With some 50 km to go, give or take a kilometer or two. It was the young bearded American Quin Simmons (Trek-Segafredo) who initiated the final selection on a steep section of the famous White Roads, the famous ones composed of the treacherous gravel. Defending champion Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) and World Champion Julian Alaphilippe matched his pace, and with them was not Mathieu Van Der Poel (Alpecin-Fenix) in his Dutch Champion’s jersey, but instead Kevin Geniets (Groupama-FDJ) in his Luxembourg Champion’s jersey…confusingly similar to the Dutch Champion’s jersey: only a slightly lighter shade of blue separate the two. By this point the race had already covered some 130 km, and the leading peloton was not more than 50 riders strong. But the other huge pre-race favorite, the one of Kuurne shenanigans fame, Madman Mathieu Van Der Poel was further down in the pack. Was he on a bad day? Surely he had to make this one count off the back of his Opening Weekend antics: his team managers were not happy with his performance last weekend, for it was so strong surely he should have turned up a “W” for the team. But then the other Opening Weekend showman, Julian Alaphilippe the Musketeer made a full strong attack, and all viewers rubbed their hands together and licked their lips because all knew a race defining selection was beginning.
Wout Van Aert was in Alaphilippe’s wheel immediately and even offered a turn of pace. The peloton was already halved and now strung out in one long line. O! How dusty and wild and treacherous are these bouncy and rolling White Roads in the Tuscan Hills. Truly, truly, this is a special race. Alaphilippe put in another big effort again, and once again Van Aert was ready to push the pace again as well. And now the gaps were really starting to form, Quin Simmons was still with the pace-pushing pair, and also, yes, in the right position now: Mathieu Van Der Poel. There were stragglers behind, but surely some would still catch back on because it was still too far out for Wout and Alaphilippe to continue throwing down an all-out assault like this. And within an instant, it was clearly down to only 10 riders. No, 9 riders, alas! consistent Greg Van Avermaet (A2GR) was cracking already. Alas, alas, for this current Olympic Champion has such a consistent record at this race, and yet has never won it. Alas! He shall have to wait another year for his next opportunity. And alas! a kilometer later, the Luxembourg Champion Geniets fought tooth and nail to hold on to the group, but like a cliffhanger holding on by only a fingernail finally he fell off the pace and out of the leading group. Thus with 47 km to go, 8 men were left. Behind there would be some chasers who gutted out riding within a stone’s throw for many more kilometers, but to make a long story somewhat shorter: they were not catching back on this day. This was the final selection…and O! what firepower was up front!
By this point Van Der Poel the Madman was doing some of the pacing, and the impetus of Alaphilippe and Van Aert and even Quin Simmons has already been stated. But who were the remaining four to make the strong break with such heavyweights as Wout, Mathieu, and Julian? There were two Ineos Grenadiers, one Qhubeka rider, and the last was a UAE rider. Now one the Grenadiers was recognizable by his smaller build and riding style I have seen for months already this winter. Yes, after his stellar Opening Weekend, his very first pair of World Tour Classics, where he nabbed a podium in Kuurne, the British superstar of top cyclocross prowess Tom Pidcock had made the leading group—ready to square off with Mathieu and Wout once again, the only two ‘Crossers in the world who can consistently get the better of him…and yet, on his best day, the younger Pidcock has occasionally gotten the better of them as well. Now, for those listening who know not the results, please clear your mouth of food and drink for if not you are about to do a spit-take in disbelief. The other Grenadier in this group was Egan Bernal. Yes, the 2019 Tour de France champion who was unable to defend his title in 2020 due to ailing back pain had made this final selection. And the UAE rider? I must say there is something about their kit, glasses, and helmet that makes them all difficult to tell apart…and yet you could see the hair sticking up through the helmet. Yes, yes, if it was not crazy enough that Egan Bernal was here, the day got more memorable when it was confirmed the UAE rider was in fact Tadej Pogacar, the defending Tour de France champion. What a group, what a final selection! The octet was rounded out by the Austrian Michael Gogl (Qhubeka Assos) whose best results in years past are probably a pair of Top 10’s at Strade and Amstel Gold years before.
And this is the Dream selection that forms the title of this piece. As I said, the chasers kept them close, but did any viewer in the world think anyone was gonna catch onto this group of All-Stars? No offense to the chasers, but did anyone want them to? Or can we all just admit a fantasy was coming true, and this is a cast of characters we always love to see was about to go head to head. Now, though 19-year-old Simmons might become a future Classics star, it must be admitted he and Gogl were out of their depth in such company and would clearly be taking the role of dark horse and underdog. Tom Pidcock’s progression to this point has been bang on and we knew he was currently on good form, so it was no surprise to see him up here such a unique off-roading race with his top cyclocross adversaries. It was no surprise that Van Aert and Alaphilippe, former race winners, were here either; and it would have been a surprise if Van Der Poel with his red-hot Opening Weekend form was not here. But the fact Bernal and Pogacar were here makes me chuckle and lifts my heart.
For years and years, I watched Alberto Contador and Chris Froome (Israel Start-Up Nation) dominate any sort of stage race, and yet for them to even start a one-day Classic would be rarer than a Blue Moon. But when we look at past eras of cycling, until recent decades all the greatest champions did not often specialize their dominance. Feel free to assume the Cannibal, the Greatest of All Time, Eddy Merckx is in a class of his own as he won everything, usually multiple times over. But here a couple more examples of non-specialization: il campionissimo, “the Champion of Champions,” Fausto Coppi not only won Tours and Giri, he took many Sanremos and Lombardias, and even a Roubaix, a World Championship, and the Hour Record; the Badger Bernard Hinault out did Coppi in Grand Tour titles, took multiple victories in the hilly Monuments of Liege and Lombardia, won a brutal World Championships, and even won Paris-Roubaix once just to say he could even though he famously said it was a race for “Dickheads.” But as I said, for the Froome and Contador eras, and probably an era or two before that as well, specialization was constricting-ly rife across the sport. The fast men only won flat sprints, the climbers only won summit finishes, the Classics men only won in Belgium and Roubaix. Everyone had one, maybe two skills at most. To each his own his that is what you prefer, but I prefer to see the dynamic challenges and array of objectives the heroes of the past would pursue. Finally, finally with riders like Vincenzo Nibali (Trek-Segafredo), Alejandro Valverde (Movistar), and Peter Sagan (Bora-Hansgrohe), the strict specialization began to breakdown of the course of this past decade. But I think last year’s late-season lockdown Liege, and now today’s Strade Bianche were great leaps forward in dismantling the bland specialization. Last year, Primoz Roglic (Jumbo-Visma) won Liege in a sprint over Alaphillipe, Pogacar, and Marc Hirschi (UAE) two weeks after the Tour’s completion: instead of resting or even going to another training camp Rog and Pog went to Liege and mixed it up in an exciting finale with men built for the Hilly Classics in Hirschi and Alaphilippe. But today, I still find more stunning. Egan Bernal will be on the starting line of the Giro in two months, Pogacar has the weight of the cycling world on his shoulders to defend his Tour title. They do not need to be here at Strade Bianche. In fact, it is surprising to see them make a final selection that foiled the great Greg Van Avermaet—do not for a moment think the race was not too hard if Pogacar and Bernal could make the split, it was that hard, Pog and Bernal are that good. And its beyond refreshing to see, it is as I said the stuff of dreams.
Seriously, this selection was some sort of hypothetical or fanfiction become reality. Julian Alaphilippe the Musketeer, the character, the greatest showman of his generation, locking horns in battle once more with Mathieu and Wout whose historic rivalry is contested year-round in multiple disciplines. Meanwhile, they are accompanied by the past two Tour champions, of Pogacar and Bernal, who seem destined to form a rivalry of their own for supremacy in the Grand Tours. They are joined by the scrappy bulldog Tom Pidcock prepared to hold his own, and rising star Quin Simmons. With Van Avermaet already cracked, Sagan out with Corona, and Remco Evenepoel (Deceuninck-Quickstep) still rehabbing from falling off a bridge, this was truly the greatest who’s who of the sport we could ask for…and Michael Gogl was there to steal the show against all odds! Alaphilippe was making faces as he drove the pace. Wout and Mathieu were in their element. Pidcock, Simmons, Pogacar, Bernal, and even Gogl were all holding their own even if not quite doing a fair share of the pacing. What we were seeing was what it is all about, commentator Rob Hatch said it best: we were seeing guys who not only love to race their bikes, we were seeing guys who clearly look like they love to race their bikes. It did not look easy for any of them, but it did look like there was no place in the world any of them would rather be at this moment. And that feeling was contagious for those viewing. We were all loving the moment so much, we could not even predict what would happen next. All looked up for this, all looked strong, who would burn the next match and launch the next attack? It didn’t look like anyone would be cracking anytime soon.
Alas! With 40 km to go, Quin Simmons had a puncture; he needed a wheel change, and in this company, at this speed, that would dash the young American’s hopes of winning or even getting back on. It was down to seven for the win. With 22 km to go, at the end of the third to last section of White Roads, on the steepest bit of gravel for the section, Alaphilippe the Musketeer attack for the umpteenth time: Pogacar followed seated and spinning a higher gear, Van Der Poel muscled his way up behind showing off his big shoulders, Bernal was on his wheel, and Gogl was clawing up to them too. But alas! it was too much for Wout Van Aert, the defending race champion, only now making his road season debut less than 40 days since his defeat at Cyclocross Worlds. And Grenadier Tom Pidcock was struggling as well. Pidcock was sprinting and scrambling to close the gap. But Wout looked to be pedaling squares, all momentum lost, body heaving: these are all the signs of a proper “pop.” When the lights go out, and someone has not the energy or strength to stay with the better men. Were he a lesser man, he would have called it a day, and all would understand he had gave it a good effort. But this is the mighty Wout Van Aert, this is the man who does not know how to throw in the toilet—surely, I swear he knows not what that phrase even means: “Throw the toilet where?” I suspect he would ask. Yes, now the proper chase was back: 10 or 11 seconds to make up. But Wout caught up with Pidcock to form a temporary alliance with his cyclocross rival. Yes, within a kilometer, Wout was reversing his fortune, very rarely has such a definitive pop been reversed: he is a man with the mental determination and fortitude to cross the Sahara on foot with a piano on his back if he sets his mind to it. On the penultimate White Roads sector, on another long climbing section of gravel where traction is limited and bumps are frequent, Wout Van Aert reconnected with the leaders. It took Tom Pidcock a moment or two more to close the final meters to the group, but with 18 km to go the 7 riders were back together. Wout and Pidcock had shown their hand and yet still recovered from what could have been a blunder. One short but difficult last sector of gravel, and then it would be a mostly downhill run into Siena until the iconic rising finish to the Piazza del Campo in the center of the city’s hilltop.
The Dream Selection of the Superstars of the sport traversed the next five kilometers, all took what would be their last bits of food. Van Aert nursed his remaining energy at the back of the group…until all of a sudden, with some 13 km to go, Wout came to the front to lead the group into the final sector of White Roads. He wanted not so much to dictate the pace as much as to have the clearest and safest look at the harrowing decent the sector begins with. O! How that seven flew down that loose gravel descent. But of course, the last section of gravel would not simply be a descender’s test. In the final hundreds of meters, the White Roads are finished with a bang: a gravel wall of 18%. All speed was lost. Alaphilippe churned in the center, Van Der Poel on his right, Bernal on his left, each half a length back. And just as Pogacar was about to fully pop off the back from exhaustion and fatigue, a rocket was launched. Mathieu Van Der Poel, the man with the hottest form, the king of the unpaved, the man who spends his days doing off-road acceleration after off-road acceleration on his mountain bike until the cows come home and the sun begins to set, this Madman Mathieu Van Der Poel launched such a powerful attack that all hope was lost for the other competitors. Pogacar was already done, Pidcock was fading, Gogl had nothing, Wout couldn’t even react or stand up on the pedals, Bernal and Alaphilippe gave noble efforts to cover the launch—for to call Van Der Poel’s move only an attack would be an understandment—but on that unpaved domain they were not in the same stratosphere as the reigning Cyclocross Champion of the World.
The Road Champion of the World, Alaphilippe the Musketeer did a supreme job to limit his losses. Over the top of the little climb, within a kilometer he had clawed his way back to Van Der Poel. And with some 10 km to go—would you believe it—Egan Bernal clawed his way back to the pair as well. Van Der Poel and Alaphilippe were usual suspects, and have actually clashed a surprising handful of times before—remember it was Alahilippe that got 2019 Amstel Gold O! so wrong—but let us pinch ourselves: what was Egan Bernal, back problems Bernal, doing here? A skinny Colombian diesel-engined Tour de France champion who loves the climbs over a score of kilometers long: hanging in with Mathieu Van Der Poel and Julian Alaphilippe in a race where a full third of it takes place off road and most of the climbing is intense two or three minute efforts over traction-less gravel. As I did my remedial preview, I stated it would be “cool” to see if Bernal or Pogacar could “mix it up” in this race. When I said that, I figured one might do a good result finishing in the Top 15. O! How I love when my expectations are exceeded! With that said, it was mostly a downhill run for the next 8 km and both Alaphilippe and Bernal rotated in the pace-making. Either Bernal is a man of honor always prepared to do it his share, or he was resigned already to protect his podium place first and foremost. Behind: Wout, Gogl, Pidcock, and Pogacar had regrouped to form a chasing four, they clearly had not the firepower of the leading trio, but they were only some fifteen seconds back. Bernal’s only chance to win the race would have been some sort of “long-range” attack before the road pitched up to the finish, but in such company everything would be marked instantly. Actually, it was Van Der Poel that tried an audacious and probably tactically un-astute attack on the downhill. But it seems Van Der Poel had more patience than last week, probably because this race is more beloved, and he slotted back in to work with Alaphilippe and Bernal until the finish.
And in a couple more kilometers’ time, they turned left and eyed the Flamma Rouge, the Red Kite, signifying one kilometer remaining, and they eyed the Old Medieval city on a hill towering above them. At least Bernal did not completely resign himself to third place, he and Alaphilippe had positioned Van Der Poel onto the front to lead up the climb. They went under the ancient gate and the road started to significantly rise, their speed was slowing though the effort was staying the same. They did the little chicane: left, and right onto the iconic 16% ramp up the Sienese street: it is the money-shot of Strade, it is one of the greatest finishing backdrops in cycling—the steepness can only be grasped by an excellent camera from the top, the narrow buildings daunting the road are an architectural beauty, the barriers are within a yard of the buildings and add to the frieze that an amazing bike race is going up the street this day. Alaphilippe rode about even with Van Der Poel, but Van Der Poel immediately lifted the pace and Alaphilippe had to file in. And then for the second time, the Madman rocket launched away from the Musketeer. Bernal didn’t even have a reaction than to just keep his pace and secure a podium place. Here was the thing, Julian Alaphilippe the Musketeer was on better form this weekend at Strade than he was last weekend at Omloop, and yet still there was nothing he could do to be remotely close to Van Der Poel the Madman. I have experienced the great feeling of a Frisbee Golf disc hitting the chains for a Hole-In-One. I can begin imagine the how satisfying it would feel to perfectly nail a Wide Receiver in the End Zone for a game winning Touchdown. The same is true for swishing a buzzer-beater bucket on the basketball court. And above of all, I imagine how good it must feel to be swing a baseball bat and feel the ball crack off the wood and fly across the field out of reach of the players into the stands behind for a Home Run. But here today, here today, seeing Madman Mathieu launching twice like Apollos 11 and 12…I seriously question if it physically taxed him in any way! The fun euphoria and flow of the situation: he must have felt like a million bucks. To be on such a good day that you launch away from your top competitors, it made every viewer’s jaw drop. How ever much Mathieu’s legs were screaming, I am sure he could not hear them over the celebrations going on in his head about laying down such a powerful launch to win the day. He made the right turn, weaved down the remaining 500 meters of Sienese streets, came out into the open Piazza del Campo, and he was ecstatic. This was a special one, for of course this is a special race, he was throwing his fists up in the air uncontrollably—it was a far bigger celebration than when he crossed the line in Ostend a month ago to take his fourth Cyclocross World Title. After the Dream Selection containing five or six or seven riders of their generation plus Michael Gogl, Mathieu Van Der Poel produced the archetypal Strade Bianche finish on that beautiful finishing ramp. Truly, that was exactly how a proper Strade should play out. The day was exciting and beautiful from start to finish, and the best man won. It was yet another race won by a member of the Makes-Your-Day Club. It was yet another race that puts a smile on our face for the rest of the day and weekend. It was yet another race where our wildest dreams were exceeded: Tour champions showed their surprising range and held their own, former champions and larger-than-life personalities fought tooth-and-nail to the very end, and red-hot rocket launches took our hearts back to the summer of 1969.
Cycling Odysseys 