Picture: Sarah Reingewirtz, Source: AP
Eloy Teruel was leading the pack during the seventh and last stage of the Tour of California on Saturday when, after just crossing the finish line signaling one more lap to go, he realized that he had made a pretty serious error in his lap count.
The Spanish cyclist, thinking that he had just completed the final lap of the stage and had out-sprinted his competitors for the stage win, began celebrating by pumping his fists in the air and pounding his chest. It took the announcers and fans trying to get his attention shouting, “One more to go!” as well as the pack of riders gaining quickly on him from behind for Teruel to gather that he had made a mistake in thinking it was the last lap.
You can actually see the elation of winning leave his face as he slowly realizes that he’s got another lap to go, and the pack is coming up quick. No doubt exhausted and finding himself misplaced by his early bird sprint, Eloy ended up finishing 56th, while lovakia’s Peter Sagan went on to win the stage.
Pretty embarrassing stuff. But we’ve all been there. Maybe not in front of a massive crowd during the last stage of a major tour, but hey, we’ve all had our moments.
Most embarrassed I’ve ever been on a bike:
I was flying west down 4th South right here in majestic Salt Lake City, trying to race my friend back to his home at the end of a very long ride. It was a Sunday afternoon and there wasn’t too much traffic out; we hit mostly greens as we started to ramp up our end-of-ride sprint through downtown. I had pulled ahead of my friend across a couple city blocks when I noticed two particularly attractive girls perched at the corner of 4th and Main waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street.
Now, am I hot dog? No. Do I usually embarrass myself? Yep. Is it worse when girls are around? Most definitely. But since I knew I was going to fly by these beautiful birds and because I was feeling pretty damn good about out-sprinting my buddy for three blocks, I had taken my eyes off the road in front of me and was putting in some solid time throwing out the mojo to the babes. I decided the best way to impress them was to fly past in my spandex and shout a wazzup; knowing that I would go by like a shot and they’d be left wondering who that devastatingly handsome blur was. Perfect friggin’ plan. I’m a genius.
It went pretty well. Up to a point. Basically the point where I shouted out my greeting, “What’s up, ladies!” and they turned their perfect heads of cascading locks to see the human bullet preparing to pass them. As soon as I had herald my compliments, I heard my friend scream my name as loud as he could from behind. I instinctively looked up ahead just in time to see the light had long since changed and a Trax train was passing right in front of me.
I grabbed my brakes as hard as I could and skidded to a stop just feet from the passing train. My friend pulled up leisurely behind me, called me an idiot in between chuckles, and then I had to endure sitting there as the girls passed in front of us, making serious efforts not to acknowledge the giant douche who just screamed at them and then almost hit a train. As they crossed, I put my helmeted head down. realizing my matching team kit didn’t really impress anyone but me.
At least Eloy was actually in a race.