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Did he cry on the telly?
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Roid rage?
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Fumacil and an emergency supply of Marmite and kippers. Nothing to see here, move along
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cc @fredtc
I understand that, but 'getting attention' is what this ding-ding-ding-ding sound, flashing red lights and those red-and-white bars coming down do pretty well.
The real problem I think is this, see below, the crossing cannot be closed completely by the barriers as it is in a curve, thus leaving the riders an easy path between them. So, easy to ignore and shrug afterwards.
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translation from dutch article about terpstra, nice read
"The victory of Niki Terpstra (33) in the Tour of Flanders is the harvest of a cycling life long attack. Never seen as great talent, he still reached the top, via the road of most resistance.
They screamed. They whistled at him. They blocked his way, they hung on his shirt and they scolded him. Every single time. When the race finally slowed down, the bastard went again. Riding after him all day again. As if he was going to make it to the finish. Why didn’t that guy listen to them? Why didn’t he just stay in the pack like everyone else? Who did that Niki Terpstra guy think he was?
He was never considered a great talent. Not with the juniores, not with the espoirs, not in his first years with the pros. Rabobank's development team snubbed him. Mouth too big, engine too small. There were so many guys in that generation who seemed better. And so Niki Terpstra followed his own path.
No spread bed, no paved path to the top. It had to be done with trial and error, working hard for a small contract. First with smaller teams - such as Piels and Ubbink, and then he was allowed to try it at the highest level at Milram. As a complete nobody. Getting bottles, keeping the big names out of the wind and nothing else.
But Terpstra wanted more. He asked the team management when he would get a chance for himself. And if he didn’t get it, he took it himself. Always the same way: by attacking. Preferably at the most impossible moments. From the start. In the rain. If the bunch wasn’t motivated. He didn’t make himself popular with the peloton in his first years and he ran his head against a wall time after time, but he didn’t care. Terpstra has never been afraid of a little resistance. If he fell, he got up again. If he was caught, he tried again the next day.
Of course, there was doubt sometimes. Like the time as a young rider in the Tour of Catalonia in 2007, all day long all alone in front of the broom wagon. Or that time he broke both his wrists in a clumsy fall in Beijing, in 2008. He couldn’t even wipe his own ass. It never stopped him from continuing. You can also train with two broken wrists. A year after his fall, he won a stage in the Dauphiné Libéré - after a day of attacking. How else?
Cyclists have heads made of concrete. But with most, sometimes pieces break off, or in some places the concrete turns out to be slightly more porous than expected. Not with Terpstra. He has a head of reinforced concrete. And a pair of legs made from the same material. As his career progressed, the Terpstra’s greatest quality surfaced: his ability to take on an insane work load. He can train a lot and hard because he can handle it physically and mentally. Anyone who has ever trained with him knows it: riding next to Terpstra for 2 hours is torture.
Terpstra has collected a group of riders that call themselves Noordhollands Best - NHB for intimates. He is labeled by the others as the dictator of the group. He decides who can become a member (the requirements: you have to be a pro or pro-worthy, you have to pay the coffee with apple pie from time to time and Niki shouldn’t think you’re a dick), he determines the route, he determines the speed. If he notices other riders are trying to follow the group, he rides full gas until they’re gone.
The regular training members are expected to do their work in the front regardless of the circumstances, regardless of their condition. Some trainers prohibit their (young) riders from regularly training with Terpstra - simply because they are destroyed by him. It’s asking for trouble to be riding against the wind, day after day, next to a power drill.
When he won Dwars Door Vlaandeen in 2012 - after a long solo - he compared cycling with fishing. At first glance a strange comparison, but not if you think about it. You need patience. Luck. And especially: perseverance. Continuously attacking is actually the same as staring into the water. You wait until they bite.
Terpstra has built his career step by step. From servant and hopeless attacker to getting some freedom, from there to protected rider, from protected rider to one of the leaders of the Belgian team Quick-Step. He is one of the driving forces in the team. He riles up his teammates to make the race hard, he studies the roadbook and weather the day before a race to see if there’s a spot they can surprise the rest, he is the DJ in the bus on the way to the race. Because of his aggressive attitude he is hated among some other teams.
Other teams know his worth though. Last year he negotiated with Lotto NL-Jumbo before renewing his contract with Quick-Step.
Terpstra is not easy to love. Especially for the Flemish public. He’s too Dutch. Too confident. Too smart perhaps. His victory in Paris-Roubaix of 2014 is often seen in Flanders as a race the Dutchman only won because his teammate Tom Boonen was in the chasing group. Terpstra deserves more. Like he didn’t have to be there at the right time. Like Boonen never won because of him.
After a winter of training obsessively, Terpstra is better than ever. His solo in E3 Harelbeke was a piece of art. And he did it again last Sunday. He rode away and he stayed away. Over large, wide roads Terpstra drilled on towards Oudenaarde. * Het ging vooruit, het ging vooruit, het ging verbazend goed vooruit.*
After Paris-Roubaix , E3, Dwars door Vlaanderen, the GP Samyn, national road titles and World championships team time trial, he also won the Ronde van Vlaanderen. It was his crowning achievement. The reward for spending a cycling life on the attack.
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@dancing james
The state of Australian cricket essentially nerfs any Australian sporting success at the moment and removes any bragging rights. The sight the Australian cricket captain tearfully apologising for cheating is just too delicious.
Delicious salty Australian tears mmm