Bahamontes- Robert Millar
Comments
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Geit van gent is fast becoming our spy on the ground - Richard, have you ever considered having a Cycling Podcast version of "Renaat"? I think you have a strong candidate!
I'd heard bits of the Vuelta Story before but I never realized quite how much they had screwed Millar over.We're in danger of confusing passion with incompetence
- @ddraver0 -
Thanks for doing another one of these DG!0
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Great work, impressive level Dutch you got.
Where Planckaert says "he was a good guest", that's probably "hij was een goede gast?" In that context 'gast' means 'bloke' or 'guy' or similar.0 -
Great work, impressive level Dutch you got.
Where Planckaert says "he was a good guest", that's probably "hij was een goede gast?" In that context 'gast' means 'bloke' or 'guy' or similar.
Thanks! You just gave me one of those moments where I went "Of course!" and slapped my forehead. My only defense was it was early and before coffee.
Same with calling Van Impe "Van Imperial" in my reply to Dhr Moore. I was typing on a phone whilst drinking beer."In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
Fupp Glasgow
Millar had more bad luck in the course of his career. There was the catastrophic tour stage in 1988 to Guzet Niege, a mountain stage that Millar just cou;dn't lose. With 400m to the finish, he had 2 competitors for the victory, Massimo Ghirotto and Philippe Bouvatier. If it came to a sprint, Ghirotto must lose, Millar was strong and rode neatly in the wheel of Bouvatier. Too neatly, because so focussed was Millar on Bouvatier's back wheel, he didn't see that the Frenchman had misinterpreted a policeman's signal and followed the diversion for the following cars. Millar rode together with Bouvatier into a hotel car park, meanwhile the beaten Ghirotto stormed to the finish alone. The Scot realised his mistake and turned back to the course, but too late: Dying just as he got on the Italian's wheel.
Millar was an idiot, but his popularity grew. Only he didn't like that. HE was so dominant and omnipotent on his bike and so withdrawn and shy off it. Contact with the fans was difficult. "He hated giving out autographs. If they came with a nice photobook, he would do it, but if anyone held up a scrap of paper to sign, it really got on his nerves. He found it disrespectful" Says Peiper. "HE could also be really sharp. I once saw him get really offended at a female customs officer in the airport 'What are you fupping doing?!' he yelled at her as she was searching his bag. I said to him 'Robert, if you speak to anyone like that again, I'll thump you.' He didn't do it again"
Before long, Millar had the reputation of a bumpkin bear (I dunno either). To the annoyance of those around him. 'Fupp off' was his standard greeting. "The challenge was to get him to say 'fupp off' in a polite manner" said one of his managers, later.
Perhaps you could see his upbringing in his boorish behaviour. Millar grew up in the Gorbals, the Bronx of Glasgow, one of the most deprived neighbourhoods in Europe. And there, life was no picnic. "The first thing I learned was that those who can't climb a tree quickly get eaten", he said in an interview in 1987. According to his 1st trainer, John Storrie, the young Millar was a rebel: hair down to his shoulders, problems with authority and always doing his own thing. His antisocial streak was obvious. During a club run, everybody sat round a big campfire. Millar made his own 50 meters away from the group.
"He was socially handicapped" says Peiper "His hard youth in the Gorbals made him that way. He struck first for fear of being struck. Out of self defense, perhaps. He wouldn't stand in the picture. The only thing that interested him was the bike. Ironically, Bob became popular with the public through his success on the bike. The better he performed, the more attention he got. Meanwhile, he wanted the complete opposite."
The press had a tough time with Millar. Because he never opened his mouth, when he did say something it was a jackpot. So it hit Scotland hard when he put his hometown through the mangle in an interview "Can you imagine a place where it rains all day every day but never at night? Grey, grey grey, there's nothing else to say about it." It brought him the scorn of his countrymen down on him. "But he was a true Scot" Peiper says "He had the traditional Scottish meanness. In the back seat of his car was a huge pair of bolt cutters to cut through the locked gates at toll booths. That way he never paid any paege. He also had a couple of tricks to not pay at the airport parking. With the help of a trolley, he would get a new parking ticket so he only had to pay the minimum. Plan B was to exit bumper to bumper with the car in front at the barrier then pay 50% each. It was fine until one day a barrier shattered his sunroof."In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
Cheers Goat, really enjoying reading these0
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Yeah, and reading it in sections gives it a nice cliffhanger element
Bumpkin bear was 'lompe beer'? 'lomp' means clumsy, or in this case (unintentionally) rude, boorish. 'lompe beer' is just an expression0 -
Yeah, and reading it in sections gives it a nice cliffhanger element
Bumpkin bear was 'lompe beer'? 'lomp' means clumsy, or in this case (unintentionally) rude, boorish. 'lompe beer' is just an expression
"ongelikte beer"... That was google translate"In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
[url=http://www.bikeradar.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=19756133#p19756133]disgruntledgoat[/url] wrote:Yeah, and reading it in sections gives it a nice cliffhanger element
Bumpkin bear was 'lompe beer'? 'lomp' means clumsy, or in this case (unintentionally) rude, boorish. 'lompe beer' is just an expression
"ongelikte beer"... That was google translate
Oh. Well, same thing, 'ongelikte beer', 'lompe beer'. A boorish person. ongelikt maybe a bit more intentional than lomp. We Dutch need a lot of words for rudeness
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[url=http://www.bikeradar.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=19756133#p19756133]disgruntledgoat[/url] wrote:Yeah, and reading it in sections gives it a nice cliffhanger element
Bumpkin bear was 'lompe beer'? 'lomp' means clumsy, or in this case (unintentionally) rude, boorish. 'lompe beer' is just an expression
"ongelikte beer"... That was google translate
Oh. Well, same thing, 'ongelikte beer', 'lompe beer'. A boorish person. ongelikt maybe a bit more intentional than lomp. We Dutch need a lot of words for rudeness
directness, you mean. "In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
[url=http://www.bikeradar.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=19756143#p19756143]disgruntledgoat[/url] wrote:[url=http://www.bikeradar.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=19756133#p19756133]disgruntledgoat[/url] wrote:Yeah, and reading it in sections gives it a nice cliffhanger element
Bumpkin bear was 'lompe beer'? 'lomp' means clumsy, or in this case (unintentionally) rude, boorish. 'lompe beer' is just an expression
"ongelikte beer"... That was google translate
Oh. Well, same thing, 'ongelikte beer', 'lompe beer'. A boorish person. ongelikt maybe a bit more intentional than lomp. We Dutch need a lot of words for rudeness
directness, you mean.
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I was enjoying the read until it feels like it is going into fantasy land and I have to question the entire story as a result. Really, Robert Millar stopped the car, jumped out the car to cut open the locks on toll booth gates to save a few Francs? Bearing in mind Allan Peiper hasn't spoken to Robert Millar since 1994, it suggests that for whatever reason, they weren't particularly close at the end of their careers and their relationship was somehow damaged. Thus the credibility of Allan Peipers story has to be called into question unless there is additional evidence to corroborate his statement."But he was a true Scot" Peiper says "He had the traditional Scottish meanness. In the back seat of his car was a huge pair of bolt cutters to cut through the locked gates at toll booths. That way he never paid any paege. He also had a couple of tricks to not pay at the airport parking. With the help of a trolley, he would get a new parking ticket so he only had to pay the minimum. Plan B was to exit bumper to bumper with the car in front at the barrier then pay 50% each. It was fine until one day a barrier shattered his sunroof.0 -
I was enjoying the read until it feels like it is going into fantasy land and I have to question the entire story as a result. Really, Robert Millar stopped the car, jumped out the car to and cut open the locks on toll booth gates to save a few Francs? Bearing in mind Alan Peiper hasn't spoken to Robert Millar since 1994, it suggests that for whatever reason, they weren't particularly close at the end of their careers and their relationship was somehow damaged. Thus the credibility of Alan Peipers story has to be called into question unless there is additional evidence to corroborate his statement."But he was a true Scot" Peiper says "He had the traditional Scottish meanness. In the back seat of his car was a huge pair of bolt cutters to cut through the locked gates at toll booths. That way he never paid any paege. He also had a couple of tricks to not pay at the airport parking. With the help of a trolley, he would get a new parking ticket so he only had to pay the minimum. Plan B was to exit bumper to bumper with the car in front at the barrier then pay 50% each. It was fine until one day a barrier shattered his sunroof.
any idea just how many - or rather, how FEW - ex-colleagues etc Millar has spoken to, since his retirement? He's a recluse, an intensely private man.0 -
[url=http://www.bikeradar.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=19756154#p19756154]Richmond Racer 2[/url] wrote:
I was enjoying the read until it feels like it is going into fantasy land and I have to question the entire story as a result. Really, Robert Millar stopped the car, jumped out the car to and cut open the locks on toll booth gates to save a few Francs? Bearing in mind Alan Peiper hasn't spoken to Robert Millar since 1994, it suggests that for whatever reason, they weren't particularly close at the end of their careers and their relationship was somehow damaged. Thus the credibility of Alan Peipers story has to be called into question unless there is additional evidence to corroborate his statement."But he was a true Scot" Peiper says "He had the traditional Scottish meanness. In the back seat of his car was a huge pair of bolt cutters to cut through the locked gates at toll booths. That way he never paid any paege. He also had a couple of tricks to not pay at the airport parking. With the help of a trolley, he would get a new parking ticket so he only had to pay the minimum. Plan B was to exit bumper to bumper with the car in front at the barrier then pay 50% each. It was fine until one day a barrier shattered his sunroof.
any idea just how many - or rather, how FEW - ex-colleagues etc Millar has spoken to, since his retirement? He's a recluse, an intensely private man.
The same story is in Richard Moore's book. Apparantly he used to do it at night on his way between post tour crits."In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
Doesn't really matter how many or how few Robert Millar has spoken too - Peiper in 'A Peipers Tale' admits to never really knowing Millar even though they spent so much time together. I can believe Millar having the cutters in the car for his own reasons, even having the temerity to do it once as a joke (though everyone seems to be in agreement Millar didn't do jokes) but to cut pay toll booth locks as a matter of regularity? Nope, to me it appears as an embellishment at best; lies at worst.
Edit: Disgruntledgoat posted before I posted mine. Richard Moore may have it in his book but does he use the same source? If Millar really did regularly cut the pay toll locks then that takes nerves. 0 -
To me, it almost doesn't matter. People are prepared to believe he would do it. It's a reflection on his character as a guy who always went his own way and relished petty victories over authority even when he didn't need to pick the fight."In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
This is the last bit I'll be doing (apart from sending the conclusion to Mr. Moore). Some of this is the personal life stuff, but it's all in his book, so I'll put it up.
The Hermit in the Woods
"Ah, Bob." muses Peiper "I'd love to see him again, but I'm not going looking for him. It's clear he doesn't want any contact with the outside world anymore." Midway through the 90s, Millar began cutting ties with his surroundings. In the autumn of 1995, he left his wife Sylvie (the sister of Pascal Simon) and son behind in their house in Berceney-en-Oeth in France. Reportedly, he was on the run from the tax man. "Suddenly he was gone, wthout a word to anybody" remembers his good friend and neighbour Jack Andre. He went to Daventry, a town in the English Midlands, where a mysterious woman appeared by his side. Her name was Linda, a fan who had been seen at races with him for a while.
In March 1997, Millar was appointed as coach of the British national team. He carried out this job in his own unique manner. Without saying a word he would scowl at their training sessions. He didn't want to sit in a teamcar, he didn't see any need to communicate with the riders. Anyone who wanted to know something had to come and ask him. There was no small talk. Sean Yates recalls "A couple of minutes before the buffet closed, he's sneak into the restaurant, so he didn't have to talk to us. The rest of the time, he hid himself in his room and he'd sunbath alone in his room with the windows open."
In 1998 Millar was fired by the Federation and, linked or not, from this moment his behavior became ever more eccentric. He enrolled himself in a taekwondo club, he wanted stronger pectorals. The trainer picked him up every week in his car. Never at home, even if it was raining, but at a petrol station a kilometer away. His hair was getting longer, like his earrings. His public appearances were getting ever rarer.. In 2000, nobody knew where Millar was, the only signs of life were his biketests for Pro Cycling magazine. Only there were no photos of Millar in these.
On August 27th 2000, a sensational article appeared in the Sunday Mail, a Scottish tabloid. Millar was in hormone therapy prior to a sex change operation. "He never goes out and he wears his hair in a ponytail wrote a certain Charles Lavery. For 5 days the journalist had camped outside Millar's house waiting for a photograph. His 'moment of glory' coming finally when Millar went to open the garage door. "Suddenly he stood before us. He refused to answer our questions but we could see he had developed breasts."
Millar didn't respond in the press. Also, nobody ever confirmed the story. Finally, the article disappeared from the internet. Was it a hoax? Possible, certainly, because 2 years later Millar appeared in public again, this time as the coach of the Scottish cycling team in the Commonwealth Games in Manchester. After riding a couple of laps of the course, Millar removed his jersey in front of his colleagues. No breasts to be seen.
Case closed, everybody said. Until Millar himself reopened the mystery in 2003. He was to be inducted into the Scottish Sports Hall of Fame, but (one for FJS here!) sent his cat to the ceremony. A call round his friends revealed nobody had heard from him that year. Also, in Daventry, Robert and Linda had not been seen for months. He was still alive. His pieces kept appearing in Pro Cycling, only nobody knew where he was writing them from.
At that moment. Millar became the MH370 of the cycling world. He seemed to pop up all over the world. A mechanic met him when he was snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. Later, a postman from Nottingham claimed he had been wandering through Sherwood forest for months. That last one wasn't unique in the cycling world. Charley Gaul, the immensly popular climber from Luxembourg, retired from cycling in 1965 and opened a cafe in Luxembourg city, until 6 months later he suddenly disappeared. Gaul had grabbed a rucksack one night and gone to live in the Ardennes forest. For nearly 20 years he lived as a hermit deep in the forest. In a wooden hut, well stocked with relics but without running water or electricity, he let his beard grow to his feet. Until, one monday in 1983, he suddenly appeared, clean shaven, behind the counter of his cafe. He never spoke a word about his disappearance. When he died in 2005, he took his secret to the grave.
It's odd to note that within the ranks of the climbers there seem to be a group of strange and tormented souls. Everyone knows the tale of Marco Pantani. But also the Spaniard Jose Maria Jiminez died young from a combination of depression and cocaine. The Frenchman Thierry Claveyrolat shot himself on his 40th Birthday. He also couldn't deal with his demons. Ex professional cyclist and commentator (wait for it...) Paul Sherwen has a theory...
A boring and cliche'd theory I'm not going to waste my time typing up. Hope you enjoyed."In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
Top work, disgruntledgoat, thanks - also for not finishing the article.Warning No formatter is installed for the format0
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Thank you vmuch.0
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Top work, disgruntledgoat, thanks - also for not finishing the article.
I just did the last bit to send to Richard Moore and felt a bit grubby."In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
I'm intrigued what the end of this article says now![Castle Donington Ladies FC - going up in '22]0
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You'd also be open to be sued for libel if it was incorrect and slanderous, as would Bikeradar for hosting the translation if it were shown here.
My preference is just to omit it. I really would feel crappy if I was the guy to put it into English and get cut and pasted all over the place.0 -
Thanks goat, a good read.
'je kat sturen', 'to send your cat' = not turn up. Not much exciting0 -
Thanks goat, a good read.
'je kat sturen', 'to send your cat' = not turn up. Not much exciting
I thought as much. But I liked the idea he sent a cat too much to change it"In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
Cheers for this, Goat, and again well played on the discretion.It's only a bit of sport, Mun. Relax and enjoy the racing.0
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I idolised Millar, I lived in Scotland for a while, and loved climbing the Crow road, I used to ride to Glasgow and visit Billy Bisland's shop, his son would tell great stories about Millar (his dad coached him), one which was particularly pleasing involved him beating Millar to a uphill town sign in a sprint. They have some of his kit's including a Tour Polka Dot jersey. I was told about Millar riding up the crow road 20 times, I've always considered doing it for charity. Richard if you see this do you know of any truth in it and what side it was?
Edit a google search shows it was a dozen.0 -
I idolised Millar, I lived in Scotland for a while, and loved climbing the Crow road, I used to ride to Glasgow and visit Billy Bisland's shop, his son would tell great stories about Millar (his dad coached him), one which was particularly pleasing involved him beating Millar to a uphill town sign in a sprint. They have some of his kit's including a Tour Polka Dot jersey. I was told about Millar riding up the crow road 20 times, I've always considered doing it for charity. Richard if you see this do you know of any truth in it and what side it was?
Edit a google search shows it was a dozen.
Bilslands used to be my LBS when I worked in Merchant city, a really nice old school bike shop."In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
[url=http://www.bikeradar.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=19755203#p19755203]disgruntledgoat[/url] wrote:Millar, Millar, Millar!
I really thought you'd go for Tom!
I admire the rider, but I suspect there is not a great deal of personality there really.
It seems a lot less contraversial though
Had a proper read of this last night and it's better than just a rider profile, it's a guy looking at how "Dumoulinisme" has reignited the Dutch passion for cycling. Maybe I can do that next."In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0 -
Thanks, a good read. RM spurred my interest in the big Pro events back in the day.
Doubt RM got much in the way of native scorn for describing Glasgow's weather (accurately) as grey, grey... As an exiled Scot, I fully understand why one of the daughters of a certain Mr B Connolly when brought to Scotland from home in LA asked "Daddy, why is the sky so low?"0 -
Thanks, a good read. RM spurred my interest in the big Pro events back in the day.
Doubt RM got much in the way of native scorn for describing Glasgow's weather (accurately) as grey, grey... As an exiled Scot, I fully understand why one of the daughters of a certain Mr B Connolly when brought to Scotland from home in LA asked "Daddy, why is the sky so low?"
I enjoyed the comparison between the Gorbals and the Bronx!"In many ways, my story was that of a raging, Christ-like figure who hauled himself off the cross, looked up at the Romans with blood in his eyes and said 'My turn, sock cookers'"
@gietvangent0
