Matt Stephens, my friend and co-commentator, is an incredible character who combined a professional racing career with another as a police officer. His first taste of professional cycling came as a youngster when he joined French team Athletic Club de Boulogne-Billancourt in the 1980s. The club remains widely respected; indeed, five times Tour winner Jacques Anquetil was a member. That didn’t mean it was an easy ride for any one of the many Foreign Legionnaires who rode for them, among them Stephen Roche, Rob Millar, Sean Yates, and his ‘cellmate’ Jaan Kirsipuu. They lodged in a former police station.
Matt had been very excited when told that his salary was enough to live on. In fact, it was about £25 a week, which, even back then, was way less than the minimum wage. He could barely afford to buy enough food. There had to be a way of surviving. One of the tips passed around the ex-pats was to hang around when the local markets packed up at the end of the day, then scrounge around for discarded or bruised fruit and veg. This helped to cheer up the pasta meals they made themselves.
Training, racing and resting was the mantra. It was his life triangle. Matt never went out partying and barely ever had a beer.
In cycling, most of the prize money won at races is paid out to teams only at the end of the season. This allows for any fines to be deducted. So it’s difficult to rely on this to supplement your income. The exception to this rule are primes (rhymes with teams), which are the prizes handed out for intermediate minor sprints within a race.
Matt was starving and knew his energy levels were best suited to the mid-section of a race. This was where he had a chance to win food money. As a result, he became the King of the Primes. He was always in the early break. He figured: ‘Have a break, have a Kit Kat’ . . . literally.
To give you an indication of how small these amounts of money can be, Sean Kelly and I were amazed in 2015 when we checked what the prize was for placing third at an intermediate sprint on a stage of the Vuelta a España. €30.
So Matt survived and contented himself each night with the thought of his share of the team’s prize money due at the end of the season. Surely it would be a nice little bulging envelope; the team were going OK. Payday duly came – and the word was the bonus sum was around £3,000 per rider for the season. Matt was handed a rather thin-looking brown pay packet that was stapled to a much larger bill. ‘A bill?’ Mais oui!
Matt’s bill was a long one. After fines there was a long list of kit he’d used. This even included spent tyres and inner tubes. ‘They made me pay for every bleedin’ puncture!’ Deductions were £1,800. Totally deflated, he received a paltry £1,200 for his season’s work. I asked Matt if that was a nadir in terms of winnings. ‘No. I once won a lettuce for coming third in a race in Norfolk. There wasn’t even a podium. We used a stepladder for that. The winner balanced on top, one in the middle and me on the ground . . . with my lettuce!’
I guess that’s when the Cheshire Constabulary beckoned to earn a real living. He did, of course, go on to become British Road Champion and now has a successful career as a broadcaster.
Even some of those closer to the top of the cycling food chain can struggle. I was talking to a well-known Monument winner who began his career in Belgium: he rose through the ranks and was getting some handy results at Belgian Cup races like Le Samyn and Nokere Koerse. He was on the verge of breaking into the top league and well regarded in the press. However, like Matt, he had to find ways to supplement his meagre income. A big-framed chap, he needed feeding beyond the limits of his team’s catering budget. What to do? The answer lay in kermesse races.
Belgium is famous for its kermesses. These are criterium-style races on a circuit around a small town or series of twinned villages. They are hugely popular, very much at the heart of grass roots, old school racing. The locals support them enthusiastically. These events are also big on ‘informal betting’. Informal – as in unlicensed – local bookies set themselves up in a café at the heart of the course with a leather suitcase full of cash and a chalkboard. It’s great fun.
Importantly, kermesse races offer prize money that can be taken home on the day. Good riders can pull in quite a fund from these events. Some may even get appearance money. There are also other ways of making a living on the day.
With all the unofficial betting that’s going on at these events, it’s unsurprising that some of the bookies have been known to get involved in massaging the results. For this, they pay good money. Imagine the scene as a cigar-munching bookie sidles up to our hungry young gun.
‘I can help you here, but I need you to do something for me. I need you to come third. Not first. Not second. But third. Understand?’
Payment already delivered, it was vital for our friend to get in the day’s breakaway. Once there, the real money poured in. Being in a break and the clear favourite, as he was, meant he had a sellable position. Negotiations began in earnest with those up front.
Our man simply pointed out that he could win the race hands down but was willing to ease off to let the other two go first and
