Milan-Sanremo Musings (Written)

The early season is well behind us now, the Spring Classics have been kicked off in the harsh North of Belgium and even Italy itself. Alas! no longer does it hold the pride of place as the proper Season Opener, and yet it still holds the first spot on the calendar of the most prestigious of prestigious races. It has been nicknamed La Classicissima, “The Classic of Classics,” and O! how it lives up to such a title, for Milan-Sanremo is the first Monument of the year. Truly, truly, the races that compromise the Five Monuments, the Three Grand Tours, and the World Championships itself really are the most special races on the calendar. All the Monuments—Milan-Sanremo, the Ronde Van Vlaanderen (in English: the “Tour of Flanders”), Paris-Roubaix, Liege-Bastogne-Liege, and il Lombardia—predate both the World Wars, they are the five races that get the most press, they are the longest and most grueling affairs, and year in and year out they are the races that are prone to cause the most exciting racing. Yes, yes, these are the reasons that the Five Monuments are a cut above the rest of the prestigious Classics. The term “Monument” is a relatively modern distinction to ensure these five races’ superiority is recognized above the others. Now, the beauty is that these five were never Chosen or Voted upon to earn this upper-echelon Monument status: like a great myth distilled down after tens of thousands of retellings and adaptions, over a century of “Edition-al retellings” each these mythical races were simply universally acclaimed by the cycling world to be the most important, and only a universal canonical stamp of approval was needed to name them the Monuments. And thus, the first Monument of the season is upon us: always it is Milan-Sanremo; and truly, it is unimaginable to have it any other way.

With the exceptions that some editions were cancelled because of the World Wars, and a recent pandemic delayed and pushed one edition back to August, every year this race has always been held in mid-March. For a few decades in the mid-twentieth century, the pious Italians decided to hold the race exactly on March 19th in conjunction with the national holiday for the beloved Feast of St. Joseph. O! Surely, that great Carpenter, that Workman of Workmen, would have enjoyed such a spectacle: seeing young craftsmen of similar meager and humble backgrounds as himself trying their hands—sorry, legs—at a second trade to make a more substantial living, la Gara di San Giuseppe, “The Race of Saint Joseph” indeed! But whether it is held exactly on March 19th or on the nearby weekend, truly every year I take the Milan-Sanremo as a sign that Spring is truly in the air…and hence another of its famous nicknames: La Primavera, “The Spring.” Yes, it is the Italians’ greatest race as it welcomes back not only Spring after a long Winter, but welcomes back each season the greatest champions of the generation on top form for the first time. And in what was probably its greatest edition, its Ultimate-Finest among Many Finest Hours, the race meant so much more to the Italians than just the start of the cycling season. With the help of Italophile John Foot’s book Pedalare! Pedalare! I quote from Pierre Chany writing for L’Equipe recalling the ginormous gravity of a small event that transpired midrace in that ultimate edition:

“The tunnel was of modest dimensions, just 50 metres long, but on 19 March 1946 it assumed exceptional proportions in the eyes of the world. That day it was six years in length and lost in the gloom of the war…A rumbling was heard from the depths of those six years and suddenly there appeared in the light of day an olive-greenish car stirring up a cloud of dust. ‘Arriva Coppi’ the messenger announced, a revelation only the initiated had foreseen.”

Yes, in 1946, it was il campionissimo—“the Champion of Champions”—Fausto Coppi who reopened the cycling calendar after the drought of the Second World War with his stupendous long solo breakaway victory. Second place was some fourteen minutes behind, such a winning-margin in cycling terms is equivalent to a gulf of two lightyears. He broke away early on in the 300 km race with a small group, and rode more than half the length completely solo when those few early companions were dropped. John Foot adds in Pedalare! Pedalare!: “At that moment, Coppi and Italy became one. They were fused together. A myth of endurance, of a superman in peasant’s clothing, had come into being, and for many it wiped out, if only briefly, bad memories of the war.”

Yes, you have heard me rightly—it was not a typo—even still today in this modern era of shorter but more intense racing, still the Milan-Sanremo bucks such trends and keeps its full 300 km race distance. Unlike so many races that no longer live up to their name—dare I mention all the Paris races that start there not and only finish in Roubaix or Tours or Nice—Milan-Sanremo still starts in Milan, at the center of Italy’s North, and finishes in the Mediterranean riviera town of Sanremo near the French border. O! It is quite a hellish day in the saddle to be sure, the longest day of the year. O! How the distance saps the legs, it is a war of attrition unlike any other on the calendar. And yet, despite the length and Coppi’s 1946 solo exploits of great fame, Sanremo is considered the Sprinters’ Monument: not because a pure sprinter always wins, but because this is the only Monument a pure sprinter can hope to win.

From Milan, the race strikes predominantly south making its way towards Genoa on the coast. On a traditional route, the only climb of note is the Passo del Turchino that comes at about the halfway point of the race. With such great distances still to go, the climb does not play much of a pivotal role unless Winter has not yet receded from its slopes. In the modern era with over a century of history and data, all the professional teams know this is a race that plays out only in the very final kilometers. Thus from Milan to the Turchino and even along most of the beautiful coastal towns, all the teams do their best simply to shield their leader from the wind and allow him to save every bit of energy he possibly can for this greatest of Finales. On a sunny day, the coast is gorgeous and the whole last 100 km make for beautiful viewing. But it is not until literally some 90% of the 300 km race is completed that the first riders with any sort of real ambitions to win will reveal themselves on the Cipressa climb. The Cipressa comes 270 km into the race, with only 30 km to go from the finish, give or take a few kilometers depending on each year’s edition. The Cipressa is the penultimate climb of the race; it is about a 6 km climb averaging 4% in gradient, with a maximum gradient of 9%. To be frank and speak in the parlance of our times: such a climb would appear to be a “nothing burger” compared to the giant climbs that feature in the Summer Grand Tours, but at the end of a 300 km race where the body is already exhausted, and many teams are trying to keep their sprinter in contention it proves a perfect test. Always on this climb, someone tries their hand, someone who has not the speed to match the best sprinters, nor the punch to match those who can unleash short bursts of extreme power over the smaller climbs. In some years, these Cipressa-hopefuls get a gap over the top of the climb, in some years they stay away to the bottom of the descent, in some years they make it another 10 or 15 km before the sprinters’ teams in the peloton organize and chase them down, in some years they even maintain the gap to the base of the ultimate climb: the Poggio.

I am not sure anyone can name the last time a Cipressa attack succeed to stay away to the finish, I say it as a pleasantry and out of politeness that the men who attack on the Cipressa have a chance of winning—in reality they are but pretenders. It is only the last climb up the Poggio that really plays a factor in deciding a race winner. The climb comes with about 10 km left in the race and crests with some 6 km to go; yes, by that math is only about 4 km in length and its average gradient is only some 3.7% with only an 8% maximum gradient. Like the Cipressa, those statistics strike little fear into our hearts…and yet, at the end of such a race it always does play O! such a pivotal role. Yes, because of this race: the Poggio is one of the most famous climbs in cycling. All cycling fans that fawn over L’Alpe d’Huez, the Stelvio, Mont Ventoux, the Motirolo, the Zoncolon, and the Angliru have a special place in their heart for the Poggio as well. If you were to average all the finishes of each Monument and Classic, many would acknowledge that Milan-Sanremo and its Poggio finish would have the highest mean score. Here is what makes it such a beautiful race—even in the years where rain and snow batter the riders and landscape—there is still all to play for at the base of the Poggio. Seven hours of racing all comes down to the last exhilarating fifteen minutes each year. The peloton will still be a big group containing all the favorites, but not all the favorites are pure sprinters. The Poggio is the last opportunity to shell out these pure sprinters—who usually by definition have trouble with the climbs. Thus, it is usually teams who have a sprinter that can somewhat climb that push the pace early to drop those pure sprinting rivals. These teams set such a high pace, at points the riders must break going uphill on the climb’s many sharp and extreme twists and switchbacks. And yet the possibilities end not here, in the mix too are ambitious Classics men and even a daring climber or two who can show a fast pair of wheels at the finish among an exceedingly small group reduced of all the better sprinters who cannot climb. Towards the top of the Poggio, usually only a kilometer or less from the summit, the climber or puncheur or Classics man with the best legs on the day launches one big massive race-winning attack….and here is where the unpredictably really only begins.

At this point, are any pure sprinters left in the reduced bunch weaving up the climb like lightning? How powerful was the definitive attack towards the top of the Poggio? How many riders were able to latch on and follow in the slipstream of that most ambitious attacker? Two? Three? What’s their gap to the peloton? Ten? Fifteen seconds? How many riders compromise the peloton behind? Twenty? Thirty? Forty? Fifty riders?

Yes, these are the questions we need answered within a minute of the first men cresting the Poggio climb with 6 km to go in the race. To predict the answers beforehand is truly impossible. Some have called this race a lottery, others a crapshoot. It truly is one of the hardest to win because riding up and over the Poggio there are so many variables—I have not even mentioned if people had mechanical issues. But over the top, the race is by no means decided! The Poggio is not only famous for its ascent, in fact it is more famous for its harrowing descent. To be sure, it is utterly stunning and beautiful to see the Golden Hour sunlight starting to bask its final rays of the day on the Mediterranean coastal hills, but O! what hair-rising viewing it is. Should your muscles not tighten, should your palms not sweat, then please never ride a bike or drive car again for you must be legally blind. It is a 4 km descent of narrow curving roads and horribly tight 180 degree switchbacks, at least a dozen corners are so sharp and dangerous the organizers set up cushioned barriers out of them to make sure no one smashes into a stiff metal guardrail that stops one from diving over the side of a cliff. Yes, it is the reward for staying in contention over the Poggio, the riders have qualified for the unofficial descending World Championships. It is the greatest test in cornering the cycling world has to offer. It is beautiful and breathtaking to see these bike riders cut the apex of the turns to such precisions mathematicians and physicists using parabolas and coefficients of acceleration would shed a tear at the magnificence. The escapees have to throw everything at this too: throw themselves into every corner and empty the tank as best they can on any bit of straight. Finely balanced, touch-and-go, surely this is the race were such terms were invented. Over the top it is usually a small elite group of one to four riders with a larger peloton chasing from ten to two dozen seconds behind, or it is sometimes a ten or so man group over the top and if that is the case that will contain the winner of the day. But should it only be a pair or trio of riders, the suspense builds to see if they can stay away to the finish from the sizable chasing peloton.

After the harrowing descent there is one final test, the last 2 km is a flat run in. For a solo rider, the objective is simple: Full Gas! Empty the Tank! Ride the greatest mini-Time Trial of your life! But should there be two or three, things can get cagey quickly: what is the precise measure of output on the front needed to make the group stay away from the bigger chasing peloton sure to have domestiques ready to sacrifice themselves to bring back the escapees and set up a sprint for their fastest man left. Meanwhile that pair or trio of escapees do not want to work too hard on that last flat run in and deadened their legs for the final sprint. It can be the ultimate show of cat-and-mousing, and rarely does the most honorable and hardest-working workhorse in the group bring home the bacon. Yes, all these unpredictable elements smashed into the last fifteen minutes of a 300 km race are what create so much hype and drama! In an archetypal Sanremo, to cap it all off: on the Via Roma finishing straight the race is so close, whether in a sprint between the escapees only a handful of seconds ahead of the peloton breathing down their necks behind or even between a reduced peloton come back together, a photo-finish is certainly required. Yes, it’s a special race, in what other race can you have Grand Tour and climbing champion Vincenzo Nibali win two seconds ahead of pure sprinter Pocket-Rocket Caleb Ewan?

Yes, its spectacular finish is not just spectacular for the thrilling spectacle. When the winner crosses the finish line, it sinks in: he realizes his name shall now be alongside all the former Italian great champions and legends. This was the Italian Spring Classic won by Luigi Ganna who won the first Giro. Constante Girardengo, Italy’s first il campionissimo won it six times. Alfredo Binda twice. Learco Guerra once. Coppi thrice. Gino Bartali outdid his archrival with four. Felice Gimondi got his one. Guiseppe Saronni and Francesco Moser each have a single win of it on their palmares, the same goes for Gianni Bugno, Claudio Chiappucci, Alessandro Petacchi, and of course Super Mario Cipollini. And yes, as stated Vincenzo Nibali cemented his place among his legendary compatriots as well taking such a victory. But all of these Italian greats were outdone by the savage one, the Cannibal Eddy Merckx won this race a record seven times—surely, a record never to be bested! Yes, since its inception it has attracted international stars and champions like Lucien Petit-Breton, Eugene Christophe, Henri Pelissier, Lousion Bobet, Rik Van Steenbergen, Rick Van Looy, Raymond Poulidor, Tom Simpson, Roger De Vlaeminck, Hennie Kuiper, Sean Kelly, Laurent Fignon, Erik Zabel, Oscar Freire, and Mark Cavendish. All legends of the sport, and their victories helped add to that legend as well. Yes, to win the Milan-Sanremo will make a rider’s career, to win it twice or certainly thrice shall catapult a rider into rarified air and upper-echelons of all-time greats. It is one of those races where it is too hard to believe any one individual can actually win it, and yet every year someone must. Shall we see another first-timer making their name? Or shall we see someone add another top result to their palmares and strengthen their resume and portfolio to become a living legend of the historic sport?

2021 T-A: The Greatest Edition of Neptune’s Race (WRITTEN)

Far away at the edge of the Solar System. There was Neptune, Lord and King of All Seas, distancing himself from dark brother Pluto and Sky Father Uranus. Surely tired of their company, Neptune wanted to preview the next edition of the only festival humans still involve him in anymore in peace and quiet. He was pleased to see the Startlist: four former Tour winners, all the best Classics men, and two or three top notch sprinters all lining up for his Race between the Two Seas: Tirreno-Adriatico. The look of the stage profiles pleased him: well-crafted finishes all. And all the race previews were hyping up the race well…except for one.

“Well, this irks me,” King Neptune said. “What is this Cycling Odysseys podcast? Who is this Patrick Santino ant? A podcast named for that horrid Odysseus? That wily trickster already has an epic composed by the famous Homer immortalizing his journey, and O! how I hate such a tale! Over and over I must hear the part where he painfully blinds my beloved son, Polyphemus, the giant with one eye. O! That ruthless Odysseus or Ulysses—whatever you call him nowadays—how I loathe the man for what he did to my cyclops. I would not mind finding out Dante was right, that this Odysseus is so very deep down in that ultimate Inferno. It is bad enough there is a famous American General and President, and modern Irish novel continuing the legacy of the name in its Latinized form, but now there are podcasts containing his name too? This podcast has barely any reach at all, but still this nags at me. Right within this Tirreno preview, this Santino author dares to say my Tirreno-Adriatico has not as thrilling or dynamic racing as the French Paris-Nice rival. What audacity he has! He is as foolish as a mosquito trying to suck the blood of Achilles’ impenetrable flesh above the heel. Does he not think all these riders would not love to win such a special Blue Jersey and the Golden Trident I painstakingly craft each year myself by hand? I will put this upstart in his place. I will make him rue the day he badmouthed my race. First, I shall send no precipitation to his “beloved” Paris-Nice. Next…I will put on the best Tirreno-Adriatico of all time just to spite him, and I will do it by having all his favorite riders put on a show worthy of Cycling’s Golden Age struggles that ensued between Coppi and Bartali, Kubler and Koblet, Bobet and Gaul race after race.

“Let’s see, where to begin? A flat sprint for Stage 1? Ah, let’s begin things with a bang. The fast spritely Pocket-Rocket Caleb Ewan (Lotto Soudal) is here. Surely he is the favorite for the day, but to see him win would be too predictable for this Cycling Odysseys critic. Let’s take the man he so obviously raves about most, surely he must be his favorite rider at the moment or close to it: Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma), yes, yes, he is the protected rider for the team, and he has the speed. Should I have archrival Mathieu Van Der Poel (Alpecin-Fenix) up there too to really make this an epic sprint for the ages? No, let’s leave Van Der Poel on his leadout duties for today, just to see if he is any good at such things.” (AUTHOR’S NOTE: It appears Van Der Poel is not a good lead out man because he is too strong, the sprinter behind cannot follow his powerful surges up the peloton to get into better position for the final sprint). “Anyways, yes, let’s have Wout beat the Pocket-Rocket Ewan on a dead straight flat sprint: Wout does not need to look pretty, he needs not to be aerodynamic or have any real zip, let’s have him win simply by pure power and strength alone.

“Now, on to Stage 2. Yes, the finish looks mouth-watering: who is it best suited to? Surely Wout and Mathieu will be eyeing it well, but how about we have the fun begin from further out…since this Santino critic says such things rarely happen. Hmm, how about I help these Ineos Grenadiers live up to their off-season Brazilian headline. There are no Brazilians on the team, but a Colombian and former Tour winner should do fine to send on the attack like the Brazilians who play the beautiful game. Yes, Grenadier Egan Bernal, you shall attack and capitalize on your strong Strade podium. No matter if you are brought back too soon, just get the hard racing in your legs this week for the Giro d’Italia to come. Let’s see, let’s not let things calm down when Bernal is brought back into the fold: how about a strong late breakaway of top names. Here, this quartet will do: Simon Yates (Team BikeExchange) who loves the Italian races so, Mikel Landa (Bahrain Victorious) always a strong bull, Pavel Sivakov to give the Grenadiers more representation, and Joao Almeida (Deceuninck-Quickstep) who always fights so bravely. Let’s see. Let’s see. There is a final climb for a couple of kilometers, let’s finally have them get caught on that. Let brave Almeida remind us of his Giro gallantry he showed last year, let’s not have him caught until a couple hundred meters from the line—fighting to stay away for every last meter. How about we have Geraint Thomas (Ineos Grenadiers) chase him down just to show off again the power and strength that won him the 2018 Tour de France. And then, hmmm, Van Aert must be up there because not only will he want the stage, he’ll want bonus seconds for the General Classification (the GC). It looks like Van Der Poel shall have himself out of position again, but let’s have him do a really good surging sprint at the finish. But to have Van Aert or Van Der Poel win here would be too predictable once again, let’s have that other great showman take this one ahead of this world class cyclocross pair: Quickstep’s Julian Alaphilippe—what does the Cycling Odysseys ant call him, the Musketeer—the Champion of the World wearing his Rainbow Jersey.

“Now, let’s have this Alaphilippe Musketeer shake up the next Stage 3 as well. Let’s have Quickstep set a pace up this finishing ramp or drag—whatever it is—so that is too hard for the pure sprinters. There, there, let’s have Alaphilippe’s Quickstep teammate Zdenek Stybar—another Cyclocross World Champion—leadout Alaphilippe for this twisting final kilometer. Hmmm, hmmm, Stybar shall be going well, let’s add another little trick and a twist. Yes, Julian Alaphilippe, why not? You shall try it. Just let go. Let go of Stybar’s wheel for he is going O! so fast, this could be a good win for him. See if Van Aert and Van Der Poel will just take the bait and burn the energy chasing him down. Wout Van Aert will, because he is more concerned with Bonus Seconds for GC than he is about another stage win…Yes, just as planned: Van Aert shall chase down Stybar, and Van Der Poel shall follow. Good. And with 200 meters to go? Even though it is time for Van Der Poel to take a win here, let’s have Wout put up a good fight in the sprint to take second and more Bonus Seconds. Thus, three stages in, this Cycling Odysseys critic’s three current favorite riders of Van Aert, Alaphilippe, and Van Der Poel—the ones who Make His Day whenever they win—shall each have won a stage, and the racing shall have been undeniably ferocious to boot. But I, Neptune Lord of the Seven Seas and King of the Ocean, am by no means finished yet designing this greatest edition of my race.

“Yes, next we come to the weekend. The days we must make count most. Let’s see, what can I do with this Stage 4? It ends with a 14 km climb averaging 7% to Prati Di Tivo—a proper summit finish even by the standards of the Grand Tours. Let’s see, let’s see. Mathieu Van Der Poel will just need to pull the plug at the bottom and save his energy for the days to come…ah! I already have future plans for him. Let’s see, with Tadej Pogacar (UAE), Egan Bernal, Geraint Thomas, Simon Yates, Julian Alaphilippe, Mikel Landa, Joao Almeida, Romain Bardet (Team DSM), Vincenzo Nibali (Trek-Segafredo), and Nairo Quintana (Arkea-Samsaic) all here, this really would be impressive if Wout Van Aert wearing the Blue Race Leader’s Jersey can stay in contention for the GC win through this stage. Yes, that will be the plan: let’s put this Cycling Odysseys Santino’s favorite big-muscled Classics man amongst the light climbers who bounce up the steep roads like mountain goats high in the cliffs. And let’s have the attacks start early from the bottom. Let’s have Ineos race like Brazil, Egan Bernal and Geraint Thomas each launching some attacks to get the GC men to all respond and create a stop-start uneven rhythm. Such a routine will not be conducive to Van Aert and he shall have to set a more even pace he knows he can maintain, and thus he will ride on the front of the group of favorites who shall use him like a metronome. What uncharted territory this is going to be for this reigning Swiss Army Knife Wout Van Aert! Let’s have Pogacar cover Bernal’s attack and tease a showdown between the two all think are the Grand Tour stars of the present and future. But let’s not actually put on that proper show yet so that Wout is still in contention, let’s have them sit up and eye each other while they are brought back by Wout’s even pace. Then, a little further up, when the time is right, let’s have Pogacar strike out again with Geraint Thomas in a race winning move. Wout shall have to continue the even pace behind and work to limit his losses to the threatening Pogacar only 20 seconds behind on GC. Geraint Thomas won’t be on good enough form yet to stay with Pogacar, because he does not need to be ready until July. So let’s have him fall back, but let’s not make this too easy for Pogacar. Let’s have Simon Yates chase Pogacar down, to scare and haunt him: for Pogacar just beat his brother Adam Yates (Ineos Grenadiers) at the UAE Tour a fortnight ago. Pogacar can ride to the win of the stage, and let’s even have him take the Blue Jersey of Race Leader. But how good should we have Wout Van Aert do? He really is one of the mentally toughest people that has ever lived: he can handle quite a bit of pain to achieve his goal. Here, this shall make the ride all the more impressive: let’s have his pace shell out living Italian legend Vincenzo Nibali now so clearly hampered by old age, and the French hopefuls Romain Bardet and Julian Alaphilippe, too, for good measures. And let’s have those gassed Grenadiers, Bernal and Thomas, drop behind him as well: thus Wout Van Aert of big Classics build shall distance three former Tour de France champions on a proper summit finish. What a tale that shall make! Yes, let’s have him stay within a shout of Pogacar for the GC lead. Let the race not be decided yet, let’s keep this close for the rest of the week. Let this mighty Wout Van Aert only lose 46 seconds to Tadej Pogacar, the reigning Tour de France Champion on such a proper tough mountain. That all shall make for a fine Queen Stage in anyone’s book.

“But let’s not let the race let up after such a massive Queen Stage, let’s turn Sunday’s Stage 5 into a brutal King Stage long to be remembered. It looks like a hilly circuit of short steep climbs, similar to the Amstel Gold race, shall be on tap for the riders this day. And Pogacar will be some 35 seconds up on Van Aert for the GC lead. Perhaps, this shall be the day the race is decided. Yes, this Cycling Odysseys critic says there is only one big day in the mountains, and then if it is still close the Time Trial at the end might matter to decide it. Let’s burn-up that script…or should we waterlog it into oblivion? Ha, ha! I am after all Neptune the Sea-god, let the clouds take in the Adriatic’s waters, and let them dose all the riders to the marrow of the bone. And if Aeolus lets his winds blow uncontrollably all day, we shall have the most Biblical Weather of the year thus far. Yes, the wind and rain shall tear up the peloton with still 80 km to go. Bernal and Van Der Poel, Pogacar and Van Aert shall all launch attacks to make race defining selections. Van Aert will have to watch Pogacar closely, and try to find some seconds to shrink his 35 second deficit on GC. Meanwhile, Pogacar shall have to keep an eye on Wout as well, for Pogacar shall know Wout Van Aert is one of the few finer Time Triallist than himself. Thus, when Van Der Poel attacks solo with some 50 km still to ride, Pogacar shall not mark him for Van Der Poel is 20 minutes down on GC. And thus archrival Wout Van Aert will not mark him either, because he will be trying to fry the bigger fish in Tadej Pogacar, his top rival for the Tirreno-Adriatico GC. But the other reason Van Aert shall not cover the Van Der Poel attack will be because he is too cold and uncomfortable: he shall need to measure his effort well to make sure he can get to the finish intact without losing time on GC and too much internal body heat. Mathieu Van Der Poel, that Madman who dazzles with such stunning long-range attacks, will of course ride with unruly strength but the exploit will look more the norm than novel compared to his other Mad achievements. He shall ride on in the cold and wind in just his skin-tight Dutch Champion’s Jersey while all the others put on warm jackets and vests. He shall show great strength, and yet he shall remind me of sad Icarus I once knew. Just when it shall seem his dominant victory is assured, it shall become clear he’s measured his effort wrong. He shall be stuffing his face with more bars of fuel, and he shall look cold on the bike. Behind, seeing Van Aert’s discomfort and exhaustion, Pogacar in the Blue Jersey of race leader shall go on the attack to build a more comfortable GC advantage. None shall keep pace with Pogacar, not Bernal, nor Quintana, the only GC contender who shall keep him within a shout shall be that mighty Wout Van Aert himself—despite his freezing exhaustion. In the last 25 km, Pogacar shall gobble up Van Der Poel’s lead as he works to distance Van Aert behind. But Wout Van Aert shall ride him close as best he can, Pogacar’s gap to Wout shall grow to a minute at one point, but Wout shall fight to the end to defend his GC chances. Meanwhile, as Pogacar is emotionally fueled to distance Wout Van Aert behind, in the process he shall find Mathieu Van Der Poel ahead in his crosshairs for stage honors. Yes, yes, it will be another complete tactical error on Van Der Poel’s part, and he will admit in the interview after what is sure to be an unforgettable line in his legend: that he only attacked with 50 km to go because he was cold…badass logic to be sure, but tactically completely undisciplined or inept. With 10 km to go, Van Der Poel shall still have around 90 seconds on Pogacar, with 5 km to go still a minute. But in that last 5k that will mostly climb steeply or unendingly drag up to the finish line, Tadej Pogacar shall come within 10 seconds of eating up all of Mathieu Van Der Poel’s lead. Yes, Van Der Poel shall take a second stage this race, but at what cost to the man? And behind? We shall have Wout Van Aert finish 40 seconds behind Pogacar: it shall end Van Aert’s GC-winning hopes—surely unexpected by the Cycling Odysseys critic before the start of this stage that seemed in Wout’s wheelhouse and favor—but Wout Van Aert shall still seem to have rode valiantly to keep the great Pogacar on any sort of leash.

“Yes, yes, it is all coming together. Though admittedly, even I, Neptune Lord of the Seven Seas and King of the Ocean, may have pushed the limits of these riders over five such stages—but it is all because this Cycling Odysseys Santino critic said my race’s stages are never uncontrollable or wild enough! But on this Stage 6, like the survivors of a hurricane and shipwreck, the peloton shall trudge on battered, bruised, and spent. The sprinters and their teams shall not chase down the break, the men still daring enough to go in the early break after such a hard week shall be rewarded by contesting the finish for the win amongst themselves. Who shall win? Who shall win? Perhaps Mads Wurtz Schmidt (Israel Start-Up Nation), for he will have rode so bravely in the breakaway and up the Prati Di Tivo climb on Stage 4. And then in the final San Benedetto Time Trial the next day, I shall throw this Cycling Odysseys critic one last surprise. Tadej Pogacar shall do a good ride and retain the Blue Jersey and receive my Trident as winner of the Tirreno-Adriatico. But it will not be the reigning Time Trial Champion of the World Filipo “Top” Ganna (Ineos Grenadiers) who shall take the final TT Stage victory, as all have predicted. He will not be able to best the time of Stefan Kung (Groupama-FDJ) set early on, and yet Stefan Kung’s time will be best at the end…by the man who shall finish second overall on GC: Wout Van Aert, to poetically book end this ultimate edition with a second stage win.

Thus Tirreno-Adriatico shall play out so. Thus, just like at Strade Bianche a week before, the race shall be dominated by Van Der Poel, Van Aert, Pogacar, Bernal, and Alaphilippe. When it is completed as I say, I shall expect an answer from this Cycling Odysseys doubter who gave such an unfavorable preview of my beloved race. Thus speak I, King Neptune, god of the Sea.”

And thus I, Patrick Santino, the creator and writer of all the Cycling Odysseys material, feel in my own much smaller way like Job at the end of his titled-book, for I have seen these events play out and I admit I have been properly trounced by King Neptune these past seven days. I have learned my lesson as I watched my favorite riders do unbridled battle for stage after exciting stage. Like Job, I too am speechless, never again will I underestimate or doubt Neptune’s Tirreno-Adriatico—the Race of the Two Seas.

2021 P-N: The Final Day of Paris-Nice Turns the Race on its Head (WRITTEN)

Well, it took until the final day, but finally Paris-Nice delivered the thrill we are accustomed to. It began near Versailles last weekend on a much too sunny Spring day in Northern France. The traditional opening bad weather did not materialize this year, and it severely affected the race. Sam Bennett (Deceuninck-Quickstep) won the first stage in a sprint, the sprint itself was an interesting affair, but there was not much to write home about from the day. The same is true for the second stage where we were teased with crosswinds all day but to no avail, it ended in another sprint this time won by Cees Bol (Team DSM). It was a good win for the young lad who had been knocking on the door of such a victory for over a year now. And on Stage 3 it was a good win for another young lad, Stefan Bissegger (EF Education-Nippo) who won the race’s only Time Trial wearing a gaudy bulky new aero helmet that resembled Sir Dark Helmet from the Spaceballs science fiction drama. But in that Time Trial, one of the men up there with the best times vying for the win was a certain Relentless rider, Primoz Roglic (Jumbo-Visma), the prerace favorite. His time was the benchmark for the rest of the General Classification (GC) riders, and the next day he showed them what was what on the steep undulating Chiroubles climb in the Northern Marches of the Alps. He dominated that finishing climb, riding away from all his rivals at the base and showed his Relentless piston-powering aesthetic all the way to the top. Sam Bennett and a four-man Quickstep leadout for the Final Kilometer was the story of Stage 5. And it was back to Roglic for Stages 6 and 7. On Stage 6, all the breakaway riders were swept up late, and no one could match Roglic on the last kilometer-long climb to the line. Meanwhile on the day after Roglic’s whole team worked to bring back the breakaway again, and even though Roglic had a comfortable margin on GC, he kept attacking his rivals and chasing the breakaway down again on the final long 16 km Colmaine climb. Roglic attacked three or four times in the last 3 km, only finding separation from his GC rivals in the last kilometer, and he only caught the last man from the breakaway in the final 20 meters of the race. But Roglic the Relentless proved Roglic the Ruthless that day as he took a 3rd Stage win of the race, snatching it away from the young up-and-coming Gino Mader (Bahrain Victorious). Yes, with all the headliners of any sort of climbing or Classics prowess away in the south at Italy’s Tirreno-Adriatico, Primoz Roglic seemed to be starting his season right cruising to a dominant Paris-Nice victory that resembled his Vuelta domination to end last season.

But then we came to the final Sunday’s Stage 8. O! It is quite remarkable how much I have grown to love the final stage of Paris-Nice over the past handful of years—I daresay it is one of my favorite days of Spring watching…as good as many of the Semi-Classics and a few of the Cobbled Classics themselves in my estimation. With Code Red Coronavirus spikes keeping Nice on extremely high alerts, the route had to be changed almost on a dime. And yet, the new parcours kept with Paris-Nice’s now new traditional finish of an intense short mountain stage. Correct me I am wrong, but I believe I heard the figure was some 1700 meters of climbing packed into only some 92 kilometers: that is a big day! Additionally, the roads they used were familiar to viewers of last year’s Tour de France that spent its opening weekend in Nice for two days. I said it at the Tour then, and I say it again: these Southern French Alps take the cake, in my opinion, for ultimate cycling scenery. The entirety of Italy is a close second, but these climbs are picturesque with their high pinnacles and chateaus, their valleys and gorges with that should be the subject of romance painters once again, the sun was shining, the Sea was not too far away…this place cannot be beat. And yet, I am torn by the details of the day. On the one hand, Paris-Nice delivered another thrilling final day that torn up the script and turned the race on its head. On the other hand, just as these roads were familiar from last year’s Tour, alas! so were the final scenes of the day.

25 km into the stage, Roglic the Relentless, the race leader, the man who had won three stages already and dominated so thoroughly proving he was two classes above the rest, crashed heavily. His shorts were torn up and a big bad red road rash could be seen on his left-side thigh and glute. The clothing tears were not R-rated or scandalous, but the bruise was so big and airing out, surely it must have been painful. And yet despite that, still Jumbo-Visma was in control of the peloton even on this mountainous course that went up and down all day. There were a number of riders attempting breakaways or bridging up to the ones already establishing themselves, but none had more than a 90-second lead on the peloton. With 50 km to go, it seemed Roglic and his team were on the verge of wrapping this day up, despite his injuries—he would recover well after today having won three stages and the overall. To be completely candid, Roglic had been so dominant all week, I still gave him a chance to win a reduced-bunch sprint despite the glaring sore injuries. And this sentiment continued for 20 more km or so.

But with only 25 km to go, the riders in three groups spanning 90 seconds all together came off a beautiful and twisting forested decent onto a long straight highway…and all of a sudden it was not three groups but four! At the front of the fourth group some dozen or so seconds behind what remained of the peloton comprising the third group was Roglic the Relentless pacing the group back to the peloton. What had happened? The cameras had not caught anything! Getting a better look at him, it seemed he was on a new bike, and it seems perhaps on his right side was a new fresh tear in his shorts—not nearly as bad as the left but surely painful. His elbows were both cut up as well. And a few kilometers later it was confirmed by the Jumbo-Visma team, Roglic had crashed for a second time today. And thus finally, the Paris-Nice came to life in its very finale. Tirreno had been the more exciting race this year until this point, but now the typical chaos of the final stage was coming to life once more just as it did in the Contador years as he rolled the dice with escape after escape trying to overhaul a Team Sky rider’s GC lead.

On a straight main road through the valley there was a bit of a crosswind and the 3rd group peloton was strung out in one long line, while Roglic had his 4th smaller group strung out in one line as well. The gap was only 30 meters between the two groups, but like a proper crosswind stage in the flat North it was an unbridgeable chasm. Roglic tried to rotate for rest with some of the Groupama riders with him but the gap only grew. But Jumbo teammate, George Bennett, the Champion of New Zealand, caught back to Roglic’s group ready to help his leader salvage the race. Two more Jumbo teammates, Sam Oomen and strong Steven Kruijswijk the Human Coat- Hanger, dropped back from the third group to shepherd their leader as well. And yet in that 3rd group, the peloton containing the second-tier prerace favorites who had been dominated by Roglic to this point, took advantage of the situation. All the news was coming in of Roglic’s struggles, thus Bora-Hansgrohe sent every one of their Band of Brothers still left to ride for second place on GC Max Schachmann, their team leader and defending race champion from last season. Eventually Astana contributed to the pace as well in the interests of their GC leader young Aleksandr Vlasov sitting third Overall. In the course of five minutes, Paris-Nice had come alive after a relatively sleepy week of racing…what a compelling drama it was. O! Roglic has been so dominant, surely he deserves this win. And even here, surely the strong Jumbo Wasps—the strongest team of 2020—could chase down or maintain this gap for the last 20 km. George Bennett in his Kiwi Champion’s Jersey buried himself on the front of the chase. Meanwhile the front breakaway groups’ leads were being eaten away by Bora and Astana leading the peloton trying to distance Roglic behind. George Bennett and Sam Oomen swung off job done with 19 km still to race, the Groupama riders pulled the plug with them, it was all too tough for them. Roglic still had about 100 meters to close and teammate Kruijswijk was on the front working for him. Only one of the Van Poppels (Intermarche) and sprinter Nacer Bouhanni (Arkea-Samsaic) could stay with them. Just as it looked like there was hope Roglic’s quartet could get into the slipstream of the red commissar’s car tailing the Bora and Astana led peloton, alas! Kruijswijk swung off tank empty half a kilometer later—utterly spent in the service of salvaging his team leader’s race here on the final day.

Roglic—battered and bruised—had no proper teammates left, to close down the gap that was being pried open ahead by Bora and Astana. And yet, truly, truly, there are always unseen allies looking out for us, and friends can be found in unexpected places. All watching were vocally yelling at their screens willing Roglic on, hoping he could turn the tide or at least keep staunching the bleeding. But it was Intermarche’s Van Poppel that gave Roglic the real unexpected help with the most massive turn he could muster. Surely it was not in Van Poppel’s interests, he had no hope of winning the race, it would not benefit him if Roglic or Schachmann or Vlasov won. And yet, he sorry to see this champion’s race slipping away—it was a mini-2020 Tour de France all over again. Yes, Van Poppel had heart, and he emptied himself for Roglic. Prepares he hopes it shall give him good karma and someday Jumbo will return him the favor, or perhaps he is a gentleman selflessly doing what he thinks is right. Van Poppel gave Roglic another few hundreds of meters turn. Only 18 km were left, but all knew it was now or never to catch the group: they had a 7 second gap to the cars and peloton to close, there was no hope to slowly close it in a measured way over the next 5 or 10 kilometers, this was it. Van Poppel swung off job done, then it was Roglic himself on the front again putting his powerful TT skills to the test. Frenchman Nacer Bouhanni was still on his wheel, but following Van Poppel’s example even the sprinter so rough-around-the-edges selflessly came to Roglic’s aid. In the past, Bouhanni has not won many fans with all sorts of aggressive antics, but here today all Roglic-hopefuls must take their hats off to him. Nacer Bouhanni, the sprinter usually everyone else works for, did a massive turn for hampered and bruised Primoz Roglic. And even after the turn he rotated back with Roglic to stay with him and try to give a second turn as well. Their backs were against the wall, but such an unlikely partnership warmed my heart. Bouhanni and Van Poppel gave the wounded Roglic everything they had, and there was no practical explanation for it. I admire the Intermarche all the more, I shall see Bouhanni in a substantially better light going forward from this day. The day they not only pitied the wounded warrior Roglic, but volunteered to throw himself into the heat of battle just because the dominant champion was suddenly a supreme underdog. Everyone watching simply wanted to push these men’s backsides with the biggest pushes and shoves they could possibly heave. But Roglic and Bouhanni continued to be distanced; up front Bora and Astana had six or seven strong men rotating turns like clockwork to continue stringing out the gap. With 15 km to go, that Bora and Astana peloton swept up all the breakaway riders at the front of the race. But still Bouhanni rode on and came back to the front for Roglic, doing all he could. Yes, today, Nacer Bouhanni proved his highest quality, but with 15 km still to go, his tank too was emptied and his lights went out.

Thus Roglic went at it alone, he got another small turn from Victor Campenaerts (Qhubeka Assos) who had already been shelled from the Bora and Astana peloton, but within minutes Roglic was solo once more. Surely, it never occurred to Roglic to give up, he never thought to throw in the towel, and yet just like at La Planche del Belles Filles this was not to be his day. He rode well, but there was nothing he could do about the numbers games Bora and Astana had up front. With still 12 km to go, Bora’s Max Schachmann had the virtual lead, and the rest of the stage would only be a funeral procession to Roglic’s Paris-Nice winning hopes. EF’s Magnus Cort Neilsen would win the sprint from the reduced bunch led all the way to the line by Astana and Bora. Astana’s Vlasov tried a late attack, but he could not find separation from Schachmann who crossed the line in the same group. Schachmann was 52 seconds behind Roglic to start the day, and riding the last 15 km solo with all his wounds, Roglic finished 3 minutes behind the winning group, and lost the Paris-Nice to Schachmann. On Stage 4 to the Chiroubles climb, Roglic was so dominant all figured there was no way he was losing this race, barring major disaster. And thus, on the last stage today, major disaster struck. It was a shame, for Roglic is part of that exclusive Club I often speak of so fondly. The Club of riders who Make-Our-Day every time they win: three days has Roglic already made this transpire in the last week. Surely all thought we would enjoy a fourth today when he won the GC, but alas! this was not the case. And yet Roglic fought bravely, his teammates and unexpected friends gave him everything, and Roglic himself of course gave it everything as usual. And it was a thrilling spectacle. This is what Paris-Nice is all about. I am sorry if it is too hard to dramatize it more than that, but we have seen this story of Yellow Jerseys slipping through Roglic’s fingers before on a bigger and more heartbreaking stage. But we have seen Roglic bounce back as well. If there was ever a rider that could just rub some dirt on his literal and psychological wounds and move on almost unphased the very next day: Primoz Roglic the Relentless has proven he is that man. He will not see this day as a blunder or heartbreaking loss, here was a race he proved he was pinging on great form as he took three stage wins and some unfortunate events dashed the finish. But for Roglic the Relentless, I believe this is of little matter. After his bruised elbows and thighs heel up, I am sure he will be contending for the win in his next race once again without seeming to have skipped any sort of beat. I have said it before, and it is why he is in the Club that Makes-Our-Day: he has a mind of titanium, a will of iron, and a heart of gold. Surely, he shall race with such fortitude for his whole career, but may it continue to bring him many victories for many years yet.