Advantage Jeux Plane

Nothing compares to a day at the Tour de France. Not even a trip to the crown jewel of our national pastime.

By Jon Rosen | 08.13.06

It's a hot and sticky afternoon at the top of the Col de Jeux Plane, hot enough that the asphalt of the one-lane road that winds up this mountain pass is starting to melt. Seeking refuge in the shade after a three-hour hike from the bottom, I dig into my long-anticipated fromage and baguette, purchased in the small town 12 kilometers below, and take in the sights of the summit. Though the peleton is still a few hours away, hundreds of fans have already lined along the roadway, their bicycles or campers packed tightly along the shoulder. Just up ahead, with the snow-capped Alps melting off in the distance, lies a no-frills red and white banner, marking the top of the final major climb of this year's Tour. The pinnacle of the most physically demanding and awe-inspiring event in all of sport.

Forget, for a second, the shadow of drugs, a universal symbol of sporting decadence, which is by no means unique to cycling. Forget the blood-bag toting Spanish doctors, the regrettable plight of Floyd Landis, the "I have never knowinglys," or the notion that Lance Armstrong was probably doping too. Because, drugs or not, after one day in the heart of the Alps, I maintain that there is nothing in sport as exciting as a day at a premiere stage of the Tour.

Such a bold statement, of course, cannot be made without comparison. And while there are obvious differences between a venue consisting of 8% grade mountain roads and one that takes the form of a 36,000 seat stadium, for the sake of some light-hearted transatlantic competition, I figured it'd be fun to pit the pros and cons of the tour's alpine domain — the creme de la creme of French sport — against what one might argue is its American counterpart: The grande stade of our national pastime, Boston's Fenway Park.

Thus, as a life-long New Englander, and a fan both of cycling and the Sox, I give you an objective (or not so much) comparison of a trip to the storied Fenway and a trip to see the some of the world's finest athletes attack the Alps. Col de Jeux-Plane style.

Getting There:

Fenway: Maneuver through the bowels of the "T," packed in more tightly than the tour's peleton. To America's credit, the aroma is one of stale popcorn and subway grease — highly preferable to that of the Paris Metro.

Jeux-Plane: Drive through alpine ravines, past old farmhouses and fields of golden sunflowers. A wrong move means a 45-minute detour (including 2 minutes to yield to passing cattle) up a dead-end one-lane switchback. Parking in a field, at the base of the climb, is free, yet the best part is getting to the top: Arrive a day early and RV it up the 12 kilometers to the summit, pack a bike and break the course in for the riders, or, as we did, just walk.

Advantage: Jeux-Plane. Extra effort, for sure, but riding, or even hiking up is like going to Fenway and taking batting practice before the game. Try getting past security to do that.

The Venue:

Fenway: the 94-year old stadium is famous for a 37-foot high plastic wall, cramped seats, and obstructed views. Giant plastic Coca-Cola bottles, threatening the nostalgia of the 37-foot-high plastic wall, are notable pieces of sedentary advertisement.

Jeux-Plane: The 5,500 foot-high col, formed sometime during the Oligocene epoch, is nature at its finest. Advertisement comes in the form of a 200-some-odd vehicle caravan, with cars shaped like everything from teapots to kangaroos to giant tires, and pretty French girls tossing out small trinkets and flair.

Advantage: Jeux-Plane. Certainly, neither lack character. But the Jeux-Plane has a few million years on its side.

Merchandise:

Fenway: Spend a small fortune to pretend you're a hot young pitcher that will be washed up a few years down the road.

Jeux-Plane: Spend five euros ($7) for a hat of any one of the tour's twenty teams, or be rewarded for walking or biking to the top with a free red polka dotted T-shirt (a replica of the jersey worn by the Tour's top mountain climber). Never mind the fact that snagging said shirt entails a shoving mach with mob of sweaty Frenchmen.

Advantage: Jeux-Plane. Sweaty Frenchmen are underrated. And polka-dots are going to be in this fall season.

Food and Drink:

Fenway: Chip away at your retirement fund with piss-beer and a hapless, wilted Fenway Frank.

Jeux-Plane: Satisfy your day's caloric intake for less the price of one Coors Light at Fenway. A fresh baguette and local Reblochon, purchased in the quaint town of Samoëns at the base of the climb, tastes great at the top &mdash with the Haute Savoie region's specialty cheese slowly melted to the perfect consistency along the way. Bring along a Nalgene and tap the Alps, quite literally, for fresh mountain water at various junctures. And if you are thirsting for alcohol, it's easy to make friends with the cooler-equipped RV crowd at the top.

Advantage: Jeux Plane. This may not be Michelin-rated dining, but it gets the job done.

Atmosphere:

Fenway: Join in with Fenway's thick-accented and well-watered bleacher-goers to cheer against the Yankees, no matter what team is in town. For every fan donning "evil empire" apparel there are approximately 3.2 arrests. The police, in abundant supply, doing their best to look tough, are, on average, ten years removed from their own days of reeking havoc.

Jeux-Plane: Mingle with fans from all across Europe. Serious riders who've christened the route for the peleton co-exist peacefully with grown men prancing around in cow-suits, or wearing nothing but their underwear. Security is comprised of approximately one non-threatening agent de police per quarter mile, all wearing funny square hats. Remarkably, interference by fans is quite rare.

Advantage: Jeux-Plane, underwear and all.

And Finally, Proximity to the Action:

Fenway: As he hits the game winner, David Ortiz is far enough away from the average fan that the syringe in his back pocket might as well not even be there.

Jeux-Plane: As Floyd Landis powers by on his way to what was, for a time, at least, the greatest single day ride in the history of the Tour de France, he comes so close that you can smell the 11-1 testosterone to epitestosterone ratio on his breath. He's strong enough that you'd never guess he's already covered 188 kilometers on the afternoon, including this last, ever-taxing, beyond-category climb. For the next fifty minutes, packs of riders, muscles straining, continue to fight to the top — some even welcoming a slight push from spectators. The sun continues to beat down, grown men continue to prance around in their underwear, and some of the best athletes in the world — clean or not — continue to fight the Tour's final major battle, quite literally, inches away.

Advantage: The Jeux Plane, hands down.