Perhaps this is why it has caused such a stir – these are not generally the way of Wiggins in press interviews.

But I am sure I am not the only one for whom this pressure and its consequences are a part of everyday life. Many of us live inside our own pressure cookers day in day out.  For me, I seem to spend large parts of my life dealing with the pressures and expectations of myself and others. I find myself striving to do my best in the way I see fit only to feel questioned and scrutinized by others in doing so. My hard work, my dedication and my commitment questioned by others with limited evidence and seemingly written off as worthless.  This breeds frustration, it creates pressure. And we all know what happens if you don’t release pressure gradually. Shake a bottle of bottle of pop then open it quickly and you are covered in a sickly sweet mess. As human beings we are no different: if we let the pressure build too much we end up popping, releasing it in a less than controlled way, regretting the consequences.

This does not excuse my behaviour but it at least explains it. I look back on each time it happens and vow to learn to control it the next. Equally it does not condone Wiggin’s use of certain words. Nor though is it an excuse to ignore what he is saying and why.

This is why I respect Bradley Wiggins for what he did and said. His comments were a cork popping moment. I admire him for facing down his critics and demons. What did was defend hid determination, hard work and commitment. And if others cannot see through the bad words and understand his reasoning they have obviously never been there themselves. Maybe one day they will too.

If…

Rudyard Kipling’s classic poem “If” instills inspiration, stoicism and composure in those who read it. In the face of many challenges if you can rise above it all he famously concludes:

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Having just seen Bradley Wiggins’ response when asked why people accuse him of doping, I think we have a contender for a 21st Century “If”:

I say they’re just f*cking wankers. I cannot be doing with people like that. It justifies their own bone-idleness because they can’t ever imagine applying themselves to do anything in their lives. It’s easy for them to sit under a pseudonym on Twitter and write that sort of shit, rather than get off their arses in their own lives and apply themselves and work hard at something and achieve something. And that’s ultimately it. C*nts.

Apologies for the Wiggo’s language but in the context it is understandable. And what’s more, if you ride the Tour clean and prove all these doubters wrong, you’ll be our man my son.

Nerves

“This is the moment I’ve dreamt of all year”

Bradley Wiggins, La Planche des Belles Filles, Stage 7 2012 Tour de France

Watching yesterday’s Tour stage was unique for me. In none of the 24 Tours de France I have watched have I seen a different Britons win the stage and take the yellow jersey in one day. Nor have I seen a British yellow jersey wearer who actually has a real chance of winning the Tour. And when I stop to think about it that makes me quite nervous.

I’m aweful at watching sports where I have a vested interest. Just ask MrsAB. If Wales are playing a crucial rugby match I yo-yo up and down off the sofa, in and out of the room, convinced they will lose. And so this year’s Tour is no different. Nothing would please me more than to see Wiggo win. But there’s a niggling voice in the back of my head that says it won’t happen. Each stage of the first week has been watched through metephorical fingers, each crash a portent of something worse to come. Lady Luck has so far been on “our” side though I can’t help feeling she’ll ditch us soon.

I suppose what I am saying is that I am a bag of nerves. Some of you will have noticed that, some of you will be the same yourselves. And sat here watching Stage 8 having not quite made it out on two-wheels myself this morning I’m reflecting on how nerves affect me. The bicycle hasn’t been totally abandoned but it is fair to say it is suffering from neglect. I’ve spoken of my inertia before, finding it difficult to get out without some incentive or commitment, some of which is down to a nervousness of the unknown (meeting new people, trying new roads). But increasingly I recognise that some of it is a nervousness of the known (the hills!) and the “what might be”, by which I mean a growing nervousness riding on ever more crowded roads occupied by a growing minority of anti-social drivers.  It is through these eyes that I am anxiously watching the Tour.

When Wiggo said this is the moment he dreamed of another part of me felt fearful for the fragility of those dreams. He’s one week into a three week grand tour: a) that’s just part of the dream surely and b) given a crash strewn first week what does the future hold. Equally, however, I can’t help but feel some of my dreams have turned sour when I’ve realised them, others have remained tantilising close whilst oh so far away. It is my state of mind, it is how I view the world and when I invest in a dream it is never quite how I thought it would be. And most of the time it is nerves that are to blame.

If I’m nervous sat divorced from the real pressure of the Tour watching on TV in my front room in Wolverhampton, I can only begin to imagine what it must be like to be Brad, in yellow, chasing his dream.

Fingers crossed that in 2 weeks time I can sit here and watch a stroll into Paris, the first ever British winner of the Tour de France. But first two more weeks of watching the action through those fingers. If Wiggo wins maybe I too can conquer my reservation and nerves and finally realise my dreams.