The race — fifty laps around the Gare neighborhood — included some of the greatest cyclists in the world: the Schleck brothers (accounting for two-thirds of the Tour de France podium); Thomas Voeckler, French hero of the 2011 maillot jaune; and many more.

There were balloons!

Groups of children rode around the course as part of the introduction of the featured cyclists. Here’s Fränk:

And there’s Andy:

Anita found the Schleck Brothers Fan Club tent and got herself a memento. Now she’s ready for next year’s Tours of Luxembourg and France!

As soon as the race got underway, Fränk went on a mini-breakaway — but it’s hard to get a lot of distance on a 1.7 km course!

There they go again:

Around again:

It was a nice opportunity to fiddle with my camera’s settings.

Here’s the podium stage:

To be honest, we were too tired to wait for the presentation of the winner (which turned out to be Fränk). Did we mention that there were balloons?

You can see Anita’s pride in the Luxembourgish brewing and alcohol-distribution sector. She gave away four beers in order to get her hands on this bit of promotional material. She was too shy to address people in English, and she asked me to explain what she was doing. So I stopped people and told them to have a free beer, in broken French, while Anita held out a plastic cup with a big smile on her face. We can’t imagine that we looked very trustworthy, but some people accepted the beer anyway.

Did we mention there were balloons?

Lazy link of the day: Photos at RTL.lu

Hopefully, we’ll get to show you the video of the Schlecks being Nice Guys during the kids’ race. But the directors are in a power struggle over The Bugle’s Debt Ceiling, so it may take a while.

Note from the Chairman of the Board: This post represents a new angle on Bugle news. For almost a year, our greatest value and singular focus was high-quality content. While we will maintain a high standard for our postings, The Bugle now has a new drive to excellence, in the key area of timeliness. You can look forward to postings that give you, dear reader, the latest in Bakker-related news, without excessive filters and protracted minutia. For example, the events recounted here transpired just 24 hours ago! In select cases, The Bugle will publish a comprehensive follow-up with the wide-ranging research and brilliant presentation that you’ve come to expect.

Also, contrary to Will’s irresponsible rumor-mongering, The Bugle will continue to honor its commitments for the foreseeable future.

We propose two videos to review our experience of those two days. You may want to watch each video in HD by clicking on the YouTube button and then the full screen button (four arrows pointing outward).

The photosets have detailed descriptions: Part One, Part Two.

After our comprehensive coverage of the first three days (Prologue, Stage One and Stage Two), we had our own rest day for Stage Three. (It was far up in the north, a beautiful area, but we were feeling quite lazy that morning.) It sounds like this stage was a lot like the previous ones: a Leopard TREK rider in yellow and the rest of the team with an iron grip on the peloton.

The final day of racing finished in Luxembourg-Ville, practically on our doorstep. Take a look:

And the requisite photoset is ready for your perusal, too.

Voilà!

The team’s ambitions extended to all the major European races. The hype grew as the cycling season began this spring. Cycling commentators dubbed them the number one team on paper.

The Tour of Luxembourg was important to the team from the beginning of the season. It is, after all, Leopard-Trek’s home turf, and the timing and difficulty of the staged race makes it a good tune-up for the Tour de France.

In May, during Stage Three of the Giro d’Italia (Tour of Italy), Leopard-Trek rider Wouter Weylandt died after crashing on a descent. The team withdrew from the race the next day, after the entire peloton honored Weylandt by turning Stage Four into a memorial procession. Over the next weeks, the Tour of Luxembourg gained significance as the team dedicated itself to the memory of their friend and teammate.

The prologue was Thursday, June 2nd, on a very short course through the streets of Luxembourg-Ville. Fabian Cancellara, who had several top-three finishes in the spring, finished first and earned the yellow jersey of the race leader for Team Leopard-Trek. That evening he said, “I wanted to get a personal win and a win for the team, but I especially wanted to add to our happiness after our loss a few weeks ago. This win is for Wouter. It is also a win for Luxembourg.”

We were there. I even rode in a chase vehicle for one of the time-trialists, thanks to the generosity of The Expatresse and another local friend.

That’s the build-up. The story continues in the descriptions of our photos from the Prologue, Stage 1 and Stage 2. You’ll find them in the following Flickr sets of photos:

• Tour de Luxembourg, Prologue and Stage 1
• Tour de Luxembourg, Stages 1 & 2

In Part Two: More photos, including the exciting finish under the Gëlle Fra in Luxembourg-Ville, and videos too!

After the crowd at our new favorite pub dispersed, we made our way to Dam Square. We had about an hour to kill before Katherine and Anita arrived. Of course, we set out in search of Ajax shirts for Will and me. We walked to a Foot Locker and asked if they had Ajax shirts. The store employee at the front, basically a bouncer, shook his head and pointed to Aktie Sport down the street. He clearly did not want drunk Ajax fans in his store.

In Aktie Sports, I saw the blue “change” jersey, but not the red and white shirts that the team had worn during the game and that eighty percent of the fans were wearing that day. We asked the helpful staff whether they had the home shirts. The young men said that Adidas had not yet released the home shirts for the following season, and that the prior season’s shirts were no longer on sale.

We both decided that a blue shirt bought in Amsterdam would be better than a red and white one bought over the internet. While trying on shirts for size, I thought that the large shirt was too big for me. I asked the two guys helping us if they had any mediums left.

They looked at each other for a moment. The smaller guy sighed, and then took off the Ajax shirt he was wearing. He handed it to me.

He looked so dejected. Laurie suspected that he was told that he could keep the shirt if he was still wearing it at the end of the day. The poor Amsterdammer was good-natured about the whole situation, and we appreciated his help.

After Aktie, we wandered around the outskirts of the red light district for the next half hour. At one street corner, a man yelled “Kampions” every time a new person came into his view. Further along, we saw a man in an Ajax shirt leaving a prostitute’s room, probably after celebrating the victory. We stopped for a moment in Will’s preferred red-light district watering hole — can you spot the Ajax scarf?

Back on the street, a middle-aged man said something directly to me, in Dutch. I responded, “In English?”

He said, “No, Dutch.” He paused for a moment, and then said, “Go to Museumplein if you want to party.” Will guessed that we were being led astray, but I had another thought. I suddenly realized why there was a stage in Museumplein, when Anita, Katherine and I visited the Van Gogh museum. That was the location for the rally for the new Lands Kampions, immediately after the game! We got official confirmation a little later — “huldiging” means award ceremony.

After we met up with Anita and Katherine, we toured the red-light district where half the fun was watching Ajax fans celebrate.

We walked to Rembrandtplein to get a drink and some food. We passed a bar where the patrons were singing Queen’s “We are the Champions” in Dutch.

Inside a calmer bar further down the square, we were able to watch the rally on the television — as well as an endless loop of game re-caps. You can recreate the experience in your own cube by watching Ajax TV in your browser: Championship Game Re-cap episode and Celebration episode.

When I made a trip to the bathroom in our quiet bar, I met a new friend. We discussed our love for Ajax. He was wearing the shirt from 2004 when Ajax won their last Eredivisie title.

He asked where I was from, and when I said Chicago, he said, “Hey hey hey, Al Capone!” and did a little dance. He insisted that I call the game football, not soccer. He predicted that the US will win the World Cup in ten years, although he was less impressed with Jozy Altidore than I am.

After dinner we headed back towards the hotel. Amsterdam felt a bit like a war zone. [Editor: Looks like a war on munchies.]



Riot police drove up and down the streets in armored vehicles.


After crossing the Leidseplein, we saw that the walls from earlier in the day were now being used as a barrier to separate the Museumplein from the Leidseplein.

We walked through a small door in the barrier to get to our hotel.

On the other side of the barrier, we counted at least seven riot vehicles and thirty police, prepared for a riot.

The riot had not materialized, and it appeared that they were all having a snack at the food truck.

While the police patrols made it feel a bit like an occupied territory, I did not think that the crowds were out of control. I never feared for my safety.

After crossing the canal, we had a drink with a good view of the riot barrier and we watched the police for a while. When the police finally moved the barrier and started to drive away, we decided to head back to the hotel.

It had been a long day and we had just seen the Dutch Superbowl. Being with the Lands Kampions that Sunday was a football experience that this American will never forget.

We still hadn’t determined the score of the game when Ajax scored a goal. The pub erupted. Everyone was high-fiving, tussling hair, hugging and jumping up and down. Will figured out that Ajax is leading 3-1. Based on the time the game started, we knew that it was nearing the end.

A couple of guys ran out of the bar, and created an opening inside. I shoved my wallet in my front pocket, and took my passport in my hands. I looked down at it. Will asked if I wanted him to hold my passport. I turned it over and ducked inside.

Once inside, I was surrounded by monstrously tall Dutch people, either standing on chairs or jumping up and down. The only person shorter than me was the sixteen year old boy in front of me. The energy was infectious. Soon, I was jumping up and down with the crowd. A couple more people left the pub, so I waved for Will to come inside.

By now, the crowd knew that Ajax was going to win and they were singing loud and proud. My Dutch is limited to words that look and sound English, and “Dank U Wel,” which means, “Thank you very much.” To my untrained ear, the song sounded like they were singing dhank yoo veld, dhank yoo veld. Listen for yourself, but check your volume first, because the clips are loud and distorted.

• Ajax Kampions (MP3)

Later in the day, Will learned that they were singing “Kampions!” — that is, “champions” in English.

In another chant, one guy called out, “ah la la LAN ya ya dah,” and the crowd responded, “ah la la LAN ya ya dan.”

• Call and Response (MP3)
• Video from outside the pub (MP4) or Youtube

According to the combined Dutch-language knowledge of Will and me, this chant means that Ajax is the best. Here’s more video, from just as Ajax scored to pull ahead by two goals:

When I had first entered the pub, I had seen the bartenders singing and jumping with the fans. I thought that based on their involvement in the game, the noise in the pub, and my lack of Dutch, ordering a beer would be difficult. However, the crowd was so engrossed in the game that no one was waiting for beer. I caught the eye of the one bartender who had stayed at his post, picked up an Amstel coaster off the bar, and made the two sign with my fingers. It was like a beer commercial.

I handed the man two five-euro bills. He looked at them, confused, and handed one back. What a steal! He even tried to give me change!

As the game clock ticked on, the crowd got noisier and noisier. The clock passed ninety, then penalty time ended, and finally, the referee blew the whistle for full time. Ajax had won!

It felt like I was in the middle of a mosh pit. Bodies compressed in the middle of the pub, bobbing up and down, singing. The closest experience I’ve had to this was being in the student section when Notre Dame scored a touchdown. I stayed in the crowd, soaking it in, before heading for the exit. On my way out, someone tussled my hair.

As we waited for Mike and Laurie, who were sneaking away for some food, we saw a riot vehicle with a water cannon drive down our street.

Outside and soaking in the excitement, Will told me, “I have a rule. When I watch a game with rabid fans of a team, that team becomes my team for that league.” I told him that I have the same rule.

This guy lit a road flare.

A bus honked “dah dah da da da,” and the crowd yelled, “Ajax!”

Will and I grabbed a bite of lamb kebab at the shop next door to the pub and Laurie and Mike grabbed a beer before heading down to Dam Square (De Dam to our fellow Ajax fans) to meet up with Katherine and Anita. From inside the tram, we heard and saw the crowds banging on the side of the tram. The tram crept along very slowly.

I was looking for some people turning over cars and setting fires. Thankfully, I didn’t see any of that. But Amsterdam had other adventures in store for me. To be continued…

Sunday morning started quietly enough, with breakfast at a pancake house by the canal near our hotel. On our way to The Pancake Corner (this one, not the other one), we noticed a work crew setting up a temporary wall on the avenue outside our hotel. Will’s best guess was the wall was a temporary board for posting political messages prior to an election. We made a note to return to the wall and discover its purpose, at the end of our day.




After breakfast, the group broke up, with plans to meet at the Heineken Experience at one o’clock. Anita, Katherine and I went to the Van Gogh Museum on the Museumplein. On the square, we saw crews working on a large concert hall.


Once again, our curiosity was piqued. After bandying about a few ideas, we decided that they were cleaning up from a concert — most likely Elton John and Bryan Adams.

While we wandered on the Museumplein, I saw the first couple groups of people wearing red and white football shirts — or jerseys as we would call them in the states. Ninety minutes later, after perusing the works of Van Gogh, I noticed even more groups of red and white jerseys walking through the Museumplein. At that point, it occured to me that Ajax, the Amsterdam team, must have a game today. I asked Anita to text Will and to ask him when the Ajax game would start.

Now, I’ve been a follower of European football since my first trip to Europe, during the 2002 World Cup. I watch the major international tournaments, the Premier League, and the Champions League. Therefore, I know of Ajax, the major football club in Amsterdam and the Netherlands.

One of the mysteries of the day, for me, came from the fact that football clubs compete in multiple competitions in any given season. Each club has a domestic league to which it belongs, and its ranking is usually governed by a points system. As there are no playoffs, these titles can be won before all the games are played. It would be similar to the Colts locking up a playoff birth with a few weeks left in the season — but without a playoff. If this happens, all the remaining games are meaningless, at least for the fortunate team — and they are played only for pride.

Clubs also play in a domestic cup, which is usually open to all the professional teams in the country. The domestic cup format is similar to the NCAA basketball tournament, where one loss eliminates you from competition.

Not knowing the stakes of the game on Sunday, I started to wonder what type of match is going on today. “Is the game a sleeper, like when the Colts rest Manning because there is nothing to play for? Is it a local derby, where local rivals face off for bragging rights? Or is it something bigger, with a trophy on the line?” I pondered the possibilities.

We met up with Will, Mike and Laurie outside the Heineken Experience. On his walk from the hotel, Will had chatted up some Ajax fans and had determined that the game was against FC Twente, a strong club from the east of Holland. He had also determined that the game was at “half three”, a Dutch way of saying 2:30 — which isn’t always translated accurately to English.

At the tasting bar inside the Heineken Experience, the bartenders held a little trivia contest for free beer. One of them asked, “There’s a big football match today, who’s going to win?”. I yelled “Ajax!” while Will yelled “Twente!”

Will got the beer, as the bartender was from the east. She also told us that a trophy was on the line today, but we didn’t learn which trophy. She mentioned that Twente had won another trophy a few weeks back. I assumed that Twente had locked up the domestic league, the Eredivise, and that today’s game was for the the domestic cup. In my experience with English Football, the domestic cup is the second tier trophy to the the league title. However, this was clearly a big game. Will and I immediately made plans to try to catch a bit of the game in a pub.

We left the Heineken Experience, crossed the canal, and then Katherine said, “I don’t think you can see the game.” She pointed to this:

Anita and Katherine wanted to get some food, and there was no chance of that wherever the match was on. So they went off while the rest of us went to the pub.

On the way over, I told Will, “Sorry, but I do not have your back.” I knew Will was sympathetic with Twente — after all, he got a free beer! But I wanted to be clear that I would not support his preference in hostile territory.

As we walked up looking for a place to stand, we saw that the place only had one television in the corner of the bar. We found a spot outside, where we could catch about ten percent of the screen, which was fine with me. I was there for the experience, not the game.

At that point, it looked like a great chance to see European football fans in their home territory. Little did I know what was in store for us as the game wrapped up. To be continued…

Let me provide a translation.

This event is a randonnée, which is a waymarked ride rather than a race. This randonée had three different lengths for three levels of mountain-bikers.

(1) Fit,
(2) Super-Fit, aka Jens Voigt,
and (3) Chuck Norris.

It’s called a “Benefitsride” because a cyclist who is not in great shape should check his or her level of health benefits before attempting to ride the route.

From the website for the randonnée, we find the sentence:

Den 10/10/10 as nees eisen Benefitsride, déi Randonnée wou den Erléis integral fir e gudden Zweck gespend gëtt.

My loose translation of this as follows:

Will should stay home on 10/10/10, lest the consequences of his unhealthy lifestyle become apparent when he is about 8km into the ride and looking up a series of switchbacks consisting of uneven rocks.

Also from the website, we find this, in Luxembourgish:

Déi lescht Joëren waren et ëmmer Don’en a Form vun Mountainbike + Equipement fir divers Kannerheemer.

Which means:

People here don’t just go out for a spin on their mountain bikes, and they think that the ravines around Luxembourg are gentle and easy, so you better have done more than once-a-week rides since August.

Well, I didn’t cycle more than once a week, every Sunday, this summer.

And I nearly died.

First, my lungs and my heart said, “Enough!” There may documentation of my distress, as a few cruel photographers were stationed along the course.

Just after I talked my cardio-vascular system back on board, my legs said, “You think we can keep pumping away like this? Not without some serious pain, buddy.”

Meanwhile, I learned how to translate “Passing on your left” in at least five languages.

By the 20km mark, my legs and arms were limp,
my brain was dangerously oxygen-deprived,
and most of my fellow cyclists were scooting off to the 45km and 60km loops.

It was a great time, in the sense that I didn’t require the rescue helicopter.

(Not that I didn’t think, “This would be a convenient place to set down,” when I reached the top of one hill.)

But seriously, my two loyal and generous companions kept me going until the end. I did appreciate the challenge and, once in a while, I marveled at the autumnal colors of the lovely sunny morning, deep in the woods outside Luxembourg-Ville.

Plus, I felt like I earned the new machine that I’d bought the day before, a Trek 8000 that looks just like this:

The bike wasn’t ready to ride quite yet, so this was my last adventure on my ancient Stumpjumper (1994). Here’s a good photo of someone else’s trusty old steed. Mine has a Specialized-branded Rockshox front fork. It carried me up and down trails in old coal mines in east-central Illinois, prairies in southeastern Wisconsin, the Wicklow Mountains of Ireland, and the forests of Luxembourg.

After years on forgiving steel with gentle cantilever brakes, I’m going to acquaint myself with an efficient aluminum frame and touchy disc brakes.

I’m also going to get into shape, so I can have some unbridled fun on my next randonnée — and live up to the potential of my new machine.

Alberto Contador finished the riding stages of the Tour de France on July 25, with the best time of all the competitors. Andy Schleck had the second best time.
Today, Contador’s publicist revealed that a doping test of Contador’s blood, taken on a rest day during the Tour, was positive for a banned substance.

Worse yet, the violation occurred the day before Andy Schleck attacked Contador fiercely and repeatedly on the Col du Tourmalet. Contador withstood every test, as Andy noted in that evening’s interview:

I changed rhythm and I tried everything but I think we’re on the same level on the climbs. … I tried to find out how he was feeling. You need to look at someone to see how he was coping. I think you can find out a lot if you look someone in the eyes. He didn’t have the sunglasses on today so it was possible to see, that’s why I looked so many times. But he always looked good and that’s kind of what killed me. … El Pistolero [Contador] is strong, huh? I could not drop him. He was always there. I wanted to find out if he was getting weak but he didn’t succumb. He even attacked me to show, ‘Hey, listen young boy, I’m still here! You better stop playing these games with me.’

So, wow, and…

Yay! Andy won the Tour!

Not so fast. Contador’s publicist claims that the positive test was clearly a result of contaminated steak, eaten at a hotel where the team was staying. The banned substance is sometimes used in livestock. The amount found in Contador’s sample was so small that it would have no performance-enhancing effect.

This is not much like Floyd Landis’s doping violation, which led the UCI to award the 2006 Tour de France to Óscar Pereiro. The rules, technically, have zero tolerance for banned substances. But doping sanctions are always complicated in the world of professional cycling. So are theories about doping: some people claim that the positive test could come from a blood transfusion on the rest day.

The news came out too late today to make the Luxembourgish papers — so there were no headlines reading “Andy wins!” this morning. I’m looking forward to reading the coverage tomorrow, and I’ll be sure to pass along the juicy parts to you.

Now that you’ve seen the photos from my first appearance at the Tour, take a look at how the media covered my presence.

Due to my local renown, all I must do to appear on the broadcast is stand near the course.

Proof? See the video evidence.

By the way, The Expatresse also appears, along with daughters Skittles and Baboo.

First up, the Bruxelles-Spa stage, which was the first day of a real bloodbath that set the tone of the Tour until it reached the Alps. Here’s the link to the slideshow, which includes thorough notes on the drama of the day. (If you don’t see the descriptions, click on “Show Info” in the top-right corner.)

A 90 minute drive brought my companions and me to a wet and windy spot in Basse-Bodeux, Belgium.

The spectators are part of the fun, of course — as are giveaways like polka-dot caps. But it was a miserable, rainy day.

It look a little while for the cyclists to arrive, but there was a race, too!

As usual, some photos didn’t make the cut — but you can still see them in the leftovers photoset.
Finally, a cheer for Andy Schleck, who lost the yellow jersey today under unfortunate circumstances.
Go, Schleck go!
Speakers of Luxembourgish, please correct me when I attempt to say:
Dajee Andy, weider sou!

Ireland scored that goal in the 35th minute, and played an outstanding game for all of regulation. After two matches of 90 minutes each, the score was 1-1. So they played into extra time.

In the 13th minute of extra time, the superstar Thierry Henry got a fast-moving ball under control and passed it to William Gallas. Gallas scored and the entire Irish team turned to the referee and called for a “hand ball” foul. No foul was called, the goal stood, and France beat Ireland to qualify for the World Cup.

Somehow, the fact that Henry admits the handball makes it worse.

I don’t know what the Irish fans did that night in France, but I do know that the main flight this morning from Charles de Gaulle airport to Dublin was delayed by more than three hours.

Out of fellow-feeling for our Irish friends, and a bit of sadness ourselves, we decided to watch the Irish morning television show and see what the newspapers had to say online.

Anita observed that the television personalities appeared to pass through four stages of grief:

1. The first stage, obviously, was anger. They was robbed! A blind referee in a system biased toward the big countries! We played our hearts out and we was robbed!
2. The second stage was depression. They were lucky to get this far, with the sad bunch of players that Trap had to choose from. We’ll never see the likes of this team in our lifetimes, and now it’s all over.
3. The third stage was self-blame. We shouldn’t have let it go to extra time in the first place. If we’d played, in Dublin, like we did in Paris, like we can play, then there’d be no extra time. In fact, we should have won our division outright, and it should have been Italy versus France in the playoff.*
4. The fourth stage was rationalization. With the economy as it is, this is actually a blessing. We can’t actually afford to go to South Africa, so it’s good we lost.**

The newspapers brought out their most lurid prose for their sports coverage today, as you can imagine. The Bugle Staff are busy collecting the choicest turns of phrase for your pain, or pleasure, or both.

A note at press time: The latest news is that Ireland has lodged an official complaint with FIFA, calling for a replay of the second match.

* – Yes, this is actually what one soccer commentator said, on RTE, this morning.
** – Yes, this is also a close paraphrase to what was said on RTE.

Ireland began the first round of qualification more than one year ago, and amassed an impressive record — with zero losses — to October 2009. At that point, they were virtually guaranteed second place in UEFA Group 8, just behind Italy, and surviving the first round.

On 10 October 2009, Italy traveled to Croke Park in Dublin. Ireland was eager to see the magnificent Italian national team, and of course, Irish sports fans love being the underdogs. Beating Italy would mean that the Irish could win the Group and automatically qualify for the Cup.

To add yet more drama, Ireland’s new manager was (and still is) Giovanni Trapattoni, the most successful coach in the history of Italian pro-clubs.

I found the match on TV in the second half, and then witnessed the most exciting football I’ve ever watched live. The score was 1-1 in the 85th minute, with little more than five minutes to go. It would be a respectable result for Ireland against the skill and depth of the Italians.

Two minutes later, Ireland scored on a gutsy, diving header. Croke Park was a storm of crying, cheering Ireland fans. The team itself was shot with energy, knowing that they had only to resist the Italian offense for five or six minutes to win rare soccer glory.

It was not to be; there are many reasons why Italy is the world champion. I saw a few of them on my television screen, in the very last minute of regulation play. Italy’s forwards picked apart Ireland’s midfield defense and gracefully, but almost casually, passed the ball into the box and placed it in Ireland’s net.

Still, Ireland ‘won’ a draw and easily secured second place in the Group. They would continue to the second round, a great result for a small European country. After the Italy game, they awaited the seedings for the second round — and hoped not to draw France.

They did draw France.

There’s a controversy regarding the second round seeding that I don’t fully comprehend. The problem seems to be that FIFA, the governing body, first said that they would seed the matches randomly, but then used the international rankings of each team to determine who would play whom. (Sports Illustrated called it “special treatment”.) That means lowly Ireland is playing the Gallic powerhouse for qualification to the World Cup.

The format for the second round is two-legged tie: each team of a pair plays one home match and the aggregate score determines the winner between the two. That winner goes to South Africa in July of next year.

The first of the Ireland-France matches is tonight, in Croke Park. The game against Italy shows that the venue gives a real home-field advantage, especially against better-ranked teams.

Here’s how The Irish Times described it, yesterday:

The French are expecting a fight. As the golf buggies chugged past and the wind whistled through the trees outside the marquee where more than 100 journalists had intruded on the peace, four players took turns to riff on the same theme. The Irish will bring their team spirit, their tenacity, their fight and their 80,000 hollering fans. The French will bring better players.

As for Ireland’s hopes? Here’s a Times analyst:

I would happily take 0-0 now, a clean sheet, keep the tie alive, and then let them cope with the pressure of a disgruntled crowd in Paris. And I think we can get a draw tonight. Sneak a goal in Paris on Wednesday and, well, you’d never know.

Ireland’s assistant manager also wishes for a nil-nil draw, and explains why. The second match will be just four days later. If you’d like to read more, here are some recent articles from The Irish Times:

• Trapattoni still deciding who to play
• Is France’s manager their greatest weakness? Irish say no; but French continue to say yes!
• An amusing prediction of what will happen if Ireland qualifies and an eloquent requirement for that to happen: “Logic needs to be turned on its head tonight and again on Wednesday evening in Paris. That defiance of what makes sense has always been the source of Ireland’s lion-hearted, improbable nights of international football success.”
• Player-by-Player overviews: for Ireland and for France
• A silly bunch of quotes about today’s match

First, the movies that Anita shot at Stage 14. Below, the caravan as it passes through Sundhoffen. There is an audio track of the floats’ loudspeakers (and, in some cases, Anita’s excited response to them) — so you may want to turn down the volume.

And the actual cyclists, in Delle — the breakaway, the support vehicles for the breakaway, the peloton, and the support for the peloton.

Second, we have photos and video of the Gala Tour de France in Luxembourg City. On July 30th, Luxembourg welcomed home Kim Kirchen, Frank Schleck, Andy Schleck, and hosted many other cyclists from the Tour de France. The Gala included ceremonies, a short race, and general adulation. The short photoset is on Flickr, as usual. It is highly recommended that you watch the video below, for the commemorative song if nothing else.

Finally, a review of recent cycling news translated from L’essentiel, the free daily newspaper here:

Two days before the Gala in Luxembourg: French sporting newspaper, L’equipe, reports that Lance Armstrong wants to bring Andy Schleck from Saxobank to Armstrong’s new team for next year’s Tour de France.

One day before the Gala: L’equipe states that negotiations are ongoing between Andy Schleck and Armstrong’s new Radio Shack team. There are two obstacles to the deal: Andy Schleck (and his brother Frank) are under contract with Saxobank through 2010, and Radio Shack may not want to hire Frank at all.

The day of the Gala: L’essentiel reports that both Schleck brothers will remain with Saxobank through 2010, as confirmed by their manager. Whew!

Just yesterday: Team Saxobank will bring on yet another Luxembourgish cyclist, Laurent Didier, with a two-year contract.

Finally, Andy Schleck crashed on the wet roads of last weekend’s San Sebastian classic. He may not recover in time for the Vuelta at the end of August.

This stage was the last before the Tour entered the Swiss Alps. It wasn’t expected to be too exciting, since most of the yellow-jersey strategy centered on the Alpine climbs. We chose to attend this stage mostly due to the fact that it was as close as possible to Luxembourg, and on a Saturday. Next year, the Tour will be even more accessible: it will start in Rotterdam, and there are rumors that it might through Luxembourg. (The route announcement typically occurs in October.)

I didn’t bring a radio to listen to the coverage, and I still have trouble following the French anyway. So we learned that Stage 14 had its moments — when we got home. The most interesting bit, for cycling fans, was that American George Hincapie almost gained the yellow jersey. The online article from Bicycling gives a little insight into the importance of teams on the Tour.

We have plenty of photos, of course. The first set is la crème de la crème, with extensive descriptions. The others are extras for the truly devoted.

• Le Tour in Delle, and our drive home
• Leftover photos of the Tour in Delle
• Driving from Delle to Luxembourg

Finally, a preview:

As usual, we’ll direct you to photosets on Flickr, whose photos include amusing and informative descriptions. The following two sets will take you to Sundhoffen, just a kilometer or two after the start of Stage 14 in Colmar.

• Getting to Sundhoffen and Seeing the Tour’s Caravan
• The Peloton in Sundhoffen

Also as usual, some photos didn’t make the cut for the photosets, but may interest hardcore fans of the Bugle and/or the Tour: Leftovers

A brief preview to whet your appetite:



Look for the next set soon — the Bugle will take you to see the Tour in the mountains!

Robbie Keane scored in the 85th minute to tie the match, an incredible result against the reigning world champions.

This is not an April Fool!

Yesterday, we were privileged to witness Ireland’s moment of rugby glory in our local pub, which was full of Irish fans who lived and died with every change of possession.

For now, all you need to know is that Saturday’s match against Wales, at their stadium in Cardiff, was for Irish rugby the equivalent of the seventh game of a World Series. We arrived a few minutes after the start, and The Pembroke was packed — someone stood on every square foot of the floor.

There are few sports-bars in Dublin’s city-centre, but every pub in our (rugby-oriented) neighbourhood has a few televisions. In The Pembroke, they are arranged in a way that allowed just about everyone to see the action. Their sound system was superb, making the commentary audible above the crowd without blaring, which was important for novices like us.

The first half was nerve-wracking, with no score until the 33rd minute. (Each half is 40 minutes, with rare clock stoppages.) Ireland appeared to suffer from their usual malady: penalties that infuriated fans and gave points to their opponents. Wales led at the half, 6-0, although Ireland had controlled the game. There was plenty to cheer, and the crowd cheered for every small success on the field. Still, Ireland had not scored at all.

Not long after halftime, however, the Irish team showed poise and stamina as they slowly ground down Wales until they scored a try. The entire match was hard-fought, well-played and very close, to the final seconds. Ireland constantly held the advantage in territory and possession, but Wales managed to score points quite effectively in the second half.

Time expired with Ireland ahead by two points, but Wales attempting a long-distance kick for a three-point penalty. The kick fell short and our pub went wild. I haven’t seen such joy since Illinois beat Arizona in 2005. Today, the team returned to Dublin for a rapturous welcome.

The Bugle will not attempt to introduce our readers to the rules of rugby — after watching two full seasons of international play, we are just now beginning to understand the fundamentals. (Consider this article from the Irish Times. Irish newspaper coverage is still mostly opaque to us.) Like fans of American football, rugby fans struggle to explain the game to newbies.

Instead, we will concentrate on the panoply of titles that can be during a single competition among just six teams: the annual Six Nations Championship. The competitors are the national teams of England, France, Ireland, Italy, Scotland, and Wales.

To win the Six Nations Championship, and thus become the de-facto champion of European rugby union, a team must earn the most points in a single round-robin schedule. (Two points for a win and one for a draw.)

To win a Grand Slam, a team must defeat all five opponents in the schedule. In the 82 eligible championships since 1908, a team has achieved a Grand Slam 35 times — most often England, Wales, or France. Ireland did it this year: they defeated all their European opponents in 2009.

To win a Triple Crown, one of the original Home Nations teams (England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales) must defeat the other three. This accomplishment is a matter of great pride, but having a “Triple Crown year” is like being “Divisional Champions” in Major League Baseball. A good year, but not a great one. Ireland last won this competition in 2007, when France beat Ireland in February and won the Six Nations on points.

Our first rugby match at The Pembroke was the second 2007 meeting of Ireland and France, in September, when Irish fans were already despondent over being in the Pool of Death and then watched France lay waste to their team.

There are no unhappy Irish rugby fans tonight.

(Thanks to erase at flickr for the two photos under a Creative Commons license.)

It was quiet in Donegal; some B&Bs and a few tourist sites were closed until late spring. That befits the weather of Donegal, which is hardly welcoming for snowbirds. We had an outstanding weekend, in part due to the quiet season.

This weekend will not be quiet for that region, as the World Rally Championship kicks off today on some of the very same roads that Anita drove one week ago.

We had remarkably pleasant weather for most of our trip. Rally Ireland will feature a more typical wintry mix. As the race leader Sebastien Loeb said today: We would have needed a boat rather than a car.

If this sounds exciting but your local sports channels don’t cover Rally Ireland, you can find video at the WRC website.

Anita’s driving was more than competent, but considerably less savage than the rally racers. We’ll post photos of our trip soon. In the meantime, here are some photos to whet your appetite; see a larger version by clicking on the image.

The Bugle staff wants to know: Which Olympic events are the best preparation for the coming collapse of civilisation as we know it?

We’ve given you a few choices regarding the end of days, but what we really to see is your own ideas in the comments. Write a comment with the name of the event and the reason why that event’s greatest athletes will survive the post-apocalyptic wastelands. We’ll add it to the polls and you might just win the Post-Apocalyptic Prize*!

Great Britain enters a team into the Olympics, not the UK. So, I think that England, Wales, and Scotland play as one team. I think that Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland also play as one team in the Olympics. In FIFA Soccer competitions, all of these “countries” enter their own teams. What’s going on?

Note that this is even weirder considering that Puerto Rico, a territory of the US, has it’s own team in the Olympics. I just don’t get it.

First, an introduction to the relevant parts of the Olympic Charter. In the next two days, I’ll delve deeper into the issue.

Each participating nation is represented by a National Olympic Committee (NOC). The International Olympic Committee (IOC) decides whether to recognize a new NOC when a national sports organisation applies for recognition. All the members of the IOC vote on each new recognition at its (annual) Session meetings.

So, if an athlete appears at the Olympics, it must have been sent by an NOC. At some point, every NOC made a formal application to be recognised by the IOC, and the IOC approved it. Given the history of IOC approvals, the IOC seems to recognise new NOCs according to pragmatic factors rather than principled definitions. The IOC is famously proud of remaining above politics, but geopolitics must play a role, if only to safeguard peace and harmony, a basic value of the Olympic Movement. (The fact that the IOC does not recognise national medal totals is cited as a stand for the Olympic Movement.)

So, Puerto Rico is an Olympic nation because, when the members of the IOC considered Puerto Rico’s application in 1948, it made sense to those members to recognise it as a nation. Scotland is not an Olympic nation because it has not applied for recognition.

While the Soviet Union broke up in 1992, its NOC disbanded. Some new NOCs, like Estonia‘s, were approved before the 1992 Olympic Games. The Ukrainian national organisation existed from 1990, but the IOC did not approve it for the 1992 games. So Ukraine competed with 11 other nations in a temporary group called the Unified Team, as allowed by the IOC.

Some nations are not represented at the Olympic Games because their NOCs have been suspended. Iraq, for example, was suspended because its government took a direct role in its NOC, which is expressly forbidden by the Olympic Charter.

The story of the Olympic nations goes well beyond the legalism of the Olympic Charter, of course. I’ll get to that shortly.