VeloCast

Cycling News seems to coming to the, somewhat worrying, conclusion that ‘being able to ride a bicycle – like, really fast’ equates to ‘a god-given talent for writing eloquent prose’.   This is a flawed assumption, and one that is being proven by some of those it deems worthy of a writing gig on their Blogs section.

Take tousel-haired, metrosexual, ‘Cipo’-lite, Filippo Pozzato, for example.  His inaugural post started well enough, titled  provocatively; “Only God Can Judge Me“.  Feisty stuff lies in wait here, you’d think?  But it soon becomes clear that the title was the probably the best thing that the publishing editor could salvage from this piss-poor ‘here’s what I did on my holidays’, pen-pal fodder.

Pippo – he wants us to call him that, y’know – kicks off by telling us that he really “honoured to be here” (cyclingnews.com) before saying that he will try not to be boring as he hates “anything that is bland, but hopefully via this blog you’ll gain a better idea of what I’m really like as person as well as a bike rider.”.

Moments later, though, I would have been cursing Pippo’s coquettish promise of literary excitement were it not for the fact that my brain, along with several other major organs, were pulling their resources in the hope of inducing a life-saving coma.  God only knows why Pozzato, or more pertinently Cyclingnews, thinks that I have any interest in his tattoos or what they mean.  ”Only God Can Judge Me” the tat across his shoulders says.  ”Only God Can Save Me” was the response to the tat before my eyes. This particular piece of fascinating body art was created as a “message to all those people who like to judge me without ever having really gotten to know me”.  Fair enough.  Do we think he will be whipping off his shirt to brandish the ink every time he feels slighted?  Who knows? Then we’re treated to the man’s philosophy as to why people who make judgements based on Pippo’s hairstyle or shoes are, like really superficial.  It’s like being stuck at a bus stop with a teenage girl from a North London comprehensive as she yammers into her mobile phone; “I was like, yeah, wha’EVAH!”.

By the time we got to how some people think Pippo is the David Beckham of the peleton I was fending off my right arm as it reached, like a self-harming Dr. Strangelove, for any nearby sharp implement to gouge my eyes out. After that I was just able to make out, through the tears of blood and what was left of my mutilated cornea, something about “big goals”, “working hard” and “Milano-Sanremo”. But I could be wrong. It might just as well have been about what else he did on his hols, how he “doesn’t like the food, but the weather has been FAB. Wish you were here!!!!”.

Of course all this isn’t Pozzato’s fault. He’s not writing in his native language and, to be frank, he shouldn’t be asked to write at all. By all means, Cyclingnews, stick a microphone in the general direction of his bronzed bouche at the end of an UCI event of your choice. Feel free to utilse whatever he says in a well constructed article in the time-honoured reportage style. Or even, if you really must, as part of a cheeky, thought-provoking opinion piece should the journalist of the day deem it necessary. But don’t, I implore you, ask him to jot down his innermost thoughts and feelings and try to pass it off as a ‘let’s get under the skin of’, morning sofa, lifestyle piece. As much as some fans want to know what makes their favourite riders tick, this isn’t the way to do it. Left to their own devices like this, I’m left only with the conclusion that what is going through Pippo’s head is as banal and infuriating as the Crazy Frog theme tune.

Anyway, I’m off now to read all about how rollercoasters make Andy Schleck feel a bit queezy. Ciao!