A lot has been made lately of the fact that riders today are lacking a little bit of the V. It’s not so much a criticism of how they conduct themselves during a race (although that has also been called into question lately), but in their general demeanor towards their life as a cyclist.
It doesn’t surprise me much; historically, riders chose a life on the bike as an escape from their other occupational choice which typically involved hard manual labor in a dark pit or on a cold field whereas today’s riders generally come from more privileged backgrounds and find their way into this world from a life of relative luxury.
A life of hardship went beyond their working-class roots, it applied to their life on the bike as well. They scaled the same passes we do today, except they did it over dirt roads aboard heavy, flexy bikes with relaxed geometries, wearing what amounted to little more than leather loafers. Hardness wasn’t something to aspire to; it was simply the way it was.
This is one of my favorite photos of a cyclist, and the bicycle is nowhere to be seen. From the look on his face, Coppi just ate himself a Schlecklette and, based on the gesture he’s making, is preparing to drop trou and shit ‘im right back out.
To put Cipollini’s sentiments above into Coppi’s words:
Age and treachery will overcome youth and skill.
To todays generation of riders, I offer this advice: take no prisoners, fucktards.
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I have no problem with a "hero or goat" attempt at winning. I have a big problem with deciding it's okay to be second or third or gift a win to another rider without at least looking like one is trying. Van Summeren's move to go solo was a classic hero or goat. There were times when he was only 10 seconds ahead of his chasers. IT WAS AWESOME. I like it when riders keep pounding away until they either get away or die trying.
With all the due respect to Fausto and the other people in the photo it recollected me a line of City Slickers:
"DId you see how leathery he was? It was like a saddlebag with eyes!"
Excellent photo! And great piece, Frank. Damn! The scowl. The tallness, The fucking pins. This is man who had to deal with the fucking Black Shirts, was a POW, whose brother smashed his head and died during a field sprint AND broke more than five bones during his career. And so true, even though the pain wagon is nowhere in sight, still an incredible picture.
No doubt he just finished a 320km Pyrenean stage riding a 42 x 18 or something equally mean. Quality photo Frank. It does speak volumes about who was tough and how the definition of toughness has drifted a bit in recent years.
This is a great photo and could easily fit into Frank's previous posts on looking Deliberately Casual. Full marks should also be given to the two gents to Coppi's right. The tweed Norfolk jacket with upturned collar, contrasting white shirt, dress sandals and carefully coiffed hair, make him superbly dressed whether he's officiating or stepping out. His companion's harder to read but he's wearing a marvelous pair of what I've always called "brothel creepers" with their thick crepe soles. Perhaps Coppi is wearing his overcoat? Speaking of soles, those on Coppi's shoes sure don't look very stiff by today's standards. Full flex on the rear foot. Also, no facial hair on Coppi - clearly shaving did not diminish his ability to dish out the V. It would be nice if Schleck/Contador rivalry could emulate the Coppi/Bartali rivalry, but I doubt it.
I knew there was a reason I prefer my socks lower than 'regulation'. I have been unconsciously emulating Fausto. Now it can be conscious. Thanks, Frank.
@G'phant
It's hard to keep your socks up when they keep recoiling in fear of your calves. That's Coppi's escuse, what's yours? Kanklefat?
Fuck this is an amazing photo. I have always been a huge fan of those old black and whites of people laboring away, be it on a bike or in a mine. It come's from my days of working in a packing house skinning cattle. It might be a sightly romantic view of salt of the earth folks, cause I know first hand there is nothing romantic about it but its the type of photography I like best.
I learned about Coppi from the owner of the bike shop I got my bike at in Palermo, Italy. The owner had some minor success as a amateur racer, gave up driving a taxi and opened up a small shop(no small feat in Italy). I would take my bike in and we would talk, him in his thick Palermo dialect and me in Spanish/Italian.
I'm sorry i need to mention the coat, if i ever win a race i want a coat like that for the podium. I want to stand with my hands in the back pockets and look malevolently down as those over whom i am 'Vainquer'. None of those 'team tracksuits', 50's cool is where it's at
What a posture! "And I'll kick all your asses again tomorrow!"