-- It’s not just Keith Quinn who’s left grabbing for tissues
Who can forget commentator Keith Quinn’s orgasmic gasping at the sight of rugby great Jonah Lomu stomping all over England’s weedy fullback Mike Catt to score one of four tries in the semi-final of the 1995 World Cup.
Just as colliding rugby players elicit involuntary expressions of lusty joy from rugby fans, the feats of professional cyclists can provoke a certain level of sporting arousal that sends the amateur cyclist diving for crotchal cover.
Naturally, during the month of July, when the glory of professional bicycle suffering reaches its zenith, somewhere in the French Alps, amateur cyclists everywhere experience firsthand what Keith Quinn couldn’t contain during that fateful 10 seconds of live television broadcast.
The scenario has been beautifully captured in song fashion. And while it is the song writer's fraught relationship with women stirring his involuntary troubles, the end result is the same for dysfunctional sporting adulation.
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