French dissing

Lance isn't getting much love from Tour's home country

Whenever the United States does well in international soccer -- like when we reached the quarterfinals of the 2002 World Cup -- it infuriates the rest of the globe. Not just that we've succeeded, but that we, who care so little about the "real" football, have beaten all those people who care so passionately. It's bad enough that we're so big and powerful, but winning at soccer also makes us dog in the manger. Good Lord, if we ever actually won the World Cup, there'd be no one at all in the coalition of the willing.

Likewise, though it's not his fault, Lance Armstrong fosters the same sort of feelings in France and the many other countries that are so devoted to cycling. It's just not fair. The U.S. never even had anybody who could finish the Tour de France before 1981. But since 1986, thanks to Greg LeMond and Armstrong, we've won seven. Maybe worse, no French rider has won since 1985, which, Frenchmen bemoan, also happened to be that symbolic year when Coca-Cola took over from Perrier as an official sponsor.

The Tour remains the quintessential Gallic sports event. Not even the French unions will mess with the Tour. Jacques Chirac is as big a cycling fan as George W. Bush is a baseball fan. You can see why we have such problems. Perhaps it's not just coincidental that the Tour de France and the World Series de America both started in the same year -- exactly a century ago. The fact that this is the centennial surely makes it even more difficult for Armstrong, as he goes for his fifth straight win.

He is, to start with, just so un-France. When the French tell old tales of the tour, they like to recall the insouciant days, a story like the great French rider, who, four minutes behind, downed a glass of champagne at the top of a mountain, then roared to victory. That, mon ami, is ze Tour. Armstrong, an incredible cancer survivor, is no nonsense, a physical marvel. It drives the French crazy that he constantly trains, seldom actually racing. He is a member of the U.S. Postal Service team, which is staffed mostly by Flemish-speaking Belgians. Plus, he trains for the Tour de France in Spain.

As a consequence, although the whole sport of cycling lies under the dark cloud of suspected drug use -- an English critic last week referred to the racers as "shaven-legged logo-monkeys, some so full of drugs they rattle when their bikes hit cobbles" -- Armstrong is the one rider who is constantly accused of loading up on illegal substances. The fans scream "dope, dope" as he pedals by. Then, too, in this year of Franco-American disaffection, Armstrong has moved about with a phalanx of six bodyguards, and it generally does not warm the local hearts that he is not only an American, but also a Texan.

Withal, the French retain a grudging respect for Armstrong, but as the Tour has gotten under way, as always, between the Fourth of July and Bastille Day, there is much speculation that this is the year the champion will fail to hold onto the winner's yellow shirt.

Of course, be careful what you wish for. American sales of French wine are already down drastically. Without a Lance Armstrong victory to toast, the export wine market could collapse. Perhaps vive la Lance is yet best for the centennial.

Sports Illustrated senior contributing writer Frank Deford is a regular contributor to SI.com and appears each Wednesday on National Public Radio's Morning Edition. He is a longtime correspondent for HBO's Real Sports and his new novel, An American Summer (Sourcebooks Trade), is available at bookstores everywhere.

 

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