One year ago I promised I would wear yellow on my Sunday bike ride to celebrate the first ever British winner of the Tour de France.
I think it is time to dust off the colours again, this time to celebrate Chris Froome which is going to make it an extraordinary double for those of us who have endured years of cycling starvation. My Belgian club probably won’t even register the colour change, but I will know.
I cannot bring myself to celebrate the fact that he carries the brand of the loathsome Murdoch empire but I can’t help but enjoy yet another three weeks of wheeled chess on the roads.
Two more good reasons too – firstly family bragging rights in the in Fantasy Tour de France competition – sorry boys, eat my shorts! Maillot Jaune pour moi.
Finally even if Froome was not riding under the British flag (Belgian TV will only call him “the white Kenyan”) I think his win is cause for celebration among another special group of cyclists. Let’s hear it for the nodding donkeys, the people whose style doesn’t leave the purists humming, the upright, those of us who cannot bend like a hairpin and lie sleekly over our handlebars.
Not for us the smooth style of Wiggins or the low frontal area of Cavendish, the silky descending of Nibali.
I was prepared to take Dan Martin as our hero for the year, but let’s face it, Chris Froome is for us.
Bring out your yellow on Sunday and celebrate.