That's how Nicolas Roche began his latest missive from the front line in France as he dealt with the betrayal by his teammate Frenchman John Gadret
From Today's Indo
As most of the other team leaders were left on their own, I was looking to move into the top 10 overall and still had Gadret with me for support. Or so I thought.
Six kilometres from the top of the climb, just as the pace began to increase at the front, I punctured a front wheel. I pulled over to the side of the road and as Gadret was riding behind me, I asked him for his wheel as he rode alongside.
This is a perfectly normal request if the team car is not around. To save time, a team-mate will often give his team leader a wheel or even his bike if necessary. I have done it plenty of times over the years, as have most cyclists, amateur or professional, at some stage in their careers.
As our team car was No 11 in the cavalcade and it would take a lot of time for them to get to me through the streams of dropped riders, I asked Gadret -- who was there to help me -- for his wheel. I couldn't believe what happened next. He just shook his head and said 'Non'. At first I thought he was joking, but soon realised he wasn't when he kept riding past me.
As my team manager, Vincent Lavenu, in the car behind shouted into Gadret's earpiece to wait, I took my wheel out and waited for a new one. All the time the group -- including Gadret -- was riding up the mountain, away from me.
Poor oul Nicolas didn't calm down too quickly either
Although I wanted to smash his head in, and had visions of a baldy French climber exiting through the windscreen, I let Vincent do his job as team manager and said nothing. I got off the bus as quickly as possible and travelled to the hotel in the team car. I couldn't stand to be near him. I will have to keep my hands in my pockets at the dinner table.
Roche, who usually finishes the day with a video blog on his youtube channel decided against it and as we await the next installment it seems that Gadret has survived the night, unscathed.
