Say adios to steak-frites Alberto Contador

Steak Frites
(Photo by Sifu Renka on Flickr, used under Creative Commons licence)

There are few culinary delights in this world which can match the pleasure of steak-frites done properly. It’s the great constant of French cuisine that you can order anywhere and know that even the most pastis-pickled commis is unlikely to get it wrong.

And to that joy, Alberto Contador has just waved goodbye for the rest of his racing career. Yes, it was a tenderloin rather than the cuts that typically sit atop the mound of frites, but he has foresworn any beef for the rest of his career.

Then again, this is a man so picky about his food that, in a town with 36 butcher’s shops, he had to get his meal bussed in from another country. So he’s probably beyond the appreciation of a meal that shouldn’t come to much more than 10 euro, including a glass of wine.

Yeah, who feels foolish now Bert? Not me, who always looks forward to enjoying steak-frites when I get to Paris.

Although of late I must recommend Café Castiglione’s Cheeseburger. A great place to go on the final day of the Tour – it’s at the top of Rue St Honoré – so you can have lunch and catch the riders as they hurtle out of Rue Rivoli and into Place de la Concorde.

The owner also has a signed yellow jersey that he brings out for the Tour. My American readers might like to know this so that they don’t like the couple we saw, resplendent in Discovery Team jerseys, who failed to spot both the jersey and the fantastic food.

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An open letter to professional riders on the subject of speaking out about doping

Dear riders,

Some of you have been remarkably outspoken on the fate of one of your number, forcefully damning one idiot. Sadly you seem to equally reticent to condemn another, well, idiot.

I’m sure you don’t need me to put the names here for us all to be familiar with the situations I am typing about. Perhaps some cases rouse your ire more readily, but we should be careful to speak out with equal vehemence regardless of personal feelings about a rider.

To help you, I’ve written some words which you might like to consider:

“His A and B samples were both positive for a banned substance. The amount is irrelevant.

Given that he has failed to demonstrate an evidenced mitigating factor, such as supplement contamination or improper handling of samples, it is only right that he should serve a two year ban.

We are all aware of strict liability as it applies to our profession. It’s insulting to the intelligence of every rider and fan that he continues to persist with such an implausible defence.”

These could apply to almost any case in the past, present or future on which you might wish to express an opinion.  If in future you would like to express an opinion, please feel free to use the form of words above as a starting point.

I will happily publish your opinion for you. You can reach me by email but please remember to specify the case in question so that I can make sure my readers are aware who you are talking about. I also accept video and audio.

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How Paul Kimmage changed the game of cycling journalism

Paul Kimmage (centre) confronts Lance Armstrong at the Tour of California

Paul Kimmage (centre) confronts Lance Armstrong at the Tour of California. © Doug Pensinger/Getty Images

In 1990, Paul Kimmage stuck his head above the parapet and published his account of his time as a professional cyclist, Rough Ride. It changed cycling journalism.

In 2011, Kimmage once again changed cycling journalism in a fundamental way. Except it went largely unremarked.

P.K Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow. Do you have a preferred cycling website in the US for the transcript? I like the NY Velocity guys.

F.L I like those guys too. I hope they run it because it’s the last interview I’m ever going to do about the first 35 years of my life” – Transcript of interview with Floyd Landis by Paul Kimmage, NY Velocity

You’re thinking “how does an interview transcript on a New York cycling website change the game?”

Paul Kimmage writes for the Sunday Times. He has his own page as a columnist, something not every writer gets.

He’s one of the most respected interviewers in sports journalism and someone who most editors would fight to have on their pages. His name is a brand in its own right, a hallmark of quality insight.

He can command a pretty good wage for his work, possibly as much as six figures, and is in demand. (Paul, please feel free to contact me if I am mistaken but I bloody hope they pay you properly).

The interview with Floyd Landis that appeared in the Sunday Times Magazine was lengthy but seemed to be missing a heart. It seemed more a portrait of a man broken by the sport that helped him escape than an insight into deception in cycling.

The lawyers had clearly spent a long time filleting out anything contentious that might give rise to a libel action under English law, where the Sunday Times is published. English law is the world’s top destination for libel tourism.

He then gave away a full transcript of his seven hour interview with Floyd Landis to an American website. As far as I am aware, he received no remuneration for doing so. It’s the top hit on google for “Landis Kimmage”.

(UPDATE: Andy Shen of NY Velocity has confirmed Kimmage was not paid in the comments: “Paul was not paid for posting on our site. He and Floyd just wanted to get the story out.”)

This contained a lengthy detailing of Landis’s views and experiences of doping in cycling. It included the allegation that Oscar Pereiro, the rider installed in his seat as the winner of the 2006 Tour de France, was also doping during the race.

Under English law any of the allegations would have drawn a letter from Schillings, Carter Ruck or another of the chambers who specialise in “reputation management”, threatening action. Under American law, as I understand it, Landis’ right to say these things is protected.

Before Kimmage did this the tradition was that you didn’t release transcripts in full to show what had been taken out. You certainly didn’t give away your big lines for free because your bosses thought they were legally awkward.

I don’t do it with my interviews, no one I know does unless it’s to rebut claims of misrepresentation.

Maybe Kimmage agreed this with Floyd, maybe he agreed it with his editors. But it’s highly unusual for big publications to let that sort of stuff slip out for free in case it proves lucrative later.

What Kimmage changed was the cowardice that says you accept your editor’s decision on what to publish and where to publish. Now every journalist needs to accept that if you value your story and your audience, there is always somewhere it can be published.

Kimmage’s actions say that, in the new devolved digital era, there is no excuse for omerta on the part of the press.

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