Every day during a long tour, the French commentators from beIN were banging on about how one particular sheet of information was being displayed. This useful page, the GC Par Dossard, is quite simply the entire field noted in numerical team order, with each rider’s time delay on the leader listed next to his name. It is a very useful tool in commentary because you can immediately see if, for example, a group of breakaway riders is a threat to the race leader. It is also a great reference when any rider pops up on screen from within the pack, giving you a steer as to whether or not his race is going well. The beef from our French friends was that for the first 10 days of the race this sheet of paper also had a thin black line drawn through the names of those riders who were out of the event. Now, though, this thin line was missing as a visual aid. Instead of a name crossed through, what you saw was a blank time next to the name. The press information officer clearly thought that was enough, but the French wanted their black lines back. They were very uppity about it.
There are so many things to get agitated about in working on the road and this was not one of them. Dan was getting annoyed. ‘What’s their problem, FFS? Why don’t they just draw on the black lines through the names themselves?’
On and on the French ranted each day as they checked the information document to see if the black lines had been reinstated. A flamboyant ‘Boufff!!!’ meant they had not.
About two weeks in, I found Dan early to the comms box, quietly working.
‘You alright?’ I ventured. I’d not seen such dedication before.
‘Yep… all good.’ He beavered on.
I looked over his shoulder. ‘Oh, you filling in the black lines for the Chuckle Brothers, are you?’
‘Kind of,’ said Dan with his trademark staccato ‘Ha-ha-ha-ha’ (always bursts of four for some reason).
Dan had very carefully filled in the black lines over the names of those out of the race. But he had also drawn a line through the main French guy in the race, Pierre Rolland.
‘You swine,’ I said, smiling.
Dan was dedicated to his craft. He had to do this twice because both the lead commentator and his co-commentator would have their own. It took Dan ages.
In came the French and began to change as they would soon be presenting their pre-show, VVV: Very Very Vélo… or something equally badly named that they were proud of.
And right on cue, Alex picks up the dossier and flicks straight to GC Par Dossard. ‘Aaaaaah, at laaast!’ he shouted over to Dan. ‘They have done it! Good.’
Dan smiled and said nothing.
Off went the French to their outside pre-show live position in front of us.
‘This’ll be good,’ said Dan excitedly.
‘You’ve got to tell them, Dan. They’ll see it live on air and think Rolland is out. They’ll go nuts about it. He’s their big name.’
Just then, we were counted in for our own, out of vision pre-show. There was no time to tell our French friends about the landmine that had been planted in their notes.
A man in meltdown is not a pretty sight. But it is a funny one. Sadly, our own broadcast was also affected. As we tried to work, we saw, out of the corner of our eyes, our impeccably dressed French friends slamming down the paper on to their wobbly mock desk in a field. We soldiered on. About 10 minutes later, the French stormed the commentary position. ‘Who has done this!? Whooooo!????’
We shrugged.
‘Sheep droppings make amazing hand grenades.’
24
How Do You Feel?
‘Mate, I’m . . . I’m knackered. . . Just . . . piss off . . . for a bit . . . will you?’
Bradley Wiggins keeping it real after his fantastic time trial at the 2012 Dauphiné.
Anyone would have sympathy with the panting, tortured, exhausted athlete in a situation like this. ‘Give the guy some space!’ you shout at the TV. But just as the Directeur Sportif has been screaming radio instructions to get the best out of the rider, so too do TV producers now spank the ears of the poor reporters: ‘Get to the front of that mosh-pit FFS. We need Wiggins nowww!’
Getting a good interview from a rider after he’s just completed a gruelling time trial, or spent four hours hacking up a series of mountains, is not easy. It takes a bit of finessing – not easy in a competitive environment. The finish line reporter has rivals in the hunt for the first reaction. Getting a handle on those around you as well as the target interviewee is difficult.
The reporters gather by the rider like a group of hyenas holding back from taking the first bite out of an exhausted wildebeest – partly because the first one in is likely to get a good kicking.
Everyone knows the rider has just gone to the very limit of his physical, mental and emotional capabilities. To get the best response, many planets must be in line. It helps if:
1. He knows you
2. He likes or respects you
3. It’s worth it – i.e. you are from a media company with clout.
None of the above matters a jot if:
1. You are not in the right place
2. You are too pushy
3. You ask a stupid question.
So you get your moment. The rider, still panting, tips his forehead your way while being towelled down and swigging from a bottle. You’re on!!! At that moment, all the other schmucks in the press corps are now in your wake. It’s your micro-gig. So don’t blow it!
Stress hits peak and your eyeballs start to throb a
