As we well know, we find ourselves in the middle of a now well-established cycling era. It’s British, and our friends on the continent do not like this fact one little bit. Europeans began to wake up to the threat in the early 1990s. British track success was generating a little mild amusement at Eurosport’s hub in Paris, where Patrick Chasse, the then doyen of all things cycling on the channel, would pontificate: ‘Graeme Obree! With his washing machine bits and bobs. Formidable!’
It was, of course, damning with faint praise. This mild mockery took another turn with the arrival of Chris Boardman, who began to smash records all over the place on the track and time trial bike. Chasse again: ‘He is a freaky one-off, on a spooky bike! Good luck to him.’ But he wasn’t a one-off, of course. This was the start of something very special in British cycling. There had been other greats in the past and, to be fair, why should continental cycling have feared a couple of Brits and their ‘funny machines’? Nonetheless, just to make sure these interlopers didn’t get above their station, rules were changed regarding machinery in the velodrome and on the courses. ‘Bicycles must look like bicycles’ was the UCI edict. If a bike did not fit to the strict parameters of what was defined as an acceptable competition bike, you could not ride it. The simple fact was that the geometry of the frame was to be the parameter. The new rules hobbled progress a little, but British success was no cheap firework display with a few pops and bangs in a remote car park. It was the start of a magnificent extravaganza, the like of which has not been seen in cycling. For a nation to come from the sidelines to become the reference point in terms of the entire approach to the sport was nothing short of seismic.
Cycling was a sport that many thought would always belong to the Old World on the European mainland: France, Belgium and Italy, with Spain carrying some bragging rights as well. That’s the way it always was, and many of those nations wished it to be just so for ever. But change had come and now at the top of the hill, for the time being at least, sits Great Britain. For a time we were great at hitting and kicking balls of various shapes and sizes, and when we went racing it was with horses, boats or motors. But now we also happen to be very, very good at cycling. Something of a dynasty has been created.
The last 10 years have seen a phenomenal rise in the prominence of British riders. This has in turn generated a huge following for cycling in the UK. TV audience figures have gone through the roof, particularly for the Grand Tours but also the Monuments (classics) and the great preparation races such as the Dauphiné or Tour de Romandie. As a result, participation has grown exponentially; people are getting on their bikes, huge numbers joining local clubs and taking part in sportives. The fan base is clearly visible at the roadside during races such as the Tour of Britain as well as the Tour de Yorkshire, newly elevated to a 2.HC event on the UCI Europe Tour. This after Yorkshire hosted the Grand Départ of the 2014 Tour de France with phenomenal success. Côte de Buttertubs may not have the resonance of Mont Ventoux or Alpe d’Huez, but it most certainly sits in a new crucible of great cycling venues.
The Cambridge Dictionary defines crucible as ‘a place or situation in which different cultures or styles can mix together to produce something new and exciting’. That, my friends, is British cycling. Sorry, everybody else, it’s true.
Over the years I’ve got to know our heroes to varying degrees. We are members of the same travelling circus, after all. I’ve seen them on and off air, before and after races, chatted, and even shared taxi rides. So I’ve been able to gain some insight into what makes them tick. Although I come from the position of a professional commentator, I am also a huge fan of all of them. I admire their achievements hugely and indeed often become highly emotional while calling the exploits and witnessing their triumphs as well as their failures.
Our heroes have found success in most of the varying forms of racing, dependent on their body shapes, motivation, skills and character traits. Our five Lions are all very different but have each in their own way contributed immeasurably to the spectacular success of British cycling.
Mark Cavendish
Interviewer: ‘So, Mark, you have a problem: you have won a Harley Davidson! How are you going to split this with your HTC teammates?’
Cav [beginning to grin broadly]: ‘Um.’ [Shrugs his shoulders.] ‘F--k ’em!’
Mark Cavendish is a fast man oddity; slight of frame yet a sprinting machine, whose reaction time, tactics and phenomenal aero position helped him become World Champion and winner of the points jersey in all three Grand Tours. He’s obsessed with perfection and, as I write, he has 30 Tour de France stage victories to his name.
In 2003, when Mark came over from the Isle of Man to join British Cycling in Manchester, he was seen as a bit of an enigma. On the one hand he was winning races on the track, but when the statisticians looked at his numbers, his lung capacity, power outputs and so on didn’t quite add up. The analysts said he fell short of what was
