Cycling hardmen and their exploits don’t inspire awe

IFIND it hard to take anything in the cycling world seriously these days, so it was with a large dose of scepticism that I picked up ‘The Hardmen - Legends Of The Cycling Gods’ for review. I learned that a small group of enthusiasts have christened themselves ‘The Velominati’, and this is their second book which tells the stories of some of the toughest men and women ever in a sport which has done itself no favours since the Lance Armstrong debacle.

Indeed, it has got to the stage now where it’s fair to ask if anyone is above board in the professional cycling game, entirely free of performance enhancers.

That may be doing some genuine performers a major disservice, but this book certainly doesn’t attempt to convince the casual reader that cycling is entirely perfect and wholesome at this stage.

To be honest, the style of writing grates from the off. Two of the authors are American and the other hails from Australia, and they try too hard to be funny and witty while only achieving those aims in fleeting moments.

The cycling nerd will undoubtedly enjoy the book a lot more than someone like me who was hoping to finish it with a greater insight into what it takes to survive in the saddle over some of the toughest courses in Europe.

It’s really written to cater for fellow bike lovers rather than a newcomer, although to be fair the detailed glossary at the back of the book covers just about every aspect of the sport that one could think of.

In terms of ‘The Hardmen’ as outlined in the title, the authors bow to nobody in their firmly-held belief that former great Eddy Merckx is the leader of the pack.

They divide their carefully chosen subjects into five categories, starting with ‘les rouleurs’, or the all-rounders.

Then there’s the ‘grimpeurs’, otherwise known as climbing specialists, and the ‘klassiekers’ who specialise in one-day races.

‘Les domestiques’ are the team workers who labour day after day in the hope that their hard work will lead to success for a more talented colleague by the end of the race.

Finally, the ‘velocisti’ are the sprinters, daredevils quite capable of bumping shoulders at 60 miles per hour in their surge for the finishing line.

Stephen Roche falls under the category of ‘grimpeur’, and the chapter in his honour focuses on his performance at La Plagne in his Tour de France winning year of 1987.

Seán Kelly’s versatility and all-around ability are reflected in his selection in two of the sections, namely as a classics specialist and also a sprinter of renown.

Some of the feats outlined in the profiles of 35 cyclists in total sound awe-inspiring at face value, but I’m afraid that everything - both past and present - has to carry a major asterisk at this stage given the various scandals that have dragged the sport into the gutter.

The innocence was lost in cycling a long time ago, and the dark side of the sport isn’t explored at all here because the writers have such a passion for the saddle that they have no desire to paint it in anything but a flattering light.

Therefore, we are constantly informed that these cyclists are the absolute definition of toughness, and their deeds ought to inspire awe and respect. It will take more than that to convince me that this sport should ever be taken seriously again.

Visit The Book Centre on Wexford’s Main Street for the very best selection of sports books.