7 September 2010
Victory!
There was a somewhat ambivalently-received column in the New York Times recently observing how arbitrary our perceptions of athletes’ personalities are: we’re given precious little information to base our likes and dislikes upon.
Cycling is a really good example of this, I think. In part, much of the European peloton remains a relative cipher because they can’t give interviews in English, and so — unless they’re an anglophone, or a characteristically extroverted sprinter, or Jens! Voigt — my feelings towards most riders remain neutral.
Take how we chose our favorites for this summer’s Tour de France, for example. Despite what the American press would have you think, Lance Armstrong was never in terribly good form, and the race quickly came down to two riders: Alberto Contador and Andy Schleck. Schleck is young and gives open, affable interviews to the English-speaking media. He seems like a nice young man, works very closely with his older brother and teammate Fränk, and reminds me that “Luxembourgian” is always a very fun word to spell and say. Alberto Contador, on the other hand, gives only the occasional, unrevealing, and nasally review to the English press.
The cincher, though, is how they behave when crossing the finish line.
Here’s Andy Schleck when he crosses the finish line:
And here’s Alberto Contador:
Again:
And on the podium:
A finger gun? A finger gun?! Seriously, how can you support a guy with such a lame victory salute, which he has then had emblazoned on a hat?! And so, our loyalties have been firmly decided.
Happily, the Montreal Pro Tour is taking place next weekend, and the circuit goes right near our apartment. We’ll be getting some big European teams and some names usually spoken in hushed, reverend tones within the Jejune household. To say that I’m excited about having my own miniature Tour pedal around my home turf sixteen times in a row would be an understatement. And since Contador won’t be there, we can leave the finger guns at home.




I really had to bite my tongue many times during the Tour. Every time Contador did his silly finger gun my bile would rise and even I can only hear myself say, “Come ON!” so many times.
A finger pistol seems kind of American, although I think most young Americans would hold their thumb horizontal. Does he say ‘Pew!, pew!’?
Sadly, no. It would be a lot more forgivable if there were some discernible sense of fun or irony.