There was nothing new in this. After all, he always was. But it was with some irritation that he challenged a roomful of journalists. ‘Who won the last three green jerseys? Don’t think about it. Just tell me.’ There had been an uncomfortable shuffling noise. It reminded me of those awful moments in echoing classrooms at school when it becomes apparent that absolutely no one has the answer. I looked at my notepad and pretended to be deep in thought. In fact, I was drawing a picture of a swordfish piercing a football, for some reason. Silhouetted against the bright Soho Street beyond the window behind him, Mark Cavendish sat forward in his chair, injecting a little urgency into his enquiry. For years, he’d been besieged by hapless hacks asking him if he was frustrated never to have won the green jersey. ‘See?’ He leant towards the cluster of microphones, when it became obvious that no one could answer him straight away. ‘You can’t remember, can you? That’s the point.’ As points go, it was quite sharp.
What do You think about How Cav Won The Green Jersey?
