Erik Zabel - Part Two

You can take the boy out of East Germany, but you can’t take East Germany out of the boy. The thing about Erik Zabel, despite his sunny demeanor, his acts of kindness (he recently scoured Europe for parts to build a 1980’s Koga-Miyata bicycle, complete with Campagnolo Cobalt Blue brakes, as a surprise gift for his friend Allan Peiper) is that he exudes the self-discipline and control of an elite military man. The habits from that rigorous upbringing in the DDR training system are still deep inside and he clearly considers them treasures. 

We were at The Market, one of the several bicycle-jammed coffee shops along NYC training road, 9W, with the Rapha/Canyon group ride. While everyone lined up for food and coffee, Erik stood outside, taking countless photos with fans, not eating and certainly not sitting on the curb. I went over to him after a bit and said: “Goodness Erik, you must have had just about enough of photos by now.” He looked at me and said, “You know John, when you are a professional and hired for an event, you have to give it your all, from the early morning until it’s completely finished.” I sheepishly mumbled an agreement while wiping the crumbs off of my mouth and thought about his father’s words (Part One) and how seriously Erik had taken them. 

During the Friday talk I’d asked him about his stint as the Katusha Performance Director. Erik hadn’t wanted the job. He’d deflected, saying the they should get Allan Peiper or Udo Bolts, but they weren’t available so being the good trooper he is, Erik took it with the stipulation that he’d be responsible for 23 of the riders, with the 24th, his son Rick, given to another to monitor. 
There was a truly poignant moment at the talk when I asked about Marcel Kittel, the powerhouse sprinter and team leader who fell apart this year and walked away from the sport. I asked if Marcel had become afraid in the sprints, or if there were other reasons for his professional demise. Erik grew reflective and then said: “I feel that I failed with Marcel, that I wasn’t able to get through to him. It was like I was speaking Chinese he yet a different language. That’s why I resigned as Performance Director – I was unable to save Marcel Kittel.” 

Jean de Gribaldy, my old team director who is most famous for having discovered Sean Kelly, used to say that team directors needed to be “vicious” in order to get the riders to surpass themselves, that the racers could never become too comfortable. Champions like Erik, and make no mistake, the champions hurt themselves far more than anyone else, generally don’t have the heart to bully riders. It must be bewildering for a man like Erik, who no director ever had to tell to lose weight or train hard, to see riders blow their chance in the pros through a lax approach. The need to kid-glove the new generation too is difficult for someone who has lived the life he has and come from where he did. I’m not sure if we’ll ever see Erik commanding a team again.

I love observing the qualities in champions that combine to create the special beings that they are. There was a great moment at the talk when, responding to a question about which sprint finish was his favorite, Erik replied: “I don’t remember any of them, they all blend together. When I sprinted, it was like I was in a slow-motion video game watching myself.” He’s describing the crystal-clear mental state, one that is incredibly hard to achieve, of being absolutely and completely in the moment, with no attention leaking away to insecurities or other distractions. Marshal artists spend their entire lives trying to achieve that “mushin” or “no mind”, that allows them to fight intuitively. I’ll bet that Erik’s ability to reach that state was a major factor in his 200+ pro win career.

One can’t finish up about Erik Zabel without talking about how much he loves bicycles. He just does – as do I – and we spent quite a lot of time on the rides talking about bikes, handlebars, positions – any and everything bicycle. He’s got deep technical knowledge – Canyon Bicycles is lucky to have him as an advisor– and still rides 20,000 kilometers a year maintaining the chops to put test bikes through their paces. Erik told me that he’d gone to the Milram team in Italy just so he could race on Colnago for once in his career. He had Ernesto build him a pair of special machines with blue and white East German paint schemes, a model that became most popular with the public, quite likely his first foray into the industry.

It was clear to the audience that Erik deeply loved Milano-Sanremo, the “Primavera”, that magically beautiful, 300-kilometer Classic race that he won four-times. He described the first half, through the foggy, overcast Po Valley, the grind up the interminable Turchino Pass to the bright blue dot in the sky that is the tunnel leading to the Mediterranean Sea. Erik spoke of the sense of leaving Winter at the mouth of the tunnel and entering Spring on the other side as bright blue sky, the sea, palm trees and warm breezes welcomed the racers. He reverently described racing along the magnificent Mediterranean coast on that ancient Rome to Paris road, heading towards Sanremo, the “City of Flowers”, and you could see that the memories still affected him. I’m going to risk positing that, for Erik Zabel, Milano-Sanremo represents the path of his own life. His journey that began in overcast darkness has brought him to a world of light and flowers. Erik got there on a bicycle.