As far cycling books go, Richard Moore's works stand out in terms of its sheer depth whilst following a set story line. Whether profiling the greats of yesteryear or the stars of Team SKY, Moore's ability to get under the skin of the major players provides the reader with greater understanding of a sport that is often difficult to understand from the outside.
In the following Q&A, Richard explains his path to writing, the background work necessary to compile a legible book as well as some interesting observations in his profiling of the world's number one cycling team.
Nature Gym: Having been an elite cyclist yourself, talk
about your cycling career. Did you have aspirations of turning professional or
were you always thinking of a career beyond the sport?
Richard Moore: In my teens I dreamed
of turning pro in Europe, like any other young cyclist, but I didn't think I
was good enough. I certainly wasn't ambitious enough. I went to university
instead, so I suppose I prioritised getting a job (through a degree in English
literature - ha!). When push came to shove, I don’t think I could have handled
living alone in France or Belgium or Italy, training and racing and hoping. My
ambitions were pretty modest - to represent Scotland at the Commonwealth Games,
which I achieved in 1998. I was quite satisfied with that but disappointed not
to do better there.
NG: Has your background as a cyclist endeared you to the
riders in your journalistic work? Do they accept you more readily or feel more
comfortable talking to you when they know you've suffered in the gutter or
toiled up the Genting Highlands?
RM: I don’t think so. I wasn't at the
level these guys are at, and most of them probably don’t know that I used to be
a cyclist. It was last century!
NG: Your books are incredibly detailed and effective in
painting a comprehensive picture of the key characters in the respective
environments. How much actual research is entailed in putting together
background profiles of the key players before getting to speak to them? Have
there been cases of a particular rider or key staff member turning out to be
completely different to your pre-character assessment?
RM: It depends - in cycling, I know a
lot of the people I’m writing about anyway. For my athletics book, The
Dirtiest Race in History, it was a bit different - I did a lot of
reading of contemporary reports and books about that era. As a journalist on
the cycling circuit you’re always absorbing things about the main characters,
through talking to them, observing them, gossiping about them. It’s rewarding
to get to know some of the backroom staff as well, because they’re obviously not
as well known, but frequently just as, if not more, interesting. I can’t think
of too many surprises - perhaps Don Catlin, the ‘godfather’ of anti-doping, who
I met in LA while researching The Dirtiest Race in History. He was very genial, a
grandfatherly figure with one of those mellifluous voices that can send you to
sleep. Not sure what I expected, but he had this reputation as a major figure
in anti-doping, and I was surprised at how open and generous he was. Similarly,
Joe Douglas, Carl Lewis’s old manager, had this reputation almost as a mafia
figure, but he was great fun and very open.
NG: Your book Sky’s The Limit illustrates the
evolution of what is now world cycling’s top team. There were some interesting
analogies where some “old school” staff seemingly clashed with the newer
generation. How noticeable was this at the time of writing and what are your
thoughts of experience versus vision/science? Can the two effectively run in
tandem?
RM: It was really noticeable - and
it’s fascinating now to go back and look at that first year in particular.
There was a real culture clash between the old school and Brailsford’s new team
of sports scientists and coaches. It was obvious within weeks of the team
starting up in 2010 that there were major differences between Scott Sunderland,
who’d been hired as senior sports director, and Brailsford. Over the year I got
to know some of the other people - Tim Kerrison, for example. Kerrison, Rod
Ellingworth, Matt Parker (who was involved at first) and other key people all
seem to have quite a lot in common - they’re quiet, understated, dedicated
(borderline workaholic) and seemingly without egos. It’s interesting, though,
because a couple of ‘old school’ people have thrived under Brailsford - Shane
Sutton and Sean Yates, until he left. Both seemed more open to their new
methods than some.
NG: Leading on from my previous question; an interesting
member of Team SKY was Jeremy Hunt, who is from the older generation having forged
his own path. Do seemingly ‘old-school’ riders like Jeremy quickly fall in
place with a more sports-science-based system like that of SKY or is there a
noticeable adaptation period? Is there a place for more of these riders within
the organization based purely on their more ‘worldly’ experience as opposed to
results alone?
RM: I don’t know Jeremy Hunt that well
but I think he also brought a level of experience to the team that they were
lacking. People like him, Bernie Eisel and Flecha could be road captain-type figures
and reassuring presences for the younger riders. I think Eisel was sceptical at
first about the Sky approach to training, on the first camp he attended in
Majorca. Cavendish told him to give it a chance. Speaking to Eisel a year
later, it was interesting to hear how enthusiastic he had become about the Sky methods.
NG: With Team SKY’s understandably British identity and
given your aptly-named In Search of Robert Millar, would a
champion rider like Millar fit the current SKY mould? With the seemingly
embattled and similarly enigmatic Jonathan Tiernan-Locke suffering in a more
controlled environment in 2013, is it perhaps unfair to assume that Team SKY is
too science-based and robotic?
RM: I wrote about this in the Cycling
Anthology (vol 1), about whether I thought Millar would have fitted in
to Team Sky, as well as speculating about how Tiernan-Locke would get on.
You’re right, I think - regardless of the current doping case against
Tiernan-Locke - that he didn't seem to fit into their way of doing things.
There’s a massive difference between being a protected rider in a small team,
given free rein to do your own thing, and being a domestique in a big team,
with a job to do early in the race.
NG: Your epic Slaying the Badger profiles one Paul
Koechli, famous for his innovation in coaching and mentorship. What comparisons
or parallels can be drawn between Koechli and the present-day SKY guru Tim
Kerrison? Would you say that Paul was ahead of his time?
RM: Yes I think Koechli was years
ahead of his time. His role was different to Kerrison: he looked after the
riders’ training but also, as directeur sportif, decided tactics and strategy -
and he put a lot of thought into this. How much ‘say’ he had in ’86 is open to
question, given that the La Vie Claire team included Bernard Hinault, and he
was a law unto himself. I couldn't imagine Koechli giving instructions to
Hinault. But certainly - and Greg LeMond backs this up - Koechli understood
training and physiology better than most of his contemporaries. He was also
very anti-doping when it wasn't exactly fashionable.
NG: With the recent writings of people like Barry,
Millar, Wegelius, Moncoutié et al, we are seeing the emergence of literary
talent from within the peloton. Does this phenomenon indicate a shift from the
previous age-old omerta and is the cycling fan starting to understand or “get”
the sport? How do their (the riders) stories impact on the cycling journalism
industry in general?
RM: There’s certainly a greater
appetite for their stories. I think cycling is a sport, like mountaineering,
where the ‘actors’ have a lot of time to think, and, if they’re reflective
types, and articulate enough to be able to express those thoughts in writing,
and turn their experiences into stories (as some, clearly, are), then we, the
readers, are fortunate. Journalists are fortunate, too, because it all helps to
paint a more accurate picture of the sport. For a lot of them - and us - it all
stems from one basic question: why am I doing this mad, masochistic sport?
NG: Have your books come under much criticism from any of
those profiled? What are your relationships like with players in your previous
writings?
RM: I've only had negative reaction
from the main subject to one of my books, and that was In Search of Robert Millar.
But the reasons for that are complex and I don’t have any regrets about that or
any other book. Amazingly, relationships have not really changed as a result of
any books I've done. Most people are so obsessed with the news agenda that
books can fly below the radar, unless material from them does make the news
(which is kind of what happened with In Search of Robert Millar - but
that’s another story). So, for example, I could criticise Dave Brailsford in Sky’s
the Limit and he wouldn't be bothered (might not even notice) but if I
wrote a critical piece in a newspaper or magazine, especially during the Tour
de France, he’d be annoyed and would make his displeasure known.
RM: No plans for a Sky’s the Limit
sequel. I've just finished a book called Étape, a collection of 20 chapters,
each one about a great, or interesting, stage of the Tour. It covers the period
from 1971 to 2011. Crucially, each chapter features a new interview with one or
several of the main protagonists from the stage in question. So I interviewed
Merckx, Maertens, Hinault, LeMond, Cavendish, Armstrong... And some pretty
obscure riders, too. It was great fun and I hope people enjoy it. It’s
published in June.
