JOURNAL DE NUIT: PART UNE
Adrian brings us a sleep-deprived unpacking of the first week of this years Tour de France from the roads of Bretagne.
SECTIONS
FOREWORD
STAGE ONE
STAGE TWO
STAGE THREE
STAGE FOUR
STAGE FIVE
STAGE SIX
STAGE SEVEN
Read part deux (Stages 8-14) here.
Read part trois (Stages 15-21) here.
Watching the Tour de France from Australia is an almost transcendental experience. Beyond the World Cup, there isn't an event that captures the late-night attention of such a wide variety of people as we tune in to SBS to catch a glimpse of a French summer, unpacking the narratives that could only be told over the course of 3000km.
Being a cycling fan can come with plenty of pro's, however, when it comes to watching THE pro's, the experience is filled with nothing but cons. The one-day classics might be well suited to fit into your day to day life with a late-night here or there, but how are we as a collective people, punished by time zone expected to prevail across the space of almost a month?Each year as the best cyclists in the world traverse their way up and down Italy, around France, or across Spain, that very question is answered amongst backing vocals of yawns.
Welcome to Part Une of the Journal de Nuit, where we chronicle each stage of the 2021 Tour de France from the couch, putting ourselves through a few weeks of the purest type of sleep deprivation on offer.
FOREWORD
This is my first time watching Le Tour for a couple of years now, and in a really kind of refreshing way it has me feeling this weird sense of excitement. In the past it wasn't that I didn't want to watch it, more just that life (read: work) got in the way far too much to spend a few weeks worth of nights staying up until 1am.
That excitement I feel is similar to what I remember the day of a grand final feeling like (playing in, not watching) or a first day of school. If I could put my finger on it I would say it's driven by knowing that something memorable, something that will be talked about for years to come in the sporting world will probably happen, only nobody knows what THAT will be. Not the riders, not even the experts.
My first proper memory of Le Tour came in year 8 at school, where for whatever reason we began the term by watching Run Lola Run, and finishing it by watching replays of Le Tour, and filling out info about the towns, and jersey wearers. I don't know if its because it barely felt like work, or if I was genuinely enamoured with Le Tour, but constantly having to write Tom Boonen as the green jersey wearer, and seeing paddocks filled with sunflowers still burns in my mind.
And that's where my mind was as I sat down for the pre-stage coverage before the riders rolled out for the opening stage.
STAGE ONE
Saturday 26/06, 7:30pm AEST
BREST → LANDERNAU
197.8KM (HILLY)
So we begin. When this idea was developed I offered to take the first week, shortly followed by thinking perhaps I had drawn the short straw. Normally I cannot be bothered with anything outside of the big Alps when it comes to the Tour de France, and I initially anticipated the same train of thought to creep in.
It wasn't long until I realised that cycling and indeed Le Tour is probably the light of Brittany's life. I can't imagine that living in a relatively flat region of France, spending most of the year probably getting battered by the prevailing winds coming in hard off the Atlantic is a very glamorous way to live. I also know that most of the football clubs from the region are perennial dissapointments, so those few days of the Tour Circus provides the region with enough positivity to push through the rest of their dreary year.
It's not long in to the race that any excitement about Le Tour, and any romantic thoughts about a region I have completely created from make believe come to a halt as I see this years Direct Energie kit in the breakaway for the first time. Its design goes so far beyond the "Graphic Design is my Passion" or "the CEO got his son to do this", how on earth does this shit pass in 2021? I recalibrate and remember that I haven't watched Le Tour for a couple of years now, and maybe cycling has moved on and left me and my existing design sensibilities behind. In any case I do everything I can to block the thought of the jersey out of my mind, which doesn't take much as a loving message to your grandma and grandpa wipes out the entire peloton only moments after I unpack the nuances of positioning in the peloton to my partner, who is watching pro cycling for probably the first time. I already know that someone is going to go on and finish the stage with a shattered pelvis and be hailed the hardest man to have ever lived.
You would think the excitement and chaos would be enough to keep me awake, but you'd be wrong. Even after the second major crash 7km from the finish I already begin passing out on the couch, waking up with seconds to spare before Julian Alaphilippe crosses the line in victory. My fatigue levels do not bode well for the rest of the week.
STAGE TWO
Sunday 27/06, 10:10pm AEST
PERROS GUIREC → MÛR-DE-BRETAGNE GUERLÉDAN
183.5KM (HILLY)
My viewing experience for stage two comes a little later in the evening, having celebrated a birthday earlier that night. As I step inside my front door I almost instantly regret not taking on the offer of coffee an hour earlier as I was yawning my head off on the way home. It's pretty damn chilly outside, and with the heater set on light, a blanket, and like an absolute idiot I'm sat on the couch with a cup of camomile tea in my hands – the yawning is about to intensify.
Tonight's lesson in the nuances of pro cycling focuses itself on the super domestique, which in reality seems like a foreign concept to many sporting-but-not-cycling fans, where individual glory normally sits alongside at least some kind of team glory. The lesson is cut short as Robbie McEwen makes some random Eminem reference in the commentary booth, giving me a flashback to the previous night where I began questioning whether I had been left behind, or if our commentary team needs some greater cultural touchpoints than Eminem.
Despite the best efforts of my large cup of camomile tea, I manage to cruise through to the end of the stage. I think it's all in the prospects of the Mur de Bretagne. Mathieu Van Der Poel would take victory, but ultimately I think his team lost out – this would have been an ALL TIME cycling moment if they had remained in the retro inspired kit.
STAGE THREE
Monday 28/06, 8:45pm AEST
LORIENT → PONTIVY
182.9KM (FLAT)
For yet another night Ide Schelling begins the stage by essentially playing the character most amateurs imagine they would be if they somehow woke up in an alternate reality where they were a world class level professional cyclist. His nodding, tongue wagging, almost dancing on the bike in celebration becomes a real joy to watch.
The morning before the stage, and fresh from Wales being knocked out of the Euro's, Gareth Bale shoots a text over to Geraint Thomas. Written in Welsh it's near impossible to decipher, but a crash to Geraint early in stage three surely points to it being close to "bail from work, let hit the course". Geraint now has a tough decision to make – limp through the remaining 160 kilometres of the bike race in the rain, or call for the team car, grab a quick flight over to the British Isles and meet up with Gareth in time for an afternoon tee off.
The evening lesson echoes many similarities of the previous night, only now focusing on the role of the super domestique in the rain, and unpacking how you're supposed to safely put on, then take off a rain jacket while racing at speed (hint: you're probably not). As for the race it's on a bit of a knifesedge, the peloton is led by yung-Phillippe Gilbert (Tim Declerq), twirling a damp teatowel in one hand, staring wistfully at the rear end of the breakaway ready to snap it. That teatowel gets tighter and tighter, but Cyril Barthe isn't having any of it, attempting to ride off multiple times with the grace and poise of Nux from Mad Max: Fury Road. He leaves a trail of carnage in his wake as the snap of the teatowel comes early, riders getting caught up in one another, in the technical throes of the final few kilometres, and in gaps that aren't really gaps. It's incredible to think that amongst all this, Nacer Bouhanni is present and keeping his hands and forehead to himself.
Merlier takes the win, celebrating as Caleb lays still on the ground a few hundred metres back. Beyond a single photo of him looking like a high school pop punk band front man, I've found little reason to warm towards Caleb. That's not to say I discount his talents as a cyclist – he is mean quick, but I would probably celebrate a Bouhanni victory sooner. Maybe that is changing as I see him on the pavement, seeing him as human, discovering it is his collarbone that is broken in 4 places. I run my hands across my own formerly broken collarbone, gifting me a lifetime membership of the uneven shoulders club. Maybe we are two of the same.
STAGE FOUR
Tuesday 29/06, 9:15pm AEST
REDON → FOUGÈRES
150.4KM (FLAT)
I don't think I can remember a time where cycling has gotten me up out of my chair. I distinctly remember how agape my jaw was when I saw Mat Hayman cross the line ahead of Tom Boonen in the Roubaix Velodrome, almost fixed in complete stillness, but I don't think there has been a moment where I've genuinely had to get up off the couch.
That all changed after a series of events that took place in roughly 15 seconds. I had spent the night watching a lanky Belgian guy trying to just keep out of reach of the hounds in the peloton. I'd spent an hour or so kind of hoping he would win, so watching him get passed 150 metres from the line was a sad sight, but was followed by 10 breathless seconds as I witnessed Cav cross the line, arms aloft. I swear I could almost hear the cheers from Alex's house 800km away.
STAGE FIVE
Wednesday 30/06, 9:30pm AEST
CHANGÉ → LAVAL ESPACE MAYENNE
27.2KM (TIME TRIAL)
Call it the race of truth, the race against the clock, whatever you want. There are two places Time Trials should exist within the schedule of a Grand Tour – the first is as a prologue, a taster for what is to come. The other is towards the back end of a race to help decide the winner.
Despite all my gripes I still manage to watch my way through. My main takeaway from the race is that I can’t believe that Burberry are now sponsoring the Qhubeka team. I also cant believe the Qhubeka team while sponsored by Burberry have managed to outdo the BikeExchange Team in the worst jersey category. Tens of thousands of football kit concept artists on Instagram would keep their mothers up at night with all the tormented screams if they knew what a botched job had been done. The overall lack of excitement allows me time to jump in the kitchen and whip together a self saucing pudding from Gabriel Gaté's desserts cookbook.
STAGE SIX
Thursday 01/07, 9:00pm AEST
TOURS → CHÂTEAUROUX
160.6KM (FLAT)
Thanks to a heavy night of after-hours work, I was living life in blissful ignorance not knowing Richmond's fate at the hands of Gold Coast. I say this with complete knowledge that I wouldn't have actively looked at the scores, however Mat Keenans gleeful delight at their demise made my eye twitch as I stepped back from Adobe InDesign for a moment.
Anger rapidly turned to confusion as the entire commentary team seemed sympathetic towards Nacer Bouhanni, even going so far to say that he could be in with a chance of winning the evenings stage. I couldn't quite tell if they were serious or not, as the entire stage seemed a complete exercise in pointlessness, nothing but a few hours in which Greg van Avermaet showcased his skills as a wildly talented and powerful cyclist, but also a grumpy Belgian. Does he know the Red Devils will probably win the Euros? Wait – maybe it's there that his anger lies.
The commentary on the lead in to the finish line is a laundry list of who could win, but the commentary team goes out of their way to state that it won't be Bryan Coquard. I almost feel like DMing Bryan to let him know that his name (followed by "loses by 1cm again") has inexplicably been my morning alarm label for 5 years now.
Turns out the commentary team was right, Bryan Coquard didn't win. Mark Cavendish did, and in much more impressive fashion than the other night. The excitement of the victory powers me through to the end of my work at 2:30am.
STAGE SEVEN
Friday 02/07, 9:15pm AEST
VIERZON → LE CREUSOT
249.1KM (HILLY)
A quick breakaway forms in a size that can only be described as très énorme. It very quickly tears everyones predictions to shreds in its power.
The night's lesson mainly focuses around unpacking the narratives within cycling to my partner. Why Vincenzo Nibali is hated by so many but loved by me, and why if the crashes and mayhem of this years Tour keeps up, why he is probably going to win the whole thing. Then there are the two princes of Belgium and the Netherlands. Young, handsome and all powerful, and how they kind of started winning so much so easily that it was time for them to move to pastures new – road cycling. There's also the story of Cav, and why the commentary team keeps talking about him so much. The last thing I fully remember is Julien Bernard waving and blowing kisses to his friends and family as the tour rolls through his home town, but then after that I begin to succumb to a week straight of late nights and busy ass days.
It was supposed to be so easy. Just a couple of years ago there were no dramas about staying up to watch the cycling, sometimes backing it up with a game of soccer, a few hours sleep then off to work. What’s changed? Age probably. What was shaping up to be an interesting final 20km became nothing but a blur as I woke up in the middle of the random programming SBS run post-stage, at least 90 minutes after their broadcast had ended. I walked upstairs to bed not knowing the result, but knowing that there was an hour long highlights package to get through in the morning.
And that concludes part one of our sleep deprived Tour de France watching experience. We now hand over the late nights to a guest columnist who will share the highs and lows of the French Alps from the comfort of their couch following the running of stage 14.
Au revoir!