In cycling, there is nothing more tragic than watching a cyclist crack. It's that moment where the cyclist is powering up a hill, minutes away from an amazing triumph, and then all of a sudden, it all falls apart.
His pedaling becomes labored.
His body which seemed so light on the bike now looks like a sack of potatoes slumped ungainly over the top tube.
His eyes which seemed so full of poise look lost.
And it's a sad moment. But when that happens, at that moment you know that this guy who was about to win, is no longer going to win.
Phil Liggett will say: So-and-so-and-so has cracked "... his legs have turned to rubber and his effort reduced to mere survival." Can he find a way to win?
Typically Phil's side-kick will say something like: I don't know Phil, so-and-so looks broken to me.
And Phil will say: What a wonderful ride by so-and-so but I have to agree with you, I don't think he can recover. He's a broken man.
And then the announcers quickly focus on the guys who will win. They are the guys who pedal past this broken man. And you look at this guy, who for a moment flirted with glory, and then quickly forget him as well.
I used to think that this is a property of cycling. But it’s a property of hockey teams as well. There is this moment, where what was easy, suddenly becomes hard. All of a sudden, what was simple suddenly becomes complicated. And it’s not that they other guy is better than you, it’s that you just lost it. You broke. And when you collectively break, it’s like the guy who breaks in cycling, at that moment you know all is lost.
And it’s sad when that happens.
But it has an aura. A stench. A smell. And right now the Montreal Canadiens are suffused with that stench and smell.
So it will be easy to say that the Flyers were better (which they were), because they had better drafting etc. And it will be easy to blame Timmins. And it will be easy to blame Gainey.
But the reality is that our heroes broke. And when you break, there is nothing, and I mean nothing that can put you back together.
