It was a bad peach, LeMond reckoded. After eating it, his stomach reacted violently. He turned to a teammate.Pass me your hat.
What do you want my hat for?
Please, just pass me the goddamn hat!
Taking the small cotton team cap, LeMond shoved it down his shorts, maneuvered it into position, and filled it until it was overflowing, He tried to clean himself up. but it was hopeless. Then he tossed the hat into the hedgerow and began the grim task of getting back into the race, slotting in behind the three teammates whod dropped back from the peloton to wait for him.
After 60 km he stage ends and LeMond:
Entering the (team) motor home, LeMond found it packed with boxes, but, tiptoeing awkwardly in his cleated cycling shoes, he negotiated the passage and ripped open the cubicle door. The toilet was gone. Where it had been, there were more boxes. LeMond was desperate. He tore open the lid of the largest box, inside which were thousands upon thousands of postcards. Staring up at him on each of the cards was the smiling, handsome face of his teammate Bernard Hinault.. LeMond didnt hesitate; he yanked at them, pulling out bundles of cards to create a borehole in the middle. Then he dropped his shorts , sat down and found glorious relief amid - and upon - approximately 40,000 depictions of the great Frenchman.
The common perception is that Greg LeMond was crapped upon by Bernard Hinault at the 1986 Tour de France. What most dont know is that LeMond got their first.
Prologue to Slaying the Badger by Richard Moore