My stepfather, Marty, wants to be Genghis Khan.

Despite his perfectly responsible attitude, his status as a retired judge in Brisbane, and the absence of any Mongolian heritage, the idea of leading armies to battle (for the slaughter of thousands, we always remind him) has a bit more panache than any other gig he can think of.

And whenever we watch a film involving any semblance of Roman/Napoleonic/Fascist war, or pretty much any film starring Russell Crowe in a skirt or puffy shirt (but never both), we can all breathe a sigh of relief if Marty confirms the depiction of military operations as being 'true & correct.'

Onya, Rusty. 

But Marty is mostly enamoured by the idea of an inspiring leader. He admires the way John Eales was responsible for that era's Wallabies players committing themselves above & beyond what they thought possible. 

There is a beautiful and almost indefinable quality about a good leader. 

They can make us do and become things we never imagined. They are not always the best athlete, the most decorated soldier or even the brightest graduate.

(And let's, for arguments' sake, discount the leaders who slaughter millions, obtain power fraudulently, or make us wear Nike trainers & lie down under matching purple sheets for mass suicide in out-pockets of the US midwest.  Because arguably, they are very 'good' at what they do, but I'm no fan of Hitler or Berlu or that Waco nutter).

Road racing is often used as a metaphor for war.

Every day, in every race, there are stories of suffering, tactics employed, luck, great victories and the wonderful camaraderie that comes from a team that works well. Or the bitter disappointment of a plan not enacted, a cruel deceit, a missed opportunity.

For some riders, it's just a (good) job, better than the alternative, and it may be a long time since they remembered why they started it in the first place. Don't forget, one rider wins the race every day. The other 150 of them do not. 

So when Cavendish wins a sprint, we know why.

We see each of his HTC team-mates do his job, until finally their leader can be launched to the line at lightning speed & seal the deal, perhaps by a few centimetres. And if he doesn't win, at least we'll see a petulant display of sulking, which is also entertaining. 

We've watched the Tour de France every year and seen one team that has inspired, paid, or bullied their riders to give everything, day after day, for one bloke who they know (read: hope) will win the Tour. There are bonuses, y'know. BIG bonuses...

But what if you have no leader? How do you go to war without a plan? Why would you suffer and risk injury or failure? 

And the question every Australian cycling fan wants answered: why was Yaroslav Popovych so incredibly strong when riding for Armstrong, but not for Cadel Evans?

Current allegations aside, in my non-scientific, random and anonymous survey of pro male riders, the answer was obvious. Popo believed Lance would win, but nobody thought Cadel could.

I was incredulous. This seemed roundabout! If his team did ride their hearts out, then he would win, surely? 

As disappointing as this insight was, I was reassured too, that whatever our role in a team, our position in the battalion, we are all driven by something. Money, fear, pride, fame... and if we smell it, believe it’s possible, we’ll give our all.

The trick, then, to being a good leader is to be able to understand your team, know what motivates them, and provide it. É facile, no?

Women's professional cycling displays most of the qualities of men's but we have fewer riders in a team (both on the roster, and in the races) and there is a smaller budget for buying the right combination of riders. So a good leader is even more important.  

Last season, I rode in a team with the reigning World Champion, Italian, Tatiana Guderzo. She was 25 and had been riding for 18 years. A career cyclist with countless National and European medals, and finally the 2009 women's road race World Title in Mendriso.

We also had 4 other National champions in the team, the reigning Spanish, Russian, Ukranian and Italian jersey holders. I was the Oceania Champion, but despite my appeal to the UCI for a jersey displaying a kangaroo strangling a kiwi, they never replied to my emails... 

And here's how the season was going to pan out - we were going to look really good in our display of jerseys for team presentation & then our fearless leader/Director Sportif would harness all that physiological talent, those countless combined decades of experience & our race winning capabilities and we would morph into a SUPERTEAM!

Even Stevie Wonder could see that wasn't going to happen. 

I should have listened more carefully to former World Champion, East German über-machine, Judith Arndt. After I excitedly told her about my first pro-contract, she looked passively at me, her expression unchanged, and callously replied, "expect ze worst." Ja, danke sehr, Judes.

For anyone who’s ever had a crap boss, a totally incompetent team leader or worked in the West Wing staff for one of the Bushes, you know how it feels.

To be fair, not everyone who rides a bike like a god/dess has the skills to be a great leader – the charisma, the understanding, or even the capabilities to cope with more than just trying to win the damn race.

Ask any domestique, they’ll tell you that riding the front of the peloton all day is easy peasy compared with sitting safely tucked away, petrified of crashing, losing time, missing the race winning break or just not quite having enough Spanish Beef to drop the entire field at the key moment.

And sure, the more riders I talk to, the more I realize that every team has its flaws: crap equipment but good salaries. Good equipment but maniacal staff. Wonderful staff but agitated riders… I could go on and on.

But we’re not crossing Siberia by foot, with Ed Harris wearing grotty teeth prostheses here.

It’s bike racing, a world filled with ex-cyclists as coaches, mechanics and team directors.

These people should understand what it’s like to be in/out of form, to try and fail. To be frustrated, hungry, injured, away from loved ones, speaking a different language or just unable to win a damn race.

And the best rider in the team can’t possibly have such bad dementia that his/her memories of being unskilled, young, afraid or just a bit shit have completely faded into their chamois.

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It takes a strong ego to lead, to allow others to grow and become. We need to feel secure enough in our position to encourage greatness in others. Let them make suggestions, take risks and show us a different way. We have to trust others to do their job, then watch them flourish.

A whippet with a V02max up in the sky or the team velocita with rapid-fire quads just may not be the one for that job.