Men's Road Race 2018

Captured by Chris Auld

By Soigneur

October 1^st, 2018

For once, the riders do not have to shill floorboards or sim cards or kitchen taps or bikes they don’t like; their allegiances are not mere transient commercial arrangements; they are not just billionaires’ playthings. There is honour in racing for their countries. National colours stand for something beyond the sport.

The world championship is a festival of good-natured flag-waving. People come from all over with their banners and costumes. They find places to watch, hand out beers, and sing along to each other’s songs. They gather around mobile phones to watch the race and rush to the barriers when it’s about to pass by. If one of their countrymen is in front with a chance, their excitement is absolutely, palpably real.

It is fun to care who wins.

Most of the times when we watch, we couldn’t be bothered. We might have a handful of favourites, but otherwise whether the guy wearing the bank’s shirt or the one with the TV station’s logo on his front wins is neither here nor there.

Put them in our national colours, and they are racing for us, for everything we know and love and that irritates us about our homelands, for our stories and our higher values.

It’s tribal.

What you think of Alejandro Valverde’s victory is likely tribal too.

Spain’s major national newspapers all featured glowing reports with photos of him on their front pages. Most English-language cycling sites started with sermons. The Dutch were as critical as ever; no one of them was being criticised. The Belgians were happy it was a beautiful race.

Perhaps, it is easier to forgive those you feel close to. Perhaps, it takes a certain way of thinking to think that a bike racer might have to repent in public his whole life.