Three-months ago, Jonas Vingegaard believed he was on the verge of death after his horrific high-speed crash in Spain.
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Cycling is, and always has been, a professional sport. Which means it is a business, an entertainment business that, like boxing, thrives on super champions who inspire awe
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Pogačar didn’t get the memo, as they say, and launched his team out of the blocks on Saturday, driving them as though the hounds of hell were at their heels.
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Tadej Pogačar says that “he’s like a goldfish” in his ability to forget any bad races and turn his focus to the present, a trait he shares with Bruce Lee among other great achievers. A sort of relentless positivity. He’s going to need that skill now to forget how his entire first-half Tour strategy has gone so wrong.
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Evenepoel burst out of the start house in perhaps the most exciting start to a TT that I’ve ever seen. Sprinting in and out of the turns, he attacked that race with everything he had.
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The Grand Depart in Italy was a great success by all accounts. Explosive racing, plot lines already determined, fantastic crowds and of course, Italy itself, that most magical place
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The Junior edition of the famed professional classic was first organized in 2004 and won by Geraint Thomas, with Mads Pedersen and Tom Pidcock other notable winners. 17 cobblestone sectors are packed into an 111-kilometer race with the finish, just as the pros, on the famed Roubaix Velodrome.
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The widely discussed chicane at the entrance to the famed-dreaded-popular Arenberg Forest cobbles was a non-issue, VdP was dropped off in perfect position where he did his thing and destroyed what was left of the peloton leaving only a small group in contention.
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None of which intimidated our American boys as they took the start for the 120-kilometer Stage 1. Captained by the experienced Otis Engle who expertly guided the team through the movements of the peloton, the team worked perfectly to place Barry and Streif in good position at the entrance to the finishing circuits.
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The 13-men were flying up the road, the gap increasing, the race splintered into pieces. Van der Poel calmly sat up, looked back and with an incredible display of sang froid, waited for his troops to regroup, go to the front, and begin to reassemble the race.
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The boys, undaunted by the competition, rode the front; Ashlin was their man on form and they kept him there the entire day, bringing him back, through the 175-man, 40-car caravan (It took an hour), after a crash, depositing him and Noah Streif, in perfect position at the entrance to the finishing circuits (more Univest nostalgia?) with 30-k to go.
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Enzo and Ashlin were the two youngest racers at the meet, racing in their first real 17-18 category race of that level. Their brilliant teamwork, matched with their perfectly complimentary racing qualities, have seasoned observers, such as Bjorn De Roo, who was there with his family cheering them on, predicting big things.
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"This is the most tired I've ever been in my life," he said after the win, "The level here is so much higher than in the US and I had to fight with everything I had."
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It is in working with Enzo that I understood why this young generation is dominating road cycling now. They are so fluent in the language and analysis of data, have Strava and Zwift as reference points, absorb hours upon hours of race coverage and have a world of science to draw from. A different species.
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I found myself on the start line of “The London-Paris” that year; after a spring spent jumping into club races I was finally fit again. An English friend had offered me an extra entry and there I was, not at all knowing what was in front of me. Was it a race? Or just a ride?
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The final true stage exploded into action, all sorts of craziness happening left and right. 4th and 9th overall, Carlos Rodríquez and Sepp Kuss, on the ground and bleeding profusely.
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The peloton is exhausted, except for certain single-day champions, as we saw yesterday in the photo finish between Tour of Flanders winner Kasper Asgreen and Milano-Sanremo champ, and victor, Matej Mohorič.
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It's about 70-k to go, the trio only seem to have a minute, so it must be doomed, the chores are calling… but suddenly the Green Jersey goes all Mafia Boss in the peloton, slamming Campenaert’s Lotto Dstny teammate, Pascal Eenkhoorn, into the barriers as the Dutchman was trying to jump up to the break.
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Of course, the hits will keep on coming, they’re just too easy to make, and while I’m certainly not going to convince anyone in the suspicious camp with this piece, I can offer some perspective.
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