TDF 2020, Stage 21 Mantes-la-Jolie – Paris 122 km
Tadej Pogacar has won the 107th Tour de France. Sam Bennett wins on the Champs-Elysees and retains the Green Jersey.
DENVER, CO – The Tour de France is over, the great labors are accomplished. The heroes have made it home. Just as Odysseus made it home to Ithaca, the Tour de France has reached Paris for the 107th time. After the three-week odyssey surely all these riders will have a story or two to tell.
Yes, some day these riders will be grandpas and perhaps on a winter evening their grandchildren will come over to their home after shoveling snow all morning and sledding all afternoon. They’ll be toasting up with cups of hot chocolate and marshmallows and sitting on comfy cushions and couches near the fire while some of the grown-ups prepare a hardy chili dinner. But the former rider will have been sitting in a chair near the fire with a reading lamp overhead studying stories of great fame from bygone eras telling of heroes and armies who overcame tremendous odds, fought historic battles, or slew giants—yes, some of these stories are about legendary cyclists and their comrades. But he will put down his books to entertain the kiddies. The grandchildren will prompt their grand-dad, “Papa, before supper is ready, tell us a story from your cycling days long ago!”
At this point, perhaps some of the riders will choose to look back on events from this 2020 Tour de France. Maybe Alexander Kristoff (UAE) will talk about the day Thor helped him win in Nice. Surely, Julian Alaphilippe (Deceuninck-Quickstep) the Musketeer will honor is late father and tell of his exhilarating antics to win Stage 2 in Nice—the one dedicated to his fallen sire. I would guess Alexey Lutsenko (Astana) would speak of his summiting Mont Aigoual. Surely, one of the Bora-Hansgrohe Band of Brothers shall speak of the stage they put all the sprinters to the sword in the crosswinds under the generalship of Peter Sagan (Bora-Hansgrohe). I would suspect Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) would speak more highly of his teamwork for star-crossed leader Primoz Roglic (Jumbo-Visma) than of his two sprint wins. Surely, Sam Bennett (Deceuninck-Quickstep) will still be turning red in the face recounting his emotions from his first Tour stage win. Marc Hirschi (Sunweb) may pair his heartbreak on Stage 9 with his redemption win on Stage 12. Dani Martinez (EF) surely will tell of the time he out rode the two Boras on the Puy Mary. Caleb Ewan (Lotto Soudal) will mention his stage wins, but shall probably remember more gutting it out behind even the grupetto on those brutal mountain stages. Soren Kragh Andersen (Sunweb) will talk of the two times he seized his opportunity with both hands to counterattack at the perfect moment for two Stage victories. Lennard Kamna (Bora-Hansgrohe) will tell of the breakaway that finally went his way. If Superman Lopez (Astana) does not have a memorized play-by-play spiel of the Col de la Loze win I shall be very upset, but at the same time Sepp Kuss (Jumbo-Visma) will probably fondly remember that day as well when he proved to be one of the best climbers in the world outright. And surely, Michal Kwiatkowski (Ineos Grenadiers) will remember Stage 18 with supreme joy, but he will tell the story wrong when he says Richard Carapaz (Ineos Grenadiers) and his team “gifted” him the win: it was completely well-earned. Ah! But all of them, all of them as they begin to tell their story they shall say, “I tell you a tale from the 2020 Tour. Yes, kiddies, that was the Tour of Slovenian Fratricide. Pogacar’s (UAE) first Tour win, when he slew his older brother with that greatest ride against the clock that stunned us all.”
This Tour has given not only many of the riders, but we ourselves stories to tell. That was my purpose in producing these reports: to capture my thoughts at the time and describe my feelings for others to share in my joy and—so often this Tour—in my astonishment. As I am still in my prime years of life, I can say my memory is solid and far reaching, but without these reports surely many of these thoughts and emotions would quickly fade. I am glad I have the play-by-play of the events up the Col de la Loze when Superman put on his cape, I am happy I have written something that attempts to honor Sam Bennett’s joy at his first stage win, and as history reshapes the story with more details and perhaps changing accounts I am glad I have put down in writing in real time my thoughts on Pogacar’s Immortal TT.
Ah! But as I mentioned at the beginning, dear Readers, we have reached Paris. The coronation procession and the “Sprinter’s World Championships” on the Champs-Elysees always throw up a couple final stories. And before that, there are always more details from the penultimate-day press conferences with the winner-elect and other very important people who give their thoughts on this year’s edition of the Tour that is now informally complete. Eddy Merckx, the Cannibal and greatest cyclist of all time and winner of five Tours de France among other things, candidly sounded off that Jumbo-Visma rode stupidly and that he could see Pogacar coming up from behind for days and weeks at this point. Merckx damningly added this Tour will go down in history because of Pogacar’s ride, but also because Jumbo-Visma thought they had already won. Reflecting on such remarks perhaps Roglic and the team were too overly focused on how his form was and not enough on the competitors, but besides the Peyresourde on Stage 8 where Roglic maybe “let”/didn’t chase down Pogacar who had lost 1:20 in the crosswinds the day before, where else was Jumbo supposed to put time into him? I can’t even think of a moment when Roglic forsook an opportunity to twist the knife on “his little brother” because hypothetically he would have been happy to have Pog finish on the podium. I’m not sure there were any opportunities to ease-off on him even if they wanted. The heartbreaker for Jumbo, I believe, was that Pogacar significantly improved everything but especially his time-trialing during lockdown, and there was no way to perceive his time-trialing improvements because the only time trial came on the penultimate day.
Also from the interviews last night for which I have heard clips and snippets, it seems I have guessed rightly. Yesterday, Tadej Pogacar was riding to win the Tour de France, but that was obvious and clear as soon as he railed the first turn of yesterday’s course. He was a man on a mission. He was going for the win, but it still doesn’t sound like he thought he would win. He had recklessly thrown caution to the wind riding without a bike computer to give him any data about his watts, heart-rate, probably even time or distance to go. He set out on a madman’s pace and eventually the time checks started coming back in his favor which psychologically fueled him to hold the effort to the finish. But in the press conferences he did sound as stunned as everyone else that he actually came back to win: “In the morning I was just happy to be in second place, and yeah it was a goal to defend that. Then I had a really good day and it turned out I’m in yellow now. I’m super-happy.” At points, to add to the myth and drama of the event, Pogacar’s own astonishment hearkened back to some sort of “chosen-one” language where the hero is too humble to recognize their full powers entrusted to them perhaps for some larger fate to be determined in the future. “I’m just a kid from Slovenia. I have two sisters, one brother – I don’t know what to say. I like to have fun, I like to enjoy life, the little things. So this press conference is too big for me. I don’t know what to say about me actually.”
And thus there he was on the ride onto the Champs-Elysees to formally complete his victory. Tadej Pogacar of the UAE Emirates Team is the champion of the 2020 Tour de France, he wore the Yellow Jersey with matching Yellow shorts and full Yellow Colnago bike. He has joined a most elite club of riders that have won their debut Tour. He had won the King of the Mountains Polka Dot Jersey and Best Young Rider White Jersey as well, but alas only one jersey could fit on his torso. He rode with his UAE team, and quite frankly it was a little strange to see. Dear Readers, say what you want on the boring dominance of Sky/Ineos in years past, but I always appreciated watching them celebrate together on the final day as I watched them battle and win together on all the rest of the days. I’m sure Pogacar’s teammates and coaching staff played greater parts behind the scenes—from the car, on the bus, at the dinner table—but since we did not see their support on the road this year it was a little weird to see them with him now.
Yes, you all know which team I would have loved to see celebrating a Tour victory on this run-in to Paris this year. But alas! Jumbo-Visma has not won, and they were particularly hidden on the ride to the Champs-Elysees…except their leader. Full credit to Primoz Roglic: he congratulated Pogacar right away with a hug yesterday, he totally acknowledged his “little brother” deserved and earned the win, he graciously did many interviews when could have just curled under a blanket. He kept his perspective when asked if this was the end of a dream, he answered “Of course, but it was a dream just to be here in the first place.” He also added that he is still really proud of what he and the team accomplished. He chatted with riders in the peloton. He even posed for pictures on the bike with “his little brother” in the Yellow Jersey that he was wearing just yesterday. Roglic has had such a devastating defeat, but he has accepted it with the highest possible amount of class. He is a great sportsman, he is a great man, I wish him the highest possible success.
The empty Champs-Elysees itself was strange and it was not just because there were no fans. Perhaps I am mistaken, but the fauna seemed different because surely it is now a different season and no longer high summer in Paris. The shadows of the buildings were severely incorrect. The sidewalks were a sorry barren sight. I missed the Norwegian corner with their large flags across from the golden Joan of Arc statue that greets the riders as they come out of the underpass. The adrenaline inducing cheers along the straight stretch where the Red Flame is situated were not there at all to build up the hype. But! Thankfully we still saw the sight of the Egyptian Obelisk, the Arc de Triomphe looked better than ever, and none of this effected the riders’ performance. For the sprinters this was still the grand-daddy sprint of them all. The Champs-Elysees cobbles were rough as usual and so was the deceptive rise up, and the down side was extremely fast and treacherous too. At the Tour’s final Intermediate Sprint, shockingly Peter Sagan did not fight for Points thus right then Sam Bennett had mathematically locked up the Green Jersey and he only now had to finish the race. Sagan had said this morning in an interview that he would not go for the Intermediate and instead hinted he’d be all in for the final sprint for stage honors. O! The admission startled some of us that any point Sagan would concede the fight for the jersey he has always worn in Paris. He said he had already forgone attempts at stage wins in order to fight for the Green Jersey, but that had not worked out. So today he would try for the win on the greatest sprint finish in cycling.
And so for the 7th time, the peloton rolled through the Champs-Elysees finish line to take the bell lap—only a little over 6 km were left in the 2020 Tour de France. They rode up the rise to the Arc de Triomphe. Sailed around that greatest roundabout on earth. Flew down the fast cobbled side toward the Place de la Concorde—and by this point the lead-out trains were really gearing up, on such a fast sprint like this they were all important. They swung right and back left onto the side of the River Seine, back onto pavement were it was easier to move to the front of the peloton. They took the hard left to the underpass near the Lourve. When they came out, they made the hard left between the Joan of Arc statue and what is usually Norwegian corner. By this point the lead out trains were there because now they were crossing under the Red Flame signifying 1 km to go. Sunweb looked good, Trek looked good, and yes, Quickstep looked good—Sagan and Elia Viviani (Cofidis) were lurking on Bennett’s wheel. With 700 meters to go they cut diagonally left and Michael Morkov (Deceunink-Quickstep) was proving why he is the best lead out man in the world. He surged to the front and was the first to take the final right turn with 500 m to go onto the finishing straight. Behind him was Jasper Stuyven (Trek-Segafredo) leading out the current Champion of the World Mads Pederson (Trek-Segafredo) wearing the Rainbow Jersey for the last time—for next week a new World Champion shall be crowned. Sam Bennett in the Green Points Jersey, on a green bike, slotted in behind Pederson—letting Trek have the lead, because he knew it was a headwind on the final straight. Behind Bennett was the mighty one, Peter Sagan, who he has thoroughly defeated by a large margin not solely because of the relegation. Morkov pulled off the front, job done. Stuyven following also did his final acceleration. And when Stuyven pulled off, Mads Pederson the Champion of the World launched his bid for glory, but Sam Bennett in Green was on him and launching in the same moment. Sagan was staying in Bennett’s wheel as well. Sam Bennett, Champion of Ireland wearing the Green Jersey on the Champs-Elysees came around the World Champion and held off the charging Peter Sagan to win the Final Stage, his 2nd Stage, of the Tour de France.
This time he knew. This time he knew it was real and he knew where he was. He, Sam Bennett—the first Irishman to wear and win the Green Jersey since his mentor Sean Kelly did of old—had won on the Champs-Elysees. He was cheering and screaming with delight, when he came to a stop he lifted up his green bike over his head with both hands to continue cheering. Everyone was passing and congratulating him, including Sagan who was not in Green in Paris for the first time. He came to the TV interview again and he had more heartwarming things to say just like last time. Last time, he was so out of sorts he couldn’t even describe the sprint besides to say he was worried he had lost, today he could tell you every detail of the last lap—my description you just read was based off his words. He said he NEVER thought he would win on the Champs-Elysees or while wearing the Green Jersey. But now he has won on the Champs-Elysees in Green, on what he says is his dream team. He said crossing that line made all the suffering through the mountains worth it—I’ll note here, dear Readers, this was literally the exact reason for the creation of the Points competition. Yes, it was a fairy-tale ending for the Irishman, and it was great seeing him display that for all to see. Ah! Bennett’s a great interview, perhaps we shall derive a nickname for him based off these moving heartwarming scenes he produces. O! The way he opens up and speaks from the heart, surely, surely, this will be a story the grandchildren will ask him to recount again and again.
Unlike Bennett’s interview, the rest of the podium ceremonies were rather dull affairs this year, unfortunate but not unexpected. It mostly involved Pogacar doing laps and wardrobe changes for he won White, the Polka Dots, and of course Yellow. But Sam Bennett in Green went up there. And finally for once, the Super Combative award for the entire Tour was awarded to the correct person: Baby Spartacus Marc Hirschi (Sunweb), he was the revelation of the Tour and he surely lit up the race most with the rest of his Sunweb team. And though 2020 has thrown the world into complete chaos and at times it seems up is down and down is up, there are still some things we can rely on happening in this world: the Movistar team has won the Team Classification for this 2020 Tour de France. Yes, this is a running joke, because it seems they are the only team that target this competition, sometimes seemingly at the expense of their leaders’ General Classification positions. Soft-spoken Pog stood on the podium, but didn’t say much for a winner’s speech—it was certainly not like Geraint Thomas’ (Ineos Grenadiers) goofy mic drop speech in 2018. Ah! But beside Pog stood Rog holding his young child. On the other side of him stood Richie Porte who was anxious to get home and meet his baby daughter his wife had given birth to while he was at this Tour.
I do not think baby-face 21 year-old Pogacar has a child yet—based on the quote of his siblings, perhaps the proper question is how recently has he moved out of his parents’ home? Ah! Young Egan last year. Young Tadej this year. Who’s next? Perhaps the even younger Belgian Remco Evenepoel (Deceuninck-Quickstep) will win next year. Surely cycling is entering a new generation and era, perhaps in a decade we will look back and say this Slovenian Fratricide Tour, when young Tadej bested his elder Primoz with his Immortal TT, was the official start date of the new era.
And with that, we have come to the end, dear Readers. That is a wrap. We have been blessed with a beautiful Tour despite the almost ominously shocking ending. It has absolutely turned out to be a great last-minute decision to cover this Tour de France. We have seen much. We have come a long way since Nice. We have experienced biblical weather of many sorts in the midst of the worst plague in living memory. We have journeyed in the footsteps of historic warriors. We have summited mountains where former titans once clashed. We have explored desolate landscapes and pioneered new routes that someday shall be legendary themselves. We saw sprinters perform feats of raw athleticism that dropped our jaws. We saw cyclists transform into shooting stars and meteors on harrowing descents. We saw ironmen and musketeers seek out the hard way on the front day in and day out to warn the locals of the Tour’s approach like Paul Revere did of old. We saw tractors and lieutenants and even army knives ride in the vanguard of the peloton for hours on end striking fear into the hearts of those behind. We saw superheroes and mighty falcons fly up mountains. We saw mortals lose skin, break bones, ride to the finish in tattered rags and still go on; wounded warriors who refused to quit were they. We saw ambushes catch comrades out while tactical masters recovered their losses or created winning moves. We saw once mighty ones face writings on walls. We saw vanquished foes reveal hearts of gold. We saw diamonds in the rough revealed and champions sculpted. We saw heroes and comrades complete steps on their career-long journeys. We saw servants sacrifice all for their masters. We saw many nations united under singular banners. We saw unlikely alliances forged. We saw boxers battle for titles up steep slopes. We saw historic changings of guard. We saw generational conflicts. And most epically of all, we saw brothers duel. O! Dear Readers, I know letters and words cannot do justice to what the eye has seen, but please at least say you now understand that you have not just watched a “bike race where men tights with shaved legs see who can get from Point A to Point B fastest.” We have seen an epic. It was a grand struggle with thousands of mirco-struggles within it. The Tour de France is not just a sporting event to sell more newspapers, to advertise tourism and brand names, or even to satisfy our love of athleticism—in the grand scheme of things, the beautiful bicycles themselves are only a prop in the larger story. Why! The Tour de France is the Iliad and the Odyssey combined: it is a titanic journey that transforms its travelers into new men as they tackle hurdle after hurdle and at the same time engage in contests of arms as momentous as the ones that took place on the beaches of Troy many millennia ago. Every bike race is a romantic epic in its own sometimes little, sometimes large way; but The Epic is The Tour.
We reference cycling history and eras based on who won the Tour that year—like the Romans did of old with their yearly-elected Consuls. We count down the days, weeks, and months to the Tour which is something that—despite our deep love—we do not at all do for the Giro or the Vuelta. When the Giro and the Vuelta finish we move on with our lives quickly, but it is not so with the Tour. Every year—this year for the first time not in July—for three weeks our lifestyle changes. For three weeks, we know there is another installment of The Epic going on in the land of the Franks, and we want to be as plugged-in to the drama as possible. Before DVR and replay-able livestreams, our days would be completely structured around The Epic, but even to just watch the replays changes our routines and schedules. With articles, daily previews, YouTube videos, podcasts, Twitter feeds, betting sites, there is a hyper-heightened sense of drama to this race above all the others. And it is because it is The Epic. Of all the races on the calendar, it is the one that functions in the largest superlatives possible. It is the race that will move us most, with or without all the ingredients of a good race, because it is the one that matters most. Dear Readers, this year we had all the ingredients too. We cheered, we laughed, we gasped, we slept, we jumped, we were frustrated, we were let down, we were on the edge of our seats, we were saddened, we were heartbroken, we were impressed, we were stunned beyond belief, we were deeply moved. Again, other races make us feel such things, but it is a significantly heightened when these emotions come during The Epic, The Tour.
It was a mythical duel between two seemingly average joes from a tiny, often forgotten, European country. The two Slovenians, Tadej Pogacar and Primoz Roglic, are not the same people now in Paris that started this Tour in Nice and—most certainly—their relationship is permanently altered. They seemed friendly compatriots who loved to race bikes, but they—and the others—rose to the task to do feats of great heroism. But unique to this edition, in the process they seemed to transform into brothers though born in different decades. And when the relationship was finally sealed for all to see, and the older brother was about to make the family and whole country proud as he would be the first to win the great race before the talented young one would surely out do him in the years to come: the younger brother unexpectedly, like one chosen by fate for a great destiny, unleashed the most powerful performance that no one could comprehend and accidently vanquished his older brother who he so looked up to and loved. This installment of The Epic was shaping up to be another variation of the typical story we so cherish. Where a hero rises to the top thanks to his hard work and determination to strive for excellence, his teammates’ selfless hard work, and his clever use of tactics and innovations. This year we seemed to be getting that main story with a brand new cast for the first time in years, and then there was a side plot of a brotherly relationship with another rival. But in a strange twist at the end, the brotherly relationship took over the plot and turned brotherly-love into fratricide.
We are still comprehending the reality of the final dark twist. So we have not yet even begun to understand the story’s meaning—what truths it is supposed to reveal and teach us. Thus picking up the pieces of normal life will be more difficult than ever this time around. Yes, every year our thoughts fly home from their three-week adventure in France, and it takes us a few days for the dust to settle and for us to remember where we physically have been the whole time. Surely that is the finest tribute we can pay to a story. It has so engrossed and moved us, we cannot simply snap back into normal life. The Tour is not always the most exciting race—more “not than often,” actually. The Tour is not the race we consider our most dearly beloved. But to state the cliché: The Tour is The Tour, and we understand it is the ultimate. We mourn its winding down, and only accept its end with heavy hearts. At its completion we compare this edition to its predecessors, not all are equal, but ultimately they are all satisfying. And when that is done, we start to look forward to next year’s installment. With the Arrivee in Paris, we produce our final thoughts that quickly wander straight into next year’s Grand Depart. But for the purposes of these daily stage reports, my final thought here on the Arrivee in Paris is the same as my first thought at the start of the first report from our Grand Depart in Nice:
Vive le Tour.
Cycling Odysseys 