Hinault, Le Blaireau

There is nothing more disappointing than discovering the truth behind a myth or spotting the mortal behind a legend. This is why I make a point never to do any research or in any other way attempt to validate my assumptions when evaluating a situation; mystery that feels like a fact and sounds like a fact is better than an actual fact. Truth, like sex, is something that should be kept private between willing participants, not spread around for everyone to see.

Lucky for me, I’m Dutch, which means my assumptions are usually correct and by extension means I’ve mastered almost every challenge I’ve taken on in life; sometimes it pays to descend from pale Northern European stock that subsists equally on root vegetables and wild guesses (external participants’ experience may vary).

I’ve always been obsessed with history and mythology; the Iliad and The Odyssey occupied my mind like little else did if you can ignore Luke Skywalker or exactly what I might accomplish in life if I had access to a lightsaber and/or the use of The Force. When I became interested in Cycling due in part to Greg LeMond’s influence on the sport in the early 80’s, I was immediately confronted by this crazy character he was embroiled with nicknamed Le Blaireau who was a tireless competitor spitting out quips like, “If I breathe, I attack.” I pulled on the yarn and discovered similar or greater legends and stories hand over fist. This was a sport that seemed to combine everything I love in life: history, legend, myth, aerobic sport, discipline, technique, and not a small amount of OCD within its practitioners.

The most amazing thing about Cycling is that it has a unique kind of mythology. Mythology is normally something that lays in the distant past, far from the reach of our personal experiences. But in Cycling, our mythology and legend lays within the span of our influence, it is something tangible we feel when we watch it unfold before us at the roadside or even on television. This is also why our fallen heros continue to be lionized; when the observer is genuinely unaware of the false forces behind the performance, the emotions felt at the time leave an indelible mark that are unsullied of thoughts of cheating or malfeasance. Discovering the truth years later may well tarnish the reasonable portion of our minds, but the imprint of those original emotions can never be removed and continue to influence us at a level that lives somewhere below the conscious and the rational. This explains why those of us who watched a rider like Pantani dance away from the bunch in the late 90’s continue to love him, while those who came to the sport later view his performances as obviously false and wonder how we could rationally continue to ignore the elephant behind his legend. The point is, rational has nothing to do with it.

They say truth can be stranger than fiction, but I have rarely seen anything more interesting than myth; we are lucky to be a part of a sport whose mythology is still developing and rather than frown upon the truth behind some of its details, I cherish the opportunity to be a part of it.

VLVV.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

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  •  

    @PeakInTwoYears

    Climbing (or mountaineering or alpinism or even simple rock climbing) has always been a pursuit pursued by people who understand the power of myth and the power of words. Just as another example.

    Here's a super cool 11 and a half minute exploration of the power of myth and words (and symbols on a topo) in alpinism starring Marc Francis Twight (who has posted here) and his route Beyond Good and Evil:

    http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ISagf2eCzKg

    Man, I can sure burn up time I should spend riding, climbing or skiing doing all kinds of comparison between alpinism and cycling. So, uh, thanks.

  • And I should have made clear that the "false forces" thread of Frank's excellent piece is not shared by the mythology that developed around Beyond Good and Evil. The mythology there grew from perceptions drawn (no pun intended, sorry) by other climbers from Twight's topo, writings about his experience putting up the route, and passage of time (a lot) before a repeat ascent. Of course once the route was repeated (in fatter conditions), the mythology erodes.

  • For all that Hinault was an utterly compelling rider to watch, let's be honest here guys. Among many other aspects, I was drawn to cycling because of the code of honour that was evident, like not attacking the jersey while he stopped for a natural break/ had the misfortune to flat. Or the way that a local rider was allowed up the road to see his family. That stuff was unique to cycling and made it special to me. What was once commonplace is now rare enough that it is commented on, like when Wiggins slowed things down for Cuddles to catch up after the tack throwing In 2012. Back to my point, while I admired him as a rider, I still think that Hinault was a COTHO, a generally difficult man, clearly devoid of the integrity gene based upon the "Slaying the Badger" tour.  Greg may have taken some shit for his reaction, but fuck me, a deal between gentlemen is a deal. Without LeMan playing his part it is doubtful that Hinault would have got 5, let alone 7.

  • @starclimber

    That 'Hinault is a complete jerk' was merely a falsehood, not a myth. Nothing can ever tarnish the myth of the man who won LBL with snow in his eyebrows, Paris-Roubaix by sprinting from the front after crashing, what, 7 times? and making a devil's bargain he knew he could never keep with Lemond. He faceplants during a sprint, yet still wins Le Tour handily. Take away his knee issues and Bernard would have been your 7 times TDF victor.

    Not that other fuck.

    Ah, you are correct sir, more falsehood than myth. The coverage of the Coors Classic ('85 or '86?) was not kind. However the remainder of your listings are facts about the man. We certainly can mold them into legend though. The bad myth bit involves that Texan (true myth).

  • @gilly

    I was drawn to cycling because of the code of honour that was evident, like not attacking the jersey while he stopped for a natural break/ had the misfortune to flat. Or the way that a local rider was allowed up the road to see his family. That stuff was unique to cycling and made it special to me. What was once commonplace is now rare enough that it is commented on, like when Wiggins slowed things down for Cuddles to catch up after the tack throwing In 2012.

    Yes!  This!  I just LOVE the honour in the history of the sport and the "Code" that is inherent.  This is what really drew me to the sport and it still seems to exist.  When someone breaks it (like Malmerde attacking Cuddles after his flat in the Vuelta--most likely Malmerde's cousin doing the "neutral" wheelchange) they are tainted, at least in my all important book, for life.  The true moral character of a person really matters and in cycling, you can often see it where in other sports it is not so readily apparent. 

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vl_eqDVRnJc

  • @PeakInTwoYears

    Climbing (or mountaineering or alpinism or even simple rock climbing) has always been a pursuit pursued by people who understand the power of myth and the power of words. Just as another example.

    This was my first thought on reading this article.  Only in climbing have I found a similar (or, to blaspheme here, even greater) mythology than cycling.  Reading "The White Spider" or Herzog's "Annapurna" and you are walking with the Gods.  I first read them in early med school and was "lost" to climbing for the next 9 years until I had my first child.  Frank, I give you some unasked for advice, do NOT start climbing/mountaineering or reading Mountaineering literature b/c of what I know of you through the interwebs, you'll be in the Himalaya wihtin two years (which, having been there myself, is not a bad thing but it sure fucks with your riding time!!!)

  • @gilly Reverence. Hinault may be considered difficult, but that might also imply that he had a vision that others did not have. And allow me to refer to an unspoken rule as Hinault's rule, "never give it away." Hinault forced LeMond to race harder (rule no.5).

  • Once more unto the rise my friends, once more
    Or burn up our matches in reckless pursuit.
    On the ride, there's nothing so becomes a man
    As casually deliberate.
    But when the bells and horns of competition ring in our ears,
    Then imitate the action of Le Blaireau;
    Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.

    Disguise your suffering with practiced bluff;
    Pedal circles and not squares;
    Let your magnificent stroke serve as the beacon
    To those who hold your wheel; lead them deep,
    Deep into the pain cave
    And once there, you attack
    Only to leave them without a flashlight.
    Grit your teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
    Hold hard the breath and sur la plaque.
    Open the break. On, on, you glorious riders.
    Whose legs are glistening like the guns of Navarone!
    Legs that, like those of De Vlaemincks,
    Have in these parts from morn till even rode
    And stabled their bikes for lack of light:
    Dishonour not your soingeurs; now attest
    That the treasures of your musette are the finest.
    Be copy now to men who are also peaking,
    And teach them how to ride. And you, good domestiques,
    Whose legs were made to shut up, show us here
    How deep the cave goes; let us swear
    That you are worth your palmares; which I doubt not;
    For there is none of you so mean and base,
    That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
    I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
    Straining upon the start. The flame rouge ahead;
    The sprint is on: and upon this charge,
    Remember "” It never gets easier, you only go faster!

  • @ Frank - you are playing my song sir! I have always loved mythology and would agree cycling has a unique capacity to serve as a canvas for the gods to paint upon.

    A quintessential example of that which you speak - Buzzati's account of Coppi as Achillies defeating Bartali as Hector from the 1949 Giro.

    "For years and years, we realized, there would be endless talk about this brief moment which by itself did not seem to be of special importance: merely a man on a bicycle, who was pulling away from his traveling companions. And yet in that instant on this stretch of road came to pass what the Ancients used to call "Destiny."

  • First, awesome photo of M. Hinault. The hairnet, the "other" sport gloves, the nylon cap and, of course, the rain jacket with mesh panels for "breathability." Those things sucked. It was like wearing a think bin bag. You got as wet inside from sweat as you did outside from rain.

    As for the character of Hinault and suggestions he was a COTHO. I'm not buying that. He was the last true patron of the bunch. Rode ALL year. Was very generous to teammates. He was a winner and, let's face it, winners of the highest order are more often than not, difficult, determined characters. That was Hinault. Remember, in thew case with LeMond, it was the Tour FFS, not the Giro or Vuelta, the Tour. He was French. He was the Patron. He was a Breton. Was he going to meekly accept the role of +1? Hardly. The man is a living legend. He rode on his own terms and retired at age 32 in 1986. In today's world, that's young, but look at his palmares - incredible. Not for the Badger getting whupped by lesser riders. That's how you create a mythology - ride your peak years and retire with dignity. Don't sully things by going on too long. Cases in point? Michael Jordan. Tiger Woods. Both went past their sell by dates and that will be the postscript to their legends.

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