No Englishman, as you
may have heard, had ever won the Tour de France. This Summer,
Bradley Wiggins did that. Nobody of any nationality has ever won an
Olympic track cycling gold medal, and gone on to win the Tour de
France. This Summer, he did that too. Then, for an encore, Bradley
Wiggins rode the cyclist's 'race of truth' – the Time Trial – and
became the only man in history to win the Tour De France and Olympic gold in the same year.
The Tour is something
you leave halfway through if you want to chase Olympic glory,
conventional wisdom says. A normal human body cannot ride for
2,200 miles, then two weeks later sustain speeds of 35mph for 28 miles. Bradley
Wiggins is certainly not a normal human. He hardly seems human at
all. The pre-race favourite today, Fabian Cancellara, had flown out
of the French race as soon as the Tour hit serious climbs. Wiggins
stayed on the climbs. He won out on the climbs. He came home and in
the finest lap of honour any sportsman could take, circled this
corner of his home city in front of a vast adoring crowd before his final curtain call on
the podium.
This would be an
incredible racing career if Wiggins were French, or Spanish, Italian,
Belgian or even American. That he was able to achieve it as a member
of the first generation of British cyclists ever to matter on any
stage outside of the track and occasional prologues is nothing short
of unbelievable. Like Boardman and those before him, he conquered
that, but then he mastered the road for an encore, as if it were the
logical progression rather than a staggering, unprecedented
achievement.
Arise Sir Bradley,
cries the nation as one. I'd like to see the great man given the
chance to finish his astonishing career without that label, but the
day he hangs up his riding shoes is the day he can write himself
whatever title he chooses.
