You may remember that a few weeks ago I said here that I was a badger who rides a bike. And now I’ve learned: the badger is the most successful bicycle animal of all time. As if I knew it! In truth, I had no idea, I just received a very friendly letter to the editor. A person with an excellently sorted archive of postcards sent me a card with a black and white photo of a very exhausted and muddy man printed on the front. On the back it said: “As far as I know, a rabbit has never won the Tour de France. A badger, however, has won five times.” In addition, the numbers of the winning years were noted: 1978, 1979, 1981, 1982, 1985. A not so complicated Google search later I knew a name that I should have known before: Bernard Hinault.
Bernard Hinault, known as “Le Blaireau”, the badger, was not only the fastest Tour de France rider five times, he is also the last French to ever win the Tour de France. I am one of those people who watch the Tour de France because of the landscapes and only watch football when there are peanut flips. That’s why I met the badger a long time ago. But I felt very close to him because he completely adopted his nickname. A badger on a bicycle – for Bernard Hinault just as convincing an idea as it is for me.
The afternoon was disappointing. It was the years after the badger
But Hinault apparently identified himself more with the aggressive badger variant. He has the same reactions as a badger that is hunted, Hinault told the magazine Bretons: “If I am disturbed, I withdraw into my hole. When I come out again, I bite.” Oha. I’ve always imagined badgers to be much more comfortable, but I’ve never won anything where you have to sweat.
When the Tour de France passed not far from my grandmother’s village, we joined the people who were waiting for the drivers there. I was maybe five. And I thought it was going to be like on TV. That men with faces contorted with pain will fight their way past us, that we would cheer them and that this would give them strength again. Among other things, I did not understand that we were not going to a mountain stage because there are no alpine passes near Bordeaux, but to such a totally boring routine day that even cycling fans only look at because of the landscape.
The drivers came, tall people stood in front of me, I saw nothing and heard the whirring of the tires. And then it was over. It all happened so quickly that afterwards I understood why it’s called a bike race. Or maybe it was such a disappointing afternoon because it was the years after the badger. I even believe that there wasn’t a single animal on a bike. What a pity.