An Amusement & Diversion for The Genteel Cyclist. Daily.

Monday, July 9, 2007

Why we're not in France, lame reason # 2


For cycling "journalists," the TDF may be the "Superbowl" (well, at least for we corn-fed American cycling "journalists") -- but it's no cake walk. Covering those three thousand miles is almost as tough for the pencil-pushers as it is for the pedal-pushers. If you get the job of actually covering the Big Show, your main challenge is figuring out how to file your stories AND drink loads of wine AND eat loads of cheese AND hang with Bob Roll AND get more than two hours of sleep each night AND find a family-pak of Ibuprofen somewhere in Provence.

Which is why we leave the story-filing to the pros--and just stick with the wine, cheese, Ibuprofen, and sleeping part. Until Bob Roll calls on the celly, we'll kick back and read PEZ Cycling News, and we suggest you do the same.

From today's stage in Diksmuide:

The city fathers came up with a unique prime prize. Instead of awarding the first rider to hit their line, they decided to give a prize to the last Belgian in the peleton.

And what does that Belgian “lantern rouge” receive? The prize, for being the last of their countrymen across the line is Diksmuide… 250 kilograms… a quarter of a metric tonnes… of butter. I kid you not.


See, despite the truism that watching a pro bike race in Europe is five hours of standing and waiting for two seconds of action, there are plenty of, uh, human stories to be told by folks with limited media credentials and plenty of Absinthe to hand.

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