B. Lafferty
The country is emptying - and the cities are rejecting the race The seeds of decline were evident in
this year's race
William Fotheringham Tuesday July 29, 2003 The Guardian
Once over, each Tour de France boils down to a set of images, snapshots in the mind. This year is no
exception: Joseba Beloki lying on the road near Gap as if he had dropped from the sky; Lance
Armstrong jumping over a ditch with his bike on his shoulder; Tyler Hamilton's grimace; sparks
flying from Jan Ullrich's bike as he hit the tarmac in Nantes.
However, homelier images from the French countryside have their place too. For the Tour's centenary,
each village council had gone to immense trouble to faire la fête more flamboyantly than the next,
whether it was with vast ceremonial arches made of hay bales, dozens of bicycles hanging over the
road from a cherry picker, or a massive poster proclaiming this was the town of Bernard somebody
(who the aficionados might remember rode the race in the 60s without making headlines). Many of the
signs simply said "Merci le Tour": basically, thanks for coming here.
The connection between the Tour and la France profonde remains as strong as ever. Few sporting
events are so rooted in place. The interest of the wider world grows annually too. Each Tour,
success from a nation outside the old heartland brings a new set of fans. The Danes have been old
hat - their headgear tends to have Viking horns - since 1996, the Britons in evidence since the 0s,
but the increase in the American presence since 2000 has been dramatic.
The strength of the 100-year-old grande dame of cycling is in no doubt, but most centenarians have a
certain fragility about them too and the Tour is no exception. What was particularly striking about
this Tour was that it returned to the big cities which hosted the stage finishes of the first race
in 1903 - Lyon, Marseille, Toulouse, Bordeaux and Nantes - and it was a salutary experience.
Apart from Bordeaux and Paris, the Tour now rarely visits the huge centres, and this year's race
showed why. The race does not take over a city as it does a medium-sized provincial centre such as,
say, Albi or Nevers. Apart from in Nantes, the Tour felt pushed to the margins, particularly in
Toulouse, where the finish was shunted off to an airfield to which few of the public actually
turned up.
In Nantes, however, another problem with the large centres was put in the spotlight: it rained, so
the vast quantities of road furniture - islands, roundabouts, slip roads and so on - made racing
impossible. It may be that soon, caught between indifference and sheer logistical difficulty, the
Tour ceases to visit the great cities altogether.
That will not affect the number of people at the roadside but, as France increasingly moves from
being a rural to an urban society, it will cut the race off from its people. There are worrying
signs too in the way the public is treated. The race remains free for all, but there is a tendency
to pander to corporate guests: at a stage start, Joe Public may be squeezed on to a pavement, while
the prawn cocktail crowd have the run of the town square.
The Tour, in the worst case scenario, might turn into an event which is run primarily for
television, takes place in France, but is watched largely by people from outside the country. That
might as well take place anywhere. Then it would merely be Le Tour.
The biggest bugbear facing the Tour is a lack of French success in the race. It is now 18 years
since a home cyclist won, and nowadays a French stage win is treated as if it is a miracle. For
the last half-dozen years, the home teams have been given priority entries - sometimes over
former winners and world champions - yet there is no evidence that this has produced any French
stars of stature.
The devil, as ever, is in the detail. Enter a bike shop such as Velocite on Pau's ring road, and it
is clearly thriving. What has changed, says the manager at the shop, is the customers: they are now
older people, who can afford cycling. The amateur racing calendar is crumbling. Tellingly, he used
to sell a child's bike a day on average during the Tour: this year, he has not sold one.
Cyrille Guimard, who managed three different Tour winners between 1976 and 1984, concurs. "We have
about 35 % fewer young cyclists at present, and about the same reduction in races. Cycling has
become a sport for the well to do, although its roots are with the rural poor.
"The countryside is emptying, and at about £3,000 in travelling costs for the average amateur, it's
not possible to race. Add to that the fact that getting on a bike is dangerous, and you can see why
the supply of young cyclists is drying up."
In the short term, the lack of a French winner is a worry, as it all takes the race further
from its roots. Laurent Jalabert retired last year; Richard Virenque will go after next year's
Athens Olympics.
Then, whose name will the old ladies at the roadside write on their bits of cardboard, and who will
10-year-old boys want to emulate? And of course, it all makes the race harder to sell to sceptical
city councils.
The institution is vulnerable in another way, due to its great strength: its public get as close to
their sport as it is possible to be. This year saw a low-key running battle between the organisers
and actors' unions who threatened to stop the event, while militant agriculteurs did manage to bring
the peloton to a halt, albeit briefly.
The security presence becomes ever vaster, but last year, could not stop a madman who believed he
was in touch with the Almighty from driving full-pelt into the finish. Terrorist fears are
ever-present.
Rumbling away in the background is the old bugbear, the doping issue. The scandal of 1998 showed the
fragility of the great institution, and the weaknesses of its management team - still substantially
the same - in horrifying clarity. It has not impacted on the public, far from it, but two of the
biggest sponsors, Coca-Cola and Fiat, have reduced their involvement.
The Tour's organiser, Jean-Marie Leblanc, has said a second Festina-type drugs affair would fatally
wound the great institution.
But something similar to the Festina scandal was averted last year only because the seizure of
drugs - in a car driven by the third finisher, Raimondas Rumsas - took place on the final evening
of the race.
Robust the great institution may be, but it remains at the mercy of events.
Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2003 Dear, you cannot drink gin and tonic in the
middle of the night. You must have whisky to give you energy.--Margaret Thatcher To reply, remove
"CYCLING" from the reply address.
this year's race
William Fotheringham Tuesday July 29, 2003 The Guardian
Once over, each Tour de France boils down to a set of images, snapshots in the mind. This year is no
exception: Joseba Beloki lying on the road near Gap as if he had dropped from the sky; Lance
Armstrong jumping over a ditch with his bike on his shoulder; Tyler Hamilton's grimace; sparks
flying from Jan Ullrich's bike as he hit the tarmac in Nantes.
However, homelier images from the French countryside have their place too. For the Tour's centenary,
each village council had gone to immense trouble to faire la fête more flamboyantly than the next,
whether it was with vast ceremonial arches made of hay bales, dozens of bicycles hanging over the
road from a cherry picker, or a massive poster proclaiming this was the town of Bernard somebody
(who the aficionados might remember rode the race in the 60s without making headlines). Many of the
signs simply said "Merci le Tour": basically, thanks for coming here.
The connection between the Tour and la France profonde remains as strong as ever. Few sporting
events are so rooted in place. The interest of the wider world grows annually too. Each Tour,
success from a nation outside the old heartland brings a new set of fans. The Danes have been old
hat - their headgear tends to have Viking horns - since 1996, the Britons in evidence since the 0s,
but the increase in the American presence since 2000 has been dramatic.
The strength of the 100-year-old grande dame of cycling is in no doubt, but most centenarians have a
certain fragility about them too and the Tour is no exception. What was particularly striking about
this Tour was that it returned to the big cities which hosted the stage finishes of the first race
in 1903 - Lyon, Marseille, Toulouse, Bordeaux and Nantes - and it was a salutary experience.
Apart from Bordeaux and Paris, the Tour now rarely visits the huge centres, and this year's race
showed why. The race does not take over a city as it does a medium-sized provincial centre such as,
say, Albi or Nevers. Apart from in Nantes, the Tour felt pushed to the margins, particularly in
Toulouse, where the finish was shunted off to an airfield to which few of the public actually
turned up.
In Nantes, however, another problem with the large centres was put in the spotlight: it rained, so
the vast quantities of road furniture - islands, roundabouts, slip roads and so on - made racing
impossible. It may be that soon, caught between indifference and sheer logistical difficulty, the
Tour ceases to visit the great cities altogether.
That will not affect the number of people at the roadside but, as France increasingly moves from
being a rural to an urban society, it will cut the race off from its people. There are worrying
signs too in the way the public is treated. The race remains free for all, but there is a tendency
to pander to corporate guests: at a stage start, Joe Public may be squeezed on to a pavement, while
the prawn cocktail crowd have the run of the town square.
The Tour, in the worst case scenario, might turn into an event which is run primarily for
television, takes place in France, but is watched largely by people from outside the country. That
might as well take place anywhere. Then it would merely be Le Tour.
The biggest bugbear facing the Tour is a lack of French success in the race. It is now 18 years
since a home cyclist won, and nowadays a French stage win is treated as if it is a miracle. For
the last half-dozen years, the home teams have been given priority entries - sometimes over
former winners and world champions - yet there is no evidence that this has produced any French
stars of stature.
The devil, as ever, is in the detail. Enter a bike shop such as Velocite on Pau's ring road, and it
is clearly thriving. What has changed, says the manager at the shop, is the customers: they are now
older people, who can afford cycling. The amateur racing calendar is crumbling. Tellingly, he used
to sell a child's bike a day on average during the Tour: this year, he has not sold one.
Cyrille Guimard, who managed three different Tour winners between 1976 and 1984, concurs. "We have
about 35 % fewer young cyclists at present, and about the same reduction in races. Cycling has
become a sport for the well to do, although its roots are with the rural poor.
"The countryside is emptying, and at about £3,000 in travelling costs for the average amateur, it's
not possible to race. Add to that the fact that getting on a bike is dangerous, and you can see why
the supply of young cyclists is drying up."
In the short term, the lack of a French winner is a worry, as it all takes the race further
from its roots. Laurent Jalabert retired last year; Richard Virenque will go after next year's
Athens Olympics.
Then, whose name will the old ladies at the roadside write on their bits of cardboard, and who will
10-year-old boys want to emulate? And of course, it all makes the race harder to sell to sceptical
city councils.
The institution is vulnerable in another way, due to its great strength: its public get as close to
their sport as it is possible to be. This year saw a low-key running battle between the organisers
and actors' unions who threatened to stop the event, while militant agriculteurs did manage to bring
the peloton to a halt, albeit briefly.
The security presence becomes ever vaster, but last year, could not stop a madman who believed he
was in touch with the Almighty from driving full-pelt into the finish. Terrorist fears are
ever-present.
Rumbling away in the background is the old bugbear, the doping issue. The scandal of 1998 showed the
fragility of the great institution, and the weaknesses of its management team - still substantially
the same - in horrifying clarity. It has not impacted on the public, far from it, but two of the
biggest sponsors, Coca-Cola and Fiat, have reduced their involvement.
The Tour's organiser, Jean-Marie Leblanc, has said a second Festina-type drugs affair would fatally
wound the great institution.
But something similar to the Festina scandal was averted last year only because the seizure of
drugs - in a car driven by the third finisher, Raimondas Rumsas - took place on the final evening
of the race.
Robust the great institution may be, but it remains at the mercy of events.
Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2003 Dear, you cannot drink gin and tonic in the
middle of the night. You must have whisky to give you energy.--Margaret Thatcher To reply, remove
"CYCLING" from the reply address.
