“Chris Froome? He’s good, but he’s no
Bradley Wiggins.”
It’s a definitive judgment you hear
bandied about so often, that it makes your
toes curl. And like the words of a cult leader, its truth is not questioned, it’s simply
revelation.
It’s an accepted truth that Wiggins is,
was, and shall for ever more, be better than
Christopher Froome. End of gospel story!
But substitute the word accepted, for
the words ‘totally fabricated’ and you start
moving into the iconoclastic territory of
accuracy.
Substitute a knighthood for a rash of
Tour de France victories, substitute Grand
Tours stolen by team orders, substitute a
rise through cycling unlike any other, and
you’ll find yourself concluding that Chris
Froome is Britain’s greatest road cyclist.
Not, as too many would have you believe,
Sir Bradley Wiggins.
Born in Kenya, raised in Johannesburg, and now representing Britain, Chris
Froome’s route into the cycling Hall of
Fame is certainly one life’s journey less ordinary. He began, as many do, with a love
of the freedom that being on a bike gives
any adventurous young boy. And it never
stops, not even with the fading of the light.
As a youngster Froome, wearing nothing
more than sandals, shorts and a t-shirt, would
ride three or four hours out into the Kenyan
countryside, stopping only for lunch. And
then he’d start out on the ride back home.
His mother, who tragically died of
cancer just two weeks before his first Tour
de France appearance, would often follow
the young Froome in her car, providing
refreshments and furthering her son’s love
of the road and the brush.
Then came the game changer. A young
Froome was taken under the wing of Kenyan cycling legend David Kinjah and his
‘Safari Simbaz’. Based in Kinjah’s shack,
the young riders would cycle deep out into
the countryside, joking, jostling, learning
the ways of the road.
The dreadlocked Kinjah, a bona fide
hero to all young African cyclists, was
asked to help teach young Froome the
ropes. But that wasn’t the only thing he
taught the young “kijana” – as well as appreciation of the cycling life, much more
He says:
“Pain is still the friend
that always tells me the
truth. Training is still
an addiction.”
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