The first thing I did when Cadel Evans crossed the finish line of today’s Stage 20 time trial was drop my remote control.
I didn’t do this because I was stunned by his performance. Rather, I did it because the CadelMageddon of prophecy had now come to pass, so I wanted to see if the forces of gravity had been reversed yet and if the remote would now “fall” up instead of down.
It fell down.
Then I went to my refrigerator to see if my pitcher of water had turned to wine. It was still water. (Though some hummus I’d been saving had turned all green and fuzzy.)
Finally, I flushed the toilet to see if the water would swirl down the bowl in the counterclockwise Australian way instead of the clockwise American way. It flushed counterclockwise.
“Behold, CadelMageddon,” I pronounced solemnly as the toilet gurgled. But then I went online and found out that the whole clockwise/counterclockwise flushing thing is a myth, and that the direction is simply determined by the design of your toilet.
I guess I have an Australian toilet.
As for the other signs, I expect they haven’t happened yet since Evans’s victory isn’t official, but when he stands atop the podium on the Champs-Élysées I expect the Earth to tremble, the Arc de Triomphe to turn to fromage, and the toilets of the world to flush ominously in unison.
Cadel Evans’s impressive win on Stage 3 notwithstanding, his Tour has been marked not by audacity and aggression, but by dogged determination. In fact, since then, the only time he’s attacked has been on the descents. For this reason it was satisfying to see Evans attack the time trial so savagely, and to turn a deficit of 57 seconds into a surfeit of 1:34 in just over 40km. Cycling doesn’t have overtime, but a Tour that comes down to the final TT is the next closest thing, and Evans turned the race inside-out like a tube sock in just under an hour of speed bump-hopping and corner-carving.
Meanwhile, after a single night in the yellow jersey, Andy Schleck shed it as quickly as you’d shed your Justin Bieber t-shirt at a metal show. He’d hoped he would enjoy the legal performance boost of the maillot jaune, but if your goal is to undermine Andy Schleck you couldn’t come up with a more potent combination than time trial bikes and fast descents. In the end, both he and Frank managed to finish in the top 20, but you could tell by the way Andy collapsed on his bike that he was devastated.
By the way, if you’re looking for the Frandy Schleck at any point between next week and the start of the 2012 Tour de France, I’d check the wind tunnels, because that’s where they’re going to be living for the next 11 months.
Still, Andy and Frank will finish the Tour in second and third places respectively. That means two-thirds of the podium will consist of Schlecks, and a partial podium Schleck-clipse of that magnitude is pretty impressive. Alberto Contador, on the other hand, won’t see the podium this year at all. In fact, as he left the start gate today, his foot slipped out of his pedal like he was a Fred trying to get started again at a green light. Really, his ride today summed up his entire Tour—solid but far from dominating, and plagued by mishaps.
But the final podium is still a full day away, and in the meantime tomorrow all eyes will be on Mark Cavendish—which, as far as he’s concerned, is where they belong. Then, Cadel Evans will collect his final yellow jersey, and it will start raining frogs.
Mitsuko L. Sharp Thomas I. Mendez Joseph L. Braswell George K. Conner Vernon T. Showers Elaine A. Blizzard
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