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The Thinking Man's Tour
Tour de France - the history, the legend, the riders: Graeme Fife. Mainstream
Publishing, 2000. 255 pages paperback, £9.99. ISBN 1-84018-284-9
Based on the writer's '25-year addiction to this unique event' (half of my
own), this is, says Fife, 'an attempt to get inside the Tour's mystique' rather
than a history. History is there, but in snapshots or brief video clips. Much
of it is well known (
Les Forçats de la Route
), some of it less well-retailed, much necessarily left out. I'd have liked to
read again the story of Hubert Opperman's 1927 Tour, one man against trade
teams in a series of team time-trials. The rest is a series of accounts of
Fife's own climbs of the major Alpine cols: L'Alpe d'Huez, Télégraphe, Glandon,
Galibier, Izoard, Vars. As he climbs his thoughts stray to the great riders who
preceded him. The accounts of what and who he's thinking about are much better
than the story of his own struggles, which are often done in a sort of
writing-by-numbers, tricked out with literary quotations unnaturally
transplanted. Fife is too good a writer to need these pretentious, supporting
devices. Why quote in French and then translate? Settle for one or the other.
My heroes are not always the same as Fife's. I recognise talent in any
performer, but my admiration for Virenque's attacking style is tempered by the
suspicion that it's easier to keep attacking when fuelled by steroids and EPO;
I reserve my respect for those who can hack it without a fix. Fife almost
despises Indurain ('Lovely man; no brain' he comments) for husbanding his
resources and playing to his strengths; but Anquetil, who did exactly the same,
plus being a druggie and a cheat, gets his wholehearted admiration.
Incidentally, the latter emerges as the most talented shit cycling has ever
seen – perhaps the instinctive recognition of this is why the fans never took
him to their hearts as they did Vietto and Poulidor.
It's an attractive book. There's an insert of eight photos and a useful index.
Georges Ronsse (not Rousse) was world champion. Big sprockets (the ones you
climb on) give you a smaller gear, not a larger one. Incidentally the story of
Bartali searching the route for Coppi's discarded bottle isn't apocryphal –
Bartali tells it himself.
Despite minor faults, a thoroughly enjoyable book to add to your shelf of
addictions.
Ramin Minovi
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