2021 Amstel: A Grudge Match Sprint (Written)

Perhaps it is a good thing that we cannot begin talking about today’s Amstel Gold Race until we have first addressed the events that took place at Wednesday’s Brabantse Pijl. As has been said elsewhere Brabantse Pijl is the hybrid Cobbled and Ardennes Classic that takes place on the Wednesday between Roubaix and Amstel—a seamless transition if ever there was one from Cobbles to Ardennes. With Paris-Roubaix’s postponement this year, many of the top Classics riders opted to hop into Brabantse Pijl as they extended their Classics campaigns through Amstel Gold. O! How surely of all the Classics men it was the top three cyclocrossers in the world that looked forward to Roubaix most of all! But Mathieu Van Der Poel (Alpecin-Fenix) decided to pull the plug on his Spring Classics season after Flanders in order to focus on his Mountain Biking before the Tokyo Olympics. Meanwhile Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) and Tom Pidcock (Ineos Grenadiers) were wooed enough to line up for both Brabantse and Amstel. Brabantse Pijl is one of those races with a cult following or hipster status to begin with. All who have seen it once look forward to it again, because the course naturally lends itself to unpredictable and unbridled racing. But with this unusually high swell of superstar power, we all knew we were in for an extra special treat this year. And this proved to be the case. There were many protagonists, the climbs did their job to spice up the race and create compelling drama, and those watching were glued to their screens. But that race came down to three men holding off an extremely reduced bunch behind by about a dozen seconds. Two of the three were the already mentioned cyclocrossers and top Classics men Wout Van Aert and Tom Pidcock, and the trio was rounded out with UAE’s Matteo Trentin. It came down to a sprint up a dragging road. Throughout the whole Finale Wout Van Aert had been working the hardest in any group he had found himself in. He ended up not having to lead-out this sprint, but behind the group was closing fast so Wout decided to go long. It seemed from about 300m out—at the very least well over 200m—Wout Van Aert launched his final sprint. Trentin had nothing left to respond. But while Wout launched hard Tom Pidcock managed to get into his slipstream and then solidly came around him to post up and take the sprint victory. It was Pidcock’s first professional road win at the top level, and it must have been sweet to take victory over one of the two Cross riders he has always been looking up to for years already. But immediately upon Brabantse Pijl’s completion, all eyes turned towards Amstel where these two cyclocrossers would be billed as the two top favorites.

Amstel Gold was turned into a 220km circuit race consisting of some 18km loops due to Covid regulations. It proved to be an insanely fast circuit. It felt as if the riders were flying downhill for the entire thing, especially when the peloton seemed to charge up every single climb as well. Tom Dumoulin (maybe still of Jumbo-Visma) was spotted in street clothes watching from the roadside. And Mauri Vansevenant (Deceuninck-Quickstep) lit up the middle of the race when he crashed twice and yet still explosively and ferociously chased back to the peloton at least three times. He was impressive to watch, and surely we shall speak of his future heroics sometime soon. But the top story of the day was of course the finish to this race.

The last 50km was filled with attacks and hopeful race winning moves, but everything still kept coming back together until the final time up the Cauberg with 18km to go. Bora’s Ide Schelling was dangling out front still on a solo attack by mere seconds when the peloton swung left at the base of the Cauberg. It was Team BikeExchange and Deceuninck-Quickstep that led the pack around the turn. Here was where the race irrevocably exploded, as it should. But just as Jumbo’s Wout Van Aert went on the attack, his famous Grand Tour winning Jumbo teammate Primoz Roglic had a puncture. Jumbo had worked all day, but now with the loss of Roglic Wout would have no help for the final phase of this race. Meanwhile on Wout’s wheel was the Quickstep World Champion Julian Alaphilippe the Musketeer, next came Michael “Bling” Matthews (Team BikeExchange), and then three Ineos Grenadiers in a line: the already mentioned Tom Pidcock, Michal Kwiatkowski (a former winner of this race), and Richard Carapaz of Giro fame. And by the top of the climb Bora-Hansgrohe’s Max Schachmann was in the mix as well. Tom Pidcock aided Wout in dishing out the pain to the rest of the field, alas! it was too much for Julian Alaphilippe the Musketeer, and Matthews hung on by a thread. Behind, Alejandro Valverde (Movistar) was leading a group of others trying to bridge to this likely winning move containing three Ineos Grenadiers at the head of affairs. They all passed through the finish line to hear the bell signifying one lap to go. Wily old Valverde continued to show his good form despite his age as he bridged up to this leading sextet. Kwiatkowski launched an obligatory attack for the Grenadiers so that the three would not have pace the leading group. But within a kilometer Kwaito was caught and it was Pidcock who immediately launched a counterattack with 13km to go. Bora’s Schachmann was able to go with him…and so was Wout Van Aert. The three went away, and Brabantse Pijl déjà vu flashed in all of our minds.

Instead of Trentin, it was Schachmann today who had to play the third—sorry, fifth and sixth—wheel for a grudge match between the cyclocross rivals. The three worked well together rotating evenly with pleasing fluidity. Perhaps Wout realized he had worked too hard on Wednesday at Brabantse Pijl and that had dulled his sprint too much, surely he wanted to get this right today. The trio never had more than a 25-second lead thus there was never any real time for catting-and-mousing. Still, for the next 10km they all worked in harmony. What a special and equalizing sport cycling is that so often you must work even with your biggest rivals in the race to distance all the other rivals as well. And of course, Van Aert’s rivalry with Pidcock is not as serious as the rivalry with Mathieu Van Der Poel, but still they have raced each other in cyclocross so often for a few years already the two know each other well so this would be an intimate affair especially with Wednesday’s sprint fresh in everyone’s minds. With 3km to go, behind a group of 20-to-25 chasers had pegged the gap to 15 seconds. They had not eaten too much into the trio’s lead, but if the front three played games in the Final K they all knew this could come back together just like it famously did in 2019. With 2km to go, on the last rise of the race, Schachmann attacked. But Wout and Pidcock were instantly on him, his attack failed and thus all three were resigned to leave it to a sprint.

Wout sat on the front, but he swung over under the Flamme Rouge to force Pidcock to the front. Like a game of Hot Potato, Pidcock quickly swung off within 200m to get Schachmann on the front. And Schachmann swung off the front even quicker to put Van Aert back on the front with still 700m to go. If you have never understood what “cat-and-mousing” is in cycling this finish was a good example. The rounds of Hot Potato end, because some of the riders are gutsy enough to stop sharing the pace so that they can launch or follow the inevitable sprint move to come as the pace slows. All the while behind the larger chasing group is baring down on them. As stated, in this race they only had 15 seconds to play with and Wout Van Aert was stuck on the front. Wout slowed up and looked over his shoulder a couple of times not only at the two in his wheel, but to see what the gap was to the chasing group—there was now only a 100m gap and the chasers were charging. Still Wout kept slowing the pace, trying to draw someone else onto the front or to prematurely launch their sprint. With 250m to go for the chasers, Valverde began an extremely long sprint while half-a-second later Wout launched from the front of his group with 200m to go. Wout looked powerful, the trio was clearly going to stay clear of the chasers. But with 100m to go, Pidcock was coming out of Wout’s slipstream just as he did at Brabantse Pijl. And yet Wout Van Aert did not let up. Still he was in full sprint all the way to the line, and still Pidcock was too and closing. It was tight. It came down to the bike-throw at the line. It was too close to call.

It was shockingly quickly called to be a Wout Van Aert victory. To which all viewing probably thought: “Good. Well-earned. He and Pidcock were equally the strongest and both were deserving, but it was Wout that led it out in a sprint so maybe he was slightly more deserving. Plus Wout is in the Club, and now our day is made.” But when the unofficial sideview TV camera slow-mo images came onto the screen, everyone including Wout Van Aert wanted to make sure that result was correct, because it looked like Pidcock pipped him at the line with more acceleration in the closing meters and a better bike throw. Looking at the official fancy electronic photo-finish camera still image, it did appear Wout’s wheel was further ahead when the camera snapped the winning picture. Now, I chose my words carefully for that last sentence: there are two more wrinkles to this finish. First, as Wout Van Aert performed his bike-throw, he actually popped a wheelie with his front wheel. A bike-throw should really be called a bike-lunge for that is what the riders are really doing with the front wheel of their bikes beneath them as they come within meters of the line. In this case as Wout tried to lunge his wheel forward, he did so with so much force—as opposed to subtle skill—he popped up his bike and the wheel crossed the finish line in mid-air. This could not really be perceived by the naked human eye in the photos. Even for the experienced experts at this sort of thing, the wheel being off the ground was surely throwing off their judgement or even was creating an optical illusion. Thus, at the end of the day, the organizers would simply have to trust in their technology that was operating unbiasedly. But that brings up the second wrinkle. Within minutes, and for the rest of the day, Cycling Twitter was going nuts about whether or not the photo finish capturing camera was actually placed correctly at the finishing line. The official picture potentially seemed to have captured an image a few centimeters before the narrow black finish line. Surely this “controversy” will be the topic of discussion for the next 24-to-72 hours, and this is where I become rather useless. As is always the case with cycling, what’s done is done. Based on the official camera, Wout Van Aert was the winner no matter where the camera was placed. It shall be interesting to hear the uncovered information about how exactly photo-finish cameras capture the race winning image, and how it is deemed if they are set up correctly. It was such a close finish, it was really a toss-up, and surely Pidcock was not calculating out down to the millimeter how far he had to go to the line. I have already seen a quote where he admitted that he should have launched his sprint earlier anyways, truly that would have been the best option so that he would not have had to leave it to a photo.  

Thus let it be written for the cycling history books, Wout Van Aert bounced back in the grudge match sprint against Tom Pidcock to become the winner of the 2021 Amstel Gold Race. It was the end to the first phase of his road season. Surely as I write this, he is already kicking his feet up. He shall enjoy at least a few restful days before he builds up for his next block of objectives revolving around the Tour de France and Tokyo Olympics to come this July. Meanwhile, Tom Pidcock needs not bow his head in defeat. To say he performed well in his first Spring Classics campaign would be an understatement: a podium finish in Kuurne, strong rides at Strade and Sanremo, a win at Brabantse Pijl, and now today another podium at Amstel Gold. There are many riders who would be happy to have those results as career palmares. In only his first season, he has already earned his place to be the team leader in the Classics for the Ineos Grenadiers, and his limits have not even begun to be discovered. It was good edition of Amstel Gold, but with all the photo analysis some sort of sobering effect has transpired to bring our excitement levels back down to earth. It was a hard-fought and draining day. For many of the Cobbled Classics specialists this was the last race of the Spring. Many shall take a short rest before building up for some Summer objectives. And yet still, for many the Ardennes week has just started. Round 1 is over. Round 2 commences Wednesday at La Fleche Wallonne.

The Ardennes Classics (Written)

An Author’s Note: This preview shall probably feel fairly disjointed and bloated, it was a relative headache to write. But midway through my writing I realized that is not entirely my own fault, the races themselves and the calendar are partially to blame as well…which shall be covered.

Yes now, whether we like it or not: The Cobbled Classics have come to an end. The hardmen and the bulkier riders with the heaviest builds full of massive power begin to give way to what are called the puncheurs. The puncheurs are similar to the Cobbled Classics men in wanting to bully their ways up a climb using short bursts of massive power, but these puncheurs can do it up and over longer climbs. Whereas the heavy Cobbled Classics men lay down the most power possible over the Cobbles, the lighter puncheurs throwdown the best power-to-weight ratio up more sustained steep inclines. Yes, with the Hell of the North finished on the Roubaix velodrome all that was left was the midweek Brabantse Pijl. The status of Brabantse Pijl is up for debate: is it a Classic or only Semi-Classic? Is it part of the Cobbles or the Ardennes? To answer whether it is part of the Cobbles or the Ardennes, I tell you it is in the squishy middle—a charming mixture of both. Both the Cobbled stars and the puncheurs have a chance to win it. This is one of the quintessential races that only the most avid cycling fans get excited for, and if they are asked why it is sufficient to simply say “If you know, you know.” As to whether it is a Classic or Semi-Classic: I believe my and the cycling world’s mind are torn. Yet that does not much matter for it is the perfect transition race into the three proper canonical Ardennes Classics: the Amstel Gold, La Fleche Wallonne, and Liege-Bastogne-Liege. To think, to think—as is the case with all the cycling Classics—such a smattering of random words could form the titles of hallowed races! Surely more shall be said of each title and race in due course, but allow me first to ponder the Ardennes as a whole. With the Cobbled Classics finished, the Ardennes Classics round out the Spring; after this our eyes turn towards the cycling summer that is dominated by the Grand Tours further to the south. But even for these Ardennes Classics themselves we must travel south of Flanders to the “other half” of Belgium. Yes, I speak of the region or province of Wallonia.

From everything I have learned, Belgium is basically divided into three parts: Flanders in the North, Wallonia in the South, and then the capital city of Brussels is its own international cosmopolitan beast. The contrasts between Flanders and Wallonia are stark, and their rivalry is fierce and centuries old. In Flanders they speak Dutch, in Wallonia French. The Lion of Flanders is rivaled by the Rooster of Wallonia on their flags. The windswept flat fields of Flanders are replaced with forested proper rolling hills in Wallonia. The steep cobbled bergs less than a kilometer long are exchanged for relentless amounts of climbs that gain much more elevation and are usually far longer at 2-to-4km in length—and though the maximum gradients are not as insane as Flanders the average gradients of these toughest Wallonia hills approach double digits. The economic fortunes of the regions have been a seesaw throughout history—much like the popularity of the Flandrien Classics versus the Ardennes (more on this later). For centuries Flanders with its seaports and medieval highways was a crossroads and major trade hub of Europe bringing it much financial prosperity. But in the mid-19th Century when Belgium attained its independence, the way was led by Wallonia, and then the natural resources of its hills were soon harnessed bringing in big mining and heavy industry money. After the Second World War, the pendulum slowly swung once again: the major mining and industry of Wallonia slowly declined because of foreign competitors, while Flanders’ ports and light-industry began to flourish thanks to foreign investments. From what I gather, today the economic differences seem as markedly sharp a divide as the situation between Northern and Southern Italy. This has led to very much tension between the two regions. Perhaps it would make a good future post to dive into the founding origins of Belgium, for these two regions seem to have such little in common I am scratching my head about why they were united under one banner in the first place. Besides the founding monarchy and their national football team nicknamed the Red Devils, the only thing the Flemish and the Walloons can easily agree on is a love for Eddy Merckx the Cannibal. In addition to being the Greatest Cyclist of All Time and a man of the highest class, Merckx cuts across the Flemish/Walloon divide for he was raised completely bilingual in a suburb of Brussels which straddles the border of the two regions. I have already mentioned the geographical differences of the regions, but I shall save addressing the rivalry of the Flandrien and Ardennes Classics themselves until after the characteristics of each have been described.

And now after that lengthy paragraph of intra-Belgian rivalry, I regret to inform you that the first Ardennes Classic—the Amstel Gold Race—does not take place in Belgium. Of course, Amstel is a Dutch beer originally brewed in Amsterdam (and it seems the “Gold” titling simply alludes to top-step victory). The Amstel Gold Race takes place in the Netherlands, and is actually the only World Tour One-Day Classic that takes place in that cycling-mad country. Now, if you have been paying attention to the geography, you will be aware that the Netherlands is predominantly north of Belgium, which means north of Flanders. So how can the Amstel Gold Race be part of the Ardennes Classics that take place in Wallonia, the Southern part of Belgium? Yes, I know: this is all very confusing—potentially this is the most subtle geography lesson of the whole year. If one looks closely at a map of the Netherlands, there is a territorial “peninsula” at the most Southeastern bottom of the country wedged between Germany and Belgium. This “Dutch Peninsula” is known as the Limburg and is part of the same valley that extends down to the Wallonian city of Liege: it is the only part of the Netherlands—which literally translates to the “Low-lands”—that isn’t flat. In this region Maastricht is the most famous and historic and important city…except when it comes to cycling. That honor goes to the town of Valkenburg which hosts a famous cyclocross race and is the epicenter of the spaghetti bowl route that is the Amstel Gold Race. Some of the Cobbled Classics stars come to Amstel to extend this part of their season for one extra week in the hopes of last-chance glory on a course where the climbs are not as long as the other Ardennes to come. Meanwhile the puncheurs, the Ardennes specialists, all show up hoping to start off this targeted week very well. Though not long in length, the hills of this region are legion and yet many are often repeated throughout the race—“constantly folding back in on yourself” is how the riders describe spaghetti bowl races such as this. And with over 250km of racing, this is pasta-meal route seems never-ending. But the most famous climb of this race is the Cauberg and the final time up it signifying the end is near. For years, the climatic end to the race would come at the peak of this climb…until many editions became anti-climatic when such a finish was dominated by the same two or three riders year after year. Thus the Amstel Gold Race was bold enough to reinvent itself and change its traditional finish, only tackling the Cauberg with still over at least 10km to go, and many have found it to be resounding success. Perhaps the second Ardennes Classic should be taking notes on Amstel’s rejuvenation.

Now we enter the Ardennes proper, sights of famous battles in both the World Wars. For in the initial offensive of both wars tiny neutrality-desiring Belgium served as Germany’s side-entrance to skirt around France’s Maginot Line. The First World War preliminary defense in the Ardennes is not as famous as the trenches in Flanders Fields, but O! how the Belgians fought tooth-and-nail to defend these hills before they were eventually overrun by the Germans. How lucky we are that that age of warfare has since past, and now the only battles fought here each year take place on the bicycle. So let us speak of the midweek Ardennes Classic. La Fleche Wallonne often goes untranslated, but it is low-key one of the coolest race names on the calendar: “The Walloon Arrow.” Though the race comes in the midweek slot, it is unquestionably a full-fledged bona-fide Classic. And despite usually only just topping the 200km mark, it is in that range of Classics just the slightest rung lower than the Monuments—in fact for a long time La Fleche was considered more prestigious than its Liege Monument counterpart to be dwelt on next. Perhaps originally La Fleche garnered its early prestige because it attracted an assortment of international winners sooner than Liege did—such as Rick Van Steenbergen, Fausto Coppi, Ferdi Kubler, and Stan Ockers. Or perhaps in a chicken-and-the-egg scenario, the international stars rocked up because they had heard rumor of La Fleche’s challenges to be faced, and all wanted the honor to be tallied among the winners of this Wallonian beast. La Fleche Wallone has never been bound by a title route (besides to stay in Wallonia, of course), but after many decades it has come to revolve around one extremely iconic feature: the Mur de Huy. By this point in the season, Flanders and the Basque Country have been spotlighted enough that we have come to learn to respect the solemn seriousness when such cycling-loving people have deemed a certain road a “Mur”—a “Wall.” Out of the town of Huy, there climbs the 1.3km climb averaging 9%. O! But how deceptive that average gradient is! For ever as it climbs—and surely it feels like forever—it continues to become ever steeper and steeper: never letting up, no respite. It’s maximum gradient reaches 26%. Truly, truly, it is a sadistic prospect to send riders up such a climb to finish this Classic race. Every year it is won by a puncheur of the generation by brute strength and courage. No race is more synonymous with its most iconic feature. And yet the paradox must addressed. The final ascent up the Mur de Huy is not only such a spectacle of brutality—it really is so brutal the whole race revolves around it. All or any sort of favorites keep their powder dry for it, saving everything for the finishing climb. This makes for the already stated spectacular finish….but what of everything before? Alas! that is the paradox, no matter the amount of climbs before: they are only in the grand scheme of things leg-softeners. There is no strategy or tactics to this race, because everything is simply saved for that final 1.3km climb up the Mur. An early break goes up the road for the day, but they are kept on a short leash and reeled back in the final kilometers with not much drama to it. Let me level with you and be honest, in many years past perhaps I have been very busy on the Wednesday and not had much time to watch the last couple hours of this Classic…or perhaps I completely just skipped to the final compelling drama at the end because I knew nothing else of the leadup really mattered. Every year I have watched, without fail, with only 1.3km to go, 70 to 100 riders are still left in contention to win the day: the real weeding out process all takes place in those final minutes on that brutally steep climb. To be sure it is an exciting final few minutes, but was everything else beforehand really worth the watch? Amstel Gold realized they had a similar problem with their race always simply being decided at the end on the Cauberg so they changed up their route. As I have said elsewhere, I am naturally predisposed to keeping tradition, but at this point I would propose ancient La Fleche Wallone needs a facelift as well. And yet, the Mur de Huy is so iconic surely it must still be the centerpiece of the race! Thus instead of only passing up it twice in the race, after a leg-softening 150km loop through Ardennes country finish the race with a 5-to-7 lap circuit tackling the Mur de Huy every time. Because of its brutality: surely every passage up would be a whittling-down process, and by the final passage up to the finish surely less than a handful of riders would still be standing with a shot at glory. By that point, perhaps it will provide a chance for the masters of endurance with courageous tactical offensives to beat the puncheur of the generation who nowadays simply saves his energy all race to only unleash on that final ascent. Yes, as you can tell in this preview I lay it all out there as best I can: the good with the bad. Hopefully I have given La Fleche a fair shake, praise where it is desired and potential constructive criticism where I feel the cycling community collectively wishes improvement. And now let us do the same for Liege-Bastogne-Liege.

Liege is the capital city of Wallonia, thus it seems the proper place to start and end the most prestigious of the Ardennes Classics; and in case you are wondering, perhaps shockingly, Liege-Bastogne-Liege actually lives up to its name. No spaghetti bowls, no folding back in on oneself: this is a proper out-and-back race. Bastogne should sound familiar to any World War II history buffs, or even anyone who has seen the HBO Band of Brothers Miniseries. This is where the famous Battle of the Bulge took place, the Nazis’ last major roll of the dice at the end of 1944 to counter the invading Allies who had been pushing towards Germany since D-Day six months before. In Band of Brothers, it was the episodes where Easy Company froze all winter in their foxholes, and the German artillery seemingly blew up every single tree around them. In days of yore the organizers picked Bastogne as the turnaround point, because the officials could easily travel there by train to make sure all the racers passed a midrace checkpoint, and then they could easily take a train back to Liege to monitor the finish. Truly these really were the days of yore, for Liege-Bastogne-Liege lays the strongest claim to being the oldest race on the calendar first held in 1892. Because of its age it has been nicknamed La Doyenne, “The Old Lady.” As has already been mentioned, Liege the 4th of the Five Monuments. The distance is always above 250km, and the course is relentlessly brutal. Besides perhaps the Cote de la Redoute and the Cote de la Roche-aux-Faucons, none of the climbs are supremely famous. None of the climbs are even over 5km long; but the route goes up and down all day. Yes, it is a Monument because of its age and the difficulty of the course, but also because of its memorable history. As said, it did surprisingly take many decades to gain prestige-traction, but once it did O! what stories there are to tell about it! Eddy Merckx won it five times. All have heard rumor of Bernard Hinault’s 1980 Niege-Bastogne-Niege win where not even a literal blizzard snowstorm could stop him from taking the victory (Author’s Note: “Niege” is the French word for “snow”). On both sides of the century the hype for Liege was much bigger than the Tour of Flanders rival, for all the Grand Tour stars would come out to play as they hit top form before the Giro or as an early season objective before training up for the Tour. Yes, Liege easily earns its Monument status for this is the puncheurs’ and Grand Tour climbers’ chance to win. The course is so relentless even a seemingly pure stage-racer built for the high mountains of the Grand Tours like Andy Schleck has won it before. And yet, the paradox continues. All the riders will acknowledge the race’s brutality, and thus it is still a top goal for so many of them. But alas! in recent years the carnage has not translated well across the television broadcasts. It usually only appears a slow burn and war of attrition. The leading peloton of favorites simply just gets smaller and smaller after every single climb until one rider manages to breakaway solo on the last uncategorized climb or a sprint commences between the handful of riders that are left. I am unsure how much the televised brutality and excitement of the race can better be translated, perhaps that shall be my job in the recap. Despite that slight problem: the race continues to live up to its title, it is still a victory all the riders covet, and it still can often be a very thrilling spectacle. And yet, there is one more potential problem for Liege and the rest of the Ardennes to which I have an exciting potential solution.

We come to the end of this Ardennes preview and description, for my taste I feel it has proven a cumbersome challenge to write, but I dare contend so because the Ardennes Classics are a cumbersome challenge of races themselves. They come on the heels of the Cobbled Classics that nowadays are the headline show of the Spring. Nowadays the Ardennes feel like an afterthought that only hold us over or even carry us straight into the Giro d’Italia.  As stated, this was not always the case: in its best days Liege was a shootout between the most famous climbers and Grand Tour riders of the generation. This has not been the case for most of the decade as the timing of these races too often coincides with the high-altitude training camps of the Grand Tour stars who O! so single-mindedly focus on those summer three-week races. Perhaps the Grand Tour stars’ attendance shall ebb back once more to how it was at the turn of the century, or perhaps the organizers should take a page out of the shortened Coronavirus season playbook. In the 2020 season, Liege-Bastogne-Liege and the other Ardennes Classics were held two weeks after the Tour de France’s completion. The timing proved incredible, for many of the top stars who had just fought for three weeks in France attended Liege holding their remaining top form for this hilly Monument where they actually had a chance at achieving glory. It was a thrilling edition, because the supreme all-star powers who lit up the race all had the same desire to win. Thus I propose: what if the Ardennes Classics found a more spacious spot on the calendar were more hype and anticipation can properly be built up for them? Why not move them permanently to that post-Tour period? Incorporate them with San Sebastian—another hilly Classic—and the post-Tour Criteriums going on all over Belgium and the Netherlands at that time. Here top riders could go for broke and duke it out in the hilly Classics coming off the Tour de France with great form. From there they could wind down their season or even build up for the Vuelta a Espana or World Championships. I feel such a change would be refreshing and practical for this block of racing that I don’t find anyone is dying to have at the end of April. Perhaps with all my facelifting suggestions I have pushed some purists’ buttons, and some shall question who am I to make such suggestions. My only defense is that for the love and sake of these races, because I have a desire to see them live up to their most exciting potential with exciting routes and all-star lineups, I suggest what I would hope or think might be beneficial tweaks and improvements for these already stellar Classics. Who knows if my opinions or ideas will ever be heard, let alone gain traction; but a guy can dream, can’t he?

Itzulia, The Tour of the Basque Country (Written Musings)

Ah! Now we come to a preview I looked O! so forward to doing. Yes, this is the beauty of cycling: no race is the same. Though this one comes when weeklong World Tour stage races are coming thick-and-fast every other week, and the most Classic of Classics—Monuments even—are taking place, still this race has a definitive and beloved character of its own. Let us leave the further Northern Classics where Springtime is dawning. It will be difficult to confuse this race with the harsh and unpredictable Paris-Nice. The stage profiles will still be clearly different than Tirreno-Adriatico. Even this race’s half-brother, the Volta a Catalunya will be highly distinguishable from this one—none would ever mistake Catalunya’s High Mountain days with the spicy hills of this region. And it would be a laughable affair to confuse this race with the freezing affairs in Switzerland. Of course I speak of a race that grows all viewing hearts bigger: the Itzulia the locals now call it, having rejected the Spanish Pais Vasco title, in English we call it the Tour of the Basque Country. Yes, you heard me speak a fortnight ago about the separatist leanings of Catalonia….from what I gather historically, the Catalonian concerns have been child’s play compared to the Basques’ desire for autonomy. I cannot get into the weedy details at this time, but for a number of years the Vuelta a Espana, the Tour of Spain mind you, refused to enter the Basque Country for fear of stirring unrest. When I heard this, I was blown away that tensions must be so high…for these Basques are in that highest echelon of greatest cycling fans! Things were so bad they did not even want to welcome in the national Grand Tour?

Yes, the Basques are a historic and proud people who nowadays especially love their cycling. There are many famous Basques, but a contender for the top spot of fame and a personal favorite is St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuits; meanwhile in the realm of cycling history this is the region from which the O! so dominate Miguel Indurain hails from—the first man to win the Tour de France five times in a row. To look through the list of all their top athletes and prominent people in history, a trend really does start to appear: yes, most are historically associated with the Spanish as well (or even a few with the French), but there is some intangible that sets all these Basque people apart. Most easily it can be seen in their names: the spellings are all interesting, the love of “X”s and “O”s, “Z”s and “EU”s is palpable. Yes, their language is where it is most notable. The Basques call their own language Euskara, and it has the honor to be the only non-Indo-European language in Western Europe. There are three other known non-Indo-European languages spoken in pockets of Eastern Europe, but their migrations into Europe from the cold Urals separating Siberia is well known in history….there is no recorded Basque migration. As far as recorded history goes, the Basques were already there since the first Roman historians mentioned them. In fact, it is most likely the case that the Basques were a proto-Indo-European people. When prehistoric migrations of Indo-European speaking peoples came in waves from East to West across Europe, they either stamped out or bred out all the old proto-Indo-Euro peoples except for these Basques. Thus historically they have always been a people apart, and of course proud of their separate roots as well; it can be seen in their language, and in my opinion no name better embodies their language than their de facto national cycling trade team: Euskaltel-Euskadi. From the mid-1990s to 2013 they were the beloved mountain goats seen in the Tour and Vuelta with their orange jerseys representing their Basque Country who love their cycling. For a number of years the team policy was that they would only ever hire natural Basque riders. They were almost to the man supremely bad time triallists—the joke was that none ever even touched a TT bike except on TT stages—but they made up this deficit by lighting it up on every mountain stage. And yet in 2013, the team went under and a solemn Diaspora occurred: there were O! so many World Tour contracts signed for these riders, but only in ones and twos were they picked up: the beloved Basque National Team was finished. But thankfully in recent years, the team has been resurrected and is on the rise, and there is no race where they wish to excel more than in their home race, Itzulia.

In recent years the organizers have relabeled the race Itzulia—short for Euskal Herriko Itzulia which seems to just be the Tour of the Basque Country in the already referenced native tongue—emphasizing the native proud culture. But it is already the third paragraph of this piece, and I have yet to address the geography element! Where does this Itzulia take place? Where is the Basque Country? Yes, it is part of Spain…but not all of the Basque country is contained within it, the most Southwest Corner of France is also part of the cultural Basque Region. Thus now you can start to understand where the Basque Country lies: at the very top-center-north of Spain, encompassing a portion of the Western-most Pyrenean peaks. But the Basque Country is not known only for its mountains—though by no means has enough been said of those yet—but also its beaches. The Basque Country rests not on the relatively tranquil Mediterranean coast, but on Spain’s North Coast facing the harsh Bay of Biscay that is a part of the mighty Atlantic Ocean itself. Those waters are known to be fierce, and those beaches surely are not patronized year-round. But O! how beautiful the landscape is, and O! what an excursion it must be to spend a summer day of swimming and sunbathing when the days are long and hot. In addition to the Tour of the Basque Country, at the height of summer, usually a week after the Tour de France’s completion, the Basque Country holds their finest one-day Classic named for the hosting town: San Sebastian. As that race finishes, the final run-in is right along the pretty shores where every beach is filled with a multitude of fans, and the beaches look O! so gorgeous in the late-afternoon Sun. With the race’s location established and your tourism desires starting to stir, let us address some features of the Itzulia race itself.

Yes, the location, the scenery, the culture are all worth a trip to see the Basque Country, it is a must for cycling fans especially since it is so close to Catalonia to the East and Asturias to the West…but be forewarned, cycling in the Basque Country is not for the faint of heart. First, it must be noted, the beautiful landscapes are not produced by arid desert weather: in the winter and spring at the very least, in the Basque Country it very often rains. And of course when viewed on television, the stunning vistas will be there to delight at every turn as usual, but what the viewer will quickly pick up on and acknowledge as well: the hills of the Basque Country are O! so bewilderingly steep! There are no long climbs to the passes thousands of meters well above sea level. Instead, there are many climbs rarely ever over 10km, but what they lack in length they make up in steepness. Every edition, many times on each stage, the peloton is seen scaling gradients of 15% or 20% in the middle of a climb mid-stage; there is usually one climb or two each edition where the gradient is literally higher than 30%—which is usually the record for steepest grade seen in a pro-race each year. Truly, all question the Basque geographers who planned out the roads—if they ever existed—but all have much respect and admiration for the Basque road builders who completed such engineering feats. Yes, as I said before, when the Basques or the Belgians claim a certain road is a “Wall:” all about to attempt to ride such a beast should gird their loins. There is not much rhyme or traditional reason to most of the Itzulia stages. Every stage is extremely hilly, including the Time Trial that is almost always held. The stages with the least steep hills are for the ones who have any sort of sprint, the hilliest ones are usually won by proper climbers or GC men. It is beyond a fair race, some rank it as the toughest weeklong stage race on the calendar. What really makes it difficult is that the climbs have the already mentioned extremely steep pitches, but other parts of these climbs are almost completely flat. The gradients change constantly in volatile extremes; thus, it is difficult for the riders to find any sort of rhythm, and looking at the average gradients in the roadbook is absolutely meaningless for this race. Hypothetically, a 7km climb may only average 6% here, but that includes 1km at 8%, 4km at 3%, and the final 2km at 12% where there is a 500m stretch at 28%…when all of that is understood surely this is a brute rougher than 6%!

Yes, this is yet another stage race where sprinters “go to die” or are sent as an unproductive punishment from which they shall gain no victories nor even form for the future. Instead, this is actually the last stage race appointment for the puncheurs who shall target the Ardennes Classics in a few weeks’ time. The Ardennes Classics are the treble of races that take place in the small Arden Mountain range in and around Southern Belgium after all the Cobbled Classics further North in the “flatter” regions are completed. The Ardennes Classics are known for the steep 3 to 6km climbs like what is faced in the Basque Country, the Ardennes climbs are steep but they do not reach the insane gradients of the Basque Country. Thus the Basque Country seems resistance training for the puncheurs, and serves as the last place to hone form before the Ardennes campaign. If you have looked at the calendar, you may have noticed the slightly strange dates of this race: from the first Monday of April to the Saturday six days after. A six-day race is nothing strange, but why end on a Saturday instead of cycling’s traditional Sunday finishing date? It seems over the decades, the Tour of the Basque Country has come to understand it is part of Cycling’s Holy Week. Instead of having its final day overlap with the third Monument of the season, Paris-Roubaix traditionally held on the second Sunday of April, why not just nestle between both? In fact, the Saturday finish has proven practical in the past. In the 1980s, beloved Irish Classics Specialist Sean Kelly—a living legend of the sport—rode for a Spanish team that for local sponsorship reasons always wished him to ride the Tour of the Basque Country race despite the fact that the Tour of Flanders the day before and Paris-Roubaix the day after were always two of his biggest objectives on the calendar. And yet, Kelly dutifully would ride the Basque Country and get right back to northern France in time for the Roubaix Monument which he twice won. Nowadays, it is shocking to see a soul ride Flanders or Roubaix and also hop in Itzulia before or after. But as I said, Itzulia—the Tour of the Basque Country—is the weeklong World Tour stage race that bridges across Cycling’s Holy Week. It always attracts a handful of top GC men and many top climbers and puncheurs. The scenery is beautiful, the racing is extremely fierce, and the Basque culture and fans are top notch for they really do love their cycling. Truly, by this point in the season, one is probably locked-in to watching all the cycling races as they come. Those who cannot keep up have abandoned long ago. Thus hopefully now Itzulia, the Tour of the Basque Country has been described well for it is yet another great race with so much unique character of its own—so great that cycling would be a lesser sport without its existence.

2021 RVV: The New Alpha

‘Twas a slow burn this year in Flanders. With over 100km to go the early main breakaway of the day and the peloton ten minutes behind began hitting the first of the cobbled bergs. The gap to the breakaway quickly began to plummet with the typical sprints among the peloton to be at the front into each climb. With 70km to go, the gap was down to 3:00, but there still wasn’t much action happening in the peloton. It must be said too, just as in 2020, the lockdowns really hurt this race perhaps most of all. I cannot name a race where the fans help more “make” the day. Perhaps had the fans been lining every climb exhorting the riders, Madman Mathieu Van Der Poel (Alpecin-Fenix) in his Dutch Champion’s jersey would have been more likely to attack. But alas! Van Der Poel wore his black shorts—a sign of conservative maturity versus the audacious white pair he seems to only wear when he completely lights up a race in reckless and Madman fashion. Another sorry loss this year was no Muur-Kapelmuur climb, O! how I eagerly watched with 120km to go through to the 80km point and only then finally notice I was looking at the wrong profile of the day and this year’s route went nowhere close to Geraardsbergen. Finally, we began to sit up with 54km to go as the peloton crested the Oude Kwaremont for the second time of asking. It was there that Mathieu Van Der Poel put in attack and the only one who could match the ferocity was Elegant-Quickstep’s Champion of Denmark Casper Asgreen, the E3 winner—the Flanders dress rehearsal nine days ago.

Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma), the other Mighty Ace and archrival of Mathieu Van Der Poel chased down and neturalized the attack before the twisting decent down to the bottom of the Paterberg. But over the Paterberg once again it was Van Der Poel and Asgreen who were the strongest, and even Mighty Ace Wout Van Aert was only best of the rest. The two strongest ones, Van Der Poel and Asgreen, were brought back again. And as is always the case in the cobbled races: attacks were launched and brought back, pairs or trios or quartets got some gaps, but soon after they were brought back and larger groups reformed. It would be tedious business to record them all. But truly it must be said, and it was great to see: Elegant-Quickstep’s Julian Alaphilippe the Musketeer and Champion of the World wearing his beautiful Rainbow Jersey leading the race almost solo over the top of the Koppenberg climb, notoriously known with its 22% maximum gradient as the hardest and most dreadful climb of the race. But even the beloved Musketeer was brought back into the fold, and it was with 37km to go on the Taaienberg the first major selection was made.

Elegant-Quickstep’s strong man Casper Asgreen set the pace up the Taaienberg—O! on what a good day was this Asgreen—both the Mighty Aces struggled to stay even with him up the climb, but they did and so did Quickstep teammate Alaphilippe the Musketeer. Bahrain’s Marco Haller was caught from an earlier attack still up the road, and at the very crest of the climb Bahrain teammate Dylan Tuens had made this a select group of six. Four of the prerace favorites: the two Mighty Aces and two Quickstep Wolves, and two Bahrain underdogs. The six worked well together rotating turns almost evenly, albeit in such company less was expected and received from the two Bahrain riders. There was about a group of 20 or so remaining favorites that chased fairly well together some dozen to twenty seconds behind; and this was the status quo for next 10km even over the Cobbled Kruisberg. Notably, the up-and-coming Anthony Turgis (Total Direct-Energie) up and after the Kruisberg was able to bridge solo to this elite group of six. Then finally with 27km to go, though only two Wolves were here with both the Mighty Aces, it was time for the Wolfpack to go on the hunt. Casper Asgreen the Champion of Denmark with his Red Jersey with White Cross launched an attack in a bid to be the Lone Wolf out front just as he was at E3 over a week ago. He attacked hard, but both the Mighty Aces stayed with him while the others could not. The other Wolf in the group, Musketeer World Champion Alaphilippe wasn’t going to drag others up to his attacking teammate, Turgis had just completed a difficult bridging effort, and both the Bahrains were on their limit. Thus in reality, Asgreen’s Lone Wolf attack actually destroyed the Wolfpack’s numerical advantage.

Thus it was with 20km to go, into the Oude Kwaremont for the third and last time of the asking, the Mighty Aces Mathieu Van Der Poel and Wout Van Aert were in the lead of the Ronde Van Vlaanderen once more just as last year…besides that this year the Elegant-Quickstep Wolfpack—the finest Classics team in all the world—had a representative as well, Casper Asgreen the Champion of Denmark. Strangely, this day had been a quiet affair for the Wolfpack, only Asgreen and Alaphilippe had been seriously mixing it up within the peloton to represent the Pack. Based on the groups and formations of the race, it seemed unlikely Alaphilippe would be able to get back in contact with the leading trio, thus the question was popping into all the viewers heads: how can Asgreen possibly outfox—sorry, out-wily-canine-connive—these two Mighty Aces? Surely, this would be the tallest of orders! And yet, the rest of the Wolfpack were now counting on Asgreen, their Alpha of the day to bring the spoils of victory back to the Den for dinner. Onto the Oude Kwaremont they went, 26 seconds behind Alaphilippe with Turgis and the two Bahrains were absorbed back into a 20-man group of other chasing favorites. This last time up the Kwaremont and then straight into the Paterberg a couple K’s later was the Finale of climbing for the race. All three in the leading trio shared the pacing up the famous Kwaremont. But as the Kwaremont was almost done-and-dusted, as the cobbles were about to come to an end and all the elevation of the climb would be gained, while Mighty Ace Wout Van Aert was doing his turn on the front for the trio Mathieu Van Der Poel the Madman wearing his Dutch Champion’s Jersey launched one of his Rocketman attacks of Strade Bianche fame. Yes, just one week ago, Wout Van Aert won an excellently ridden Gent-Wevelgem and in the prerace interviews for this Ronde he said he felt like two million bucks, meanwhile four days ago on the Wednesday Mathieu Van Der Poel had turned up a dud of a Dwars Door Vlaanderen and it created many skeptics that his top form was dwindling. But the sluggish Dwars performance was surely shaken off and expelled from our minds with this attack, because Van Der Poel solidly distanced archrival Van Aert. In his defense, Van Aert was working on the front when Van Der Poel attacked, but within the span of 45 seconds, Van Der Poel had almost 100m on Van Aert. And what of the Wolfpack’s last hope? Casper Asgreen, the Champion of Denmark, the Alpha of the Wolfpack this day could not match Van Der Poel’s ferocious explosivity, but he O! so valiantly clawed his way back to this Dutch Champion’s wheel to form a leading pair into the final climb of the day, the Paterberg.

Into the Paterberg, Van Der Poel and Asgreen, who had clearly been the strongest men of the match all day, had a 10-second gap on Wout Van Aert chasing solo behind. Up the Paterberg, Asgreen did not simply sit in Van Der Poel’s wheel, he asserted himself as the Alpha of the Wolfpack and the peloton and rode shoulder-to-shoulder with this Mighty Ace and prerace favorite and defending Ronde champion. Up they went, pedal-stroke for pedal-stroke up that 20% grade, behind solo, Mighty Ace Van Aert was on such a limit he needed to try the weaving across the road trick to get up that steep Paterberg. Ten seconds behind Van Aert were a group of ten or so remaining favorites. As all crested the climb, the pecking order of strength was clear. Van Der Poel and Asgreen were the strongest of the day, they completely earned their solo gap up front, Van Aert was the clear third on the day, and the rest left took up the role of Dark Horses for this Endgame. Yes, all the climbing was finished, but still 13km of racing remained and this was set for an intriguing endgame.

Here are some factors and variables to weigh up or keep in one’s mind. From a pair or trio, especially at very low speeds, Mathieu Van Der Poel is deadly good in a sprint: none can match his snapping accelerations either on small climbs or finishing sprints. Meanwhile, at a high pace already—surely from a group of ten or more—Van Aert might have the edge on him in a sprint, and in the past Van Aert has shown he can do a good Time Trial as well. Meanwhile at E3 and in the past, Asgreen has proven he is also one of the finest Time Triallists in the world. So with 12km to go, the leading pair of Van Der Poel and Asgreen had a 22-second gap on the solo Van Aert, and a 34-second gap on a group of 10 other favorites. On paper, what is the best strategy for all three men to win the race? What would you do in their positions? On paper with relaxing armchair clarity, here is what seemed best to me. Van Der Poel should keep this status quo, this situation played right into his hands: work with Asgreen for the two-up sprint and on paper Van Der Poel should dust him. Van Aert must hope the two up front do not work well together because Asgreen would know on paper Van Der Poel is likely to dust him in a sprint. When the two don’t work well together, Van Aert should have a chance to bridge up to them, but should the two work well Van Aert can then consider sitting up and working with the chasing group of 10 to bring it back for a dozen-up sprint. But what of Asgreen? The one in between a rock-and-a-hard-place for he has no notable sprinting exploits. Were he to not work with Van Der Poel, Van Aert and/or the group of 10 would catch them. Now Asgreen did have fast sprinting Wolfpack teammate Florian Senechal in that group, but it wasn’t at all sure fire Senechal would win such a sprint after such a hard race, and Asgreen himself who had proven the Alpha Wolf all day wanted to take his rightful shot at glory. Were Asgreen to work with Van Der Poel he was almost guaranteed at least second place and maybe he could play some trick in the Finale with some sort of late attack to shake Van Der Poel so that he could pull off the win. Yes, as said before this was all a very tall ask for Asgreen who had essentially been forced to put the team on his back for this Finale. With this chess-on-wheels scenario laid out, allow me to cut to the chase of what happened; it was an intense couple of kilometers at first to see where the pendulum would swing, but then it prematurely sorted itself out. Alpha Wolf Asgreen worked with Madman Van Der Poel to ensure at least a second place, behind Van Aert made no dent in the leading duo’s advantage. Eventually the group of 10 got within a handful of seconds of Van Aert, so the Mighty Ace sat up to join the fold of this group. There was still 11km left to race, and a gap of only 23 seconds, but after catching Van Aert the impetus of this group went out. Not all were rotating, Asgreen and Van Der Poel each had a teammate in the group and additionally many others were completely spent as well or trying to save something for a sprint if it came back together or just for the last podium spot itself. In fact, it seemed Van Aert, instead of just hoping this group brought back the leading pair, still had enough energy to rotate and work to eat up the advantage of the leading pair’s gap. But he did not have enough cohesion; and with 8km to go, surely Van Aert’s group of 10 was resigned to fighting for third place on the day.

Thus it was the win would come from the leading pair. Everything was falling into place for the Madman Mathieu Van Der Poel to win a two-up sprint at the Tour of Flanders for the second year in a row. How could Asgreen thwart Mathieu from pulling off the repeat? Surely, he must take advantage of his time-trialing superiority. But how? How could he get a gap for this final flat run in? Should he jump, surely Van Der Poel could cover the attack. But surely Asgreen needed to try some sort of 4k Pursuit. But with 4km to go no Asgreen attack came. Nor at 3km either. Instead, Asgreen still continued to rotate turns with Van Der Poel even as their lead began to balloon over the chasers resigned to fighting for third. With 2km to go, Asgreen was still switching turns. But with 1.4km to go, Van Der Poel rotated to the front and Asgreen did not come through again. Under the Flamme Rouge, the Red Kite signifying 1km to go, Van Der Poel began looking over his shoulder. Surely, he seemed to understand he was the overwhelming favorite for this sprint and thus he accepted taking up the disadvantageous role on the front to lead it out. But he began the constant looking over the shoulder. It actually got to the point Van Der Poel was permanently looking over his shoulder. But one extremely interesting thing to note with hindsight, unlike last year’s Autumn Ronde where it was both the Mighty Aces ending the race in a similar Track Sprint with Van Der Poel on the front, this year Van Der Poel’s lead-out pace was slightly higher. Last year, the utter slowness, almost standstill Van Der Poel led the pair down to O! so greatly built up the tension…while this year, it seemed much more business end to the day. There was much more of a sense that Van Der Poel just wanted to get this wrapped up quickly so they could hit the podium soon, he could then shower, and have a ham or lamb Easter dinner. All Mighty Ace Rocket-launcher Mathieu Van Der Poel had to do was beat Casper Asgreen who had not the palmares of his Mighty Ace archrival Wout Van Aert who sat on his wheel last year in this same position and was beaten. We watched them pass 500m to go, “Van Der Poel’s got this,” we said. 400m to go, “Yes, Van Der Poel is completely ready to win this.” 300m to go, “Look! Asgreen clearly just sat up and switched to a higher gear, he’s telegraphing when he’s gonna go in this sprint. Van Der Poel is gonna mop him up.” At 250m Asgreen was clearly ramping up the speed, and he fully burst with 225m remaining, and Van Der Poel was too. It was Asgreen’s last chance and of course he had to try something. Once again Van Der Poel’s initial acceleration was unmatched and he had started within a hair of Asgreen from a bike-length ahead. It seemed all wrapped up. But with 100m to go, Van Der Poel had clearly already topped out on speed and Asgreen had drawn even with him. In that moment we all held our breath, for Van Der Poel was flailing and fatigued while Asgreen still had the strength to sustain the sprint. With 75m to go, Van Der Poel was rocking back-and-forth so violently, pouring everything into it, but in that instant he could not continue the sprint. He had spent the energy and emptied the tank while Asgreen clearly had the gas to get all the way to the line. At the 50m to go sign, Madman Mathieu Van Der Poel sat down in the saddle all energy spent, no speed left, and he bowed his head in the most universal sign of defeat. With Van Der Poel sitting down having lost and known he’d lost, Asgreen was able to post up at the line to show off the sponsor’s name and his Danish colors.

Casper Asgreen of Elegant-Quickstep in his Red with White Cross Danish Champion’s Jersey crossed the line first to win the Ronde Van Vlaanderen, the Tour of Flanders. This was the same Casper Asgreen that took victory at the E3 Classic nine days ago off the back of a tremendous team effort by the Wolfpack. But here today in Flanders, though Wolfpack teammate Alphalippe the Musketeer made some moves, it was Casper Asgreen who made his own victory happen. Over the course of this race, Casper Asgreen produced the ride of his life. He went toe-to-toe with both the Mighty Aces, and he beat both Wout Van Aert and Mathieu Van Der Poel outright—no head-starts, no tactical team support advantage. Perhaps Van Der Poel should have slowed down the sprint a bit more, but it was Asgreen who launched at his most optimal point from 225m out. It was Asgreen who was the one making selections all day. It was Asgreen who let not Rocket-launcher Van Der Poel get away. It was Asgreen who earned the Wolfpack yet another Monument victory. Yes, surely after such a win, Casper Asgreen shall be more than just one of the many arrows in the Quickstep Quiver. Surely, he shall be one of the special arrows differently colored, reserved to pierce the greatest of rival beasts. He was truly the man of the match, equal on the climbs, won a hard sprint, and didn’t even show off the solo time-trialing we all know he is capable of. Yes, after such a performance, in this Classics team of teams, Casper Asgreen shall surely be the new de facto Quickstep headliner for every Cobbled Classic which has not been the case since Tom Boonen’s retirement. Congratulations Casper, for you are now the Alpha Wolf of the Wolfpack.

Ronde Van Vlaanderen (Tour of Flanders) Written Musings

Approaches the first Sunday in April—in the cycling world, all know what that means. The Second Monument of the year is about to commence in Belgium—the title Northern half of Belgium actually: Vlaanderen. With the soft “E” ending, the double “A,” and the tricky “V-L,” the name of this Monument is softly an English nightmare for pronunciation. Thus “Ronde” is rendered “Tour,” “Van” translates to “Of,” and long ago the Brits must came to the conclusion it is much easier to simply call Vlaanderen, the northern half of Belgium, simply Flanders. With the translation at least established, be on your guard that De Ronde Van Vlaanderen and the Tour of Flanders are interchangeable names and often shortened simply to Flanders or even just De Ronde by the people of the title location. And what a people the Flemings are: they are renowned for their rich and fine beers that impress the world; though in America they are associated with the French, it was the Flemish who were really the leaders in producing oily fried potatoes slices; and of course the Flemish are also known for their cycling. From the bicycle’s ancient days, Northern France and all of Belgium were the hotbed of cycling—this is where the activity and sport were born. But now recall all the ancient races that began or finished in Paris: Paris-Roubaix, Paris-Tours, Paris-Nice, Paris-Brest-Paris, Bordeaux-Paris, and Paris-Brussels. The astute cycling fan will be aware that the ones finishing in Roubaix, Tours, and Nice no longer start in Paris; Bordeaux-Paris is now defuncted; Paris-Brest-Paris was only ever a decennial (“once-a-decade”) ordeal because of its gruesome length, but it is now only for amateur hobbyists looking for a multi-day adventure; and Paris-Brussels is now simply a semi-Classic around the Belgian capital that ventures nowhere close to France. Do you see the trend? A century ago, the heart of Cyclingdom had poles in Paris and Belgium, but as evidenced by races that no longer live up to their name: Paris has ceded its claims to Cyclingdom—alas! the Parisians became interested in other things. And thus now, the heart of Cyclingdom beats not even in all of Belgium, but mostly this mentioned Northern Half of Flanders. You have heard how popular cycling is in the Netherlands, Denmark, and Germany; but their loves of bike-racing is nothing compared to the Flemish and their Flandrien cycling heroes tradition.

There are only a few other peoples a part of Cyclingdom whose love of racing rivals the fans of Flanders. Though the Basques and Italians still show off their historic love to all two-wheeled racers, and the high-altitude Colombians have recently become a rabid frieze of fans for their armada of Grand Tour climbing heroes; still, combining the lovingly long history and expert knowledge of all facets of the sport: it is the Flemish people that still hold the crown of greatest cycling fans. These are the people who come out in force to cheer on the Monument passing near their towns. These are the people who all tune in so well to such a Monument that it gets better ratings than the Americans’ Superbowl: surely, the figures would be 100% of Flemish viewers if such a large share of their population did not watch from the roadside in person. Additionally, these are a people that all have their favorites: fan clubs for many riders—whether the rider is Flandrien or not is of little matter to these people. In fact, should just a group of only 5 to 10 rowdy Flemings declare their allegiance for any pro-rider from around the globe, that rider then on-the-spot becomes an honorary Flandrien. And when I say any, I do mean that often these Fan Clubs pop up for the small local heroes, the ones with a defining physical feature, or simply the ones who do the grinding work of the domestiques and rarely ever make a headline. And often the only repayment for such an honor to have ones’ own Fan Club that is asked is after Flanders is over or at some unnamed point in the future, the honored Flandrien shall come and crack open a few cold ones or have a series of brews with the Club at a fine Flemish Pub. All of this is context for the Flanders Monument itself. It is O! so critical to understand that it is these expertly committed fans that have escalated this race to a Monument. And the best symbolizing of the Flemish fans’ massive support and commitment to the race is the conservatively-estimated 3,000 Lion of Flanders Flags seen along the roadside by the TV viewer as the race flies by. Yes, that Black Lion with Red Fingernails, standing on its Hindlegs Roaring with its Tongue Out, with its the draping Yellow Background: O! to see it waving in the wind so many times over from crowds on the packed cobbled bergs is up there for my favorite sights in cycling. Yes, these fans are something else, at least before the pandemic: truly, it was the only professional race left where fans still attempted beer hand-ups to the racing riders on the steep cobbled bergs.

Yes, it has always been the Flemish fans that have popularized this race. The Tour of Flanders is in fact the youngest of the Five Monuments. From its creation in 1913 through the Interwar years, it was almost a strictly local affair. But the great Rik Van Steenbergen won it twice as World War II came to a close, then in the late 1940s that brave Italian Lion of Flanders Fiorenzo Magni pulled off the still unprecedented and still unmatched three victories in a row, and the reigning Tour de France champion Louison Bobet won in 1955 over Van Steenbergen and Hugo Koblet; in addition to the essential and integral fan support, such memorable editions won by stars of international prestige were what helped elevate this beloved race as one of the most premier and anticipated events on the cycling calendar. In those days of old De Ronde Van Vlaanderen really was a Tour of Flanders—some sort of loop surveying all the towns and lands of the province…but no longer. De Ronde is not bound by title point-to-point constrictions, but Ronde and Tour did at some point imply some sort of loop or lap…as stated no longer is this the case. Truly, truly, it is now become almost a rite of passage for a cycling race to become so historic and changed it no longer lives up to its name. The Tour of Flanders used to loop and survey all of Flanders, but after many decades it has gravitated and embellished the great features of the route: the Cobbled Bergs most populous in Flanders’ Southwest Corner. Thus now, the Tour of Flanders simply starts in a famous big city like Ghent, Bruges, Sint-Niklaas, or even faraway Antwerp. It then B-lines for a flat 100 leg-softening kilometers on its way to survey the Cobbled Bergs. In that sense, the Tour of Flanders is still a looping and doubling-back affair as it rides and re-rides the most famous Cobbled Climbs in the South of Flanders before a finish in one of those nearby Flemish towns. Many of the climbs have character of their own and recognizable traits, and the prospect of doing a long string of many in a single ride is quite daunting. To simply ride up, let alone race up, the Kortekeer, the Eikenberg, the Wolvenberg, the Molenberg, the Leberg, the Berenedries, the Valkenberg, the Tenbosse, the Kanarieberg, the Steenbeekdries, the Tiegemberg, the Kruisberg, and the Kluisberg is extremely tough business; but all the just mentioned climbs are the bit player cobbled or asphalted climbs in the iconic Ronde Van Vlaanderen. The hallmark Cobbled Bergs of the route all deserve extra explanation of their own.

Thus, first in pride of place and first in most hearts is the Muur. You have probably heard it called De Muur Van Geraardsbergen, the Wall of Grammont in English. Geraardsbergen is of course the town of its location. Truly, right in the center of town these cobblestones begin. It really is the most iconic and historic of the Flandrien cobbled climbs. Up the riders go in what seems the main avenue of the town over well-manicured cobbles: it is difficult, but certainly manageable—as to be expected of a regularly traversed thoroughfare. Should I have this right: the individual streets progressed up are the Burgstraat which may simply mean climbing-street, the Markt perhaps where goods were bought and sold of old, the Vesten perhaps lined with shops  selling the finest sleeveless vests in all the land, the Oudenbergstraat perhaps “The Old Climbing Street,” and from there when the legs are already well-deadened from the effort: the road swings right and further up into an ominous grove of trees where the proper Muur begins. Traditionally dark woods are places of fear in all mythology for they contain terrifying challenges the heroes must face, such is the case in cycling as well. One of the first translations any cycling fan must learn is that short words containing a M-U-R mean “Wall,” and whether in any part of Belgium, France, or the Basque Country: “Murs” are not titled lightly—O! how steep they really all are! Up this road pitches to its steepest and maximum of gradients (around 20%) right where the cobbles are roughest. Should the cobbles be any sort of slick with moisture, even the top professional riders cannot stand up in the saddle to ride them for each’s back-wheel will slip out due to lack of traction and all momentum will be lost; thus on some of the steepest gradients these riders will face all year they must attempt these pitches seated. But that roughest of cobbled stretches leads them to the top of the wooded grove into the light once more. There they see it…if the multitude of fans are not blocking their view…the iconic Chapel at the climb’s finish that is still the physical center of Cyclingdom itself. Search an image of it for yourselves: the Kapelmuur, as this part of the climb or even the climb as a whole is often referred to. Yes, to see such a Chapel or Kapel is one of the greatest pilgrimages of cycling. In De Ronde’s previous era: this climb was the proper finale. The Muur-Kapelmuur was the where the final selection was made with some 20km to go, from there all that was left was a one last more minor test up the Bosberg climb, and then a flat dozen-or-so kilometer run-in to the finishing town. But that was the last era, after much controversy and lamentation the change has been made to a new finishing finale pair of climbs for both better and worse. Even more highly controversially, in some years after the change this Muur-Kapelmuur that is the heart of Cyclingdom was left off De Ronde route completely—for shame to the organizers who shunned such an icon. But luckily in recent years, usually around 100 to 90kms to go, De Ronde scales the Muur-Kapelmuur and often this is when the action of the 250km Monument finally really begins to heat up.

After the iconic Muur and between the other many bit player bergs not to be underestimated, there are two certain climbs before the finale that strike fear into even the hearts of the great champions. One is the mighty Taaienberg most famous in recent decades because the great Tommeke Boonen always fancied making a selection on it. Putting the race “into the gutter” is a famous procedure in the crosswinds to deny rivals shelter, but on the mighty Taaienberg there is a literal smoothed gutter for the adept riders to balance and ride up—instead of bounce up cobblestones of this climb that maxes out at 18%. Yes, Boonen always liked to make a decisive selection here, thus after all the racing already and the fight for position into the bottom of this one, all the riders hope they have the legs to stay with the best this day or else perhaps their race shall prematurely be at an end. And O! how the body aches once it is crested, how it makes the riders shiver to think of it. Only one climb, only one climb makes them shiver with more fear. The most brutal one of the route. Never has the route dared to attempt it more than once each edition for it is too brutal. If you look up images of it, you shall find historic legends of cycling and even specialists of the Cobbles including Eddy Merckx and Fabian Cancellara walking up it! Yes, yes, I speak of the Koppenberg with its maximum 22% gradient. ‘Tis one of the evil villain climbs of cycling: Flanders’ version of the Giant of Provence, Mont Ventoux. The only other time this imposing one is visited is on November 1st each year for the Koppenbergcross where cruelly the cyclocrossers relentlessly scale it eight or nine times in one hour: a dastardly daunting prospect that would make all but the fiercest warrior quit and curl up in a ball from physical and psychological exhaustion. On the traditional recon ride, sometimes whole teams of riders just end up walking up for most of the way up. Even in cyclocross, though he has won the race multiple times, it is believed the Mighty Ace the Madman Mathieu Van Der Poel has no love for the climb or the Cross race itself because of its brutality. On no other climb is positioning O! so important, the climb usually comes with only some 50 or 40km left in the race, should one top mid climb they will have to walk to the top, and all race winning hopes shall surely be dashed. Yes, with the Koppenberg completed all eyes turn towards the big finale.

The Finale pairing climbs are of course the Oude Kwaremont and the Paterberg. Traditionally, in recent years, by the Finale the race has already scaled the Kwaremont twice, and the Paterberg once before this final time of asking. Like the Muur-Kapelmuur, the Oude Kwaremont is one of the rare Cobbled Bergs over one kilometer in length. The Oude Kwaremont is 2.2km long to make up for its relatively meager only 11% maximum gradient. The steepest bits of the climb come at the beginning, but even once it seems the climb has finally leveled out, still the cobbles continue to come. As stated, it was highly controversial when the organizers decided to make this the final pivotal climb of the race to replace the Muur-Kapelmuur. It cannot be denied, the Oude Kwaremont is not nearly as scenic as the heart of Cyclingdom, the Kapelmuur. And yet, the Kwaremont is proximately closer to a number of climbs to make for a more packed Finale before the race reaches this penultimate climb. Additionally as well for the rabid Belgian fans, there is a is a beautiful meadow or pasture or farm or field, that provides an ideal party viewing spot: VIP tents and lounges are pitched next to the climb where the racers shall pass by three times; meanwhile in the field the plebs have their rowdy fun packed together in the mud to view the passing-by race thrice as well and from a big screen set up showing the full footage. The Oude Kwaremont comes with some 20km left still to race, from there it is 4km into the last final test—and I must say this last finale test is much better than the old era’s Bosberg climb. It is only 400m long, but what it lacks in length it accounts for in steep grades. This final 400m test is of course the Paterberg with an average gradient of 12.5% and a maximum of 20%. The climb has long been in existence, but was unpaved until 1986. But in a beloved moment in Flandrien cycling history: instead of laying down asphalt tarmac, the nearby farmer laid down cobbles instead for the express purpose that he wished the Tour of Flanders to pass by his house. And now that farmer’s road is the final cobbled climb of the Tour of Flanders—may that farmer never have to buy a Belgian beer again!

After cresting the Paterberg with 13km to go, there is a narrow and quick twisting descent, and the rest is flat to the finish line in Oudenaarde. By this point, after some 17-20 cobbled bergs and 250km, the race will have become so selective, no more than a handful of riders will be left in contention to sprint for the win at the finish. Sometimes a rider comes away solo after the Kwaremont-Paterberg Finale, sometimes it is a 2 or 3 or 4-up sprint. For the past six weeks, Flandrien Cobble Classics have been taking place on such roads, all anticipating this final showdown of final showdowns. The winner joins yet another immortal tally and honor rollcall of champions: the likes of the already mentioned legends Magni, Merckx, Boonen and Cancellara, Van Steenbergen and Van Looy, Bobet, Musseuw, De Vlaeminck, Kuiper, Argentin, Bugno, Sagan, Gilbert, and both Adri and Mathieu Van Der Poel. Yes, with the beloved and rowdy fan support, and the thrilling racing as always transpires in these Flandrien Cobbled Classics, De Ronde Van Vlaanderen, the Tour of Flanders is a Monument that has won many people’s hearts. It is a fair share of many people’s favorite race of the year. It is a race all Classics riders want to win. And for many Flandriens, if they could only win one: this is the one they’d choose. Like all the rest of the Monuments, it is absolutely never one to miss.

Eulogy for the Supertuck

Cycling has a rich history of daredevil descenders, for over a century they have been racing up and down the dizzying high passes of the European mountain ranges. In recent years we have loved and praised the gravel roads of Strade Bianche, but in days of old every climb and descent in the Grand Tours was a Strade Bianche of its own for those mountain roads wear not paved until well after the Second World War. Up and down the mountains the heroic cyclists like grizzled pioneers would climb with vigor and descend at high speeds no matter the weather: wind, rain, washed-out roads, even snow could not stop them on their quests to victory or even to simply finish the race. All the men that would attempt the gravel, often muddy, descents were of course daredevils. But it was not until the road conditions improved and the speeds became even faster that an even more elite class of daredevils emerged. There have been top descenders in every generation, but from at least Gastone Nencini to Eddy Merckx to Sean Kelly to Marco Pantani to Fabian Cancellara there has been an unofficial mantle of greatest descender in the peloton. Some have simply been supremely fearless as they threw themselves into every blind corner and bend, others especially in recent decades have worked on their aerodynamic position. Surely one of the most memorable and unorthodox came from Marco Pantani il Pirata as he stuck his behind over the back-wheel and brought his bellybutton to the saddle lowering how much body surface area had to cut through the wind. To simply see images of it makes the hair on one’s neck stand up with fear, surely the Pantani descending position can be entered as one of the dictionary definitions for “reckless.” But for almost the past decade, another certain reckless position has taken the peloton by storm. So effective and ubiquitous it has proven, the UCI officials have finally decided to pre-emptively ban it before it inevitably causes a professional to lose their career or life, and to send a message to the aspiring ones watching on TV that such recklessness is not to be promoted. I am of course referring to the Supertuck, where the riders sit on the top-tube instead of their saddles to tuck into a faster aero-position. Mark me: No, this is not an April Fools’ Day joke this has truly been on record to come for many months—along with bans on littering and the aero puppy-paws. As far as this Supertuck position goes, I have no stake or experience to give much judgement on whether the position should be banned or not—though I myself have never been comfortable enough to try it in the mountains of Colorado. I guess overall if I had to stake a position, I will split the baby. I applaud the pre-emptive reasoning and the idea to send the right message so the UCI has my blessing in this banning for what that is worth; and yet at the same time, surely I shall miss the Supertuck. I shall miss it, for it has been the centerpiece of many iconic cycling moments of this era where I myself became such an invested fan of the sport. Thus let us now take a short walk down memory lane, and recall some of the most beloved and epic Supertucking moments—for surely in the History of Cycling Descending the Supertuck deserves more than a whole Chapter, it needs a whole meaty Section or Act to describe this iconic era of descending.

I cannot believe that that the idea of sitting on one’s top tube for a better aero position was not thought of until 2013—surely the occasional daredevil must have done it a time or two before, if not quite making it a habit. But by common consensus of all cycling loremasters, it was in 2013 at the U23 World Championships in Florence that the modern Supertuck was born. Whether others had been sitting on the top tube before or not is highly questionable, but in Florence in 2013 one rider did add a literally revolutionary element to the mix. Wearing the Slovenian national kit, 19-year-old Matej Mohoric went on to win that U23 World Championship over the likes of Louis Meintjes, Caleb Ewan, Dylan Van Baarle, Julian Alpahilippe, both Yates twins, Jasper Stuyven, and an eclectic assortment of other recognizable professionals still well on the scene today. The fact that a 19-year-old was winning the U23 World Title was memorable in itself, but way he rode was even more memorable. Yes, yes, Mohoric had the climbing legs of a deserving World Champion, but Mohoric’s decisive advantage came on the descents. There was Matej Mohoric in his green Slovenian jersey descending with the speed of a rocket re-entering the atmosphere to catch the lone rider in the lead, Frenchman Julian Alaphilippe, on the penultimate lap of the World Championship. Mohoric rode with his hands in the drops—as you do. But instead of being seated on the saddle, he was perched some 6-inches lower on the top tube—surely not “as you do.” His back was curled up in a fine aero-position leading right into his bare seat behind. From such a position, he even managed to spin a few light strokes of the pedals. Into the swooping two-pointed left-hand turn at the bottom of the descent, Mohoric adeptly lifted his body back over the saddle just in time and perfectly careened around the turn like a bobsled team about to win the Gold Medal at the Olympic Games. Having conserved so much speed from the descent and through the turn, he effortlessly caught up to the elder Alaphilippe ahead. But that penultimate descent show was nothing compared to the final next one. Mohoric dropped his rivals on circuit’s final climbs, and then all that was left was to stay away on the final descent. And on that descent, it was on full display: the modern-day Supertuck that is now banned. Not only was Mohoric sitting on the top tube—he was seated aggressively far up towards the handlebars. Meanwhile his hands were narrowly apart only on the tops of the handlebars. He was leaning over his front wheel while his chin was literally even with his handlebars, his shoulders almost touched the hoods of the brake levers. And if this wasn’t an aero and speedy enough position already: he was successfully pedaling to boot! Did I not say literally revolutionary? Yes, using that Supertuck Mohoric held off Meintjes close behind and a peloton of some thirty or forty riders. It was an amazing feat by all accounts…many could not believe what they had just seen.

Ever since Florence 2013, the Supertuck has been all the rage with many professionals despite its inherit precarious danger, perhaps most notably Peter Sagan and Michal Kwaitkowski became the biggest headliners to regularly support it on their ways to victories. But this modern Supertuck reached its zenith on the biggest stage in 2016 from an unlikely source: the Grand Tour rider of his generation. Before 2016, Chris Froome was notably known to be a subpar or bad bike-handler: always on the flat days of any stage race, his teammates needed to shepherd and protect this climbing machine of climbing machines—should he stay upright surely he could win any stage race, was the team’s thinking. But keeping Froome safe and upright on the bike was not always a given nor an easy task: forget not when he abandoned the 2014 Tour with a broken wrist after multiple crashes in the early days. Thus, after what many would say were dominatingly dull Tour victories in 2013 and 2015, Froome and Team Sky unexpectedly flipped the script on Stage 8 of the 2016 Tour de France that finished down into Bagneres-de-Luchon. It was a mighty High Mountain stage in the Pyrenees, Froome’s archrival Nairo Quintana and many others were watching and marking him like a hawk all day. Up the last climb of the day, the Peyresourde, it was a proper GC battle of a dozen or so men. This group of elite GC men were about to crest the top of the climb together in what seemed to be a ceasefire in the hostilities for the day, but then Froome’s Sky teammate on the front swung off job done while Froome himself then spun his highest of cadences while Nairoman grabbed a bottle from his soigneur. Just the split second it took Nairo Quintana to grab the bottle, Froome had a couple meters’ gap. Quintana let the bottle dangle between his teeth, because he did not want to give his archrival even a ten-meter gap. But it was too late, Froome had already pedaled away to a 20-meter lead. From there Chris Froome produced his Finest Hour of Descending, and arguably the Finest Hour in the History of Supertucking. The green Pyrenean Peyresourde descent weaved right and left in beautifully laid switchbacks, it was an immaculate road and stunning location for such a historic descent. Never before had Froome ever won a race that was not a Time Trial or summit finish, and yet here he was on this Peyresourde descent, bad-bike-handler Froome was putting time into all his rivals chasing behind. Like Mohoric in Florence, Froome was aggressively seated far up on the top tube, his chin was even with the brake levers, and in his white shoes and socks he was pedaling down this descent in his most massive gear. And yet in classic Froome fashion, it was not the most graceful sight. Even while perched on the top tube, every ten seconds he instinctively dipped his head below the tops of the handlebars impairing his foresight, and as he pedalled O! how the bike wobbled! Despite the danger, still the effective aerodynamics and speed were undeniable. Chris Froome was now taking time out of his rivals not up the climbs, but down them instead! Rumored consensus at the time figured it was the newly signed Sky transfer Michal Kwaitkowski that worked with Froome in the altitude training camps to develop these O! so aero Supertucking skills. It was not until this stage of the Tour that they were revealed, but O! how all remember such a feat from the Grand Tour Champion. The day Chris Froome rode with such until-then uncharacteristic spontaneity and “Balls of Steel.” By the end of the descent Chris Froome crossed the line first but only by some 14 seconds ahead of his top rivals. Yet that day Chris Froome moved into the Yellow Jersey and he did not relinquish it for the rest of that Tour. Froome won his third Tour in 2016, and that Supertucking performance is hallowed as the stuff of legend.

I cannot recall a time since Froome’s 2016 Tour that the Supertuck has been so decisive. This is probably because after Froome’s performance many of the professionals added the Supertuck or a comparably extremely aero position to their arsenal. Like when all the top cyclocrossers needed to learn to bunny-hop the barriers to match Sven Nys, over that next winter all the top GC men learned how to Supertuck to match Froome. Yes, from 2017 through 2020 the Supertuck has become a routine element of the descents. Not all use it, nor do those exercising the descending method make more than negligible gains very often anymore. But it has become a familiar and even iconic sight of daring-descending. The last iconic images of it will probably be from the shortened COVID 2020 season. Where Julian Alaphilippe descended to victory at Imola Worlds in 2020. Or in the Autumnal Tour of Flanders in a moment of calm before the storm archrivals Mathieu Van Der Poel and Wout Van Aert silently and perfectly descended like stone marble statues conserving as much energy and speed between the Cobbled Bergs as they could. Finally, most recently, and most fittingly, this past week at the late-March Volta a Catalunya the era ended full circle as Matej Mohoric from a breakaway put on one last fine Supertucking display on the wickedly fast descent in the hilly Barcelona circuit that eerily echoed the Florence Worlds circuit of 2013. Ah! yes, for safety reasons it seems to me for the best to ban the Supertuck before there is a major professional casualty and to discourage the imitating youngsters watching around the world. But still my heart is heavy to see this era end—and surely it was an era. In the decades to come, the new fans of cycling studying up on their cycling history and lore will come across articles and clips of Chris Froome’s 2016 Peyresourde descent…and it will seem as foreign and ancient as the cyclists with no helmets, the cyclists smoking or drinking midrace, and the cyclists with the spare tire slung across their chest. “What daredevils these Supertuckers must have been,” the future historians might say. “Surely, all were aware this was insanely dangerous in an already dangerous sport: to what crazy lengths these cyclists went to win a bike race.” Yes, the Supertuck has had a good run—truly, we are aware of no professional injuries caused by it—but it is right to not push our luck any longer. We have played with fire and luckily come away unburned. We shall cherish the greatest Supertucking moments that have produced multiple thrilling and legendary descending wins, but that list of great Supertucks is now complete. The Supertucking era is over and come to a close.

The Supertuck

Florence Worlds, 2013 – April 1st, 2021