Depending on the day, it could be one or two, perhaps a group of five or six. Some days, it might be over sixty. You never quite know. Regardless of how many, one thing is for sure, we are always standing too close when they get there! The finish line of a professional bike race has quickly become one of my favourite places to be.
It is not just for the photographic potential that one finds at the end of a bike race; there is so much more going on in this well-orchestrated mess. Experience has quickly shown me that the importance of the race will be directly proportional to the level of energy (or chaos) at the finish line. Smaller races allow for better access to riders as they cross the finish line, as there are fewer race officials to keep a lid on things. Flanders was a perfect example, as I did not have a finish line pass and had to wait until the riders were in the press mix zone before I could take any pictures. This was frustrating, but it is all part of the game.
As the riders cross the line exhausted, they only want to find their team, get a drink and head to the bus for a shower. Meanwhile, photographers and cameramen swarm like angry bees to capture the best angle or decisive moment. It is like some chaotic dance or mating ritual. And just like that female pigeon on the side of the road surrounded by puffy-chested males, there can often be a seeming lack of interest from the one being courted.
I stand there observing the situation, ironically, my main concern being not for the exhausted elite athlete before me but instead not blocking another photographer trying to capture the same image. The rider sits there, arms draped over their handlebars, face buried. Well, this is not the shot I want, “work with me here! I need to see your face!”. I try to manoeuvre my camera to a better angle, sticking it below them as if playing some weird game of ‘peek-a-boo’. If you are lucky, they lift their mud-splattered face to give you a bloodshot-eyed expression roughly translated to, “Seriously, are we doing this now? Give me some space!” or something to that effect. Other times the riders are seemingly open to attention, and their open body language and eye contact act as a form of permission. It’s as if they are saying, “Jack, draw me like one of your French girls”.
On the outside, it would be easy to assume that the riders are mainly reluctant to have cameras stuck in their faces seconds after crossing the finish line. In many circumstances, this is true. However, as photographers, we need the riders to capture the images we do, and whether they admit it or not, the riders need us to tell their stories. As I said, we are all just pigeons doing the jiggy dance on the sidewalk. That being said, reading the situation is an important skill too. Knowing when to keep your camera down and respect the moment is as important as capturing that ‘banger’, as my friend Harry would say.
A significant part of bike racing is our access to the athletes as photographers, journalists, and fans. You can get as close to your heroes in very few sports as with cycling. This is part of the appeal of bike racing, why it is the ‘most beautiful sport in the world’. These athletes perform incredible athletic feats on the same roads and paths we ride. All while passing mere centimetres from us, standing there supporting from the side of a mountain road. It allows us to relate to them and buy into the romance. Well, that’s how I see it anyway.
This is a big part of why I am over here shooting this project. There is so much beauty and intrigue in our sport. However, so many people are still unaware of this world. Instead, their opinions are coloured by the local group of cyclists who disobey traffic rules, riding in unruly bunches and only adding fuel to the lousy cyclist stereotype. This, however, is not bike racing.
To experience the passion and energy I have had these past weeks here in Belgium is something every sports fan should experience. If my work on this upcoming project helps shed even a tiny light on the beautiful sport of bicycle racing, it will all be worth it.
And that is why for me, the finish line is only the beginning.