They were the first two to line up as usual. The Belgian in powder blue went up first. The Dutchman in orange lined up right next to him. Neither acknowledged the presence of the other. Who knows if any sort of cordial greeting was exchanged between the two of them for the whole ten-minute lead up to the race. But when all were ready: the heartbeat countdown began, the lights flashed green and they were off. Both Wout Van Aert in that dominant Belgian powder blue jersey and Mathieu Van Der Poel in the classic Dutch orange had excellent starts, both leading into the first turn. They perfectly nailed the first flyover. And as predicted, they were charging bulls up the steep 21% Golden Gate Bridge of Cyclocross. Down the bridge Van Aert came to the front, across the sand he flew like a cannonball across the beach. It looked like he had the greatest tailwind in the world pushing him on, but in fact he did not. Van Der Poel and the rest of the top ten about rode most of the section, but at the very end all hopped off for at least a moment except for Wout. There they were on the shore of the North Sea, already it was a dual meet between the Belgians and the Dutch, the added twist for this race was that the saltwater waves were at the highest tides we had yet seen. The wet relatively packed section of sand was being freshly coated with water, and thus the wheels, the gears, the chain, and the feet of our riders were getting completely drenched. But Wout seemed unphased with a 5 bike-lengths lead. But as they turned from the shore and into the deep-sand run toward the Colonnade—the architectural beauty of the course—it was of course Mathieu Van Der Poel that led the strung-out chasers to connect back with Wout. They hit the pavement section for the slightest of respites, and then into the last section of sand before the recrossing of the bridge. Wout was the first one all weekend to ride it. Van Der Poel the second. And though the other Belgians got through the whole section on the bikes as well, by the top of the bridge, with its 21% ramps, it was already the duel we expected and always love.
Though you could not see it in his eyes, because of the sunglasses, you could see it in the body language, the riding style, and the fact that he refused to let Mathieu ride on the front: Wout had come to play, on the psychological front he was on top form this day. Every one-eighty turn, he kept in front of Van Der Poel that first lap, he led him into the stairs. Wout was dictating how this race would be ridden. At the end of the first lap the two aces already had a fourteen second gap over four Belgian chasers: all usual top ten suspects, but for this tale their names matter not. Into the Golden Gate Bridge once more, Van Der Poel bossed his way to the front with his big shoulders, down the other side and across the beach, both flew, riding the entire section. Along the shore Poseidon’s sea nymphs continued to have their fun. Both labored heavily to ride the section, orange in front of powder blue—it was an iconic image to see these archrivals in the national jerseys being battered by the waves. Off the bikes and into the run they went, and yet here they did not look as labored, it seemed only a routine affair, the usual duel they’ve had for the hundredth time. The pavement was easiest, but across the last deep sand section, for a moment Van Der Poel had to hop off the bike. Wout rode the sand clearly better, he had a few seconds gap by the bridge. He hauled himself up, but Van Der Poel was already chasing well—and yes, all race Mathieu rode that second bridge ramp better. On the back grassy half of the course, Wout pushed his advantage and did not let up for a second. The race was absolutely full gas from the second lap! Wout pushed on like a tank, testing Van Der Poel’s chasing skills. And then suddenly, three seconds behind Van Der Poel was instantly more behind as he fell over in a muddy rut. It cost him ten seconds, but he was back on the bike already chasing. Yesterday it was extremely muddy and the course conditions were very different, but as I watched the earlier races, I did not think this course had any “speed-limits.” A classic mistake, because for most of the riders this weekend, including 90% of the men’s elite field, this course did not have any speed limits. But for our aces, these two O! so dominant ones, yes, it speaks to their highest quality, they find the “speed-limits” even on the seemingly less technical courses. And thus, on the second lap, perhaps some thought Wout had already won this race, but surely Van Der Poel had not yet had his full shout.
In such scenarios in past years, such a crash could rattle Van Der Poel beyond repair, and he would lose the psychological and thus the physical battle in that very instant. Perhaps, as he ages, he is maturing most on that psychological front, for less and less often we are seeing him throw in the psychological towel. At the end of the second lap, he came in fifteen seconds down on Wout. And then the chase began in earnest—Van Der Poel unleashed his famous Relentless Lap. The Lap where not a soul in the world can keep pace with him. I have said it before, over any Cross course in the world, Van Der Poel can produce the best One Lap of any race. He has quite the engine and always the most superior technical skills. Wout may have more endurance for an hour, but to analogize to runners: surely Wout is the better over the full longer distances, the 5 and 10,000 meters, but Mathieu has him over the middle distances, the 8 and 1,500. And should those long-distance races become “sit-and-kick” affairs, Mathieu is deadly over those closing 800 meters. Thus Wout continued to push the pace and did not let up at all across any of the sand—surely he was turning himself inside out. But over the grassy back half of the course, Van Der Poel could not be staved off—his Relentless Lap was too deadly. Every straightaway he was closing half the distance to Wout, by the stairs he was within five seconds of him. How! How could Mathieu’s Relentless Lap be so dirty and deadly to hawk down even his greatest adversary so quickly?
Just as we were finally asking this question—for surely Wout is better than this—the adept Belgian cameramen zoomed in and caught it: Wout had a flat. And what was worse: Van Der Poel’s Relentless Lap was not yet over. Wout was slow in the turns, unclipping or even hopping off the bike where Mathieu nimbly spun through firing on all cylinders. Wout gutted out the finishing straightaways of the lap and the early ones of the following—surely turning himself inside out—but it was not a relief when he got the pit to get a new machine, it was all hands-on deck. Van Der Poel’s lead was cresting above ten seconds. Should the lead rise above fifteen seconds, it would be a big ask to catch that Dutch champion—an ask Wout only would possibly be able to answer. Should the lead grow over 20 seconds the writing would be on the wall. And should the lead grow over thirty seconds, all hope would be extinguished—barring major mishap.
Thus Van Der Poel went over the bridge and onto the beach for the fourth time on the fourth lap of the race. His pace was still hot, still riding at a high level, but his hellish Relentless One Lap was over. He was back in his usual high rhythm, a rhythm so high only five or seven riders in the world can keep up with it. And of those five or seven riders that can even keep pace, only two or three on their top form have the ability to chase him back down after the Relentless Lap is complete. Thus Wout began that process once more. He labored his bike through the sand, and though he did not look physically great, he was slicing the gap to Van Der Poel. To catch him, the difference would need to be made up on those sand sections that play into Wout’s hands—if he could ride them, flawlessly. On that fourth lap he did, and the fifteen second lead was down already to nine. Up the Golden Gate Bridge, Wout was clearly laboring, he was on or beyond some sort of Limit. But ahead, heaving and weaving like an ox dragging a freight train behind with all his might on that 21% ramp, Van Der Poel accidently unclipped. It was reminiscent of Sagan on the final ramp in the 2015 Richmond Worlds Road Race. Like Sagan, Van Der Poel agilely clipped back in within half a second. But let us pause for half a second ourselves and marvel at the man’s ability. To unclip and reclip in an instant on a 21% ramp after 30 minutes of racing completely limit, when the legs are burning from four minutes of the most intense sand-riding of your life: his momentum only slightly slowed. Wout gained two, maybe three seconds back, but Van Der Poel—even in that moment—barely skipped a beat.
With that bonus two or three seconds gifted to Wout on the ramp, his hopes brightened. On the grassy back half straightaways he ate into the advantage once more. Despite the flat, Wout was throwing the kitchen sink at this: three times he has been World Champion, but three times has Van Der Poel as well. Already in 2020 Wout was runner-up, the Silver medal, in not only the World Championship’s Time Trial, but the Road Race as well. Surely, he was sick of Silver, surely he dreamed of the taste of Gold once more, and surely he dreamed even more of wearing the Rainbows once more for a full year. Yes, he was on a mission, flat or no, he had to go on. He had to pursue Van Der Poel over the technical domain that is Mathieu’s bread-and-butter. And on that fourth lap, O! how he did! O! Wout! Wout! How deep were you digging to match the technical skill and endurance of that mighty archrival Mathieu Van Der Poel! The gap was 8 seconds across the finish line. The race was now half over, could the second half deliver as many fireworks as the first?
Over the bridge and into the sand they went again. Wout seemed to ride with an invisible rocket strapped onto his back—just as Buzz Lightyear once did. He blasted across the deep sand to the shore. Along the shore, Van Der Poel labored as the waves splashed him. The waves did not seem to effect Wout for so dialed in on Mathieu was he! Yes, the mighty Van Der Poel was now the prey, being hunted by the only other man fit to hunt him down on the cyclocross courses, Wout Van Aert, the champion of Belgium, representing his country on home soil in his powder blue National Team Jersey. Surely, Wout would not allow the Dutch to win every race of the weekend! Coming off the shore, Van Der Poel seemed to be relieved to being running once more instead of taking a beating from the waves, but by now his lead over Wout was no more than a handful of seconds. The bikes were slung over their shoulders, their mighty legs stomping through the sand made them seem like giants or walking trees, each’s free arm pumped like the greatest piston of a steam engine racing to its destination. Onto the bikes once, onto the pavement near the beautiful Colonnade, and into the last treacherous sand section before the bridge crossing once more. Van Der Poel seemed steady and powerful, but Wout was on an all-out kamikaze assault to close the gap. His back wheel flailed; his elbows spastically flapped to keep his balance like a poultry bird. Alas! He was too reckless! As the back wheel shifted and shifted, so did the front and momentum was lost. He couldn’t ride the whole section. Wout hopped off the bike and ran for it, still trying to close the gap. He re-mounted on the firm bit of sand in the middle of the section as Van Der Poel steadily rode on for the whole stretch. Van Der Poel nailed the final bit of deep sand at the end of this section, but Wout behind, beyond the absolute Limit—snot dripping from his nose, mouth gaping, though we could not see behind his glasses surely his eyes were sunken with fatigue—on this final bit of sand before the bridge, once more Wout could not ride it straight through and had to dismount again. Van Der Poel rode the ramp of the bridge well, while Wout slowly heaved with all his remaining might behind. Wout crested the top of the bridge 12 seconds behind Mathieu.
The rest of the lap, Van Der Poel’s lead began to balloon. There was no decisive “bowing of the head” from Wout to signal assured defeat, but it was clear the lights were going out. Alas! This day Wout would not be going to the Moon as the GME Redditors do say. At the end of that fifth lap of eight, Mathieu’s lead was 14 seconds, and Van Aert would continue to leak seconds for the rest of the race. Wout had no second or third wind that he would need to catch Van Der Poel, he was he fried, all he could do was hold the pace and maintain the gap as best he could and hope Mathieu had a mechanical. But Mathieu would not, and he’d go on to beat Wout by 30 seconds. After the race, Wout said he had cracked. To be candid, I say “Well, yeah, Wout. That was totally obvious.” But Wout said he cracked mentally, that he could usually fight harder against Mathieu. Wout knows his mind and body better than I, but Wout, I believe you are being too hard on yourself. Surely, you were cracked today, but it seemed to me you simply cracked physically before mentally: there was little more energy you could put out against Mathieu this day. If you had not had the flat, surely your duel would have gone a few more laps deeper and the results may have been different. And perhaps, you chased Mathieu down too early, doing in two laps what you should have done in a more measured three or four. But intensely watching that hour race, it seems simply preposterous to say you didn’t give it everything you had. You seemed almost angry at your resignation in the last laps; yes, you lost this battle, but perhaps this shall stoke your fires hotter for the next ones that are surely to come.
And what more is there to say of our champion—sorry, World Champion—who dons the Rainbow Jersey for the third year in a row? He sat up and fist-pumped the air a few times as he came across the line. You could see on his face, he was very happy with this victory, he knows how it so beefs up his palmares; and yet, it was also clear for all to see, and all already know: he has been here before. The final laps were a routine affair, the race had been decided. With Coronavirus, few were there to celebrate with at the finish as well. But it was another big day in the rivalry. It was another head-to-head victory over Wout in a race of the highest significance. Surely, Mathieu is keeping score. Today was a pivotal and major battle in their career-long rivalry. With Wout’s better 2020 Road season—despite his Flanders loss—he drew the already decade-long war even once more. But after this cyclocross campaign and definitive major battle here at Worlds, Mathieu takes the lead in this rivalry-war once more. Mathieu, I do believe you are on your way to becoming the greatest Cross rider of all time should you continue to even only produce the relatively brief season you have just treated us to. Celebrate, and enjoy this savory rub-match win—please don’t treat it like just a routine affair. But obviously also, I know you shall not rest on your laurels for too long at all: surely, soon your eyes will be focused on your ambitious 2021 calendar: the Spring Classics, Grand Tour debuts, the mountain bike leading up to Tokyo, and Road Worlds in Flanders. It’s a full plate, and in addition to it all, if you are not going head-to-head with Wout, surely, you must match his diverse and massive accomplishments that shall be produced next year. I say this too, Mathieu. It is no secret, I root for Wout more than you, I’m even openly bummed he lost this race. But it is because Wout so often finds himself in an underdog position to yourself, it really is quite remarkable. You are cycling royalty, from the bluest-of-blood cycling families. Add in the fact that your versatility and reliability makes you into a giant. I find it exciting when giants are slayed, but do not take it personally, and do not underestimate how much respect I have for the giants. Your accomplishments are long and impressive, your famous Amstel win is possibly the greatest feat of athleticism I have ever seen. You are a champion, and I cannot wait to see what you do for the rest of your career. Were I a 1940s Italian, I would have been a Bartali fan, but I would not have hated Coppi—I would have rooted for Coppi only a little less. And all know the story, when Bartali retired all the Bartaliani became Coppiani anyways. Yes, you see what I am doing, after this World Championship in Ostend, now the comparison can openly be made, proclaimed for all to hear. This rivalry you have with Wout is our generation’s Coppi vs Bartali and it does not seem like your rivalry shall slow for many more years to come. Treasure this reality, Mathieu, especially since for at least a few more months: you are in the lead of this figurative race that is one of the ultimate rivalries in the history of cycling.
Cycling Odysseys 