“A Sunday in Hell is arguably the best film ever made about professional cycling.” -International Film Guide. This film is not only a study of the battle between Merckx, DeVlaeminck, Marten and Moser over the pave, it is also a powerful documentary film in its own right.
By popular demand! A classic psychological and dramatic study of what it means to race in the greatest Spring Classic of them all…the hell of the north.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Sunday_in_Hell
Hell of the North Paris- Roubaix
- Arenberg Forest
l'enfer du Nord
Chiseled from stone,
their marbled legs all scarred
and cut to the bone,
their calling in life was chosen
by their bloodline and place of origin . . .
they press on, driven by the romance
of a victory on the cobblestones
of northern France.
The peloton travels on indifferent,
their surroundings seem so insignificant,
their pain is all that really matters,
their bodies all worn and torn and hammered!
Mother Nature rises up
and rears her ugly head,
she disembowels the peloton
and nails the coffins shut
on those already close to dead!
It's not a pretty sight to see
these proud men in misery
strung-out like a chain gang
on the road to victory.
The selection can be mighty cruel,
only the strongest are fit enough to rule.To dream of winning this epic race
a rider must find the inner strength to forge on . . .
oblivious to the pain and hail
that cloud his vision
of the hell in front of him
and of past races ridden.
The cobblestones exact a heavy toll,
great warriors succumb
their steel mounts fold!
From the carnage a champion emerges,
in his quest for glory he breaks,
then surges on to victory.
His body covered in blood and grime
and piss and sweat,
this gallant warrior cannot forget
the pain and suffering he had to endure
to mount the podium in this sadistic race.
To claim victory in this hellish race
a champion must set an infernal pace.
To claim true victory in this monumental race
a great champion must win with class and grace.
What drives these men of steel to pedal endlessly for their meals?
Chiseled from stone,
their marbled legs all scarred
and cut to the bone,
their calling in life was chosen
by their bloodline and place of origin . . .
they press on, driven by the romance
of a victory on the cobblestones
of northern France.
The peloton travels on indifferent,
their surroundings seem so insignificant,
their pain is all that really matters,
their bodies all worn and torn and hammered!
Mother Nature rises up
and rears her ugly head,
she disembowels the peloton
and nails the coffins shut
on those already close to dead!
It's not a pretty sight to see
these proud men in misery
strung-out like a chain gang
on the road to victory.
The selection can be mighty cruel,
only the strongest are fit enough to rule.To dream of winning this epic race
a rider must find the inner strength to forge on . . .
oblivious to the pain and hail
that cloud his vision
of the hell in front of him
and of past races ridden.
The cobblestones exact a heavy toll,
great warriors succumb
their steel mounts fold!
From the carnage a champion emerges,
in his quest for glory he breaks,
then surges on to victory.
His body covered in blood and grime
and piss and sweat,
this gallant warrior cannot forget
the pain and suffering he had to endure
to mount the podium in this sadistic race.
To claim victory in this hellish race
a champion must set an infernal pace.
To claim true victory in this monumental race
a great champion must win with class and grace.
What drives these men of steel to pedal endlessly for their meals?
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