That’s not to say that the SSC doesn’t have a casual
interest in pro cycling. He does. In fact, during Tour de France season, he
even gets to know which of the main GC riders are on which team. But the SSC knows
that he’s not actually a member of any of those teams, nor is he likely to get
picked up by one of them any time soon.
So, for the SSC, wearing that Sky jersey while out riding a
bicycle in public only invites unflattering comparison. It shouts out, “I think
I’m fast, like Mark-Cavendish fast.” Or it implies a kind of unselfconscious game of make-believe: “Look at me, I’m pretending to be Chris Froome!” (Admittedly, there’s
something naïvely sweet about enacting this kind of cycling, dress-up-in-public
fantasy—at least, if you’re twelve.)
But here’s the thing about that analogy. Pro cycling is
different than those other sports. The riders don’t wear names and/or numbers
on their jerseys. So kitters are wearing a team jersey, not an individual jersey.
And few cycling fans have a visceral connection to a particular cycling team
the way Red Sox or Leafs fans to do their teams. For one thing, cycling teams
are named after sponsors, not cities, and the teams rarely last more than a few
years before the sponsors move on. So it’s hard to take seriously the whole
devotion-to-a-team argument. Cycling kitters just end up offering free
advertising to big corporations—who just happen to sponsor cycling teams
for a few years.
Plus, it’s one thing for a Broncos fan to wear that Peyton
Manning jersey while swilling beer in the stands and quite another if that same
fan heads out to actually play football in that same team tunic. To put it
another way, when a dude in a LeBron jersey plays pick-up basketball, he better
have game, or else he stands to look like a fool.
Five-time Tour champion Bernard Hinault once said that it
drives him crazy to see a fat cyclist wearing a yellow jersey. He thinks it’s
disrespectful, that the maillot jaune—any
maillot jaune, apparently—is sacred. The
privilege of wearing it must be earned. To insert one’s hairy beer gut into the
hallowed yellow is to defile that symbol. It’s a travesty, in Hinault’s eyes.
I’m not so sensitive
to cyclists wearing plain yellow jerseys (there are good practical reasons for
wearing bright colors), but I take Hinault’s point. In the great game of dress
up that fans engage in, there are certain costumes that are best donned with
caution and discretion.
There is, however, one type of team kit that the SSC will wear: non-pro cycling-blog team kit,
like a Fat Cyclist jersey or a Jens Voigt Army cap—anything that signifies the
obscure, the ironic, or the absurd. This
kind of kit doesn’t seem quite so presumptuous; it doesn’t invite unflattering
comparisons. Rather it signals membership in a different kind of community,
based on shared interests and a realization that what the Musetteers do on
Sunday rides is not in the same category as what Wiggins and Hesjedal do. This
kit cheekily announces that this cyclist doesn’t take himself too seriously.
Look, the SSC doesn’t care what other cyclists wear in the saddle. Do your thing—dress up like
Lance, adorn yourself in the garb of your favorite superhero. Heck, go naked,
if you please.
But the SSC lives by a code. He’d (almost) rather quit than
wear pro-team kit.
I almost got riled up there about some team owning paisley gear. Nobody gets to own paisley! ;)
ReplyDeleteLove the Fat Cyclist jersey. I should get one of those and wear it doubly ironically. I'm 5'3" and 110 pounds. TRIPLY ironically since I've been out for a ride probably only once or twice in years (http://dustymusette.blogspot.com/2012/07/road-trip-indiana.html). Does anyone make a Fat Walker shirt?