A Beer Summit for Tour de France Champions?

Before I get started tonight, I’ll just mention that there are a couple of doping stories I’m going to be writing about, but the whole Lance vs. Alberto dustup got me to thinking (which is a dangerous thing).

There’s been lots of media coverage of a certain “beer summit” held at the White House yesterday, with Henry Louis (“Skip”) Gates, Jr. and Sgt. James Crowley in attendance. The beer summit was the President’s effort at creating a “teachable moment” (whatever the heck that means) out of the whole contretemps over Gates’ arrest for disorderly conduct —  in his own home.

Now, having done a bit more reading (original article here), it appears to me that on both sides of the Lance/Alberto chasm there are some frustrations, hurt feelings and perhaps even anger. One article that I saw, partially translated from Spanish by a gentleman named Jon Holmes, said (in part):

A Tale of solitude. It happened on Thursday, a few hours before the Annecy ITT. Contador came downstairs to the entrance of the Palace of Menthon, the luxurious Astana hotel. The Tour was on. He looked right, then left. Nobody, nothing. No Astana cars or helpers. Cold sweat. Quick time check. Where are they? The hotel is several kilometers from the start. There he was, the leader of the Tour, in flip-flops, bag in hand and alone. He went to the hall looking for an answer: Armstrong had ordered the helpers to go pick up his wife, kids and friends to the airport.

Contador left his room last because he was the last one starting the ITT. Armstrong had managed to take away his means of transportation. The straw that broke the camel’s back. Hot flashes, he was rabid. He called his brother Fran. He came to pick him up by car and took him to Annecy in a private vehicle. He left last and finished first. His best victory. In the ITT. In solitude. The same way he has won his second tour.

[…]

Contador’s toughest climb was not recorded in images. It was narrated by others. It was fought in the hotel and the bus: during one stage, Armstrong sat his guests at the very back of the bus, right in Contador’s usual seat. One more provocation. Armstrong to the luxury suite. Contador to sleep with Paulinho, the only ally. Same deal during the entire tour. Mouth shut, listening to Armstrong’s jabs: “It doesn’t take a Nobel price to figure out what happens with side winds”. Contador didn’t reply in the hotel. He did on the road. He attacked in the first mountain finish in Arcalis. Without permission from Bruyneel, Armstrong’s DS. That night the Astana hotel was a funeral. Red eyes from the Texan (anger? crying? not sure). The first cyclist that stood up to him. And he did it in silence.

And, of course, there were the frustrations on the other side about not following Bruyneel’s strategy. Who got upset first in all of this? Contador when he first found out about Armstrong joining the team? Armstrong when he heard about Contador’s “mistake” in Paris-Nice? Contador after hearing Armstrong’s comments about what happened in Paris-Nice? How far back does this go? The whole saga strikes me as a chicken/egg kind of thing. Which came first? Who knows?

It does seem that Contador has reason to be frustrated with Armstrong and what happened, especially on the day of the Annecy time trial. Was it something Armstrong did on purpose? Was it a misunderstanding? We don’t know, exactly. Could be either one. There’s a whole range of possible explanations/excuses/justifications. I’m not even going to try and write them all down. However it happened, it was not a very nice thing to leave Contador stranded and having to call for a ride to the start.

Whatever has happened over the last year, it doesn’t seem to me that the war of words does either one any good. Well, maybe if Armstrong and Contador want to focus on each other and the perceived slights/insults/misunderstandings as a way of motivating their training for the next year, it might do some good — for them.

But I have this idea for settling disputes between former winners of the Tour, and it goes something like this:

For cyclists, the best place to settle an argument is on the road, or on the trail. So rather than engage in this tit-for-tat stuff in the media, let’s put the animosity to good use — and maybe even build a few bridges and a bit of understanding (I’ll bitch-slap the first person who starts singing “Kumbaya”, by the way).

So, let’s have a challenge between Tour de France champions with a grievance. I’m thinking of a trail in the Rocky Mountains, not far from Lance’s Aspen lair, which is a bit on the technical side and finishes just a bit below 14,000 feet. Good climbing on the way up, and a pretty wickedly fast descent. It’s off road, so mountain bikes will be the order of the day. Perhaps we can convince a certain Waterloo, Wisconsin-based manufacturer to provide the two-wheeled wonder bikes for the occasion.

The ride would be to raise money for charity, and each rider would get to name his charity. Fans could donate through a web site. The way the race would work is this: Fastest man to the top wins Stage 1, the ascent. Fastest man down from the top wins Stage 2. To settle matters once and for all, a third time-trial stage would be conducted on a different trail, which is a 30-some mile loop. There could even be a few real world participants, those who don’t race bikes for a living (though perhaps they race as amateurs). Points are awarded for the top finishers in each stage. At the end of the competition, the person with the most points is the winner.

So, what prizes would the participants get? Top prize would be a case of beer from a local brewpub. The one with labels designed by Ralph Steadman. Or perhaps another one. We’ll see. The other finishers would receive similar prizes, though the quantity might be less. Maybe the guy in 10th would wind up with a single beer. I haven’t figured this all out yet.

So, who would I invite to the Beer Summit for Tour de France Champions? Well, here’s the list I came up with earlier today:

• Lance and Alberto — for obvious reasons
• Carlos Sastre and Bjarne Riis — Riis didn’t renew his contract with Sastre after the Spaniard won last year’s Tour, and Sastre was pretty miffed about how the media covered him this year. Alberto and Lance who?
• Michael Rasmussen and Theo de Rooij — OK, Rasmussen didn’t win the Tour, but he could have if de Rooij and Rabobank hadn’t pushed him out of the race in 2007
• Floyd Landis and Oscar Peirero — All too well documented on this site and others. Pereiro whined about how he didn’t get to enjoy being the Tour winner because of, well, let’s not get into it, shall we?
• Pat McQuaid — because it would be fun to see him suffer on a bike (I know, I’m a sick puppy)
• Dick Pound — to see whether he can actually ride a bike
• Greg LeMond — in a category by himself, due to the feuds he’s had with both Landis and Armstrong (although, because of a certain lawsuit, LeMond might have to be provided a bike from a different manufacturer)
• Frankie Andreu — Why Frankie? Because of a certain other feud. Despite all of that, I can tell you first hand, he’s a nice guy and a very strong rider
• Bob Roll — who raced le Tour Day France back in the day, and who also raced mountain bikes and used to write some wickedly entertaining articles in various publications before he got the Versus gig
• Levi Leipheimer and Andréas Klöden — two riders who in my opinion should have won the Tour, but haven’t
• Johan Bruyneel — who will have to actually ride a bike and not plot strategy
• Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen — not to ride — unless they want to — but to provide color commentary for the Versus coverage we’re bound to get
• Oh, and since this is my daydream, I’d get to ride this, too, so that I could write about the whole experience for this blog, and perhaps a real, honest-to-goodness cycling publication somewhere. (My charity would be the pancreatic cancer program at the Johns Hopkins Medical School/Hospital.)

At the end of the event, which would take place over two days, there would be a barbecue at a certain person’s house. Everyone would sit around a bonfire and share their frustrations. Somewhere along the way, in the spirit of friendship and good will, Alberto would express his undying admiration for Sheryl Crow, while Lance would speak of his love for music by the Buena Vista Social Club. We’d all grab some guitars, and at the end of the evening — after a lot of coaching — we’d join in a rousing chorus of … no! not “Kumbaya,” dammit! … but “The Low-Down No Good Down Home Road Rash Blues.” (Which is guaranteed to bring a smile to even the sourest of faces.)

I know, fat chance it’ll happen. But a guy can dream, can’t he?