MUSINGS ON THE WORLD OF PRO CYCLING
Mixed fortunes
Ned finds himself back reporting at the eventful Paris-Roubaix
It had been a long time since I last stood, microphone in sweaty hand, in what is mysteriously termed a “mixed zone”. These are the penned off areas, often festooned with sponsors’ logos, through which riders pass after completing their races, en route to the safety and seclusion of their team buses. They are the interface between the practitioners of the sport and its messengers, the media.
The mixed zone was once my stomping ground, for the first fifteen years of my association with the Tour de France. It was here that I watched at close quarters the sweat drying on Lance Armstrong’s skin while he concocted his answers. It was in the mixed that I first properly encountered Mark Cavendish, Carlos Sastre, Tom Boonen, Thor Hushovd, Andy Schleck, Cadel Evans… the list is almost endless.
But becoming a commentator instead of a reporter has removed me from such contact. While the riders are giving their interviews, I am normally closing my laptop and collecting my notes after a five-hour stint of talking. I leave the questioning to others.
Yet, on Easter Sunday, I was back where I had started. I made my way to the velodrome in Roubaix, accredited as a reporter for the podcast I record with David Millar. And there I was, leaning over the barriers, watching the riders finish their race and collapse on the grass in front of me. And I was reminded of the difficulty of getting them to talk.
Riders are under no obligation, unless they happen to have won the race, in which case they’re normally happy enough to talk. But, as far as all the others are concerned, it’s pretty much up to them. And therefore it’s down to the reporter to ask them if they’re happy to talk. The bigger the name, the harder it is to get close to them. Wout van Aert, for example, will instantly draw a gaggle of a dozen reporters, attracted to his presence like iron filings to a magnet. If you are poorly positioned, or hesitate for a second, you will find yourself on the useless outer fringes of his solar system, too far from its epicentre to be of any use. Like Pluto, devoid of life.
And so it was that I managed to accrue my two “scoops” of interviews. The first with Dutch cyclist Taco van der Hoorn, who placed 16th, and the second with Breton climber Valentin Madouas, who came in 34th. Content with my haul of exclusives for our podcast, I was slumped on the barriers watching the riders continue to come over the line in dribs and drabs. That’s when I saw him.
Young British cyclist Lewis Askey looks, at the best of times, like a warrior. He is a powerfully built, craggy presence on the bike. But this was not the best of times. Though the 20-year-old had started the race, his debut at the Hell of the North, in great shape, making the front group when the race split, he fell victim to a crash on the third sector of cobbles. It wasn’t his fault. Someone braked hard in front of him, and a whole bunch of riders slapped down.
He jumped back on, full of adrenaline, but with a big hole in his knee, which he eventually got bandaged. Somehow, unbelievably, he finished 42nd, before collapsing right in front of me. I watched on in astonishment at the state he was in. He fell off his bike, his smashed up left leg stretched out, the rest of his body collapsed around it. He drank heavily, and then didn’t move for at least twenty minutes. His knee was an astonishing sight, and seemed to swell visibly as we watched on, unable to look away. The cloth which had been used as a bandage might have been white when it was first wrapped around his leg, but it was impossible to tell. What wasn’t dark red with the blood that flowed profusely down his calves and shins was simply brown with dust and grime from the road. It was a wound more befitting a re-enactment of the Battle of Trafalgar, and Askey resembled one of Nelson’s valiant ratings, mortally wounded, but still holding on. And all this for a bike race.
Eventually, he was moved away, helped to his feet in agony by a soigneur. He didn’t give any interviews that day in the mixed zone. But his presence there spoke louder than a thousand words. He didn’t need to speak a word, but he said it all about the nature of the racing cyclist at Paris-Roubaix.
Ned Boulting
Sports journalist
Ned is the main commentator for ITV’s Tour de France coverage and editor of The Road Book. He also tours his own one-man show