If one thinks of South African professional cycling over the ages and tries to identify one individual who fits the aforementioned description, Robbie McIntosh would be a likely candidate. A prolific champion for many years, Robbie's longtime rivalry with the late Alan Van Heerden are part of South African cycling folklore. Then there is his tough exterior and never-say-die attitude. No, Robbie wasn't nicknamed "Rambo'' because of his love for Vietnam movies. Nor did his success on the roads of South Africa and Europe or his current activities come easy. You see, beneath his prolific palmares and seemingly tough guy image exists an extremely humble, intelligent and empathetic individual, one who has nurtured younger riders and even provided care for an ailing past rival.
'I've always been a leader,' says Robbie with a chuckle. 'It's just in my DNA I suppose. But I'm also part of a different generation. For instance, when Alan (Van Heerden) and I went over to Europe in the late-1970s, South Africa was banned from international sport. I was fortunate to have a British passport but when it came time to renew my British racing licence, the BCF just said that they couldn't do it. So was I forced to turn pro.'
After an uncertain period spent in limbo, Robbie managed to acquire a neutral licence, one which rendered him effectively stateless. And while compatriot Van Heerden was racing professionally for the famous Peugeot team, Robbie was making waves in Belgium.
'Alan and I had spent a couple of seasons with the amateur ACBB,' he explains. 'The ACBB was a feeder team for Peugeot and was based out of Paris. We had great times there with the likes of the late Paul Sherwen. When Alan was signed by Peugeot, I managed to get a place on the Belgian Fangio team. But being a South African, you were always looking over your shoulder.'
Like Van Heerden, Robbie spent two full seasons racing as a Continental professional. And then came a turning point.
'Alan said he was tired of living this life and was heading back to South Africa. I urged him not to as we had both sacrificed so much to get on European pro teams. Then I got a letter from the Belgian government telling me that my visa had expired and I had a week to leave the country. I sold everything to an Australian rider only to get to a renewed residency the day before I was due to leave. But it was too late.'
What followed next is pretty well known. Robbie and Alan returned to the home shores and started professional cycling in South Africa. Attracting corporate sponsors, they put together rival teams with large budgets. These were the halcyon days of South African cycling when elite riders could race around 70 days per year. There were over half-a-dozen stage races, many of which were televised, the season revolving around the annual Rapport Toer. This cycling extravaganza lasted well over a decade before fading away in the early 1990s. But what did this mean for Robbie?
'I was long in the tooth by then,' he explains. 'But I still felt I had a lot to offer. Being an older rider, you have the experience and the contacts that add value to any team. But then some younger riders see you as a threat and want to get rid of you. In short, I was basically forced out of professional cycling at the end of 1992.'
Not that Robbie hung up his wheels. Far from it in fact. He carried on racing with an amateur licence, captaining the young South African National Team in the 1993 Rapport Toer as well as in the last ever Milk Race that same year. The race around Great Britain ended prematurely for Robbie, however, as a snapped stem in the first stage saw him riding a replacement bike three sizes too small.
'Phil Ligget saw me get eliminated on that first stage and asked what was wrong with me,' he winces. 'Then the team management left me at a railway station telling me I had to find my own way back to South Africa.'
But Robbie was back with the National Team the following year, this time as their manager. After experiencing the might of the German onslaught and aggressive tactics in the 1993 edition, the South African peloton as a whole were intent on redeeming themselves. And as a collective, it was the National Team that shone bright.
'It was different being a young manager compared to an old rider,' says Robbie. 'That South African squad (Malcolm Lange, Mark Blewett, Douglas Ryder, Blayne Wickner, Nic White, Moolman Welgemoed) had some exceptional talent and I wanted to help them through strategy and intelligence. But I also needed to instil some discipline. When we went down to Pietermaritzburg for a training camp, we stayed in a budget hotel and they would always ask me if they could go out at night. I said sure, but that they had to train first. So we would ride six hours a day in the humidity of the Valley and they would be too tired to go "jolling". The results showed when they performed like they did at Rapport Toer '94'.
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Fast forward a few decades and a whole lot of water has passed under the proverbial bridge. SA cycling has had its ebbs and flows over the years of which Robbie has own strong opinions. But those are perhaps best reserved for another time. What I really wanted to ask him was twofold: what is he up to these days and was his rivalry with the late Alan Van Heerden real? Here goes.
The winding down of Robbie's cycling career and eventual sale of his Randburg bicycle shop could have signalled an early retirement lying on a beach on some tropical island without a worry in the world. Not. Life is long and you've got to do something. And for Robbie, that "something" meant a return to the classroom.
'I thought I was clever until I enrolled at WITS University for a course in exercise science. You know, as a former pro cyclist, I thought I knew everything. But I couldn't even see the blackboard when I sat at the back of the class! Anyway, I managed to get through the three year course and then started doing a lot of rehabilitation work. In addition to regular personal training and cycling coaching, my main focus was working with amputees. Be it landmine victims from Angola or people losing legs through diabetes, my goal has always been to get them walking within two weeks. These sorts of injuries are reality, not a game, and I find the whole process really rewarding.
'As far as Alan and myself go, we were rivals but we were never really at loggerheads. But because we were both strong personalities and born leaders, there was no way we could have been on the same team. But we started professional cycling in South Africa together and we were pushed out of it together all those years later.
'Even in those early days over in Europe, we had a lot of fun. And you know, I really miss him. He was a real character. Alan even stayed at my house during the final few months of his life. One day, he said to me that he just felt so happy to be staying with us. We reminisced a lot. And then just like that he was gone. Geez, I still think about him every single day.'
*Header image courtesy of Ark Images.
