it’s all in a name
I’m that old I can remember the days of proper nick-names. Ones that really meant something about the character concerned and about the way they approached their business. Ones that existed before we became lazy, before we stopped paying attention to what our sporting heroes actually had that was remarkable and merely added a phonetic ‘y’ to everything and everything, a la Giggsy, Fergie and Stevie.
Cycling’s nicknames have always been up there with the best of them and it’s in continental Europe where you can tell by the nicknames the fans gave the riders that there is a deep understanding and respect. No one was christened ‘the Eagle of Toledo’ or the ‘Angel of the Mountains’ (Frederico Bahamontes and Charly Gaul respectively) for any other reason than admiration. Other names tell you about the attitude that their owners brought to their craft, Bernard Hinault won the Tour five times, and is called, almost universally, ‘the Badger’. Personally, that conjures a vision of ITV’s World of Sport on a wet Saturday afternoon with Dickie Davis introducing the wonderfully coiffured Jackie Pallo and his diminutive opponent Mick McManus, but that’s another story. Apparently,’the Badger’ was awarded as badgers are quick to take offence (especially if you’re a ‘TB’ muttering farmer approaching with a fully loaded double barrel) and vicious when cornered. For exactly those reasons I would have thought ‘the Golden Lion of France would have been marginally more polite but who am I to argue?
Other riders’ names are a little more dignified perhaps but no less telling. One of the all-time greats, Jacques Anquetil, who dominated during the late 1950s and 1960s, was never known as anything other than ‘Maitre Jacques’ – Master Jack. He was notorious for preparing for races by staying up till the wee hours drinking excessively, and he won many of his greatest victories allegedly suffering from the kind of hangover that would have kept the rest of us in bed, if not A&E. Somehow he managed to do this without ever denting his public image. However, being the perpetual winner he was never going to be everyone’s favourite as, much to Michael Schumacher’s (not to mention Lance Armstrong’s) chagrin, we all love an underdog. In Mister Jack’s era, the most popular rider by a country mile was Raymond ‘Pou-Pou’ Polidor, whose lot it was to come second in most of the races that Mister Jack won. Usually by a country mile.
The best nicknames are reserved for the best riders. Belgium’s Eddy Merckx (the only obvious answer to the oft asked trivia question to ‘name a famous Belgian?’) was the greatest cyclist of all time who didn’t just win a phenomenal number of races through the 1960s and 70s, he did it in such a crushing, pugilistic style. With an insatiable appetite for combat and victory, he was simply ‘the Cannibal’. His only serious rival for the all-time top spot was the Italian star of the previous generation, Fausto Coppi. He undoubtedly had the best of all, ‘Championissimo’, Champion of Champions. You can’t really argue with that, can you. Later in the twilight of his career he was occasionally referred to as ‘the Heron’ because of the way he looked on a bike (go google as it’s worth seeing) but it was never to replace the original.
More recent riders have perhaps failed to live up to the public’s monikers. ‘Big Mig’ referred to Miguel Indurain’s physical presence (6’2”, 176 lbs and a seven litre lung capacity (three’s the normal amount) allied to a resting pulse of 28) in the peloton as much as it did to his preference to push the ‘big gears’ when seeking to ride-away from his competition. Being the most quiet, uncommunicative and private of riders it certainly didn’t refer to his personality, which at best was described as taciturn, and once prompted a Spanish journalist to pose the question “I wonder if his wife knows who this man is who sleeps beside her?”
Recently deceased Lauren Fignon was ‘the Professor’, not because of a academic doctorate or any major contribution to medical science, but because of his predilection to wear tiny ‘John Lennon’ glasses and a pony tail. To his credit in later life he did however develop an almost professorial attitude to the media where he refused to discuss anything as tedious as cycling. Perhaps better known (though completely undeservedly) as ‘Monsieur huit secondes’, Lauren Fignon’s two tour victories will stand the test of time and he is a sadly missed character. Can the same be said of ‘Il Pirata’, Italy’s own tiny son, Marco Pantani? Sporting his bandana and hooped earrings, ‘il Pirata’ loved nothing more than ambushing his enemy on some tortuous Pyrenean climb and striping them of everything, including their dignity. That’s not exactly true as he loved class A drugs a darned sight more and died a tragically young, broken and lost figure, having locked himself up alone in a hotel for a three day binge of heroin, coke, amphetamine and Viagra (eh, three days alone in a hotel room with Viagra? Yeah, go figure…the guy must have w*nked himself to death!)
Cycling’s most polarising star ‘Mellow Jonny’ deserves at least a passing mention here though it has to be said that for all his seven Tour victories, Lance Armstrong, remains an unlikeable, cold individual, so much so that it appears he has to choose his own nicknames as the fans can’t be bothered to do so. ‘Mellow Jonny’ is a play on the winner’s ‘maillot jaune’ (yellow jersey) but he has been known in equal measure as ‘The Boss’ (no longer I suspect – ed) and Juan Pelota (the name of the coffee shop in his Austin, Texas bike shop) which I’m led to believe is a play on ‘one-ball’. Following his cancer treatment Lance was left with only one testicle which makes me think he should have gone all the way and christened himself ‘the Fuhrer!’. Many would argue that would be more indicative of how he has sought to dominate the world of cycling. Then again, with only one-ball maybe he should have sought the advice, and prescription, of ‘Il Piarata’!
So what of today’s cycling stars? What does the colourful world of cycling’s style hold for Wiggo and Cav? I like Bradley Wiggins. I like his Northern dourness, his scowl and surliness and his socialist principles but I can appreciate how it’s going to grate with many. For these reasons he just has to be ‘le victor’. Obviously because of those time trial and road victories? Nah, he’s just the perfect embodiment of Victor Meldrew on two wheels. Mark Cavendish is a different kettle of fish completely and I don’t get him one little bit. With his arrogance, his petulance and his demeaning post-win displays he’ll always be Cav-the-Chav. It can only be a matter of time until he puts together his own egocentric team… oh, yeah I forgot he already has that with Columbia Highroad, but it’ll only be complete when they land Burberry as their lead sponsor and the team colours reflect this.
