It’s always a let down for a fan to realise his or her idol is not all that they were held up to be. And while I was somewhat a fan of Marco Pantani, it was neither a surprise nor a let-down to read about his troubled life, and his subsequent sad, lonely death.
It wasn’t a surprise, or a let-down, to read that possibly his whole career was fueled by a dependence on recombinant EPO, among other performance enhancers. I knew it while watching him win the Tour in 98, I knew it when I watched him vainly struggle to hold the wheel of a super-charged Armstrong in the 2000 Tour, and I knew it when I saw him valiantly try to re-capture his former climbing prowess against the lesser gifted, yet somehow superior Simoni and Garzelli et al in the 2003 Giro, his ultimate swansong as it would eventually transpire.
Did I care that he was loaded? No. All his contemporaries were, it was no secret. Did I get an invigorating thrill from watching him fly up iconic mountain passes while holding the bars in the drops, sitting, standing, always accelerating, striving to get to the summit as quickly as possible, to shorten the suffering as he often stated? Hell yes. He was an entertainer. He was a craftsman. An aesthete. And he was a loner, foregoing any real support from a team that lacked talent and panache, something that probably pleased him as he loved to be the centre of attention.
And just as he rode alone, he lived alone. Although he was surrounded by an entourage who all claimed to be doing their best for him, ultimately he was neglected by them, and left to die a lonely, depressed, paranoid and disturbed man.
The Death of Marco Pantani doesn’t try to dispel the notion that his career was based on deception, nor does it try to glorify it. It is a stark assessment of the facts, and only the staunchest of tifosi could argue against those facts. But it still hits hard to read of such a spectacular fall from grace, the downward spiral from the pinnacle of the sport, and indeed from the pinnacle of celebrity, to a demise that one would normally associate with that of a rock star or actor. Maybe that’s how he saw himself, and how he thought it would be befitting for him to be remembered, like an Elvis, a Jim Morrison or even a James Dean.
Just as we still listen to The Doors, and watch Viva Las Vegas or Rebel Without a Cause and take pleasure from the experience, so too will we remember Les Duex Alpes in 98, or l’Alpe d’Huez in 95 and 97, not because we were watching a flawed individual, but because we were being entertained by a consumate showman, a master of his craft at the height of his profession.
And for that I can only be appreciative. RIP Marco.
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It's brilliant book that not only puts a career, but a whole generation into to stark contrast the public perception of the time.
The one thing that annoys me is how Pantani is seemingly being held up as some kind of saint by journalists and bloggers alike, primarily because of his exciting riding style, his showmanship. But how much of this was made possible by the doping?
Personally I think between them, Armstrong and Pantani represent everything that was bad about a generation of PROcycling and I feel they have cheated me of my enjoyment of that era. My memories are of disappointment with the scene, the fact that (pretty much) everything was a lie. I was racing at the same time (not the same level, obviously) and it frustrated me that if I rode clean, why couldn't they? It isn't hard to say no, some managed it, so why couldn't the others? I see no glory, just greed. I will remember Pantani for the way the cycling world let him fade away, but I prefer to remember those like Christophe Bassons who were cheated and hounded out of their chosen career, they are the real heroes.
Another book that is excellent at opening up the darker recesses of that generation is Bad Blood by Jeremy Whittle.
Of course he was no saint, but he was great to watch. I don't think EPO gave him his climbing talent, but it obviously embellished it. I guess that's why they are called performance enhancing drugs, not performance creating drugs.
Alex Zulle put it this way; (Following his confession during the Festina Affair:)
"It's like when you're driving. The law says there's a speed limit of 100 km/h, but everyone is driving at 120 km/h. Why should I be the one who obeys the speed limit? So I had two options: either fit in and go along with the others or go back to being a house painter."
Seems not much has changed.
Illuminating book on doping in general as it got pretty darn technical about the subject. I enjoyed reading about the drama in the racing much more than the drama in the doping. And at the end of the day it seems that's what most of us choose to do, focus on the racing.
Seemed like Marco had a pretty challenging life from the get go. Mix that with a heap load of talent and a nefarious cycling culture and it's no wonder how it ended up. It'a also hard for me to put all his faults on him alone. We're all a product of our circumstance to an extent. Yes, we are ultimately responsible for our own choices but the factors that influence those choices can be stronger than will.
I wonder if Frank can ever bring himself to read this book.
Next up in Velominati Book Review: It's Not About the Bike. Wait for it.
no fucking way.
@Brett
why not drive at the speed limit. It's not fucking hard, just don't press so hard on the accelerator. Zulle's team-mate Basson managed to do that and so did a fair few others who lived through that era, even Millar resisted the culture for quite a few years. Too many greedy bastards out there.
This conversation may well bring home a point I have recently learned quite well.
That being: We only take away from any conversation the things we want to hear.
Think about it. Its utterly true.
Someone can say something realatively positive to me, but I can draw out of it a negative. Conversely, they can be negative, but I can draw out of it pollyanna positives.
This book is one I would like to read, but am pretty sure as brett eludes to it, the opinions will vary according to readers.
Pantani was heroic to me. I was inspired by his riding, not knowing at the time he doped, but later did find it out. Did that change anything in my mind about him, really?? Nope. I chose to believe and accept it all.
I chose to believe that it was a level playing field afterall, since, they nearly all were doing it, plus a good amount of amphetamines too. I chose to believe that he did on a couple of occassions trancend the peloton, rising like a pheonix from ashes, after utter desparation and turmoid and disappointments...that Pantani on his own made it and eclipsed a penacle.
I also closely related to Pantani. His loneliness, his depression, the hard days. He knew them and inflicted it upon the peloton with a venom unlike any I have seen since. Only, I cannot inflict the same because I am a pussy and softer than he.
He was also quintessentially Italian. Proud, arrogant, colorful, unrelentingly over the top. Because of it I bought my first really good road bike, a bianchi boron steel and lovingly ride it to this day, flailing it at times like Pantani, just at short spurts in comparison with about 25kg extra on my frame.
Jarvis has his take, and that is his.
Mine was much different, and that is mine.
the spectrum of opinions is a gulf. good write up brett and thanks.
Maybe it was the longer steerer tube, or is his incredibly slight build in relation to his height, but I remember always thinking that his bike seemed much too big for him. I've tried his descending style, but it really doesn't work for me.
I tried to climb out of the saddle yesterday in the drops ala Pantani. It kicked my ass. I don't know if it's because it's new, or it's just a harder position, or what. What's the word on his climbing position? Is there an advantage to climbing out of the saddle in the drops? Most I've seen now do it only when attacking and for short distances, not all day, like he did.
Pantani did have a longer steerer tube and custom-designed drops, so they weren't actually as low as yours or mine. I think if I tried that on my bike, I would probably burn out really fast if I didn't just fall over (then again, I'm only about 5cm taller than Pantani and a whole lot heavier).
I can do an Evans (and look just as ugly doing it"”not for nearly as long, mind), but have learned to just be patient on the climbs (I climb and descend like a stone) and stay in the saddle for almost everything but the steep turns and the short, steep bumps, which I'll try to sprint over. The climbing is getting better this year, which pleases me, but I'll never be a goat or a Pantani...
@david
his climbing advantage was 50-60% hct. Nothing to do with climbing on the drops. Although climbing on the drops was one of the styles that I took from both Pantani and VDB, but because it looked cool, I didn't care if it was efficient or not, it was all about the style.
@Souleur
perhaps it was something about the "quintessential Italian" in him that I didn't like. I struggle with people with huge egos giving themselves nicknames. After reading the book, I do wonder how much cocaine played in his life, it may explain the arrogance and the ego.
I also wonder how much the knowledge of the past, gained after the event, has coloured my memories of those days. I do remember that you couldn't go anywhere without seeing another Bianchi and the ones with the yellow colour-scheme just ruined good style.
For someone who tried so hard to create an image, a persona, I think he did a terrible job of being stylish. Like those people with big houses and too much money, who have no taste.