A Word About George Hincapie

My compatriots in the admiration of the daily feats of strength, determination, and grace that are the elemental content of the great sport of professional bike racing will all no doubt have witnessed the devastating tragedy that took place during last Sunday's 104th edition of Paris-Roubaix: George Hincapie's dreadful crash out of the race from a prime position, and supported by two strong teammates who went on to place second and third overall before being stripped of their placing for crossing a railroad track inappropriately, or some such nonsense, was nothing short of total travesty.

Photoreporter Sirotti

The bottom line on Sunday was this, dear readers: our eternal bike racing favorite was once again knocked RIGHT OFF THE PODIUM by lady luck, who is nothing but a foolish old bitch not to be giving that worthy man his due.

I've mentioned it here before, and I'll mention it again: there is no man on two wheels who has done more to earn that victory. Bike racing is a crazy sport, and only a man with more dedication that I can personally imagine can dream of attaining George's level of fitness for the battles he must face in the saddle. George Hincapie puts every last bit of every single thing he's got into preparing for and riding that race. Year after year he rolls up to the line with his heart on his sleeve, and his money where his mouth is, and leaves everything on the road in his quest for the eternal sporting glory that will be his should he succeed, and every goddamned year something goes awry.

My friends, I swear to you all, I cried real tears when I saw him go down, and could not even bear to look at his sad, sad face in photographs. I cannot imagine what it must be like to prepare mind, body, and heart for that race only to be foiled by the likes of having his handlebars sheer right off the stem with only 45 kilometers to go. I can't even conceive of what it feels like to end that day, into which so many hours resembling nothing so much as the labors of Sisyphus have been poured, sitting on the roadside with a broken bike and a mangled shoulder, while some other guy rides into the velodrome victorious.

There's nothing really to say about all this, though, because as everyone who knows knows, almost just does not cut it in bike racing. Bike racing is all about objective and undeniable superiority. Coming in second, like George did last year in this race, is nice, but in the mind of a man who trained to win, it's no better than coming in as  first loser. Crashing out of a race like George did on Sunday is nothing but agony when a guy knows in his heart that he has the form to win. Like I said, I can't imagine what it must be like to sit on the side of the road, and know it's over, again.

You know what I do know though? Despite that crushing defeat at the hands of fate, George will be back next year, and his desire and his heart will be as full of unalloyed commitment as it always has been, because that's the kind of man he is. That's how George Hincapie rolls.

Spending as much quality time as I have in the excellent company of bike racers has taught me so many incredible things, but none of them has shown me anything more surprising and profound than George has, with his genuinely amazing humility, essential goodness, and uncomplicated dedication to everything he does. He's an incredible person. However, it's that quality of Hincapie's, that endless willingness to cowboy up and work to be worthy of that victory, even though it has eluded him with an almost whimsical cruelty, time and time again -- maybe even because it has -- that makes him so ineluctably, and heart-rendingly heroic as an athlete.

I know it seems like so little, really, to win a bike race that most of the people reading this website have never even heard of, but George's yearly assault on the cobbles between Paris and Roubaix is as full of all the poetry of human endeavor as the work of any artist or poet, and on his bike, he is that poetry: absolutely focused presence, mind and body bound together by a singular will and extraordinary dedication, and it is a thing of beauty.

George will fight another day, and it will be freaking gorgeous. I can't wait to see him do it.

Comments

[beth]

change "bike racing" to "baseball" and this is pretty much why i'm a red sox fan. although they eventually won--and if they can do it, anyone cane.

[beth]

"cane"? sheesh.

[Shameless]

I couldn't believe it either. This was maybe his best ever to win this freakin' race. In the right break with 2 strong teammates for support, and Boonen isolated and alone. George might not have caught the inspired and on fire Cancellera, but it would have been a different race watching him attack, which would have been inevitable. A great shame. George can't buy a break.

Shameless

[Shameless]

Of course I meant "best ever" chance

[Walt]

Jane,
Brilliantly written. I actually hope George reads it for inspiration for next year! I'm sure he would gladly trade in his TDF mtn top win for his bike to stay together so he could have contested the final of P-R.
By the way did you actually get to go to the race???

Best,
Walt

[locutus (aka trick)]

Amen sister. George is a hardman and also a nice guy, a very hard combination to pull off. The pictures of his wife helping him--with his mangled left wrist and mangled right shoulder--through the airport at Atlanta were really nice to see: though he had a horrible day, he still had his family there to help him pick up the pieces afterword. Yeah, he'll be back to open up that George-sized can of Carolina whupass in the Tour. I can't wait to see him really ride for himself and cut loose in that race.

[Jane]

Alas, Walt, I did not get to go to the race. Finances are tight! Turns out, a Czech teacher's salary is PEANUTS! Enough to live very happily in Prague, but not enough for loads of other stuff. It will get better. I'm not complaining. Anyway, I want to be there the day George wins. NEXT YEAR.

Tricky, AMEN. I hope his peeps are taking good care of him. Poor George. It sucks SO MUCH.

[Walt]

Jane,
If your presence at the race is the final piece of the puzzle that will allow him to win this race, then I will lend you my car to get there (or at least train fare since my big-ass gas guzzling american car probably won't fit on the roads of Prague)!
NEXT YEAR!
Walt

[Jane]

Walt, I've told you that you're a total dreamboat, right?

[Sarah]

I can't even tell you how devasted I was. It was a get up and leave the room moment because I could not stand to witness the agony of George going down in such prime position to win. I will be cheering him on in every race he does until the day of his retirement, but especially Paris-Roubaix. I love George!

[karen]

I'm afraid I don't know a whole lot about bike racing, but there's something about this combination of agony and devotion that feels somewhat familiar...

[karen]

Jesus, posting anything to Typepad feels like an optometry exam! "Uh...e...1...o? No...Q..."

[Jane]

Sarah: I know! I'm with you. Sheer fucking hell. I was wiahing you were here with me, because no one I was with gave a RAT'S ASS.

Dude, you need to come visit me. The other night I was out at this awesome nightclub, here in Prague, that plays the funniest music EVER, and I thought to myself "You know what would make this moment perfect? IF SARAH WERE HERE."

I hope all's well...

[gwadzilla]

maybe in your research you have some information about Floyd Landis' mountain bike beginnings

at what level did he compete?
what were some of his mountain bike race highlights?

maybe there is an article in it

[Bin Laden]

I love american people.
And american people love doping like you.

[Generic Viagra]

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