Sky Fall

Sky Fall

Please don’t see this as a blog. See it as an ‘Open Letter’. I truly believe Open Letters are the way to rescuing this beautiful, savage sport.

I awoke early this morning – a stunning quality of light shone through the gap in my curtains and I opened my eyes to find myself in a state that I can only describe as '‘tranquilo'’. The sunlight moved over my sleeping wifes breasts as gently as a lamb sniffing a daisy.

I slipped into my silk kimono and went to the front door to see if the paperboy had been. I faltered as I saw the headline staring back at me – Sean Yates dismissed from Team Sky. My sport again on the front pages for all the wrong reasons. Tears started to flow and quickly soaked my kimono. I was a mess.

I gathered myself, as this is the only way forward for the sport no matter how painful it is. I put two slices of bread in the toaster and went to have a poo.

The loneliness of sitting on the toilet was almost too much. I cleaned up, ate my toast and prepared to get out on the bike. The sound of the click as I slipped my feet into the pedals was like a weight lifting off my shoulders. At one with the bike, I realised just why I feel so passionately about cleaning up this sport. I cycled all the way to Waitrose. Whilst I was browsing the various Olive Oils, I overheard two members of staff discussing just about everything aspect of their work – their manager, colleagues, grievances etc. Tears welled in my eyes at the openness of their conversations – there was no Omerta here. Why couldn’t cycling be more like this? I called up Pat McQuaid to try to reason with him. It was Sunday morning though and no one was home in Aigle.

My passion rekindled, I cycled home with over £300 worth of Olive Oil. 6km into a block headwind. It was hideous but I coped knowing that, with the shopping dangling from my bars, that I would eat well that night.

Whole Milk Aniexty

Whole Milk Aniexty

After the revelations of the last few weeks, I had to find much-needed headspace.

I love this sport but it’s brutal and beautiful in equal measure. Only this morning, I rode to my local café for my regular cokachino and the barista managed to put whole milk instead of skimmed milk in it. I was shattered mentally but I still drank it. After all, its Le Metier and all part of the sport that I love.

I called up my sister, Fran, and after a bit of a grizzle, pulled myself together. Luckily, my phone rang and who should be on the other end? Why, none other than the Z-Man, The Big-Z, Z-Unit, David. David Zabriskie. Like the crazy mo-fo he is, he was calling, get this, from a 7-Eleven knocking back his 2nd big-gulp of the day. It was only 11am! That’s the type of guy David is. Zany and a good guy to have ‘in the trenches’ alongside you as we Brits say making reference to the horrors of trench warfare during WWI.

After shamefully drinking the whole-milk coffee, I put the cup in the back pocket of my jersey as a reminder to me how low I’d sunk.

The quality of the light outside the café though was fantastic and I went out and smashed out 150km and fell in love again with this beautiful, crazy and brutal sport. I called up Fran again and had another grizzle.