Selling the Yellow Jersey

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Selling the Yellow Jersey Page 31

by Eric Reed


  French cycling fans really like to see it fought” and that “French followers

  of the race felt both admiration and resignation” at the prospect of another

  rather clinical Anquetil triumph.3

  Like the French media, the Anglophone press devoted signifi cant column

  space to analyzing Anquetil’s business- like approach to victory, especially

  his famous tendency to surround himself with the strongest team of sup-

  port riders in the world. In 1961, Robert Daley shed light on the barely veiled but widespread “subtrefuge [ sic]” employed by Anquetil and other leaders of the national teams. The day before the Tour began, reported Daley, Anquetil

  “signed a contract with eleven other riders” that “guaranteed them all his

  prize money if they helped him win the Tour.” The Anquetil pact included

  most of the strongest riders and made it nearly impossible for other Tour

  contenders to attack him. The French star’s rivals, such as 1958 Tour winner

  Charly Gaul of Luxembourg, could only choose among “pretty poor bike

  riders” to form their support teams. “My dream is to have a team as strong

  as Anquetil’s,” exclaimed Gaul to reporters.4 Although it was common prac-

  tice for stars to make such agreements with supporting domestiques in major races, Daley’s article echoed the complaints expressed by Tour director

  Jacques Goddet in L’Équipe and suggested that Anquetil’s scheming undermined the competitiveness of the race and removed the elements of surprise

  and excitement from the 1961 Tour even before it began. The New York Times

  reporter’s prophesy was realized; Anquetil led the competition from the fi rst

  day to the last and won by more than twelve minutes, an enormous time

  gap. Concluded Daley after Anquetil’s triumph, “[The] Tour de France . . .

  was won by a superman among riders today. . . . There was no drama [from

  the start].”5

  Anquetil won his fi rst two yellow jerseys in Tours raced under the national

  team formula. Nevertheless, beginning in the late 1950s Anquetil, other star

  riders, and their wealthy sponsors exerted pressure on the Tour’s organiz-

  ers to end the national team formula and reinstitute corporate- sponsored

  teams to reap maximum publicity from participation in the Tour. Although

  the Tour’s formula changed in 1962 from the national team to the corporate

  team format, Anquetil’s formula for success remained the same. Anquetil de-

  manded that his extra- sportif team sponsors spend lavishly to build a team

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  c h a p t e r s e v e n

  of all- star domestique cyclists to assist him in major stage races like the Tour.

  Anquetil’s team riders were star cyclists in their own right and included Ger-

  man sprinting world champion Rudi Altig, French national and world cham-

  pion Jean Stablinski, and Lucien Aimar, who later won the Tour de France in

  1966 when Anquetil faltered.

  Team Anquetil exerted such unbreakable control over cycling’s peloton

  that its failures became, in some ways, more noteworthy than its successes.

  The New York Times reported on the 1962 Tour of Spain (Vuelta a España).

  German star Rudi Altig ignored the team’s standing order to protect Anquetil

  and took the race lead by winning the second stage. None of the challeng-

  ers could believe that any of Anquetil’s domestiques would break team discipline, so his rivals refused to attack, since they assumed that the Frenchman

  planned to order Altig to relent at the end of the Vuelta. In a show of bluster, Anquetil, still far behind Altig in the standings with only a handful of stages remaining, dispatched his wife to Paris to collect proper French champagne

  for drinking at the fi nish line in Madrid. “No true Frenchman would consider

  toasting a victory with Spanish champagne,” quipped Anquetil.6 Cycling fans

  anticipated that Anquetil, who held second place in the standings, would re-

  cover his four- minute time defi cit to Altig in the race’s fi nal stage, a long time trial. Instead, Anquetil feigned illness and abandoned the race and the

  second- place prize money on the last day rather than face defeat at the hands

  his domestique.

  American journalists commented extensively on Anquetil’s self- interested

  professionalism, temperamental demeanor, and rocky relationship with cy-

  cling fans. Robert Daley placed Anquetil at the vanguard of a new kind of star

  athletes who “are basically businessmen, not egoists [who revel in the crowd’s

  applause], and the modern athlete’s symphony is the sound of cash registers.”

  Daley crammed his article with sarcastic barbs on the same theme, explain-

  ing that “applause [does] not show on a bank statement” and calling An-

  quetil “the fastest accountant who ever pedeled [ sic] a bike” and a champion with “bike racer’s legs and [an] accountant’s brain.”7 The New York Times

  columnist also commented on Anquetil’s disdain for meeting his publicity

  obligations and his frequent refusals to follow his coaches’ orders. The paper

  described a famous incident in 1959 when sponsors forced Anquetil to enter a

  race against his wishes, which prompted Anquetil to quit the competition af-

  ter pedaling “lackadaisically as far as the fi rst hill, where his wife was waiting with his car.”8 The Anglophone press also reported on Anquetil’s refusal to

  follow coaches’ strategies, heed admonitions that he try harder, and employ

  his awesome talents to win races in more dramatic fashion.9

  Anquetil’s fame abroad climaxed at the moment when Jean- Claude Killy,

  t h e g l o b a l t o u r a n d i t s s t a r s

  173

  France’s famous skiing champion, exploded onto the international scene.

  Like Anquetil, Killy dominated his sport like no other skier before him. By

  the late 1960s, Killy’s global fame eclipsed Anquetil’s. Athletically, however, the Val d’Isère native was Anquetil’s antithesis. Between 1966 and 1968, Killy

  won the fi rst overall World Cup championship and three Olympic gold med-

  als due to his reckless daring, instinctual skiing style, and attacking mindset.

  On the eve of the 1968 Grenoble Olympic Games, Killy explained to Sports

  Illustrated reporter Dan Jenkins, “I have always skied on instinct. . . . if people say I look pretty in a race, then I know I am not winning.”10 In an earlier cover story, Sports Illustrated characterized Killy as “Skiing’s Darling of Derring-Do” with a “win- or- nothing attitude.” According to the article, Killy “[skied]

  like hell,” “[attacked] downhill and slalom courses like Batman” and had

  an “obsessional love of speed [and a] foolhardy nature.”11 Killy was one of

  the fi rst global stars of the televised Olympics and helped to perpetuate the

  daredevil persona in the global media. After winning his third gold medal in

  Grenoble, Killy explained to the New York Times, “I’ve never slowed down in my entire life, and I never will. I can’t do it. I never knew physical fear [as a child]. . . . Skiing to me is like breathing.”12 Like Anquetil, Killy emerged as a global standard bearer of French athletic heroism, albeit an ideal type rather

  than an Anquetilian antithesis.

  The Anglophone press devoted relatively little attention to Anquetil’s ri-

  val, Raymond Poulidor. A New York Times piece on the “nonintellectual”

  Poulidor’s Tour of Spain win in 1964 painted a comic caricature of the Lim-

  ousin rider’s famous
knack for encountering misfortune:

  His principal rivals would get to the railroad crossings just before the gates

  went down. Poulidor would get there just after. On the smooth stretches,

  Poulidor usually would have [thick mountain] tires on his bike, which slowed

  him. On the ragged mountain roads, he would have [fl atland] tires that were

  paper thin and this gave him lots of practice changing fl ats.13

  During the Anquetil- Poulidor rivalry in the Tour de France, foreign jour-

  nalists characterized Poulidor as the unsuccessful foil to the Norman cham-

  pion and as a more popular rider than Anquetil. Little of the Limousin star’s

  larger symbolic meaning in France came through on the page. The London

  Times’s sparse commentary on the epic Puy- de- Dôme duel in 1964 indicated that Poulidor, Anquetil’s “great rival” and the “only man given any chance

  of wresting the Tour de France” title from the defending champion, failed

  to capitalize on his chances during the closing days of the competition.14 In

  foreign papers in the Eddy Merckx era of the late 1960s and early 1970s, when

  the Belgian champion matched Anquetil’s record of fi ve Tour titles, Poulidor

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  c h a p t e r s e v e n

  continued to play the role of unfortunate understudy to greater champions.

  Following Poulidor’s underdog victory over Merckx in the 1972 Paris – Nice

  stage race, the New York Times proclaimed, tongue- in- cheek, “French Cyclist Wins, but Runs 2d.” President George Pompidou’s announcement the same

  day of a national referendum on British inclusion in the Common Market

  had upstaged the news about the race: “First at last — and it is an event — in the Paris – Nice, here [Poulidor] is, in the news race, relegated to his eternal second place by Georges Pompidou’s fi nal sprint.”15

  Careful readers of American and British sports sections learned of Pouli-

  dor’s unusual popularity, as well as the enormous expectations that cycling

  fans foisted on his shoulders. A London Times article on the 1968 Tour identifi ed Poulidor as a “magic name” and the hero of French factory workers

  and schoolchildren in “grey suburbs,” which were awash in chants of “Pou-

  Pou.”16 The French public’s fi ckleness, unforgiving wrath, and unrealistic

  hopes for Poulidor shone through, as well. In its summary of the fi nish of

  the 1965 Tour de France, won by upstart Italian Felice Gimondi, the New

  York Times reported that the exhausted Poulidor entered the fi nishing stretch in the Parc des Princes to a chorus of 40,000 angry whistles, which signaled

  that “Poulidor had ceased to be a hero.” After the race, veteran French rider

  Henri Anglade, his voice choked with emotion, chided the crowd over a

  loudspeaker, “One does not have the right to whistle at a lad like this.”17

  Anquetil emerged as a lightning rod for debates about drug use on both

  sides of the Atlantic. Following the drug- induced death of British star Tommy

  Simpson during the 1967 Tour, the public spotlight focused squarely on cy-

  clists’ use of forbidden medicines and stimulants. In the twilight of his career, Anquetil took on the role of straight- talking opponent of drug testing in the

  sport he had dominated since the mid- 1950s. Anquetil’s unusual candor, un-

  matched record of achievement, and refusal to abide by cycling’s emerging

  anti- doping strictures made him infamous. In the summer of 1967, Anquetil

  penned several editorials in French newspapers deriding the new drug- testing

  strictures and unveiling for the French public the widespread use of stimu-

  lants in cycling. The French champion’s candid, forthright style and refusal to abide by the new doping regulations enraged the cycling world. The French

  cycling federation banned Anquetil from competing in the French national

  championships later in the year. The London Times quoted Anquetil’s assertions of innocence and outrage in the French media. Anquetil protested, “I

  do not see how they can suspend me” since no analysis proved that he had

  ingested illegal drugs.18

  Later in the year, Anquetil made even bigger news. Following his retire-

  ment from the Tour de France, Anquetil focused his efforts on shorter races

  t h e g l o b a l t o u r a n d i t s s t a r s

  175

  and on setting the world one- hour speed record. British and American pa-

  pers carried coverage of Anquetil’s attempt, as well as world cycling’s rejec-

  tion of it. On September 27, 1967, Anquetil established a new milestone by

  racing nearly 47.5 kilometers in an hour at an indoor Milan velodrome. An-

  quetil engaged in a “comic opera duet” with the Italian doctor charged with

  collecting a urine sample for drug analysis. The new record holder claimed

  that he “could not deliver” a urine sample, returned to his hotel while the

  doctor waited at the velodrome, and fi nally left for France without having a

  urinalysis performed.19 The International Cycling Union refused to recog-

  nize Anquetil’s hour record and banned him from competing in the world

  championships. Again, Anquetil took the microphone to defend himself in

  the French media. The London Times quoted Anquetil’s lawyerly defense of his record on French radio. Anquetil claimed that he was “disappointed”

  that he was “not given the chance to defend myself.” Anquetil, when asked

  whether he took drugs, responded, “No. But that depends on what you mean

  by drugs,” and pointed out that he did not consider ingesting “stimulants”

  to be a form of doping. In exposés on drug use by athletes around the world,

  the New York Times, Chicago Tribune, and Sports Illustrated cited Anquetil as the primary example of drug use by athletes in France and quoted the retired

  champion’s assertions that “everyone in cycling dopes himself. Those who

  deny it are liars,” and that without amphetamines Tour riders would “pedal

  15 miles an hour instead of 25.”20 Anquetil remained a vocal critic of doping

  regulation after his retirement. He defended disgraced Belgian rider Michel

  Pollentier during the 1978 Tour by claiming that Pollentier cheated like every-

  one else and that without doping cyclists could not possibly meet the unreal-

  istic expectations of the public for superhuman performances.21

  Anquetil’s status as road cycling’s greatest champion made him an inter-

  national symbol of the sport. Newspapers in America and Britain covered

  Anquetil’s exploits and the controversies that surrounded him, which cap-

  tivated and informed new audiences in the 1950s and 1960s, giving them an

  understanding of the Tour and road cycling. Anquetil was the iconic fi gure of

  the French School of cycling around the world. His name was synonymous

  with the Tour in the American press, so much so that the Christian Science

  Monitor bestowed on Anquetil the moniker “Mr. Tour de France.”22 In Britain and America, his status as cycling’s antihero put into bold relief the traditional tenets of cycling heroism, which Anquetil rejected, and the traditional

  doctrines and principles of the French School, to which Anquetil did not

  subscribe. Press coverage of the confl icts and controversies that embroiled

  Anquetil— from vocal criticisms of the Norman champion’s clinical, calcu-

  lating racing strategies to anger over his tacit endorsements of drug use —

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  illustrated how the cycling public understood the French School’s ideals and

  attempted to enforce adherence to them. Paradoxically, Anquetil’s challenges

  to the French School and his unrivaled dominance of its crowning race for

  the better part of a decade imprinted even more fi rmly the French School’s

  character and philosophies on international cycling.

  Anquetil was also a transitional fi gure. He was an icon — albeit a coun-

  terpoint — to a certain idea of French athleticism that endured as a broader,

  Western sports hero culture was taking shape. His career peaked at the mo-

  ment when television was just beginning to develop into a powerful global

  medium. Yet Anquetil’s fame abroad was built in printed media. At the same

  time, Anquetil was a groundbreaking businessman /athlete when this combi-

  nation was becoming the norm on both sides of the Atlantic. The Norman

  champion’s fame helped to give shape to this emerging Western archetype.

  The grudging admiration his exploits won him helped pave the way for the

  acceptance of the corporatized athlete in France but also refl ected the endur-

  ing ambivalence of the French about the concept of the corporate athlete.

  Anquetil’s role as an international lightning rod for doping scandal also her-

  alded a new age in which the “cult of performance” was increasingly under-

  mined by a growing intimacy between star athletes and the public. It became

  increasingly clear — thanks to science and the new media that were becoming

  more and more effective at transmitting the unadulterated private lives of

  celebrities into the public sphere — that drugs rather than grit or talent en-

  abled many of the superhuman performances upon which the mythology of

  athletic fame and renown was erected. The troubled hero culture that the An-

  quetil era helped to engender continued to plague cycling and other sports.

  2. New World Stars: Greg LeMond and

  Global Challenges to the French School

  Beginning in the 1980s, the Tour de France successfully spurred a more rapid

  globalization of professional road cycling by encouraging and even fi nancing

 

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