Commentators combine Tour de France history simmers and all and the pretty countryside to make a seductive package for those who love watching cycling
In his volume Down Under, the American travel writer Bill Bryson writes of accidentally stumbling into” the surreal and rewarding world of cricket on the radio “. Driving alone along Australia’s Stuart Highway, our intrepid explorer opportunities upon the commentary of an unspecified cricket match which provides him with welcome companionship and he realises something Exam Match Special listeners have long known: there is” something incomparably soothing” about cricket on the radio.
Bryson marvelled at its” unhurried pace, comforting devotion to abstruse statistics and thoughtful historical rumination, exhilarating micro-moments of real action stretched across many hours and with a lushness of nomenclature and restful elegance “. Reading his findings, one can’t help but feel such an enlightened and naturally inquisitive human would be similarly seduced by cycling on the television.
Much like cricket on the radio, there is something incomparably soothing about cycling on the television, a state of affairs that might seem strangely at odds with the often punishing brutality of the sport involved. But then, there is no end of masochistic pleasure to be had from watching the suffering of others from the consolation of an armchair, as newcomers to the sport will be able to discover once this year’s Tour de France defines off from Brussels on Saturday before wending its way into more familiar, Gallic terrain. Comprising 21 stages and covering a distance of 3,460 kilometres over three weeks, the Grand Boucle is a grandiose sporting sight that is broadcast nearly in its entirety on the fringes of mainstream television in the UK.
Like cricket on the radio, this coverage boasts no dearth of abstruse statistics, thoughtful historical rumination and all those other qualities Bryson procured so endearing. While the working day are long, and for long periods often uneventful, what decides cycling on the television apart is the ever-changing and often brutal and breathtaking canvas on which the action unfolds.
Unsurprisingly, considering stages can last up to six hours, there is often very little going on as the peloton meanders through the picturesque countryside from one township to the next, a whirring, shape-shifting swarm of arrestingly garish Lycra-clad human endeavour. To the untrained eye, it is just a bunch of blokes on motorcycles; 176 of them to begin with, until the inevitable accidents and sickness begin to trim thexir ranks. Closer inspection, however, reveals this apparently random mob to be a self-sufficient society with a strictly defined hierarchy where every member has a designated role.
As eager to seduce new converts as they are to keep those already radicalised onside, the commentary teams on Eurosport and ITV walk a tightrope as they attempt to educate the former while inducing sure to avoid patronising the latter. It can be difficult, because at times the whole jamboree can resemble a school athletics day, where it seems everybody gets a prize.
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