The Tour has just finished. My favorite sporting event. Probably the only sporting event I really care about (oh, except, of course, watching the Cougs with you ,William.) This year, however, it was a little hard to watch. For so many years, as many as I can remember, as soon as each stage was finished I was on the phone with my dad reacting to the days triumphs and disappointments, predicting the finish, discussing the strategies...sometimes he would even call during the final sprint, but I was never sure if I really liked this slight distraction. But this year, even in the final sprint, I found myself longing to grab the phone, stopping just short, knowing he wouldn't answer...ever again.
I've always felt a bit let down at the end of the Tour; I'm not really ready for it to end. For three weeks I have spent every morning glued to the TV, catching Tour updates throughout the day, and basically obsessing about the actions of guys in spandex riding around on bikes; and then when its over, life seems a bit dreary for a couple of days and I'm not sure what to read about in the paper or on the internet. It usually takes a day or so to regain some sort of clarity and focus again.
But now, as I sit and watch, for the third time tonight, the riders race down the Champs-Elysees I cannot help but think of my dad and the grand tour that was his life. He was a great champion and raced as hard as could until he reached the finish line. I wasn't ready for his Tour to finish...and I'm finding it very hard to regain my focus.
Tonight, a heartfelt congratulations to Carlos Sastre, winner of the 2008 Tour de France. And a nod to my dad, a truly great man. I miss you.