IN RECENT ye ars few sports events have spawned as many books as the Tour de France. It is largely Lance Armstrong's fault. His story of overcoming cancer and winning the Tour, as told in It's Not About the Bike, remains, eight years after it was fi
rst published, at or near the top of most sports books charts.
A second cottage industry has developed, though. These are the books that provide the antidote to the Armstrong story – or to Armstrong's version of his story, at any rate. And they are written by, to use Armstrong's description, "the cynics and the sceptics"
– by those who question the veracity of the American's seven consecutive Tour victories. Armstrong has another word for them – "trolls."
Jeremy Whittle's new book should confirm his status, in Armstrong's eyes – or in his little black book – as a troll. That might have been a good sub-title,
actually: "From Fan to Troll." Because that is essentially what it is: a deeply personal account of Whittle's journey from wide-eyed fan, in thrall to the glamour, exoticism and beauty of the Tour, to crestfallen cynic, disillusioned by the rampant cynicism, corruption and endless succession of doping scandals.
Mirroring this journey, coincidentally or not, is that of his personal relationship with Armstrong, from friend – of sorts – to, well, alienated troll.
Yet Whittle's engaging book isn't really that of a dyed-in-the-wool cynic. Through his experiences as a fan and then a reporter, he paints a more nuanced, complicated and confused picture. "When I covered my first Tour de France in 1994, I was aware of the possibility that a minority of cyclists used drugs,"
he writes. But this, he soon discovered, was naïve.
"The more time I spent in press rooms and team hotels, the more I stood among team cars and on finish lines, the more I chatted across dinner tables where tongues were freed by red wine, the more I understood that doping was everywhere."
Through fascinating anecdotes, and in particular through the story of his relationship with David Millar, Whittle tells a sad, depressing and bleak story, where trust has dissolved and cynicism has taken over. And yet somehow, even if only in the obvious affection that he retains for those such as Millar, there is enough in his book to suggest that his love affair might still be rekindled – however unlikely that seems at the moment.
The full article contains 423 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
