After reading the following book
review, I really do wish that I was proficient in French.
David Moncoutié has always been somewhat of an enigma over
the years, his life story finally being documented in his biography, Ma Liberté de Rouler (translation: Freedom to Ride), albeit exclusively in his mother tongue.
Moncoutié was a professional cyclist for the best part of
fifteen years. While he has been accused of lack of ambition and drive
throughout his career, Moncoutié’s palmares
indicates otherwise. He always seemed to deliver a few strategic victories
annually, including Grand Tour stages.
Considering that he rode for one team throughout his career, one might get the impression of a rider in a comfort zone and afraid of
change, especially given that French cyclists rarely venture outside of their
home borders to foreign teams. But then how many Spanish or Italian riders choose
to pursue a career outside of their respective countries? Maybe he was just
content where he was.
In today’s goal-orientated world where ambition and will to
succeed are driven into us daily, people like David Moncoutié are often looked
down upon as under achievers or “laid back.” Sure, we all want to be successful
in our own special way but for me at least, it does beg the question: what is
wrong with being content? And who said that we all have to have set goals, be
it personal, career or sporting?
I remember reading a magazine quote many years ago by another
David, Moncoutié’s fellow teammate, David Millar. When asked about his then fellow
Cofidis riders, Millar said something like “David Moncoutié and I are a similar
age with similar strengths yet we are totally different people. I feel I have
more ambition. After all, he comes from a small village and his father is just
a postman.” That particular article perhaps highlighted Millar’s apparent
immaturity at the time, which he talks about extensively in his own autobiography,
but it does highlight how society judges others based on achievements in any
sphere.
Moncoutié’s idiosyncrasies are most interesting, with his
eschewing of conventional medicine in favour of homeopathy being but one
example. His book apparently tells how, from when he was a child, his mother
discouraged the use of any conventional medicine to cure illness, a fact that
Millar describes candidly in his Racing
Through the Dark. Millar recounts how, when the Cofidis team doctor
prescribes antibiotics to relieve Moncoutié of bronchitis, the Frenchman stops taking
the medicine only a couple of days into the weeklong course, owing to his
indifference to pills.
People like Moncoutié are often looked upon as loners or
even a bit odd. It is however a testament to his strength of character that he
has seemingly remained unchanged and true to his roots. While many of us marvel
at the glitz and glamour of professional sport, it is perhaps individuals like
David Moncoutié that make sports what they truly are.
The “borrowed” photo at the top of this piece is telling. Moncoutié’s
facial expression is similar in many images of his career; whether on or off
the bike, his expression could be described as “shyly bemused” with a consistent
half-grin. Even on the podium after a Tour de France stage victory, he doesn’t
appear to be wildly elated or emotional. Maybe it is due to his stated career goal,
as described in the book review mentioned, that is his “wanting to be happy” as
opposed to that of success and victories that might
be expected.
The book itself is apparently modest in appearance as
opposed to the more “rock and roll” looking cycling memoirs of recent times.
While I’m not sure of David’s motivations for this autobiography, Ma Liberté de Rouler’s
humble appearance and content description do remind me of the classic A Peiper’s
Tale, written
by former pro and current BMC Racing Team director Allan Peiper. Perhaps not
coincidentally, it is Peiper’s love for cycling that shone through in his work,
something that seems to be evident with Moncoutié by reading aforementioned
book review.
It is perhaps interesting to note Moncoutié’s how fellow
Cofidis rider Millar’s writing details his own eventual appreciation for the
simple things in life after seemingly losing everything post-2004 scandal. This
appreciation extends to the simplicity of cycling. While a younger Millar may
have begrudged his bike on many occasions pre-2004, his catharsis results in a
rediscovery of his pure love of cycling, perhaps influential in the extension
of pro his career to the present day. Michael
Barry’s poetic Le Metier confirms
this with his reference to Millar’s eagerness to begin training and exploring
in the annual off season.
With their departure from the revelation-centric doping
tales of recent years, books like A
Peiper’s Tale and Ma Liberté de Rouleur are refreshing in
the sense that they reveal true love and passion for the simplicity of sport.
Whilst they are most certainly not rose-tinted or romantic accounts of the peloton,
these sorts of books serve to remind us why we ride bikes in the first place.
They do for me at least.
Let’s hope a publisher has the vision
for a Ma Liberté de Rouleur en anglais.
Photo Credit: moncout.blogspot.com
