Sharp Va Va Froome

The Remarkable Rise of Chris Froome
1. Auflage 2013
ISBN: 978-0-85790-641-0
Verlag: Arena Sport
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 240 Seiten

On 21 July 2013 Chris Froome made history as the second British cyclist to win the Tour de France - in the 100th edition of the world's most famous bike race - and the first ever African-born rider to wear the coveted maillot jaune on the top step of the podium in Paris. Froome's path into the elite ranks of road racing - from mountain biking alongside wild animals on dusty roads in the nature reserves of Kenya's Great Rift Valley to the giddy heights of the Tour de France - has been unlike any other in the annals of the sport. Born in Nairobi to British parents he was educated in South Africa and studied economics at university. But he abandoned his degree to take up the offer of a professional cycling contract in Europe. A fish out of water, unused to the harsh northern hemisphere winters, with no idea of the tactics, discipline or etiquette of riding in the professional peloton, Froome encountered a shock entrance into the rough and tumble world of top level European bike racing. Incredibly, within two years - and despite his progress being severely hampered when he contracted a debilitating tropical disease - Froome had signed for the world's biggest cycling team, British cycling supremo Sir Dave Brailsford's Team Sky, finished second overall in the Vuelta a Espana, and sacrificed his own ambitions to help teammate Bradley Wiggins claim Britain's first ever Tour de France title in 2012. At the turn of 2013 Froome superseded Wiggins as Sky's team leader and went on to win four out of the five stage races he entered, including the prestigious Criterium du Dauphine, before dominating the 2013 Tour de France on a relentless pursuit of the ultimate prize in cycling. David Sharp tells the story of a unique athlete's remarkable journey that led him from riding his bike for fun in the Ngong Hills of Kenya to the very pinnacle of the sport and victory in the world's toughest race.

David Sharp spent seven years with the BBC in London and Glasgow covering sport, on their website and on the radio. Previously, he had spent three years travelling around the world covering bike races such as the Tour de France, Giro d'Italia, Paris- Roubaix, and interviewing all the big names in the sport in his role as Deputy Editor of pro-cycling magazine in London. He now freelances for various publications, including The Herald newspaper and the acclaimed Rouleur magazine.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Sharp, David

Leseproben

PROLOGUE

Team Sky’s plan was to control the race all day. Ride the opposition into the ground over the first three huge mountain passes, set a blistering pace up and over the summits and then start the peel-offs. Put the opposition on the back foot and keep them there. Hit the gas on the final climb to the ski station at La Toussuire. Then watch them scatter across the mountain in bits. Replicate the strategy that had worked so well at La Planche des Belles Filles on Stage 7. They’d stomped all over the opposition in the Vosges mountains, and Bradley Wiggins had taken the . The British rider was now the leader of the Tour de France. There was even the bonus that his loyal , Chris Froome, had sprinted past Cadel Evans in the last 100m for a thrilling stage win. They had been in complete control. – one of the team’s favourite mantras. Turn the screw, keep turning the screw, and then one by one they will pop.

On this glorious, sun-drenched Thursday, it was time to do it again. Stage 11. The first proper mountaintop finish of the race, in the heart of the French Alps. Definitely a day for specialist climbers. From Albertville the peloton headed due south through the spectacular Savoie, on a 148km trek that featured two (meaning ‘beyond categorisation’ or so ridiculously tough it defies a rating) climbs, Cols de la Madeleine and Croix de Fer, and one Category 2, the Col du Mollard, before they arrived at the foot of the final peak, a long drag up the Category 1 ascent to La Toussuire, on a stretch of mountain road that would be transformed for the afternoon into a giant open-air sporting amphitheatre.

This is what the Sky squad had been training for. Long, arduous weeks spent at training camps. In January, in Mallorca, tackling over and over again the 26 hairpins of the fearsome Sa Calobra climb. Then, in May, at a secluded retreat in Tenerife, in the nether regions of the back of beyond. Six-hour training rides at high altitude in suffocating desert heat in the shadow of a vast extinct volcano. They were in superlative physical and mental condition. At the top of their game. Ready to rumble.

It was a day of attack and defence. Defending champion Evans, the gritty Australian, threw down the gauntlet on the slopes of the Col du Glandon, on the steepest section, 8km from the top, just before the road turns onto the Croix de Fer. Between the twin peaks, the snarling, two-headed beasts of the great Alpine passes, Evans leapt away in a pre-planned, long-range kamikaze escape bid. It was 66km from the finish, but, lying third, 1:53 adrift of the yellow jersey, he was desperate to claw back time on Wiggins. Surely he’d gone too soon? He had. Sky picked up the gauntlet and threw it back in his face. But slowly, stealthily, to heighten his suffering. No need to panic. Ride at a high, steady tempo and eventually they’d reel him in. Sky’s Michael Rogers turns up the power a notch or two and tows Wiggins, Froome, Richie Porte and anyone else who can stay on their coat-tails up the mountain. A few kilometres from the summit of the Croix de Fer, Evans is caught. He’s toiling. Finished as a threat. Job done. Soon they are cresting the top of the next mountain, the Mollard. Up and over. They hurtle down the dizzying descent, snaking at high speed down a series of tightly packed hairpins, to the village of Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne.

The view south to the Aiguilles d’Arves is breathtaking. The northern needle of its three giant peaks, the Aiguille Septentrionale, with its bizarre cat’s head, is clearly visible in the distance. As the sun burns away traces of morning fog in the Maurienne valley and scorches the top layers off the glaciers that permanently crown the French Alps, the crowd wait in their tens of thousands on the slopes of the climb to La Toussuire. The waiting is over. Here they come.

Team Sky hit the foot of the mountain – an unremittingly steep 18km climb to the out-of-season ski station. Tasmanian climber Porte begins his stint at the front, leading Wiggins and Froome up the horribly steep opening stretch. The cruel 9% gradient splinters the peloton. Sky’s relentless pace repels any attacks. Further up the road from the head of the main field are the four breakaways. Frenchman Pierre Rolland – nursing a bloodied elbow after he took a tumble on the Mollard toboggan run – Croatian Robert Kišerlovski, Belarusian Vasili Kiryienka and the Dane, Chris Anker Sørensen. None is a threat to Wiggins. Rolland is the closest, in twentieth place, over nine minutes back.

Twelve kilometres to the finish. Suddenly Vincenzo Nibali swings off the back of the thirteen-strong yellow jersey group and catapults himself, as if launched from a pair of invisible pinball flippers, up the road past Wiggins. The Italian sits fourth overall, 2:23 behind the Londoner. He is a threat. Fluidly shifting through the gears, Nibali is five, ten, fifteen, twenty metres past before they even notice he’s gone. As he dances up the climb on their blind side and appears again magically in their line of vision, Froome and Porte simultaneously turn to give Wiggins a comic-book double-take, as if to say, ‘OK, boss, what do we do now?’

Nibali’s devastating burst of acceleration has eliminated all but Wiggins, Froome, Evans, the young American Tejay van Garderen and Luxembourger Frank Schleck. The suddenly diminished group contains the first, second and third placed riders in the Tour de France: Wiggins, Evans and Froome.

No reaction to Nibali’s attack. Froome and Wiggins just keep pedalling, expressions sphinx-like. Slowly, steadily, they know they will reel Nibali in. But Porte’s goose is cooked. He peels off the front and quickly starts going backwards, like he’s pushed the reverse button on an escalator. He’d buried himself to pace Wiggins over the mountains today, mark any dangerous breaks and keep him out of trouble at the front of the peloton.

Now it’s Chris Froome’s turn to take up the baton. It’s down to him to bridge the gap to Nibali, drag Wiggins back into the race. The Italian was also racing to steal Froome’s third place overall. Only sixteen seconds separated them at the stage start in Albertville.

Froome steps up the pace. Wiggins, Evans and Schleck follow. Van Garderen has become unhitched from the back, like unwanted ballast dropped from a hot-air balloon. Froome’s head bobs and lists slightly to the right. Back hunched, long arms looped over the handlebars, shoulders swaying from side to side, elbows flailing, he’s ungainly, but highly effective. He’s steaming up the hill. Soon Nibali is nixed.

Wiggins puffs his cheeks, grimaces with the effort of holding Froome’s wheel. Nibali pauses, hovers, and then tucks back in beside the Sky pair like a knife being pulled against a magnetic strip. Froome stands up from his saddle and forces the pedals round. With his bug-eyed Oakley sunglasses and long, gangly limbs he looks like a spider. Wiggins is clamped to his back wheel; their bikes almost merge tandem-like.

Ten kilometres to the finish. Wiggins is momentarily distracted, looking the other way, and Nibali goes again. ‘The Shark’ takes flight up the road and out of sight, gone in a fluorescent flash of Liquigas green. Evans’s teammate, Van Garderen, wearing the white jersey of best young rider, rejoins the back of the elite group.

Now Froome looks like he’s toiling, drained by his exertions in pegging back Nibali’s first attack. Wiggins takes up the chase. It’s the first time all day that the man in yellow has been without another Sky rider alongside. Nibali has fifteen seconds on Wiggins. He only needs one more second to leapfrog Froome into third. But Froome isn’t here to worry about his own position. His only concern is to protect the yellow jersey of Wiggins. Keep the pace high. Ward off attacks. Keep him safe.

Froome rallies, glides to the front of the six-man train. Full gas. He dips his head and digs deep into the hurt locker. He appeared down and out. But he was just taking a breather. Now he’s back, ready to do or die for his leader.

Evans suddenly crumples over his bike. Froome is going too fast. The defending champion’s crown is slipping from his sweat-drenched brow. Van Garderen drifts back to help him. Evans looks haunted. He’s dripping with sweat. Each rotation of the pedals is agony, his legs screaming . Behind the yellow reflective mirror shades his eyes stare into a deep, dark abyss.

Now it’s only Wiggins, Froome and Schleck. Six excruciating uphill kilometres left to the finish. If they can just catch Nibali then their day’s work is done. Wiggins will secure his position at the top. Evans is head-butting a brick wall into oblivion. Froome could steal second place. A Sky 1-2 at the end of the day? Dreamland.

Further up the road, Pierre Rolland has shaken off his breakaway partners. Gasping for air, he ploughs a lonely furrow to the finish line. Stage victory is within his grasp. A yellow Mavic service motorbike sidles up next to him. The girl riding pillion, her name is Claire Pedrono from Brittany, holds up a chalkboard showing the Frenchman the time gaps with 5km to go. Thirty-six seconds on Sørensen and Kiryienka, 1:51 to the Nibali group with Jurgen Van Den Broeck and Thibaut Pinot and two minutes to the yellow jersey with Wiggins, Froome, Schleck.

The distinctive red car of Tour race director Christian Prudhomme tracks Wiggins and Froome. He stands tall out of the sunroof as if on safari, keeping pace with a herd of...