Overnight on Saturday on a significant hillside in Austria the rain came down with such force that mud trickled into valuable electrical kit, shorting among other things one monitor very necessary for our TV broadcast.
In the morning, channels of peanut-buttery gloop flowed into the tents housing trophies, flowers, champagne and personnel. But all remained undeterred, awaiting victors of a race so lung-rippingly painful that every time I watch it I am baffled by what humans can do to themselves.
When future GOAT Puck Pieterse crossed the line in first place after one hour 26:39 to win the Leogang leg of the Crosscountry Mountain Bike World Series, she – glowing with pride and struggle – was more mud than face. The 23-year-old Dutchwoman has had success in such a wide range of cycling disciplines that her epic stage win at the Tour de France Femmes last year was just one more logical symptom of her precocity.
On Sunday, arms flung out wide to embrace us all, there was the joy of the win and the joy she feels about riding a bike.
I thought of Puck as I walked up to Queen’s Club this week, to see what global tennis stars Emma Raducanu and Madison Keys would make of their brand new platform at the HSBC Championships.
Women are back at Queen’s to compete in a professional tennis tournament for the first time in more than 50 years. Moments away it feels unlikely you will find a major sporting event here.
The smart west London streets hum with home renovations and gents acquiring newspapers. And then suddenly the red championships signage proves you’re not lost, even if it still seems unbelievable that 11 tennis courts and associated paying crowds could fit in this tight residential corner.
But so they do and, after some irritation from certain members that the quiet reverie they pay towards will be interrupted for not one but two tennis tournaments from now on, female players get to take a pre-Wimbledon tune-up here again.
The Queen’s women’s tournament moved to Eastbourne in 1974, three years after a Football Association ban on women’s football ended. Clearly, in the 1970s no one was asking whether men might prefer to play elsewhere.
And even today, as we see from the defensive response to Ons Jabeur questioning Roland Garros’ shutout of women’s games from the prime night spot, there is plenty to be fought for.
The BBC launched its summer of women’s sport a couple of weeks ago with the tagline ‘Names will be made’ which is an astute recognition of their power and their responsibility.
Putting high-level women’s sport in elevated positions garners more fans. Virtue is its own reward but there are others too.
Look at the little kids who know what it feels like to win ‘the’ Euros thanks to England’s women. Sarina Wiegman’s side will be looking to defend their title in Switzerland this summer and we can watch. The Women’s Rugby World Cup is in England in August – a great chance for the No.1 team in the world to match what their compatriots have done.
Here at Queen’s the sun is out, and tennis players gleam on their pristine grass canvas. Raducanu laughs and chunters happily about another winner in the Andy Murray Arena before explaining that celebrating good work is part of her new mentality.
The environmental conditions could not be more different from those at Pieterse’s win at the weekend, but the joy they show and the joy I feel at the sight is the same.
These are women at the top of their profession getting to compete on an equal platform to men and doing it with the freedom and verve we’ve long known is in there.
Brat girl summer may have been declared over by Charli XCX last September, but I can’t help suspecting it’s back.
