As you may have noticed (especially if you’re a British cycling fan) Team Sky’s Pete Kennaugh won the Cadel Evans Great Ocean Road Race recently.
Named in honour of everyone’s favourite eccentric Aussie cyclist, the race seems a bit other-worldy to those of us currently pedalling through the dregs of a UK winter. With our sun-tans a distant memory and the kind of deep blue skies under which Kennaugh and his mates were racing months away (if at all), would it be too much to ask the Aussie TV producers to add some kind of grey-filter to the coverage?
If they could just tone down the sun-kissed perfection a couple of notches it would make all of us here in the northern hemisphere (especially those of us in the north of the northern hemisphere) feel a little bit better.
As for an Ocean Road Race, the closest I’m going to get to that is a windswept slog down Morecambe promenade – I’d like to see Kennaugh look quite so impressive coping with coastal conditions here in Lancashire!
It’s one thing to traverse the beautiful Victorian coastline, before completing a few laps around the port city of Geelong for a finish on the waterfront, but try barrelling along the cycle path at Morecambe seafront on a wet Sunday morning. Not only will you find yourself battling dozens of inexplicably competitive fellow cyclists, you’ll have to do this whilst dodging dog-walkers with extendible leads, avoiding the broken glass of beer bottles from the Saturday night revellers, and holding your breath as you’re wafted with the smell of greasy, low quality seafront snack food.
Men from the boys, an’ all that.
But ultimately, I can’t help thinking the organisers of the Great Ocean Road Race have missed a trick with their race route. Are you telling me you wouldn’t be very happy to watch some of the finest pro-cyclists on the planet racing around a well-planned loop that traced a perfect likeness of Cadel’s face?
Imagine the over-head helicopter camera shots, as Kennaugh leads the breakaway around Cadel’s famous chubby cheeks, and heads up in the direction of his prominent and puzzled looking eyebrows.
They could extend the Cadel-fest by instructing all riders to imitate Evans’ awkward crab-like riding style, and give journalists a hard time at every opportunity with interviews featuring cryptic answers, awkward silences, and withering looks.
I can’t be the only one who misses old ‘cuddles’ Cadel?
Surely the least we can do is artistically recreate him in all his glory through his very own bike race.