Boiled down to the bare bones, the Tour de France is a far from complex affair. An amorphous swarm of cyclists clad in garish Lycra snakes its way through the French countryside over three weeks and whoever gets to Paris in the quickest time wins. If only it were that simple, eh? Even the uninitiated will be aware that the world’s greatest bicycle race is a far more convoluted event and it behoves this primer to add some meat to those bones in a bid to enhance the viewing pleasure of such folk once the 103rd Tour sets off from Mont-Saint-Michel.
Let’s start with that swarm. Known as the peloton, it will consist of 198 riders from 22 teams before the inevitable abandonments. Much like an apian equivalent, each member has a defined role within the hierarchy. Each team has a leader, whose task is to finish as high in the overall general classification as possible. It is the job of his team‑mates to help him in this quest by providing shelter from the elements, nullifying attacks from rival riders, helping to pace him up the mountains and keeping his energy levels topped up with light refreshments from the team support car that follows the peloton and whose occupants are in constant, often unwelcome, radio contact with their riders.
Known as domestiques, these cycling dogsbodies take great pride in their ability to “bury themselves” individually for the collective and on the Sky team of this year’s defending champion, Chris Froome, they will be instantly recognisable as the black-clad automatons who alight from the team bus disparagingly known in cycling circles as the Death Star, before taking up position at the front of the peloton and slowly suffocating the life out of their rivals.
While only one rider can claim the winner’s yellow jersey, or maillot jaune, in Paris, the Tour offers many opportunities for gifted riders with less all-round ability to write their own little chapter of race history. Securing a Tour de France stage win is a career highlight for any rider and the fact that there are 21 up for grabs over all sorts of terrain means every rider will fancy their chances of securing a moment in the headlines, whatever their particular talent.
Flat stages are habitually won by sprinters such as Mark Cavendish, Marcel Kittel or André Greipel in truly terrifying breakneck bunch finishes in which their team-mates form high-speed “trains” to deliver their man to the front of the pack with just 150m to go. Occasionally, however, the peloton will misjudge their effort to chase down the invariable “breakaway” group of lesser-known riders looking for their 15 minutes in the spotlight, allowing some no-mark to enjoy a rare triumph.
Mountain stages are obviously more suited to those climbing specialists best equipped to pedal their way up narrow Pyrenean and Alpine summits lined with Basques, drunken Dutchmen and assorted flag-toting lunatics wearing only Speedos, while this year’s Tour boasts two individual time trials for those specialists who do their best work alone against the clock. It is the all-rounder who negotiates all these stages in the quickest time who ultimately prevails overall.
As well as the maillot jaune, other historically prestigious garments are available. The green jersey is worn by the leader in the points competition for best overall sprinter, while the best climber is zipped into the distinctive red and white polka dot jersey for King of the Mountains. The best rider under the age of 25 wears white, while the competitor deemed the most aggressive each day is also rewarded. Finally, named after the red lantern that used to hang from the last carriage of trains, the title of lanterne rouge for the cyclist in last place overall is symbolic but does have a certain cachet.
Of course it would be a gross dereliction of journalistic duty to overlook the fact that the Tour also has a long and shameful tradition of outrageous cheating. No Tour is complete without at least one dog on the street bringing a rider crashing to the asphalt and even these dopey rogue canines are aware that Lance Armstrong was stripped of his seven Tour wins after presiding over the most sophisticated doping regime in the sport’s history.
The Tour has always been mired in skulduggery. Even early editions were plagued by scandal, with the absence of TV coverage making it reasonably easy for riders to take shortcuts or trains in a bid to “conserve energy”. Last year, just one rider tested positive for artificial stimulants, a state of affairs that suggests cyclists are finally getting the message and stopping cheating. Of course the cynical if more unpopular view is that anyone who believes that is completely delusional and some riders and their physicians have just got much better at it.
