2020 RVV: The Duel We Longed For

The fingers are rusty, but the keys shall strike themselves after watching such a clash of titans today.

We saw last Sunday in Gent-Wevelgem there was beef between them…perhaps not expensive Kobe Beef, but surely some sort of beef. Gent-Wevelgem was the only preview we had before the Flandrien equivalent of the Superbowl. Mathieu Van der Poel (MVDP, Alpecin-Fenix) and Wout Van Aert (WVA, Jumbo-Visma) were the strongest men in the race. No matter which way they rode up the Kemmelberg they were the strongest, they were the top men in arguably the most prestigious Flandrien Classic besides the obvious ultimate that took place today: the Ronde Van Vlaanderen (Tour of Flanders). Did they go 1-2 in Wevelgem? No. For the final flat 40 km run-in, both chased every attack down for they were prepared to leave it to the sprint—as they should have—but in the last 3 km both became cagey. Mathieu sat on Wout’s wheel expecting or wanting him to cover the last attacks. Wout did not oblige. That was it. Trentin (CCC), Bettiol (EF), Senechal (Deceunick-Quickstep), Kung (Groupama-FDJ), Degenkolb (Lotto-Soudal), Lampaert (Deceunick-Quickstep), and race champion Mads Pederson (Trek-Segafredo) all took off in 1’s, 2’s, and 3’s to sprint out the win while Wout and Mathieu relegated themselves to 8^th and 9^th. Yes, it was an anti-climactic result to see them let their minor rivals go up the road to duke out the win, ah! but it was a necessary result in any great rivalry: they would rather sacrifice their own chances than let the rival win. Remember, remember the 1948 Road World Championships when Fausto Coppi and Gino Bartali—on the same Italian national team—only marked each other instead of racing for the win, both were so out of it they stepped off their bikes and dropped out of the race, the Italian cycling federation was so upset they served them both with a three month suspension. From what I gather, at the finish line Wout said something to the effect of “At the end, Mathieu sat on my wheel instead of chasing down the attacks. I have already won a lot of big races this year, Mathieu should have been the one working for the sprint.” Ah! But here at the Ronde Van Vlaanderen, on the biggest stage with the trickier finale and the events of the past Sunday fresh in everyone’s minds, the same bluffing mistakes would not be made.

Like all the COVID races this Ronde was a slightly strange edition not least because of the lack of fans—was I watching the Tuesday Stage 1 of the minor Three Days of De Panne or the mighty Ronde Van Vlaanderen, the revered Tour of Flanders that gets better ratings than the Superbowl? At no race, not even up Alpe d’Huez, are the fans so “quintelly” essential—how I missed seeing the iconic yellow and black Lion of Flanders flag flying 3,000 times along the route, how I missed seeing shots of every bar packed to the gills, how I missed seeing every climb vibrating with the applause of the roadside crowd exhorting the great champions and their local heroes. And yet there was a welcome addition to the Ronde amidst the pandemic. Yes, the newly crowned World Champion Julian Alaphilippe the Musketeer (today of Elegant-Quickstep) was making his Flanders debut. It was an original 2020 appointment for him before the Coronavirus outbreak, but would it simply be a testing-of-the-waters before a full 2021 Flandrien Classics campaign? No. No it surely would not. Say what you want about Julian Alaphilippe the Musketeer this season—and later I shall say things myself—but he is a man who comes to the start-line ready to win, no matter the terrain. O! How he looked going up the famous “bergs.” He was a natural. The way he rode the gutter on the treacherous cobbled climbs amidst the pack of 100+ riders, it seemed he could hop right back into cyclocross and mix it up with best, dare I say even with Mathieu and Wout themselves.

There were no fans, but the racing was fierce. The gravity of the race and the quality of the field shown through with or without the hype of the rabid Flemish crowds—surely, all the racers knew: this was one of the five Monuments, this was the Tour of Flanders—ah! to win it would be a childhood dream come true. It was a clash of swords, a skirmish with consequences, a pure chase and race into the bottom of every cobbled berg—how valuable teammates are in such scenarios. And upon such cobbled climbs the speeds did not slow as the gradients rose. No, no, the day’s breakaway lead only quickly evaporated 30-45 seconds up each short and yet O so steep climb. Everything was coming to a fine boil in the final 70 km. The peloton was shrinking, many riders were “on the rivet,” and the pretenders were launching their bids for glory to no avail. Winding down those narrow country lanes into the mighty Koppenberg all was still relatively controlled, but the dominating Belgian “home-team” of Elegant-Quickstep was prepared to make some selections and at the head of affairs would be one of the top riders in the world: the Musketeer, Julian Alaphilippe in his beautiful Rainbow Jersey of World Champion. A few cobbled bergs came in quick succession after that, and with 40 km to go the peloton hit the Steenbeekdries with the headliners coming to the fore. And yet again it was the debutant Alaphilippe who was trying to make the selection. Who could match him? Only the Dutch Champion with his red, white, and blue jersey and audacious white shorts: Mathieu Van der Poel. The two had a gap and they looked strong and, judging by the results of the past few weeks, ALL knew they would be a strong pair riding to the finish. One man, one man alone could possibly bridge to them. Yes, yes, it had to be—perhaps, it was meant to be—it was the mighty Wout Van Aert, the Aertist he has been called, wearing his wasp yellow Jumbo-Visma jersey. At the foot of the Taaienberg Wout latched on, and at that moment all us viewers knew: the final selection had been made, the rest were all pretenders. The three top riders in the world at this moment were in an elite group off the front with 38 km to go, one of them would surely soon be winning the Tour of Flanders, the iconic Ronde Van Vlaanderen.

The three stormed up the Taaineberg—living legend Tom Boonen’s bread-and-butter climb. Their rotations were equal and in perfect timely fashion—communication was not needed, all three knew the task at hand. With their cooperation their lead grew, no peloton would be reeling them back today. Ah! But with 35 km to go, a grievous error occurred. In the blink of an eye, Alaphilippe the Musketeer was sprawled out on the ground, his bike not even in sight. He donned Yellow again early in the Tour and earned the right to don the Rainbows for a full year as well—and the obvious must be stated: he looks extremely fetching in both—but beyond that can one question if his head has been too high in the clouds? Has he been on Cloud 9 or Cloud 99 since his Worlds win? Sure, sure, he won his Tour Stage and did his stint in Yellow, and the rest of his season was all focused on the World Championships in Imola where he crushed his opposition…but Imola already fades from our minds, even the Musketeer is only as good as his last race. His Liege-Bastogne-Liege performance was both sensational and appalling as he jolted around among the rotating elite group in the final kilometers, cutting off Hurricane Hirschi (Sumweb) in the finishing sprint only to “post-up” and celebrate too early while Primoz Roglic (Jumbo-Visma) nipped him at the line in a bike throw—denying Alaphilippe a Monument tailor-made for him and that he would have earn had he not been such a spaz in the final K. Less than a handful of days later at Brabantse Pijl, Alaphilippe AGAIN sat up and almost celebrated too early, he only won because MVDP timed his final sprint completely wrong. Alaphilippe, our Musketeer, you are a showman, but what were you thinking celebrating so early in those situations? And thus we come to the moment today, when he seemed dialed in—in control—an alpha in what was thought to be other lions’ den. Speaking into his radio, Alaphilippe had another lapse in concentration and his shoulder banged into a race motorcycle holding his line and slowing. Alaphilippe’s shoulder hit the bike and the impact sent him toppling over the handlebars and sprawling out of the road with race-ending injuries. Alaphilippe who seemed the man of the match in his debut had taken himself out of the competition. So ended the Musketeer’s season; MVDP and WVA gave a look back to see where he was, but then rode on without skipping a beat.

Alas! Alaphilippe with his Rainbow bands would be sorely missed, but it was his own fault, and the race must go on, and now it was the duel we were all craving. It was Nadal vs Federer, Anquetil vs Poulidor, England vs France, Moser vs Saronni, Coke vs Pepsi, Obree vs Boardman, Coe vs Ovett, or—I say with a whisper, for surely it is still premature and the biggest of deals—perhaps even Coppi vs Bartali. Realistically this duel was most reminiscent of Cancellara vs Boonen—the undisputed Classics champions of the previous generation who are both all-time cycling greats—but it is little remembered that on the biggest stages, in the cobbled Monuments, Spartacus Fabian Cancellara and Tornado Tom Boonen only had one genuine head-to-head match that ended with Cancellara’s “Boonen-buster” attack on the hallowed Muur de Geraardsbergen. But here we were now with baby-faced Wout and Mathieu already dominantly riding away from all the competition. O! For years in the winters we have daydreamed about such a moment after one of their classic cyclocross duels. We would think, “My, my, these two have been battling since before they were teens. Someday, someday, perhaps we shall see them battle on the steep cobbled bergs of Flanders, battling across the slick stones of a wet Roubaix—a big ask, but something we cycling fans long for nonetheless.” Over a decade since the rivalry started on the cyclocross grass and mud, the daydream has become reality. In my estimation, this is surprisingly their first head-to-head matchup in almost two years, the first proper since the 2019 Cyclocross World Championships in Denmark. Much has changed since then, most notably Wout Van Aert’s massive new list of road palmares, not least because of his devastating sprinting abilities shown at Sanremo, the Dauphine, and twice in the Tour. If the Oude Kwaremont or the Paterberg did not decide the race between the pair of them, it would come down to a sprint, and MVDP’s was no longer clearly superior to Wout’s. Either way, with 30 km to go, all fans of cycling were already winners watching the showdown between these two.

Though Wout and Mathieu, are already long-historic rivals, both were working in perfect unison to distance the rest of the field. Their advantage kept growing over the chasing peloton, imagine Professor X and Magneto or Gandalf and Saruman forging for a while the perfect partnership before resuming hostilities later. Surely most behind quickly resigned to fighting for the last podium spot, the win was now assuredly out of reach with these two strongest and fastest riders well ahead. At one point they were descending on a wide road connecting two small villages, both sat on the top tube, laser-focused, conserving all the energy they could. They descended like stones, they even looked made of stone as they tranquilly held such a precarious positions while the wind whipped into their faces and the kilometers rolled away beneath their wheels—without the crowds it was quiet and beautiful…a calm in the storm before the famous Oude Kwaremont. Up the Oude Kwaremont they went, what a climb it is. Even the people who prefer the Muur finale cannot deny the Kwaremont’s beauty, and they must acknowledge afterwards the superiority of the following Paterberg versus the Muur’s wimpy Bosberg final “test.” But with such equally matched rivals, the 2.2 km Kwaremont climb was not decisive enough to finally break open the duel. Van der Poel paced them all the way up holding a steady tempo, if he accelerated at all it did not come across on the broadcast because Van Aert matched him pedal-stroke for pedal-stroke with a relaxed poker-face—in such moments is when the “Uno: Draw 4” Wild Card Alaphilippe is sorely missed. But they came to the steep Paterberg, the final test before the 13 km run-in to the finish. The 400 m climb may be short, but it packs a wicked punch with an average gradient of 12.5% and a max of 20%, and of course it too is cobbled. O! The farmer who laid the Paterberg bricks because he wished to see the Ronde pass by his house…may he never pay for a beer anywhere in Flanders. But alas! here too, our competitors were evenly matched. Wout tried to make a winning move, but Mathieu was so glued to his wheel Elmer and all his glue-sticks would have been impressed if he had seen it. They went over the top, they still had over a minute-lead on the field, surely now we would get the sprint between them.

On the run-in both were pedaling a higher cadence in an easier gear—trying to keep the legs fresh for this ultimate and inevitable sprint. If they could not break away on the steep cobbled bergs, what was even the point of trying on the flat? Yes, both were completely resolved, it would come down to the sprint, both confident in their abilities. With now just under a minute lead, they rode under the Flamme Rouge, the Red Flame, the Red Kite signifying one kilometer remaining. Commentator Ned Boulting humorously pointed out: despite all the experience and skill of these two phenoms, the one facet they are missing is any track prowess. Yes, yes, here in the pouring rain after all the brutality the Ronde could throw at them, on the straight-shot flat final kilometer, the race would be decided for-all-intents-and-purposes by a two-up track sprint. Van der Poel found himself in the unenviable front position while Wout sat in his draft, saving just a bit more energy for this final sprint. The pace slowed, MVDP gently weaved across the road and looked over his shoulder every 3 seconds. Ah! What a final “miniature” duel to decide the victor of this major duel. MVDP rode on the right-hand barrier to make sure Wout could only come around him from one side. They slowed even more, so slow even Wout had to take a quick look over the shoulder to make sure they still had time over the charging peloton. They did still have time, but their minute lead was evaporating at an alarming rate—in such scenarios one must be poised and cool as a cucumber, waiting for the perfect moment launch their final sprint. 500 m and the two still slowly rolled on. Past 300 m the peloton was swarming down like a pack of birds with the tailwind, but they were still over 100 m behind the two titans’ legendary duel. Van der Poel looking over his shoulder at Wout. Past the 250 m sign, Van der Poel still looking back. Past the 200 m sign, Van der Poel still looking back. But in an instant, from the front, Mathieu Van der Poel launched his race winning sprint. It was explosive, but Wout was ready for it and immediately in the slipstream. Both were heaving their bikes, it was a powerful sprint. With 100 m to go, Van Aert drew even with Van der Poel. But then Van der Poel seemed to pull ahead once again.  And yet Van Aert still drew even once more. And then it was the tight bike throw over the line. It was close, neither cheered, a photo would surely be needed. And in Belgian fashion, the photo appeared quickly: by less than a third of wheel Mathieu Van der Poel won the 2020 Ronde Van Vlaanderen.

Flanders is a race Matheiu’s father Adri Van der Poel won back in 1986; Mathieu is the first rider to ever win a Monument their father had won. It was an excellent cap to his road season; in fact it was a win Mathieu almost “needed.” Despite the loss, Wout Van Aert is still the Rider of the Year for 2020. If Wout had beat Van der Poel in this sprint it would have swung the rivalry lopsidedly into Van Aert’s favor—but now the season ends in a dispute: surely Wout did more on the road, but in the ultimate head-to-head MVDP won. And thus their career rivalry is now about back to an even balance: on the road and in cyclocross, MVDP certainly has a hefty plethora of wins—including more head-to-head wins—compared to WVA’s lesser plethora, but what Wout lacks in quantity he makes up for in quality. Alas! There is no Paris-Roubaix next week to tilt the seesaw in one final direction or another for this road season, but before we are even ready they shall resume the rivalry on muddy cyclocross courses…and immediately after that we shall see them resume battle in these Flandrien Classics at their proper Spring-time slot. O! Unlike Cancellara and Boonen of old, in only their mid-20s, so evenly matched, surely Wout and Mathieu shall have more Monumental duels like the one we were treated to today. People think it is a shame for the one that such a rival exists in the same era, perhaps in some cases—surely in Felice Gimondi’s. But in a balanced rivalry like Cancellara-Boonen or Coppi-Bartali surely this is not the case. Surely Coppi became greater as he strove to match Bartali and surely MVDP is fueled by WVA’s success, he could not allow himself to lag so far behind his archrival for this season’s road palmares. When the two are both retired in a decade or so, perhaps we shall look back and say they could have both won more—it is fabled by the men themselves that if Francesco Moser and Giuseppe Saronni actually allied they’d have won four World Championships each—but it is undeniable Mathieu and Wout feed off each other’s success and thus both rise to new heights. They are linked, and not only are they both better for it, so is the sport of cycling.