Just like that

The Eddy Merckx Story. 2000. Video, two tapes, 130 minutes. £33.95. From Bromley Video Entertainment, 11 The Terrace, Barnes SW13 0NP. 0208-876-4671

The first tape about Belgium's Man of the Century (it's official), La Course en Tete , was the best. But that doesn't mean there isn't plenty of room for more, as the Cannibal himself might have said. And now a pair. Of course, physically there's no reason at all why the two programmes offered here couldn't have gone on a single tape, but that's marketing.

The first is a properly-made documentary. It starts with a rapid sequence of Eddy's victories, then moves forward 20 years to interview Fat Eddy himself about his life in cycling. These clips are interspersed with others, his family, friends, rivals, managers, journalists and team-mates adding their stories to the legend. And, of course, the historical footage of his great rides. Unfortunately too few of those interviewed are identified – often we have to guess that maybe this is Felix Lévitan, or whoever.

The man himself comes across, in his adenoidal French, as Mr Affable, still mad about cycling, the trophies of which he never thought much stuffed casually away in cardboard boxes and old suitcases. Why put all that on display when you're Eddy Merckx? Everyone in the world knows his palmarés anyway.

So it all starts well: Phil Liggett's commentary is sparse, the translations adequate, the sub-titles legible. But give Phil a chance and he can still talk about Ramon Poulidor, the Puy de Dom, and convert Mourenx (a town) into Moreau (a rider) with nonchalant ease. Just like that. It's a gift.

The translation goes downhill pretty rapidly, too. Whoever does these things, the impression you get is that he/she is a master of no language at all. Do they really not care if it doesn't make sense? I mean, in other fields they do re-takes, don't they?

But there's plenty of footage to feast your eyes on, from a dim black and white shot of the 19-year-old taking the amateur title in 1964, to his recent memorial ride with Bernard Thevenet.

Do we learn anything we didn't know already? Well, to be fair, not much – but I suppose that depends on how much you knew already. The shots in and around the works, a huge converted brick barn, are nice and, yes, (and here comes a word that doesn't normally mean much) interesting – it really looks as though Merckx's bikes are hand-built.

The second tape is a bit of journalism. If you've seen 'Stars and Water Carriers' and a few other tapes, you'll have seen much of the racing footage already. It'll do you no harm to see it again, but don't expect anything very fresh. And the compilers of the programme seem to have thought the same thing. We need an angle, here, right?

One of the problems with Merckx was that he was generally pretty undramatic: no public fights, messy divorces, drunken orgies, and only one, probably faked, positive drug test. He saved his dramas for the bike races, and then they were all too often one-man shows. What are we to do with this guy? I know, let's invent a lifelong bitter rivalry with Felice Gimondi

The truth is, those of us who lived through the era of Mercksissimo don't remember it like this at all. It's true that after his devastation of Poulidor in the 1965 Tour Gimondi looked like the new super-hero. For all his modesty, Mr Nice Guy may have even thought so himself, although he didn't win the Tour in 66, 67 or 68. And then along came Merckx and he beat them all, while at the same time leaving us feeling what great riders they all were, and how much greater he was. Just like that. It's a gift

Ramin Minovi