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Lee Rodgers Diary: Tour of Korea stage 5 marred by multiple crashes, sketchy support

  • By Lee Rodgers
  • Published Apr. 28, 2012
  • Updated May. 1, 2012 at 12:26 PM EDT

As racing cyclists we put ourselves through a lot, and sometimes I feel we are taken advantage of, with ill-thought-out descents, bad corners and narrow finishes. And this was a day that us being taken for idiots was in evidence, in spades.

3km before the finish there’s another crash. No big deal, it could have happened anytime, But then in the last 200m, where the finish, on this 4-lane road, for some unknown reason gets funneled down to one lane just about 7-meters wide, there’s another crash. A bad one. I see my teammate Dave McCann standing but holding his thumb. I get off my bike to see if he’s ok.

“I’ve lost my thumb,” he says. “I’ve lost my thumb.”

“What?”

“Look.”

And he shows me a piece of meat sliced through beyond the bone and through the tendon, an inch-long flap of raw and bloody flesh that is hanging on by nothing other than the merest bit of skin at the other side.

“DOCTOR!” I shout immediately. A car pulls up: It says ‘Doctor’ on the window but nothing seems to be right; the guy sat in the passenger seat has a badge with ‘Doctor’ written on it but he isn’t jumping from the car. In fact, he looks pissed off at having to get out. He finally does after what seems an eternity and walks past Dave to a guy behind that I hadn’t even noticed.

The guy is the yellow jersey and his whole body is shaking and he has foam coming from his lips. His teammate is screaming into his face, something in Korean that I can’t understand but that my mind translates as “Do not fucking die.” It is that heavy.

And what does the ‘doctor’ do? Gets out a bottle of saline and sprays it in the guy’s face. I am not joking. He then stands back and the guy’s teammate continues to scream in Yellow’s face. I go back to Dave and give him my mitt to help stem the blood. He is remarkably calm. I turn back to Yellow and see the ‘doctor’ standing back with his hands on his hips. I shout at him, telling him to get to work. He looks through me. I grab his badge and shove it in his face. He does not react at all.

I go to his car to get the first aid kit. The driver, a woman, shouts ‘NO!’ at me as I open the back door. There is no medical kit. Just a suitcase with clothes in it on the seat.

Then, inexplicably, I see Yellow’s teammates getting him up, with the help of an experienced UCI Commissaire, and putting him back on his bike! I cannot believe what I am seeing. The Commissaire then pushes Yellow along for 5 meters before leaving him to zig-zag to the line. Me and my RTS teammates stand in silence and watch.

David went to our bus, wrapped his thumb in a towel and electrical tape, and got a police car to take him to the hospital. He had an operation last night. Best case scenario is the operation to re-attach the nerve endings is successful and he will be out in a week. Worst case is they will have to amputate.

Yellow collapsed again at the finish and the medics who appeared from the ambulance did not put him in the recovery position, did not check his pulse or his breathing, did not cushion his head or check for broken bones, did not get him in a blanket, and quite obviously did not have the slightest clue what to do.

Incredibly. He did somehow start the next day.

David called us next morning, high on morphine, to advise us on team tactics. That is one hard dude.

The UCI, the race organizers, makes a heck of a lot of money out of us guys who fight it out for what seem like big money prizes of $3,000 or $4,000 finishes (which, in the world of pro sports, is peanuts). The least we ask is that we are taken care of, protected, and provided with experienced medical staff just in case someone does have their limb sliced off or ends up foaming at the mouth.

The Commissaire told me next day that two extra ambulances had been called in. With staff that have experience of bike races. Why were they not here in the first place? She also told me she didn’t check to see if the doctor was an actual doctor or if he had a first aid kit in his car. I’m not saying it’s the Chief Comm’s responsibility but someone has to be checking this stuff.

Later at dinner we heard there had been another crash, two moto riders on Harleys after 30km. No news on any of the moto riders’ status.

This was a black day. A really black day.

Oh yeah, stage 6, someone won.

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