THE CARNAGE CAM AND A CHAOTIC FINALE ON THE PEYRESOURDE

TDF 2020, Stage 8 Cazeres-Sur-Garonne – Loudenvielle 141 km

Nan Peters wins from the break. GC battle on the Peyresourde sees Pogacar take back time while Pinot, Alaphilippe lose big.

DENVER, CO – A barn-burner first stage in the Pyrenees today, dear Readers. We were treated to two races for the price of one. Frenchman Nans Peters (AG2R) took a fine stage victory from a breakaway of 13 men that at one point had over 14 minutes on the peloton. Peters and Ilnur Zakarin (CCC) rode away from their companions over the top of the Port de Bales where Peters then broke away on the descent, held off the stronger climbing Zakarin all the way up the Peyresourde, and then lengthened his lead on the descent into the finish in Lourdenvielle. A good win for the Tour debutant, a day this Frenchman will remember for the rest of his life. Last year a Giro stage winner in his debut there, dear Readers, this 26 year-old Nans Peters is one to keep an eye on. But alas! I must shortchange him, because the second race behind was much more thrilling and had significant GC implications.

At the Tour, dear Readers, the camera men or women on the motorbikes are highly skilled and daring individuals. To do such a job, you are required for the majority of the race to stand up behind the motorcycle driver to get the shot of the riders. If the riders are behind, they must turn their body around to face the riders in order to capture the action. How they stand twisted around while motoring along even for short stretches I cannot comprehend, and how they stand in anyway on many sections of the descents makes my palms sweat. Now that I mention it, I would very much like to see a Behind the Scenes feature or hear an interview with one of these brave souls that work the cameras. Anyways, all of this is preamble to familiarize you, dear Readers, with the camera situation on the road. Because now I speak of what I find to be the most iconic camera view that finally comes out for the first time every year on the first high mountain stage: I call it the “Carnage Cam.”

Today the peloton had to ride three massive and famous mountain climbs: the Col de Mente (Category 1), the Port de Bales (Beyond Categorization), and the Col de Peyresourde (Category 1). To do three such climbs after seven days of hard racing is not easy. Throughout the stage, the peloton is worn down to a select group of favorites by the top of the third climb. First the wounded and sprinters will be dropped, then the heavy classics men, then tired domestiques, then the pretender contentders, and over top of the last climb will be an elite group of favorites who can legitimately hope to win the Tour de France. It is on these first big mountain stages that the “Carnage Cam” comes into its own. This is the camera bike that sits at the back of the peloton and captures every dropped rider. It shows their tired legs “pedaling squares,” their heaving bodies wrestling with their bikes, and their faces etched in pain or sedated with weariness. And as the action on front heats up deeper into the stage, it becomes tricky for the Carnage Cam to catch every rider going out the back, but it becomes thrilling and surprising to see a big name pop earlier than expected. Is this my favorite camera view, dear Readers? I do not think so, but for me it is inspiring to see the riders absolutely empty the tank for a team leader or give it their all in pursuit of their goal, and in my humble opinion the Carnage Cam is one of the top 3 most quintessential elements of a Tour mountain stage. So dear Readers, if you will allow, I would like to tell you about the early action of the stage from this classic perspective.

When the breakaway leaders were 40 km from the line, the peloton was a further 11 minutes behind them, probably 45-50 km from the finish themselves. By this point the Carnage Cam had already begun its day on the Col de Mente—famous for the already discussed Ocana crash in the 1971 Tour—capturing the wounded and the sprinters falling off the back and forming their grupettos. Those are relatively inconsequential and not too much fun, because most strategically “pack it in” before they have pushed their limits so that they can ride to the finish at a controlled pace where they know they can make the time cut. But at this point, about 45 km from the finish, in the middle of the Port de Bales—most famous for the Schleck-Contador Chaingate a decade ago—the Carnage Cam caught its first big fish.

Alas! It was Thibaut Pinot (Groupama-FDJ), can anyone say they are too surprised at this point? That is a rhetorical question, dear Readers, because no one can. Over the years with Thibaut Pinot we have all come to hope for the best, but are always prepared for the worst. Alas! It seems he simply cannot string together top form for a 21-day Grand Tour. He was surrounded by three or four teammates who attempted to pace him back up, but he just didn’t have the legs today. He would lose 7 minutes to the other favorites to the top of Port de Bales, and the Peyresourde would be far worse. What was wrong with him? In classic Pinot fashion, we have no idea, he said he felt good at the starting line. Well, when it was clear that he had raised the white flag, his teammates stayed with their leader and offered comforting words and pats on the back. They told him to chin up, hold his head high, probably already they were trying to get him to refocus his attention on stage hunting deeper into the race. O! Thibaut, when you dropped out of the Tour last year, it was possibly the most heartbreaking moment I’d ever seen in the sport. I wanted you to overcome such a moment this year, as did we all. But alas! longer we all shall have to wait. And the Tour goes on.

Jumbo-Visma when straight to the front to ratchet up the pace when they heard of the ailing Pinot, to finish off one who they thought would have been a formidable GC threat. One of the first casualties of their pace was Pavel Sivakov (Ineos Grenadiers) who had multiple crashes on Stage 1. Dear Readers, I have a theory that Ineos are strategically saving him. He needs the wounds to recover as best they can, and Ineos are hoping if he takes some “easy/off” days in the early mountain stages, he can come good for Egan Bernal (INEOS Grenadiers), their team leader, in the final week. The same goes for Jumbo-Visma’s Sepp Kuss who dropped at this point. Yes, dear Readers, I think this was far too early for Sepp to drop, but since Jumbo had so many weapons to assist Primoz Roglic (Jumbo-Visma), I think they were confident in allowing Sepp to purposely drop in order to keep him fresh for tomorrow or deeper into the race. Meanwhile Michal Kwaitkowski (INEOS Grenadiers) dropped: that one really was tank emptied. He had stayed with Bernal as long as he could, but under the relentless pace of Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) on the front, his job was done for the day. In the gray mists at the top of the Port de Bales, Wout surged towards the top of the climb just to sting the riders’ legs a little bit more. From the Carnage Cam, was Sergio Higuita (EF), in the Colombian champion’s jersey, going to crack? No, he had just enough energy to make it over the top with the peloton. He would have the descent to recover before the final climb of the day, the Col de Peyresourde.

The Col de Peyresourde, is another storied climb on the Tour. It could be talked about at length, but let us keep things simple and contemporary, dear Readers. The side the riders were climbing was the side Chris Froome (then Team Sky) solo descended down in 2016 to take the thrilling stage victory into Bagneres-de-Luchon; the day he pedaled while seated on the top tube and had “nuts of steel” according to some sources. The peloton, still led by Wout Van Aert, came to the bottom of the descent and began the climb up the Peyresourde. Right at the start, as could have been predicted at the summit of the Port de Bales, the lights went out for Wout Van Aert. Yes, dear Readers, these are the beautiful moments the Carnage Cam captures. Wout had given his team everything, he was almost at a standstill, almost balancing in a track-stand because he was too tired to go on. While he worked for Roglic up the last climb and down the descent, the thought of how tired he would be had not crossed his mind; he had focused only on the objectives of the team; no personal thoughts, even about how he’d possibly finish the stage ever crossed his mind. As he rode the remainder of the stage, it probably was not an easy ride, but perhaps it did feel like a walk in the park because he knew he had done his team duties so well. Yes, this is the beauty the Carnage Cam can show in the little instant it can spare before it swivels back to capture the action in the peloton.

And then the Carnage Cam went into overdrive, as it always does to kick off the finale. Jumbo-Visma on the front, with George Bennett and Tom Dumoulin, figured it was time to shed the pretenders. The first headline casualty: Dani Martinez (EF), the Colombian who had just won the Dauphine a few weeks before, I had thought he would hang on longer. Out the back went Jonathon Castroviejo (INEOS Grenadiers), he could stay with Bernal no longer, his job was done for the day. As if in a man-to-man match, Jumbo-Visma’s George Bennett peeled off the front as well, his tank empty, job done. What made him finally end his turn? Our Musketeer, Julian Alaphilippe (Deceuninck—Quickstep), had attacked off the front. Alaphilippe’s attack shelled out the Movistar veteran Alejandro Valverde, four decades old and he still can still mix it up with these young bucks. But then, dear Readers, the Carnage Cam captured a casualty I am O! so sad about. It seems he was acting on ancient and audacious advice: “When you are tired, attack! Because perhaps the others are as tired as you.”  Alas! The others were not as tired, they had quickly neutralized our Musketeer’s attack, and that was Alaphlippe’s last gamble. Dumoulin had caught him and raised the pace and Alaphilippe went out the back. Alaphilippe would finish 12 minutes behind these GC leaders, his bid for Yellow is now surely over. Of course, I have more thoughts about one of my—sorry, our—favorite riders, but I save them for another time because the action was by no means over.

The Carnage Cam had had its day, it had done its job. All the pretenders were now shelled out the back and it was time for the possible champions of this Tour to duel it out. Such battles in the mountains happen fast and the scenarios and groups on the road are constantly changing. One attacks, another drops. Two bridge across to a leader while a third one hangs on by a fingernail. Out of seemingly nowhere, someone rejoins the group, while the seemingly weakest puts in a strong attack. Let us experiment dear Readers, let me try to exemplify the chaos of the day. No fluffy language or superfluous sentences that make the word count soar, I shall try to be economical and give you my viewing experience. The following is based strictly off my notes I frantically typed to the live broadcast while the iPhone brutally autocorrected everything, not just the many foreign names.  

“Dumoulin on the front. Leading the group, Dumoulin, Pogacar, G[uillaume] Martin [of Cofidis]. [Adam] Yates [of Mitchelton-Scott, wearing the maillot jaune] losing the wheel. [Tadej] Pogacar [of UAE] attacks, big attack…I was right to be excited when he lost time yesterday, I hoped he would make it up immediately!! Roglic bridges. Nairo [Quintana of Arkea-Samsaic] almost there. Buchanan cracks [àEmmanuel Buchmann of Bora-Hansgrohe, 4th at the Tour last year, cracks]. Pogacar, Roglic, and Nairo in a good group. Bernal chasing. Yates back with Bernal group. Egan rowing [ à dragging] everyone back. Pogacar attacks again. Egan with Superman [Lopez of Astana], [Rigoberto] Uran [of EF], [Mikel] Landa [of Bahrain-McLaren], [and] G Martin. [Romain] Bardet [of AG2R] in trouble. Yates and Dumoulin dome [àdone]. Uran trying to bridge to Pog[acar], Rog[lic] group, he made it; Landa following, then Superman, Egan, and Martin. The favorites slow and stare each other down. Yates trying to limit losses riding at his tempo. Yates coming back to group, [Richard] Carapaz [of Ineos] coming back with a group with [Richie] Porte [Trek-Segafredo]? Pogacar attacks again, looks the strongest. Carapaz tried to bridge. Carapaz on the front of other favs group. Dumoulin riding his own pace behind the group. Carnage cam on Dumoulin, 20-30 [seconds] behind favs? Porte and Landa try to bridge to Pog, Carapaz still paces group of favs behind. Pog still alone. Car[apaz] still on front group. Who’s the Movistar guy, Soler or Mas? Pog, Landa, and Porte up the road, the ones that lost time in Xwinds [crosswinds]. G Martin attacks, no one responds! Pog 1k to the top! Crowds wild. With masks. Can’t stay away in the Pyrenees. ~40 seconds ahead of Yates group? Behind, Yates in trouble with #94 on Movistar. Martin ahead with Nairo, Roglic, Superman, Uran…Bernal and Bardet closing, Yates behind and distanced. No, Yates catching back on. 94 is [Enric] Mas. Pog over the top. Nairo attacks, Rog on him. But distancing others. They go over the top, Rog leads into descent. Quintana, Rog, Porte, Landa [together]. Rog and Quintana distancing Landa and Porte….[notes on Peters’ win happening at the same time]…Yates recovered. Rog and Nairo caught on descent by other fav[orite]s Egan and Superman and Landa and Martin. Pog off descent still solo, powering away. What a rider…Bardet attacks and Yates trying to bridge from the favorites. Bardet looking for time. Yates chasing Landa and Superman on him. Pog 1k to go. Yates chasing Bardet, leading all the favs. Pog cross[es] the line 6:00 behind Peters. Bardet alone. Martin and Yates leading group of favs behind. Bardet 6:38. Others [Lopez, Yates, Bernal, Landa, Martin, Roglic, Quintana, Uran, Porte] 6:40. Other group Mas, Carapaz, Mollema, Rolland, and Bahrain [Damiano Caruso] 40 seconds behind Yellow. Buchmann and [Estaban] Chaves [of Mitchelton-Scott] 1:00 down on Yellow. Dumoulin 2:07 down on Yellow. Pog set a record [time] up the Peyresourde.”

And though it might not have been prettiest prose, that, dear Readers, is a proper mountain stage finale. Chaotic, no? Could you keep up with all of it? I do not think I could, names started popping up of people I thought dropped. Where did Porte come from, and then he attacked? How many times did Yates yo-yo off the back? How’d Bardet get to the front at the bottom of the descent? And I was pleased I managed to figure out #94 was Enric Mas.

Some quick takeaways to sum up that “alphabet soup” of names listed in the finale. Pogacar was clearly the man of the match; he retook 40 seconds on his main rivals, half of what he lost yesterday in the crosswinds. He is on fine form; he is a contender for Yellow. Do not doubt this debutant. After him, you would have to say Primoz Roglic, Nairo Quintana, and Guillaume Martin looked the strongest. Notably, Egan Bernal, the defending champion, did not look on par with them, but he slyly managed to save his race and finish with the favorites. It is a sign of mature racer when their head can substitute in for their legs, bravo to this 23 year-old. Bardet must have caught the main group of favorites on the descent—he is known to be a dare-devil descender—and then attacked across the rolling last 2 km to pip a few more seconds. Yates, in Yellow, had the duty to chase him down, because Bardet was only 13 seconds behind at the start of the day; everyone else in the group hitched a ride. Finally, Tom Dumoulin was clearly working for Roglic today and finished over two minutes behind Yates’ Yellow Jersey group. This would seem to mean Roglic is the undisputed leader. Dumoulin’s only chance to win now is if he launches a long-range attack and the better placed riders stare each other down and do not respond; this is how Carapaz won the Giro last year for Movistar while his team leader, Landa, had been better placed on GC. This is an unlikely scenario, but I openly tell you, dear Readers, because someday I want to see Tom Dumoulin’s name on the long list of Tour de France champions.

Well, dear Readers, another eventful day in the Tour de France. I am almost out of energy, I can only manage a few sentences more. How many of the riders, after 8 days, are already on their hands and knees? I know I am, trying to watch and cover this race. Monday’s rest day will be most welcomed, but we have one more day of this tomorrow. It is our second day in the Pyrenees with a similar mountain stage, but with more numerous and shorter climbs. Perhaps it will be even harder to maintain control. Will Pogacar attack again or will a new hero detonate the race?  

MONSIEUR GREEN JERSEY

TDF 2020, Stage 7 Millau – Lavaur 168 km

Crosswinds ravage sprint field as Van Aert wins reduced bunch sprint. Pogacar, Landa, other minor GC hopefuls lose 1:20.

DENVER, CO – He woke up this morning as fresh as possible after six days of racing on the Tour de France. Perhaps he did some stretching, had breakfast, and looked at the Roadbook. He probably discussed with his sports directors. Perhaps they had the team meeting before they left the hotel. Or perhaps it was on the bus ride over to the stage start, or upon arrival at the start village. Anyways, surely the plan was formed and it was time to prepare. A proper warm up would be needed today. Luckily, he was mentally sharp and confident. Dear Readers, I do not yet know what he said or thought this day, but allow me to take some liberties in this piece. Most likely I will not be as eloquently spoken as him, but allow me to try my best to replay his possible thoughts and sayings from this day.

Surely as he put on his drab standard team-issued uniform, such things as these must have been running through his mind. “It is Stage 7 of the Tour de France and I am not yet in MY proper jersey. I get paid too many Euros to not win this competition. Now they are saying I am off my best. I am getting older. Some even call me tubby. They say I look like a shadow of my former self. And sure, perhaps my lockdown did not go particularly well. As I famously announced, I am not a virtual cyclist. Turbo training is not my strong suit. I am a real cyclist. I need the wind in my ears. I need to corner the bike at exhilarating speeds. I need the flowing descents and to see the kilometers pass beneath my wheels. I need to have the bike rock back and forth as I sprint out of the saddle. I have not raced enough and even in this shortened season I have more objectives. My top form will come. Even Paris is still far away. But today…..O! I will not let this day pass without taking my shot. Without playing my hand. Yes, yes, today we will try something. I shall remind them all that I am still Peter Sagan [of Bora-Hansgrohe], I am Monsieur Green Jersey, and today I shall take back what is mine.”

The flag dropped. The stage was begun heading straight into the Category 3 climb of the Cote de Luzencon. Benoit Cosnefroy (AG2R) wearing the Polka-dot Jersey of the King of the Mountains attacked immediately to nab the first points available for the day. The land was exposed, it was harsh terrain for beautiful France. There was wind. In such conditions cyclists are instinctively on their toes, on edge. Why, the climbers all look like animals of prey who knows the predator lurks. Meanwhile other riders, particularly the battle-hardened veterans of the Northern Classics lick their lips. The wind was swirling, the direction seemed right. Peter Sagan, now a veteran of the peloton and a leader of men, studied the winds like a legendary mariner or a decorated admiral out at sea. “Gentlemen,” Sagan may have said to his Bora teammates, “now is the time. Let us begin the endeavor. Forward! To the front of peloton.” The entire Bora team massed to the front of the peloton as the climb was beginning. They set a ferocious pace. The peloton was completely strung out, the wounded and the weaker climbers at the very back. The Bora team drilled it so hard, why, they caught Cosnefroy at the top of the climb forcing the Polka Dots to sprint for his King of the Mountain Points.

There were many wounded already, mostly still from Thor’s devastation on Stage 1. But who are the weaker climbers? Yes, dear Readers you know: the sprinters. One by one they dropped out the back of the peloton. Nizzolo (NTT) in his European Champion’s jersey was gone. Pederson (Trek-Segafredo) in the Rainbows, champion of the World, was out the back. Spritely Caleb Ewan (Lotto Soudal), the Pocket-Rocket of Stage 3 fame, could not handle the pace. Other big framed classics riders were with them. Then went Cees Bol (Sunweb) who was second only to Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) on Stage 5. Down went Alexander Kristoff (UAE), Thor’s favorite son. And the veteran Andre Griepel (Israel Start-up Nation) was out the back too. “Keep going lads!” Sagan possibly said to his Bora infantrymen on the front. “We have them on the ropes. To the sword! Put them all to the sword! Why, these organizers and these sprinters: they think pure speed should be able to win them the Points Competition. No! To win Green you must be a complete rider, you must be able to climb and descent as well as sprint. Take it from me, I am Monsieur Green Jersey: seven times the winner of the Points competition, seven times I have worn Green on the Champs-Elysees!”

To hear the names of such fast men out the back was good news to the Bora team, but where was the certain quick man who they were most concerned about? Sam Bennett (Deceuninck – Quickstep), the champion of Ireland, wore not the Irish Jersey today because he was the man leading the Points competition, he was the man wearing the Green Jersey! Surely, the man most in Sagan’s crosshairs today. Thus the Bora troops were still on the front charging down the road like a cavalry, for them the battle was just beginning. Groups off the back were forming, and look at that, they rode in echelons! Surely the wind was blowing across from the left. To the right-hand side of someone was where the protection from the wind was now; riding directly behind someone would not provide the usual draft, it would only allow the crosswind to flow between their wheels and rip open a gap between them. Already strung out and gassed on the climb, many of the sprinters and weak climbers were now in double trouble as they clamored to make new friends who were willing to work together. From the helicopter the groups behind rode across the road with large gaps in between: on the straight vertical road, the groups looked like almost horizontal rungs on a ladder riding in parallel formation, an echelon the French would say. Still the GC men and their top lieutenants massed in a large front group behind Bora, but Sam Bennett was not there any longer. He was one group behind, closing back in to rejoin the Bora led peloton. Only 50 more meters to close now, Bennett had avoided the danger, we looked at him, as he gave a thumbs up to the camera. Only 10 meters now and Bennett’s group would have safely returned.

But wait, wait! They rode into exposed lands again. And the crosswinds returned! No! A gap formed again! In an instant, it was 50 meters, a whole 100 meters again. My, O! My, Sam Bennett, Oliver Naesan (AG2R), Luke Rowe (Ineos Grenadiers), Daryl Impey (Michelton-Scott), and you others caught out: you should have known better to make sure the job was finished off properly before easing up. Back into echelon formation they all went, the chase was restarted. But of course, Bora continued to pile on the pressure, while Bennett’s Quickstep teammates near him scrambled to the front of the group and tried to claw back the gap. But to no avail, the gap began to balloon out. For Bennett and his men this would be a tough day, for the rest of the sprinters behind even tougher. O! Sam, you gave the thumbs-up too early! And Sagan was loving the moment. “Come on lads, now we’ve got him. Continue, this is great work. Forward! Let us now finish him. To the sword!” Perhaps he looked back, or gave a thought to Bennet behind, “It is nothing personal, Mr. Bennett, but you are in MY jersey and I would very much like it back. Goodbye now.” And with that, like a competent and accomplished Bond Villain Sagan and his Bora team literally left Bennett’s group in the dust; yes dear Readers, at one point the combination of wind and the helicopter started a dust bowl behind the lead-group that Bennett’s group had to ride through.

The gaps grew exponentially. With 128 km to go, Sagan’s peloton 100 men strong with Bora doing 100% of the work led Bennett’s chasing group of 30 riders by 1:05, a third group of the remaining 40 men in the race containing all the wounded and other big sprinters were already 2:37 back. This, dear Readers, is a crosswinds stage; who thought such devastation could be wreaked on the flat? At 120 km to go, Bennett’s group was now 1:44 down, the last group 3:26 behind. To think how it must feel to be in that third group, tired or wounded, perhaps now fighting to make the time cut with three quarters of the stage still to ride. It must be demoralizing; how could one motivate one’s self to fight on? All the strongest men of the day were further up front extending their lead. One group ahead, Sam Bennett must have been kicking himself, and his teammates Casper Asgreen and Bob Jungels (both Deceuninck-Quickstep) were turning themselves inside out on the front with little hope of catching the Bora-led peloton up ahead, and they had little assistance. In a group of 30, these two did the lion’s share of the work. While up front the Bora gents swapped turns on the front with five or six strong men. Every second they gained fueled them more to press on even harder. Perhaps Sagan thought to himself, “Ah! Now this is bike racing. This is where I belong. Say not the word Zwift in my presence. The lockdown was long and boring, it did not suit me well. Here, here is where I feel most alive. And now my top rivals are distanced, leaving me two opportunities to score ample points to take a commanding lead in Green.”

At that point the peloton began to approach the Intermediate Sprint, 20 points in the Green Jersey Points competition would be available for the man who crossed the line 1st; 17 points for  2nd; 15 points for 3rd; and so on, down to 1 point for 15th. This is why Bora had sprung the attack so early in the stage, to allow Sagan the opportunity to take maximum points while the other sprinters, especially Bennett, would take none. Though Bora had done well in losing all of the biggest sprinters, there was still competition here for Sagan. Wout Van Aert, already a sprint stage winner, was still in the group. Matteo Trentin (CCC), a notable fast man in a similar mold to Sagan, was still here. Little Bryan Coquard (B&B Hotels Vital Concept) was surely one to watch, as well as Jasper Stuyven of Trek-Segafredo. Van Aert, with such loyal team duties to his GC leaders, had no interest in the Intermediate Sprint; but the others would not let Sagan walk to victory. They all formed up with whatever lead-out men they had for the sprint. The pace quickened, Trentin was interested in this, so was Coquard. Trentin and Sagan came out of the saddle, neck and neck, they sprinted for the line. It was close, almost a photo, but Trentin had it though his “straight line” may have been a little questionable, Sagan 2nd, Coquard behind in 3rd. We could see Sagan speak with Trentin after they crossed the line, what did he say? Perhaps he said, “Alright, Mr. Trentin, I don’t know about your line on that sprint, but let us now talk business. My lads have been working on the front like the huskies of Alaska dragging a large sled of supplies. You have men in these ranks as well. Send them to the front to assist us so that we might ensure our escape and stay away to the line. Then it will be down to you and I, Coquard behind, and perhaps the talented Van Aert to sprint for stage honors. Let us all contribute to the effort.”

Team CCC did not take the deal, so Bora continued to press on alone onto a long but shallow climb. At 108 km to go, Bennett’s group was 2:10 back, the third group 4:49 back. And the gap continued to grow. With 96 km to go, Bennett’s group was down 3:37, and the third group was even worse at 6:26 back. The cameras showed Bennett, he looked like death, he still rode on, but the fire was gone from him and his teammates and the whole rest of the group; the only thing left to do was suffer for another hundred kilometers. What a punishment for these men behind, all this Bora destruction caused because someone dared to challenge Sagan for Green, but that is cycling. Bennett’s group and the sprinters behind would not see the leaders again today and no points would be available to Bennett to defend his lead. Already after the Intermediate Sprint, Sagan was provisionally back in Green: Sagan 134 Points overall for the Tour, Bennett only 129.

With Caleb Ewan long gone and not to return, his teammate Thomas De Gendt (Lotto Soudal) attempted a solo attack over the top of the long climb. Thomas De Gendt, the finest breakaway specialist in the peloton, is always one to watch; surely everyone remembers his electrifying win into St. Etienne last year! Coquard’s B&B Hotels team then committed two riders to help the Bora men on the front; together the teams kept De Gendt on a short leash, his lead was never more than a minute. With 50 points available at the finish to the stage winner, this would be a golden opportunity for Sagan to consolidate his lead over all the sprinters that would not catch their group. No breakaway artists would get away today, Sagan wanted the full 50 Points, and if he could not win, he wanted to be as close as possible: 30, even 25 points would still give him a commanding lead. Perhaps here Sagan thought to himself, “What do you say now, journalists and experts? Here I am, Peter Sagan; I have struck back. Already I will be in Green at the end of the day, and here at the finish I will lengthen such a lead even more. For I am Monsieur Green Jersey!”

And so the conditions looked set for the final run into the finish, so long as De Gendt was kept in check. But with 40 km to go, the peloton was stirring. Suddenly the Ineos Grenadiers took command on the front; Dylan Van Baarle, Michal Kwaitkowski, Richard Carapaz, and Egan Bernal could have been confused with a squadron of jet fighters as they hawked down the road at the speed of sound. The astute Julian Alaphilippe (Deceuninck – Quickstep) trailed right behind them. Yes, Ineos with their data and their most detailed preparation knew the time was right. In an instant De Gendt was caught, the peloton was strung far out single file…and bingo! The elastic snapped, the crosswinds ripped the peloton apart. Echelons re-formed. Van Baarle, the rider that strung out the field and ripped it apart, pulled off the front: tank empty, job done. Kwaito took his place on the front. What did Bora and Sagan think of this? Perhaps Sagan thought to himself, “Ah, yes, Ineos, I approve. Drive on. Long have I raced you all, in fact with all the many jersey podiums over the years I know some of your guys quite well: Froomey, G, young Egan. Really it is not my concern, but perhaps you all are under the same microscope as I am: they say you are off your game and out of sorts, your dominance is being questioned. Let us answer the critics together. Continue. Shell out your GC rivals, and drop also my other sprinting threats.”

Richie Porte (Trek-Segafredo) missed the split. Dan Martin (Isreal Start-up Nation) was caught out as well. And then, finally, inevitably two of the big-fish GC riders were caught out too. Tadej Pogacar (UAE), laying third overall and wearing the White Jersey of Best Young Rider, with Mikel Landa (Bahrain-McLaren) were split from the main GC favorites. Greg Van Avermaet (CCC), Estaban Chaves (Mitchelton-Scott), and some Movistar riders were caught back with them. The other GC teams pounced to take full advantage: surely they must twist the knife on Pogacar and Landa when they can, for both climb like angels in the mountains! In the front group, Adam Yates (Mitchelton-Scott) looked composed in Yellow. Alaphilippe was in his element. Bernal looked good. Already this front leading group had 23 seconds on Pogacar’s group behind. For Sagan, Trentin was eliminated, he had missed the split; but Van Aert and Coquard and Stuyven were still in there. Then Carapaz had a puncture, unfortunate for Ineos, he was their second man to Bernal. But with 16 km to go, Pogacar and Landa’s group was now down 55 seconds; and other teams piled on to grow this gap: to the front came Jumbo-Visma, Astana, and Groupama-FDJ, all at full strength. An Ineos teammate dropped back to assist Carapaz, but to no avail, they fell back into the Pogacar group now 1:20 down with only 10 km remaining on the day. Stefan Kung drove the pace on the front for Groupama-FDJ, making sure to set a pace that no one could launch an attack from. Thus, this remaining group came into the final straightaway together for the sprint.

“Alright, Peter,” perhaps he thought to himself as they came into the final kilometer. “Here we go for another sprint. The pace is high, but most of the lead-out men are gone. There, there, yes, stay on Van Aert’s wheel, surely he is the man on top form, the one I must follow and come around for victory.” Yes, Sagan was in great position. But as Michael Gogl (NTT) swung off left for his sprinter Edvald Boasson Hagen (NTT) to launch his final sprint, Van Aert accelerated from the right, while Sagan peeled left and was slowed by Gogl sinking through the ranks. Sagan swung far left, perhaps nudging Hofstetter (Israel Start-up Nation), and instead of launching his final sprint, he looked down and spun out, his chain had dropped. Alas! Sagan would not finish off the day for his Bora teammates. Van Aert from the far right powered to the stage win over Boasson Hagen and Coquard. Sagan, with the mechanical problems, managed only 13th. So much for consolidating the Points lead, 13th only earned him 4 Points. Behind, the Pogacar group finished 1:20 down, and many minutes later Bennett’s group eventually crossed the line, but that all mattered little to Sagan.

Dear Readers, I will here stop musing on what Sagan’s thoughts might have been, for surely he was upset and surely the language would here become PG-13 or worse (Yes, this was confirmed by his international TV interview where he summed up the day in two words: “F***** cycling”). After all the work Bora did for him today, yes, he is now back in Green, but his advantage is only 9 Points over the formidable Sam Bennett. Not much of a lead over such a strong challenger, and perhaps another skirmish will commence as soon as tomorrow on the early Intermediate Sprint before the peloton enters the high Pyrenean passes. This was a legendary stage, but how much more legendary could it have been if Sagan had won? For it is a well-known fact that Peter Sagan is the President of that most elite Club I have so respectfully referenced on two previous occasions this race. Every Peter Sagan win brightens our days by a factor of at least 20%, often more. Since his first World Championship win in Richmond in 2015, 100% of cycling fans have been Peter Sagan fans; most were fans of his before that race, all were fans after. And if he had won today, why it would have been as beloved as one of those three World Championship victories. But at least another member of the “Makes-Our-Day” Club finished the job today. Wout Van Aert took his second stage of the race, what a Tour he is having! And Peter, though you didn’t achieve victory today and the competition for Points shall continue to rage on longer than expected this year, for over the 120th time, tomorrow you shall be back in YOUR Green Jersey. And for that we salute you, Monsieur Green Jersey.

THE RIDER ON MONT AIGOUAL

TDF 2020, Stage 6 Le Teil – Mont Aigoual 191 km

Lutsenko solos to stage victory from strong break. GC favorites call a truce.

DENVER, CO – Alas! The stage today was not nearly as exciting as Tim Krabbe’s novel The Rider which must be referenced today as the Tour went up the most legendary climb in the book, Mont Aigoual. A strong breakaway was up the road with over a 6-minute lead at one point. It contained: Greg Van Avermaet (CCC), the Olympic Champion; Alexey Lutsenko (Astana), champion of Kazakhstan; Jesus Herrada (Cofidis), former Spanish champion; Nicholas Roche (Sunweb), former Irish champion and son of the 1987 Tour winner Stephen Roche; Edvald Boasson Hagen (NTT), former Norwegian champion; Neilson Powless (EF), young American and birthday boy; Daniel Oss (Bora-Hansgrohe), Peter Sagan’s (Bora-Hansgrohe) loyal gregario; and Remi Cavagna (Deceuninck – Quick Step), the last-minute replacement for Zdenek Stybar (Deceuninck – Quick Step). A fine tally, an experienced and threatening bunch.

At the bottom of the finale as the riders faced the final three climbs—the Col des Mourezes, the Col de la Lusette, and the Mont Aigoual itself—that appeared like steps of a staircase with only miniscule descents in between, the breakaway had only a 3:40 gap ahead of the peloton. Ineos drilled away on the front with the help of Mitchelton-Scott, for their man Adam Yates (Michelton-Scott) was now in the maillot jaune. But it seemed as if our experienced breakaway had been saving something for this finale. The dead weight was shed: the big men were first to walk the plank, Oss and Eddy Boss (Boasson Hagen). But the effort of all was admirable, the gap was not yet tumbling down in the peloton’s favor. At one point it was down to 2:50 from break to peloton, until Neilson Powless, the American, attacked. Lutsenko and Van Avermaet covered well, but Herrada and Cavagna struggled, and Roche cracked completely. But quickly came a powerful attack from Lutsenko, Powless held his wheel for a little while, but then fell off the pace and cracked as well. Only Jesus Herrada behind had some sort of second wind to grind past all the other cracked riders. But Alexey Lutsenko looked strong as granite; surely, the bobbing and agonizing Herrada would not come back to him. And he did not. And neither did the peloton, Lutsenko maintained a 3:20 gap over them all.

In the peloton behind, Mikel Nieve (Mitchelton-Scott) came to help Ineos with the pace-making duties. And I, dear Readers, wonder if they were setting the pace so that Jumbo-Visma would not set something relentless in their stead? With the last few kilometers to go, four riders were still up the road, perhaps Nieve and Michelton-Scott did not want to bring any of them back so that they would eat up the time bonuses for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd places on the stage, allowing Adam an easier shot to stay in the jersey if he just finished with the leaders. And it became clear, no real or significant action would be coming from this peloton, full of every single GC favorite, besides maybe a sprint for minor time gaps in the last kilometer. Jumbo-Visma were not even assembled, just each rider chilling mixed in the peloton, remember they were coming off back to back stage wins. Alaphilippe, our Musketeer, had a little bit of a dig in the last kilometer to get one second of separation from the bunch which may prove important later, but it came off as only formality to the viewers. It was a shame to waste such a legendary climb that is so dear to so many cyclists’ hearts. Not only was the racing not exciting, I did not see anyone do an honorary placing of the bidon in their back pocket “in order to make the bike as light as possible.” And surely no one’s “22 was clean as a whistle” for nowadays the riders’ lightest gear can be as big as a 28, 30, even 32. Again, I say, alas! such an anti-climatic day that did not pay proper tribute to such a revered book.

At least there was a rider today though, let us call him The Rider today for the sake of legacy. The Rider of Mont Aigoual today was Alexey Lutsenko, the champion of Kazakhstan, newest stage winner of the Tour de France. His legs were pistons, his torso a chiseled piece of marble—rock solid. He is no skinny climber, though obviously today he once again proved he can climb. A handy skill for a classics man to have…which classic is he most suited for? I do not rightly know, honestly. He has had good showings across the board. Perhaps you dear Readers missed this race, but I remember on the first stage of the 2016 Three Days of De Panne he was involved in probably the funniest moment I have ever seen in cycling. When he escaped on the cobbles, probably over the Muur Van Geraardsbergegn itself, with teammate Lieuwe Westra (then of Astana) and the formidable Alexander Kristoff (then on Katusha). Westra was in prime position to take a great lead for the GC if the three worked together to maintain or extend their gap over the peloton, and Kristoff, the rival in the group with by far the best sprint, was actually willing to work with them so that he would have an easy sprint for the stage. But it was Lutsenko who caused the dysfunction refusing to do any real turns. Everyone including the commentators wondered what he was doing, but finally a commentator realized: “I think Lutsenko thinks he can take Kristoff in the sprint here, if he saves his energy and doesn’t work.” Kristoff was not on his best form at the time—if memory serves, he even had a fever—but this was still a fairly ridiculous proposition. It got to the point where Westra, Lutsenko’s own teammate, was vocally and animatedly—for all the viewers to see—shouting at Lutsenko to get on the front and do a turn to make the three stay away and finish with a large gap. But Lutsenko continued to sit in and it came down to the sprint Lutsenko wanted…and Kristoff firmly and easily dusted him. In no way, shape, or form was it even close; Kristoff just absolutely wiped the floor with him, and Astana looked to have quite an egg in their face for screwing that one up so bad, because Westra could have had a bigger lead. But I also remember the courage and audacity and heroics of Lutsenko on a wild Tirreno-Adriatic stage last year. Much like today, Lutsenko had gone solo from a strong break on a hilly stage with a final descent and flat finish into Fossombrone. He proceeded to crash twice on a descent close towards the finish. His breakaway lead evaporated just a handful of kilometers from the finish: after the second crash he was caught by Primoz Roglic (Jumbo-Visma), Adam Yates, and Jakob Fulgsang (Astana). Still, he hung in with the group and despite the fatigue of the break, the nerves and injuries from the crashes, he produced a fine sprint to take stage honors. And now look at him today, the finest win of his career, a stage of the Tour de France. Perhaps for us viewers it was not the most glamourous or exciting, but it was hard fought and well deserved nonetheless. Congratulations to you, Alexey, today you are the champion, today you have made Astana and your country proud. Crossing that line, legs fatigued, sweat glistening in the evening sun, it is a memory you will never forget. Alexey Lutsenko, today you were The Rider on the Tour de France.

THE SWISS ARMY KNIFE

TDF 2020, Stage 5 Gap – Privas 183 km

Wout Van Aert wins Stage 5 ahead of Sunweb’s Cees Bol. Alaphilippe docked 20 seconds for illegal feed, Adam Yates moves into Yellow.

DENVER, CO – Well, dear Readers, this piece will write itself without much effort on my behalf, any and all of the Muses are surely looking out for all those covering this beautiful race in France. I could attempt to vividly describe to you a tricky, hazardous, and technical sprint finish of the Tour de France. But that is not our focus today. I could describe to you how in such a sprint finish Team Sunweb had such a magnificent sprint train for their fast man, Cees Bol, in an age when the coroner will supposedly soon arrive to declare the lead-out train dead. And, yes, dear Readers, Sunweb looked so magnificent with still four men left in the final K, they did everything right. But that is not our focus today. I could talk about my thoughts about how our beloved Musketeer, Julian Alaphilippe (Deceuninck – Quick Step), has been penalized 20 seconds for the pettiest of “crimes,” an inconsequential illegal feed within the last 20 km, thus forcing him out of the maillot jaune that he looks so good in. To see such a thing would normally make us all, for all of us are dear fans of the Musketeer, absolutely sick to our stomachs. But that is not our focus today…besides that I will say, what is our focus today allows us to swallow this Alaphilippe news better. So let us begin.

Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) has won a full bunch sprint stage of the Tour de France. Yes, the same rider who put so many quality riders to the sword yesterday on the stage’s final climb. I said yesterday and it is even more so true today: Wout Van Aert is the best Swiss Army Knife in the peloton. Alas! if anyone were to officially claim such a nickname as their own, they would be required to be Swiss and fit the definition. So let us use it—The Swiss Army Knife—as a prize earned and passed around to the best man, like a boxer’s belt though to earn it you don’t have to vanquish your predecessor, the title is only passed on and bestowed upon the new greatest Swiss Army Knife when it is obvious for all to see. Since we are on the subject, who was previously The Swiss Army Knife of the peloton? I would probably say Peter Sagan (Bora-Hansgrohe) was at one point, and at some point Michal Kwaitkowski (Ineos Grenadiers) also could claim the title. But it does not matter which had it before Wout, because now it is obvious to all that the title firmly belongs to Van Aert and it is questionable if even his oldest rival, Mathieu Van der Poel (Alpecin-Fenix), will ever be able to challenge him for it. Yes, Wout Van Aert is the most versatile rider in the peloton. We saw him win hard-men races like Strade Bianche, we saw him win a great classic like Milan-Sanremo in a two-up sprint with the peloton of favorites closing in after their Poggio escape. We saw him protecting team leaders and even grabbing bottles in recent previous stages. And yesterday we saw him shredding the peloton on the slopes of proper mountains. And dear Readers, these examples do not even mention his great skills on the cobbles or in the crosswinds, nor do they remind us of his prolific origins from the mud-pits of Belgium.

I remember, dear Readers, watching cyclocross for the first time in the Fall of 2015. Not too long ago, but long enough ago that to watch a non-World Cup cyclocross race in America you had to find the pirated or bootlegged feed with strictly Belgian commentary—“Aye, yai, yai,” as they would say—and you had to watch it live, accounting for time-zones and daylight savings, with no hope of finding a replay in a timely fashion (SIDENOTE: it is funny to think those days are basically gone now, and it is weird and comical that this is a “Back in my day” situation for me). At this point, it was Sven Nys’ last season, but his farewell was being upstaged by and/or caused by two young riders freshly out of their teens at the time: Wout Van Aert and Mathieu Van der Poel. Both had been well on the scene for a year already when both finished on the Cyclocross World Championship podium. So I had already been seeing both the names in headlines on cycling websites for a variation of cycling for which I did not under the reason of its existence. Why don’t these people just mountain bike, what’s the difference? But I checked it out and it was one of the dumbest ideas for a sport I ever saw, and I was totally hooked. The grass, THE MUD, the hills, the stairs, the sand, the technical skills, the horrible weather, the rowdy boozing fans, the mechanics spraying the bikes, and the exhausted and dirty human beings that crossed the finish lines completely spent all went straight to my heart. What badasses. Sorry, dear Readers, I should be focusing on Wout. Well anyways, yes, as I began watching I had to choose: will I root for Wout or for Van der Poel? Reaching to the fringes of my memory where I can be wrong, I think Van der Poel started the season late, and then since Van der Poel was in the World Champion’s jersey, but this Wout guy was just as good I started to root for Wout since he was a slight underdog.

The Wout Van Aert (WVA) v. Mathieu Van der Poel (MVDP) rivalry is my favorite rivalry I have ever seen—I would still put Coppi v. Bartali higher up the list though. In the Fall of 2015, I watched them do battle together every weekend…and I thought I would only watch Cross to hold me over until the Road season was back! MVDP got the better of Wout in many of those races, but honestly it came down to the single fact that MVDP was a better sprinter, besides that they were so evenly matched. Perhaps, it was a Poulidor eternal-second effect that drew me to Wout, ironic because MVDP is the grandson of Poulidor. But I loved watching how Wout never threw in the towel and always gutted out race after race no matter how well it was going for him. The last 20 minutes of a cross, Wout would be methodically deadly, systematically ratcheting up his effort to catch Van der Poel or even hold off his chase. Of course, this was best exemplified in one of my favorite races of all time: the 2016 Cyclocross World Championships in Zolder. It was a perfect race.  It had everything, ‘twas a perfect drama: Sven Nys retired guns a-blazin’, it was a Belgium-Netherlands duel meet like the Kenyans and Ethiopians in the Olympic 10,000 meters, attacks were made, breathes were held, by 20 minutes in all were on the judge of their seats. And then halfway through the race one of those classic moments in cycling happened. It was one of those moments that would be rejected from a movie script as being too farfetched, the audience would not be able to suspend their disbelief. As Van der Poel was dismounting to run up an embankment, his foot swinging back around off the bike got caught in the spokes of Wout Van Aert’s front wheel. Yes, dear Reader, you can’t make this stuff up, here at the crux of the race the two young stars were absolutely losing crucial seconds to their rivals and compatriots in a epically comedic error. After much fidgeting, they got the foot loose and both continued on the race. This was the coal that fed the powerful steam engine that Wout transformed into for the rest of the race. For that last half hour, he hawked down every rival, one by one. It took him until the last lap to catch the final man away, but he did and on the very last challenging section of the of course he broke away to take victory. He was so emotional riding down the final straightaway, it was wonderful to see. Surely he was a great talent then, already doomed to be locked in a rivalry that would last for at least a decade on the muddy tracks of Belgium. But who could have foreseen all that he would do within five years on the road as well, this promising young cyclocrosser?

The battles in cross began to be very lopsided as Wout took dozens and dozens of second places to MVDP every season since, but Wout still rose to the occasion on the biggest stages, three years in a row he denied Van der Poel cyclocross’ Rainbow Jersey. And then he tried his hand in the classics. Third at a grueling, wet Strade Bianche right out of the gates, remember it dear Readers? The one where riders looked like literal ghosts—I am not exaggerating on that claim—from the white gravel that caked their front and backsides. Many other top tens besides as well. And then last year, we saw him with another good classics campaign mixing it up in the monuments. But the big results came that summer: the surprise-but-upon-further-review-not-surprising-at-all Belgian Time Trial victory, the sprint stage of the Dauphine, and then the big one. Remember it? How can anyone forget that epic day into Albi on the Tour last year. When the crosswinds ravaged the peloton. It was pure chaos. O! the carnage! And at the end of it many of the top sprinters in the world were still there: Sagan, Ewan, Viviani…do you remember Viviani’s face, shock and disgust, when he saw Wout Van Aert win the sprint to cap off the brutal day. But Wout crashed in the Pau Time Trial a few days later and his season ended in tears. The recovery was long, how we missed him in Cross. But at the tail end he returned, finishing fifth on his first outing, and step by step getting better each race, winning his last Cross race of the season. And it has already been talked about in the Preview how he, Wout Van Aert, reopened the cycling season with his Strade Bianche and Milan-Sanremo wins like Fausto Coppi in 1946, still those wins give me goosebumps!

And then here he was at the Tour, shagging bottles, guarding Dumoulin and Roglic, riding with Beowulf-ian strength up the steep gradients just the day before. And now today he was lights out in a sprint, when the best sprinters in the world were relatively as fresh as possible at the Tour. What can’t he do, The Swiss Army Knife? Yes, yes, a few years ago it was partisan feelings to admire him, but sometime last year, perhaps after his first Tour stage win and heartbreaking crash, he joined the Club though most didn’t realize it until today. The Club. That most elite and beloved Club I have spoken of on Stage 2 that only a handful of riders have membership in. Wout Van Aert, here is your key card that you are long overdue in receiving: you have won today and every fan is now in a better mood for the rest of the day. The race was a snoozer until you finished off the job. Your rivals on Sunweb did everything right for their highly competent and promising sprinter Cees Bol, but you could not be stopped. Ole! Ole! To see such feats of athleticism is why we tune in to such sprints. We see you, a superstar of Belgium, humbly grabbing bottles one day and making the most of your few chances the next. Wout, you are a teammate, you are a competitor, you are a champion of the highest class. You are one of those riders who brighten our day when you win, it is that simple. Bad luck kicks one of the other Club members out of Yellow: sucks, but this is a happy day, Wout won. Peter Sagan—another member of the Club—clearly and officially isn’t on top form today: doesn’t matter, Wout won. Congrats Wout, you gave us a show, you sent us home happy, but we gluttonous fans will soon be hungry and hoping for more on the flat, in the mountrains, up the steep little hills that are your bread and butter. Wout Van Aert, The Swiss Army Knife.

A CHANGING OF THE GUARD ON ORCIERES-MERLETTE?

TDF 2020, Stage 4 Sisteron—Orcieres-Merlette 160.5 km

Jumbo-Visma dominate first summit finish. Roglic wins the stage and moves up to third on GC, 11 seconds behind Alaphilippe

It was a beautiful stage of the Tour, dear Readers, but allow me to cut to the chase: it was all about the final climb today, as we all knew it would be when the route was announced back in October. At the end of the stage was a summit finish up the Category 1 Orcieres-Merlette climb. Yes, dear Readers, you are right, this is a famous climb. It was here in 1971 that the volatile Spaniard Luis Ocana demolished Eddy Merckx, the Cannibal, the Greatest of All-Time. In 1971, Belgian Eddy Merckx was already cycling royalty having won the Tour in 1969 and 1970 in dominate fashion on both outings, surely not even a freight train could stop him…for Merckx was the freight train. And yet here came a challenger to Merckx, while he was certainly still at the peak of his powers and even already in Yellow amid this 1971 Tour. Ocana had not the confidence of Merckx, insecurity was in his temperament from an early age and was reinforced in his career by being so often the bridesmaid but never the bride on podiums before. But in 1971 on the road to Orcieres-Merlette, Ocana summoned such mighty strength it seemed as if one of the Olympians or Asgardians had aided him that day. Had Zeus zapped him with a thunderbolt giving him a rush of super strength? Had Mercury lent him his winged-sandals so that he might fly up the mountains? Did Thor act as Ocana’s rearguard and bring Mjolnir down upon the Cannibal’s head? Ocana soloed away on the stage and beat second place by six minutes, he put a full nine minutes into Eddy Merckx. Marc Madiot, now the team principal of Groupama-FDJ, remembers the stage well. He said it was the race of the century, the greatest victory in the pantheon of cycling, never before had anyone beaten Eddy like that. He had an almost 10-minute lead over Merckx on GC by the end of that day. And when he donned the beautiful maillot jaune, was the cycling world witnessing a changing of the guard?

Upon watching the stage finish today, I ask myself and you, dear Readers, the same question. Certainly, a new generation is rising in cycling, but is there really a changing of the guard taking place in the peloton as well? Is there a new sheriff, or a whole new team of Marshalls in town? Unlike 1971 where individuals rode like Greek and Trojan heroes whose duels and clashes shook the earth, in these days the individual heroes still exist but they are supported by legendary fighting units: think of King Leonidas with his 300 Spartans, or the Byzantine Emperor’s Varangian Guard. For nigh on a decade now, Team Sky and their further Ineos iteration have dominated the Tour de France and all other stage races as well for that matter. We have all grown accustomed to seeing them stranglehold the peloton up the Pyrenean and Alpine climbs, riding at a tempo where no rider could sustain an attack; valiant men would still try, but they would wilt and be brought back into the fold quickly by Sky’s relentless pace to soon be chewed up and spit out the back of the group where they would lose minutes on the day for their attempt. It was pure folly to attack them. Yes, there were years where they were not at the top of their game, most notably last year when they did not have an answer to the goofy antics and heroics of our brave Musketeer, but even then in the final days they stamped down their authority and finished 1st and 2nd overall on GC. With such a system, the team has produced four separate individual Tour winners (Bradley Wiggins, Chris Froome, Geraint Thomas, and Egan Bernal), seven Tour titles, two Vuelta a Espana victories, and one Giro d’Italia triumph as well. And they seemed to have warmed to the idea of being the dominant overlords early on when they famously nicknamed their new cutting edge, 22nd Century team bus the Death Star.

But that was the past, this is the present, and in this sport you are only as good as your last race. Has a new power arisen, to finally challenge their dominance? It certainly seems like it after the events of today. If you have read my Tour Preview from a few days ago, you know who this challenger is. Surely, Ineos has never had their hands as full as they do with this Jumbo-Visma team. After multiple Category 3 climb hors d’oeuvres, the peloton reached the bottom of Orcieres Merlette; the sprinters and pretenders had been shelled, it was time for the contenders to rise to the top. Julian Alaphilippe’s Quickstep team did good work reeling in the final stranglers of the breakaway still out front. Riders from UAE Team Emirates and Arkea-Samsaic did good turns to ratchet up the pace as well. The pace on the front rose and rose, and riders did not drop out of the back in ones and twos, but in threes and fives. After one admirable attack from Pierre Rolland (B&B Vital Concept) was reeled in by Mikel Nieve (Michelton-Scott), only the greatest riders were left. Finally, a few more kilometers later, Nieve, low-key one of the greatest domestiques of all time, swung off the front: job done, he had emptied the tank for teammates Adam Yates and Estaban Chaves (both Michelton-Scott). And then the Jumbo-Visma clinic began.

Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) took up the pacing, yes the winner of the sprint in Milan-Sanremo was not only still here, but looking strong on the very front. Look at this cyclocrosser, here on a Category 1 climb of the Tour de France ratcheting up the pace to untenable levels for all save the finest climbers in the world. What a Swiss Army Knife this man is, I dare say the most versatile rider in the peloton. In one long line he strung them all out: Van Aert, Kwaitkowski (Ineos Grenadiers), Bernal, Alaphilippe, Higuita (EF), Kuss (Jumbo-Visma), Roglic (Jumbo-Visma), Pinot (Groupama-FDJ), Quintana (Arkea-Samsaic), and many more scrap to hold the wheels behind. Wout rode at such a ferocious tempo, why he looked like an eager sled dog strapped up with a team of bunnies. No, no, that is too much of an exaggeration, dear Readers, some behind still looked very strong as I am about to tell…but I tell you: if Egan Bernal was not on the rivet, he was close to it! Bernal was not up for such a pace today, but others were. Our Musketeer, Alaphilippe, was fidgeting in the finale a usual, tightening up his shoes for the sprint at the top of this bestial climb. And Wout’s teammates Sepp Kuss and Primoz Roglic looked cool as cucumbers, dialed in for such a sprint as well. Finally, with only 1.5 km remaining, Van Aert swung off the front, his tortuous turn was over. Ineos’ Kwaitkowski was next in line, would he sustain the relentless pace? No. And within the blink of an eye, Sepp Kuss notched up the pace even harder than Van Aert, his teammate; all in the service of Roglic. Yes, it has become clear, Kuss shall be Roglic’s final right hand man this Tour, as he was at the Vuelta last year. Sepp Kuss, born in the mountains of Colorado, is poised to be the top domestique of this Tour, and I think his chief competition will come from in-house, Van Aert. With Sepp on the front, it was only the top contenders left, those in with a shout for Paris. The way they swung around the hairpins and charged straight up each daunting slope, it looked as if they were on rails. With 500 m to go, a surprise attack came from Guillaume Martin (Cofidis), my, my, has this man been flying at a new level since lockdown. Martin’s attack was strong and impressive, but still too many of the favorites matched him. Superman Lopez, Quintana, and Alaphilippe were all keeping up well, but it was the Slovenians who dropped the hammer. With 200 m to go, Primoz Roglic, the champion of Slovenia and captain of Jumbo-Visma, launched his sprint on the final drag up to the line to win the stage. Alahilippe, the Musketeer, couldn’t even match him this day, only managing 5th. Quintana snuck in for 4th. Martin still finished in an impressive 3rd despite is big attack too early. But it was the other Slovenian, Tadej Pogacar (UAE), almost a decade Roglic’s junior, who finished 2nd. A Slovenian one-two, Rog and Pog, who five years ago could have predicted the tiny country to produce not only one, but two cycling stars of such quality? Meanwhile, Bernal finished an almost anonymous 7th on the day, receiving the same time as the final bunch.

So was today the beginning of a formal changing of the guard? Today the breakneck death-march pace was set by Jumbo-Visma, Ineos had to strap in for the ride just like all the other teams have had to do for years as they were on the front. And of course, Jumbo-Visma finished off the job in dominating style, Roglic with the win; with the time bonus he now has a 10-second lead on Bernal and most of the other favorites. Pogacar and Martin receive six and four seconds, respectively; and Alaphilippe narrowly maintains his GC lead to keep Yellow. Surely, Jumbo-Visma is in the driver’s seat, perhaps it is even their Tour to lose.

And yet, perhaps that is speaking too soon. Jumbo-Visma is certainly in the driver’s seat as Luis Ocana was in 1971. But dear Readers, the memories of 1971 do not end happily for Ocana. Merckx was surely impressed by Ocana’s performance that the Tour pays homage to today; he reportedly said: “Today, Ocana tamed us like El Cordobes in the bullring tames his bulls.” Surely, Merckx knew he was not going to beat Ocana climbing that Tour, and so, as Bradley Wiggins details in his book Icons, Merckx let the temperamental Ocana beat himself. A few days later, when the race reached the Pyrenees a thunderstorm struck while they were high in the passes. Merckx attacked down the wet roads of the Col de Mente descent; it was incredibly dangerous, many crashed including Merckx himself. But the biggest casualty of the day was Luis Ocana who crashed right near Merckx. His screams of pain are captured in one of cycling’s most memorable and heartbreaking photographs, look it up dear Readers (Google Images: “Luis ocana col de mente”). Look at his face, surely he is physically in distress, but the emotional trauma must be even worse: he knew by then he had lost the Tour de France. In 1971, there was no changing of the guard, the Cannibal won his third Tour while that day in the rain Ocana was airlifted to the hospital to treat his injuries.

So here we are in 2020, dear Readers. This Jumbo-Visma team seems to have the right stuff  to topple the Ineos giant, but they haven’t yet. What will happen? Bernal perhaps showed weakness and was relatively isolated, but he still finished with the leaders. Cast your minds back to the Tour last year where Bernal lost significant time in the Pau Time-Trial as well and many thought his dreams of Yellow were crushed that day and he would need to work for Geraint Thomas. It is Stage 4 of 21, surely it is too early to say the guard has changed…although maybe we will look back and say it has. But before we end, let’s throw one more spanner into the mix. Jumbo-Visma might walk away with this Tour, but who will be in Yellow in Paris? Primoz Roglic looked like the best rider in the world today, but quietly in 11th place with the leaders was Jumbo teammate Tom Dumoulin. He is a man of class, but he is also a champion. Surely, if his chances are dashed then he will sacrifice himself for Roglic each day, but his hopes and dreams and the fire in his heart are well-kindled at the moment. Dumoulin is the winner of the 2017 Giro, and runner-up in both the 2018 Giro and Tour; surely such a man wants and is owed his shot at Yellow if he is still in the hunt. And as I said in the Preview, Roglic has come out swinging as he did in the Dauphine and the warm-up races before that, and as he did at the Giro and its lead up races last year. But Roglic did not win the Giro. Meanwhile Dumoulin has quietly been building form, finishing better every race, every stage; and he has been able to ride carefree and easy while all the cameras and microphones are on the flashy Slovenian champ. Will struggles arise within the team? Can the two leaders maintain cohesion for the whole three weeks if both are in winning position? Then of course, besides the Clash of Titans Jumbo must wage with Ineos, there is still the pesky business of controlling a certain Musketeer wearing a yellow jersey…a job last year that required “all hands on deck” for the Ineos team. Jumbo-Visma and the Tour are off to a great start, but this is the Tour de France, we must not get carried away on Stage 4 no matter how good Van Aert, Kuss, and Roglic looked. There are many more chapters yet to be written, let us hope the plot thickens with many appropriate twists and turns still to come.

THE TOUR QUIETLY FOLLOWS IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF NAPOLEON

TDF 2020, Stage 3 Nice—Sisteron 198 km

Sprinters have their day in Sisteron. Ewan weaves like a needle. Alaphilippe retains Yellow.

DENVER, CO – Just over 200 years ago, Napoleon Bonaparte was at the peak of his powers. He was the Emperor of the French, King of Italy, ruler over the Iberian Peninsula, destroyer of the Holy Roman Empire, and the rest of Europe formed coalition after coalition to defeat him. For over a decade he was the master of Europe and in that time he became one of the most famous people in world history. But by 1814, it all came tumbling down. In 1812, his infamous invasion of Russia failed miserably triggering yet another coalition of European powers warring against him. At the Battle of Leipzig in the Fall of 1813, Napoleon was dealt a crucial blow and was forced to retreat. By the Spring of 1814 it was all over, his enemies had captured him and Paris. Peace terms were negotiated, and dear Readers let me tell you, they perplex me. In practice he was exiled to the small island of Elba off the coast of Tuscany, but he enjoyed full autonomy to do what he wished as ruler of this little island kingdom with highly ample pensions for himself and family. What were these rival powers thinking not keeping him under lock-and-key? Because how could the once Emperor be satisfied ruling an island of a few thousands when he had once waged wars for the mastery of Europe while commanding armies of hundreds of thousands, an entire half-million at one point. So majestically and romantically he returned to Europe, breaking his exile. He smuggled himself out of Elba when Britain’s eye was turned and landed back in southern France. Before the famous Hundred Days—his brief but absolutely legendary return to power that ended with his final defeat at Waterloo—began, he first needed to cross quietly undercover to one of his loyal armies through the new king’s France. For some ten days he marched from Cannes to Grenoble. The route is still known, it has the finest trail markers in all of Europe: A Gilded Eagle perched on a Roman column, each taller than a man. The towns and their many starred hotels where he slept each night can still be visited today. In fact the views and the history are so rich, a scenic highway has been built during these modern times: the Route Napoleon. And it is on this highway our dear Tour travels today.

The opening festival in Nice is completed, it is time for the Tour to live up to its name. We strike North, as Napoleon did. Napoleon had 1,100 men with him, the Tour caravan is probably larger but of a comparable number. The same sites Napoleon, France’s greatest general, saw, our riders and us viewers now get to see. What was Napoleon thinking as he trekked over hill and passed lake between such beautiful mountain vistas? He must have thought about what grand things were in store. Did our riders think about such things today? Some, perhaps, but I would guess many of the riders lived in the moment and focused on the task at hand. GC men needed to be guarded, and sprinters needed to keep their legs fresh. As stated, the Tour now began to live up to its name, it was travelling from the hustle and bustle of Nice into the remote hill country. The roads and towns were quieter and more laid back. With only Jerome Cousin (Total Direct Energie) never more than a few minutes up the road, the peloton had a relative day of leisure, it seemed. I could be wrong on that, dear Readers, for I have not yet listened to many interviews, but today had all the vibes of a low-key transitional Tour stage. Such days are necessary, some days the powder needs to be kept dry so that the fireworks of the big days are truly fantastic shows. And fear not, surely a fine sprint would await us at the finish line to send us home happy. On such days, we can afford dives into the history such as our Route Napoleon. We can also mention the beautiful churches in the towns and the chapels on the hilltops. The Chapelle Notre Dame du Roc was the one that most impressed me. Dear Readers, take a look at it, scour the internet for its images amongst the landscape. The twelfth century chapel is perhaps humble but definitely beautiful; but the key is to see where it is seated. What an amazing mount it is on, they don’t call it Our Lady of the Rock for nothing; the sheer drop of this cliff wall is O! so impressive. It is so romantically picturesque from the town of Castellane below, “Our Lady of the Rock high above, watching over us mortals here below.” But we move on, for the peloton approached the finishing town of Sisteron.

Cousin was caught with 16 km to go and then the sprint teams clocked in for the business end of the stage. It had been a quiet day, and Sisteron was far quieter than in years passed with COVID restrictions and the end of summer vacations, but none of that diminished at all the gravitas of winning this stage of the Tour de France. NTT was on the far right working for their newly crowned European Champion, Giacomo Nizzolo, in his blue stripes and golden stars jersey. Cofidis were gearing up for their sprinter Elia Viviani. The sprint trains were fighting with the GC teams’ trains for the front trying to protect their favorites. Thibaut Pinot’s Groupama-FDJ team protected him, Mikel Landa’s Bahrain-McLaren team was up there, at one point Luke Rowe (Ineos Grenadiers) led Egan Bernal (Ineos Grenadiers) at the front of the peloton. Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) came down in a crash with 6 km to go, no sprint for him. Quickstep, lurking, made their way up towards the front (Alaphilippe looking as fetching as ever in Yellow). At 3 km to go the GC teams could back off, because now they would receive the same time if there was a crash. Quickstep now bowled down the road on the left. Michelton-Scott on the right. At 2.2 km there was a roundabout and the left side proved the quicker. Team UAE came to the front, Sunweb to their left. Lotto Soudal working for Caleb Ewan came up as well. Finally under the 1 km to go banner, la flamme rouge, “the Red Flame,” Sunweb was in full control with an impressive train of three or four men still intact: surely they were working for Cees Bol on such a day, after he had reached the podium on Stage 1. But NTT was coming up with Nizzolo, ratcheting up the pace to ever higher speeds. Then Bora-Hansgrohe’s Peter Sagan—Monsieur Green Jersey, but not wearing Green today—launched his sprint. “Finally he is looking in better form,” I thought. Though he looked good, he launched too early; on his right emerged the Shamrock Jersey with the Green, White, and Orange helmet: Sam Bennett of Deceuninck-Quickstep, champion of Ireland, had launched his sprint, his final kick. He looked good, it all seemed won…but behind one rider was making big gains. Whizzing between riders all the way to the far right on the barriers Caleb Ewan pinched and tight-roped his way through a gap left open around Sagan. Ewan came into Bennett’s slipstream and as Bennett accelerated a gap to the left in front of the fading Nizzolo opened for Ewan to pop through. Caleb Ewan, the Australian Pocket-Rocket, still continued accelerating and drew even with Bennett. The line was coming fast but Bennett knew he had topped out and Caleb hadn’t, so Bennett’s line took him slightly towards the left in the hope that it would help stall out Ewan as well. But today the Pocket-Rocket was the man of the match physically and tactically. Ewan continued to drive by Bennett like a bullet train, he won by almost a full bike length. Last year Ewan won three stages and was the dominate sprinter in the 2019 Tour, today he opened his account this year in Sisteron. It was a fine sprint, he was as nimble as a needle weaving through such competition. Perhaps his small stature—5’5”, 1.65 m—is what allows him to move like Mercury. And perhaps, were Napoleon here, he would be pleased that a rider after his own stature won the day on his Route.  

ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS AGAIN?

TDF 2020, Stage 2 Nice—Nice 186km

Julian Alaphilippe beats Mark Hirschi and Adam Yates in sprint to take stage honors and Yellow after mountainous Tour Stage

DENVER, CO—Dear Readers, are we really about to do this again…in any sort of capacity at all? Are we about to hop abroad the Julian Alaphilippe (Deceuninck – Quick Step) rollercoaster for another lap around France? Julian Alaphilippe has taken victory once again and grabbed back the maillot jaune that he looked O so good in last year. The man who embodies France’s greatest qualities is once more leading the Tour. I tell you, dear Readers, Dumas could not craft a more electric Frenchman. He is talented with such a fine poise. He is daring, some say even swashbuckling. He never surrenders and always keeps high spirits even in the rare cases of defeat. He rides with panache. He’s magnetic, but good-natured. His style is on point, compact, and efficient. And once again evidenced today, he rises to the occasion on the biggest of stages. When it comes to achieving success and glory, he is a grandmaster. I dare say if Athos, Porthos, and Aramis saw him, surely, they would have recruited Alaphilippe over D’Artagnan to join their inseparable three. Julian Alaphilippe, the Musketeer! I like it, I like it very much, dear Readers.

I was gathering my notes throughout the stage preparing in case I would have to write about the historic area around Nice with the day’s climbs up the mighty Col de Turini and the signature Col d’Eze, and then somehow link the race to Nice’s surprisingly most famous son, Giuseppe Garibaldi. Perhaps it could have been interesting, but the race gifted us with better headlines. We knew, all of us knew, this stage was tailor-made for our Musketeer…IF he was on top form! This actually was a real question, because Alaphilippe’s Strade Bianche was a wash as he punctured six, yes six, times in the most brutal race of the year thus far. His attack up the Poggio of Milan-Sanremo was so impressive, and perhaps there is no shame in losing a sprint to Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma), but many must have thought 2019 Alaphilippe would have finished off that one with a “W.” Same with his third place at the French Nationals. And then quite frankly he was off the pace at the Dauphine, clearly not on top form. So after a fierce pace up Nice’s iconic Col d’Eze climb and then down a dizzying yet breathtakingly beautiful descent back into Nice, we came to crunch time of this stage. Up, up the uncategorized climb the peloton began to go. And there came to the front of the reduced peloton Bob Jungels (Deceuninck – Quick Step) pacing his teammate, our Musketeer, Alaphilippe. Here on Stage 2 the questions surrounding Julian Alaphilippe’s form would be answered. Of course, he was here towards the front ready to try something, he is a showman, this is what he does; really he had an unspoken obligation to fulfill for the cycling community, he had to attack, but would he pull it off? At the top of the uncategorized climb were 8, 5, and 2 second time bonuses for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Then a quick descent and flat sprint into the heart of downtown Nice. Quickstep had ridden many kilometers for him already, now it was time to see Alaphilippe, the bookie’s favorite, bring home the bacon. But could he? Or was someone stronger in the field? 4 km from the top of the uncategorized climb, 12 km remaining in the stage, Alaphilippe launched out of the peloton. He immediately formed a gap, who could respond? Young Marc Hirschi (Sunweb) was the only rider to hop onto his wheel. Within a kilometer, the two, though our Musketeer did all of the pacing, had a 12 second gap on the peloton—who were not taking it easy. Yes, the question of who would win the stage was still high up in the air, but the question of whether Julian Alaphilippe was on good form was answered in that moment.

Yes, now that we could confirm Alaphilippe was on top form, déjà vu streamed over us. “Ah! The way this Musketeer attacked out of the peloton so far out, why it reminds me of his audacious attack last year into Epernay where he donned the maillot jaune for the first time in his career! Are we watching a replay?” surely that is what we all thought in the moment, is it not? And then Adam Yates (Michelton-Scott) bridged across to Hirschi and our Musketeer. Yates looked good, confident and comfortable, and even shared turns on the front with the Musketeer. Hirschi, it must be noted, did no work for this group at all—a fair strategy in such elite company. The three built up a lead of 21 seconds over the peloton, where was Jumbo? Where was Ineos? After the carnage of yesterday and the mighty Colmaine and Turini climbs today, domestiques were hard to come by, it seems. Then they approached the crest where the line for the Time Bonuses was situated. Our Musketeer wound up his sprint. But Yates was flying today, matching him pedal stroke for pedal stroke. And across the line it was Yates who took the 8 second prize, Alaphilippe only 5 seconds. Echoes and visions of the run into St. Etienne from last year flashed into our minds: when Thomas de Gendt (Lotto Soudal) soloed to the finish, but right behind him on the finishing straight were Thibaut Pinot (Groupama-FDJ) and our Musketeer who had shot like bullets out of the peloton on a similar little climb containing such Time Bonuses. The two had worked together to steal almost half a minute from the other GC favorites, putting Alaphilippe back into Yellow for his legendary deep run of last year. It all comes back to you now, right, dear Readers? But today, over the top, Hirschi was still in touch with Yates and Alaphilippe and the three regrouped for the descent to the finish.

O! What a descent it was! Is there any area in the world more beautiful for cycling than these cols around Nice? Truly, for me, dear Readers, this area takes the blue ribbon for most beautiful scenery in the world. These towns built into the forested mountain sides and in between the ruins of ancient castles, the houses and chateaus precariously situated and perfectly constructed on the most scenic outcrops, the medieval chapels on the dazzling heights, and the beautiful vistas the copters captured of the city below nestled on the Mediterranean shore illuminated by the golden hour rays of the Sun. Yes, we were treated to all this today and more. For as I said, one final harrowing descent had to be made back into the heart of Nice. The winding narrow road plunged and zig-zagged down the valley and passed the outskirt homes of Nice. The hairpins were intense, every rider was dialed in. Dear Readers, I could have sworn Milan-Sanremo was three weeks ago…you see what I mean, the déjà vu of such a stage, this was a Poggio-esque descent. Our palms began to sweat, we could feel our hearts beating, we sat up in our seats. Yes, we had all watched the Musketeer go down such a descent before to perfection when he won the 2019 Milan-Sanremo in his electrifying fashion. But as was said, he lost Sanremo this year, just three weeks ago, by half a wheel. “He’s on better form now, but Yates looks good and Hirschi must be saving up for a sprint—and he’s shown a quick pair of wheels at a finish before!” we all thought. “And what about the peloton behind? They will need good cooperation off front to stay away, they have no time to play with!”

Credit to Adam Yates this day, because on the descent he did his fair share of the work, rotating with Alaphilippe like clockwork. Even into the last K, they continued sharing the work, for the peloton was bearing down. But with 700 meters to go, the Musketeer finished his turn and came off the front, Yates was forced into the lead. Alaphilippe on his wheel. Hirschi sitting third like an assassin eyeing them both. The cohesion had been broken, the cat-and-mousing was on as Yates slowed the tempo as they passed the 600 meters sign. 500 meters, 400 meters, Yates was still stuck on the front; alas! at this point he probably knew we was about to get rolled. With 300 meters to go, the peloton was clearly breathing down their necks, but they had to leave the sprint late for they were being hit by a block headwind. Was Alaphilippe waiting for Hirschi to launch something? The Musketeer needed to do something soon unless he wanted to gift the win to the peloton! Finally, with 200 meters to go, the Musketeer launched. A strong move it was, he looked good. But the headwind was strong, and Hirschi was not completely distanced…in fact he got fully into the Musketeer’s slipstream and almost came around him, less than a wheel separated them at the finish. But Alaphilippe, the Musketeer, knew he had won: he lifted his right hand, kissed his index finger and pointed to the sky. He sat up and celebrated, with the 10 second time bonus at the line, 15 seconds total was subtracted off his total time compared to Yates’ 12 seconds; they and the GC favorites were all even on time to start the day so with those bonuses and Kristoff minutes behind, the Musketeer donned Yellow again.

He was emotional at the line. He was tearing up during the winner’s television interview. His dad had passed away in June, this win was dedicated to him. Surely, the kiss of the finger and the pointing up was in recognition of him. Julian, I am sorry for your loss, but surely your father was looking down on you today. High above, he is pointing back down, telling all around him, “That’s my son! Look at him! You have seen how hard he has worked and now look at him. At the top of his sport. Beloved by all of France. Congratulations to him, could a father be prouder?” No, congratulations to you, Mr. Alaphilippe, for you raised such a son.

So where does this leave us, dear Readers? As I asked at the beginning, are we about to do this rollercoaster all over again? Let me say something we all know, but maybe has never been explicitly said. I speak for 100% of cycling fans when I say this: Julian Alaphilippe is part of that exclusive club—to which only a handful of riders have a membership—where every day he wins is a great day. Everyone is in a better mood when they see an Alaphilippe win, they walk around a tiptoe taller for the rest of the day. This is objective fact, for two reasons. First, we are happy for him because he is a good guy with an electric personality. And then second, the wins themselves are electrifying: maybe one is impressive, maybe another is nail-biting, maybe a third one is mesmerizing; the majority of the time they are all three at once. And now, dear Readers, you remember the full context of the atmosphere of last year’s Tour. When the Tour entered the Pyrenees and Alaphilippe not only retained Yellow, but unexpectedly extended his lead by winning the Pau time-trial. O! Remember how the fixed camera captured the image of him bossing his way up the final hill, cutting right, down the finishing stretch. How he crossed the line, skidded to a halt, hopped off his bike and bounced around hugging his whole support crew! And then the next day when he rode with the very best climbers and GC men to the top of Tourmalet, the lord of all Pyrenean climbs. All the way to the Alps he wore that Yellow jersey, capturing every heart in France. Alas! We knew he was cracking on that first Alpine stage as he was dropped a few kilometers from the summit of the Galibier, but the way he handled himself down that descent into the finish. How he caught his GC rivals, silkily weaved his way between them like a sewing needle to the front of the group, and manhandled the rest of the descent like a heavy stone all the way down. And then the final great “alas!” came the day after when he finally cracked beyond recovery on the Iseran. He was so close! Two days from Paris! All of France behind him! Thirty-five years they’ve been waiting!

And here we are again, will we be blessed and cursed to repeat this? How long will the stint in Yellow be this year? The competition is as good and deep as it was last year, if not more so this year. And yet, you look at this course with its relentless ups and downs, one made for such an opportunist as our Alaphilippe. If ever he had a chance to finish off the job, this would be the year. But yet again will the highest passes be too high for him? His team support is lacking again, as well. I take a deep breath at the prospect of doing this again—even though it is only Stage 2—surely we all know he will be in Yellow for more than a handful of days. I loved every minute of it last July, but it took such an emotional investment, am I really prepared to handle that again for three weeks? Last year’s Tour was chaotic, nerve-racking, breathtaking, and all-consuming, do we really want another round of that?

O! Who am I kidding, of course we do! Long live the Musketeer!

THE GOD OF THUNDER TRAVELS SOUTH FOR THE GRAND DEPART

TDF 2020, Stage 1: Nice—Nice, 156km

An elder statesman winds back the clock in Nice

DENVER, CO — Vive le Tour. Has there ever been or shall there ever be a year where that cry shall be more invoked? Such a highly anticipated Grand Depart this was in Nice. In March and April all seemed lost, surely the Tour would be cancelled. The world was indefinitely locked down. There were no gatherings. Many could not work. There were no sports to distract or entertain us. In late Spring and early Summer, the lockdowns came to an end, city by city, state by state, nation by nation. Yet the well of entertainment provided by Netflix, cable, and YouTube were starting to run dry by then, and the return of sports was still far off. Finally, at the beginning of August, sports returned and it seemed brighter days were ahead. But the summer has not been a smooth gradual recovery for many countries and regions of the world. And in recent weeks, COVID cases in France have been rising. Luke Rowe (Ineos Grenadiers) on his podcast released on the eve of the Tour said at its peak in the Spring France was having 8,000 cases per day, but now they are back at 6,000 cases per day. Geraint Thomas (Ineos Grenadiers), his cohost, pointed out though that at that point the hospitals were getting overrun, and they were not able to do nearly as much testing in those frightful early days. Solid reasoning by Thomas, surely things are better now. And yet, all are uneasy, yes, all are uneasy. Will the Tour be hampered? Will teams be booted in twisted homages to the Festina or Puerto scandals? Will the Tour limp into Paris? Could it possibly not even make it? Yes, when we say “Vive le Tour” let us truly mean it, truly wish it, and may those on the ground in France do everything in their power to make it true this very year.And yet here we are now. The riders’ preparation from the past few months is completed. The COVID tests have been passed. Everyone has signed in. Temperatures have been taken. The ribbon cutting has taken place. The riders’ masks have been discarded. The neutral section has been ridden. Masked Christian Prudhomme, Race Director, has stuck his head out of the sunroof of the red commissaire’s car, he has waved the white flag and the 107th Tour de France has begun.

As this epic begins, let us do what is done at the beginning of every epic. Let us invoke the Muses. At this time, I call upon St. Francis de Sales, for he is the patron saint of writers and journalists. His earthly mission mostly took place in Geneva: not far from Nice, a few mountain ranges and a border crossing away. St. Francis de Sales, I ask you to pray that my words hold the dear Readers’ attention. Pray that my words do such a glorious and prestigious race justice: may they fittingly describe the ecstasy of victory, the agony of defeat, the nerves of the chaotic days, the monotony of the transitions, the moments that warm our hearts and the ones that break them. Pray that when the day is done and the notes are taken I always have or find the inspiration to craft a compelling narrative…not for my own glory, but as a worthy tribute to the past and present heroes of cycling and thus further promoting the most romantic sport in all the world. I look to the great ones on such topics of epic and journalism, for cycling is their intersection: Homer, Virgil, Dante, Tolkien; Buzzati, McDougall, Mura, Abt. Surely they are untouchable, yet I shall emulate them nonetheless in my own little way.  With that said, let us see begin the first chapter of this year’s epic. For us fans it feels like Christmas morning, but for the riders it feels like D-Day.

D-Day turned out to be more accurate it seems. Today was beyond the classic nervous opening day of the Tour as the peloton weaved its way around the mountainous valleys of Nice. The narrow roads, the unexpected pinch points, the traffic furniture were surely all there as usual, but there was another uninvited guest that crashed the party: heavy rain. If ever there was a day it should have stayed away, it was this day. Dear Readers, certainly rain is not uncommon, even the dreaded wet descending is undeniably part of the sport; but it is in the riders’ rights to groan whenever it falls in the grand tours and especially on the first day of the Tour de France. Ah, the first week of the Tour. I shall say the cliché maxim once now, get it out of the way, not to be used the rest of the Tour: here was a day you could not win the Tour, but you could certainly lose it. There is not a day more nervous than the first day of the Tour: especially when it is a flat sprint. The sprinters wake up with butterflies in their stomachs: “We come to it. Only a few times in a career is it possible for a sprinter like me. Could this be the day I wear the Yellow Jersey?” Those sprinters’ Directeur Sportifs are just as wound up all day, the blood pressure is higher than usual: “We need our riders to stay safe, but this is the biggest opportunity of the year to reward the sponsors for their investments…we need results.” They sit in their cars behind, trying as best they can to maximize control over things that cannot be controlled. They bark orders into the radios of their riders: “Guys, move up,” “Be in the first 20 places into this turn,” “Careful, the road narrows across this bridge.” This leads to a stressful day for the teammates of the sprinters, but also the teammates protecting a GC rider. Thus, more than half the teams fight for the front, the safest position to be, causing crashes that were already inevitable…and this all makes the rest of the field that were not yet nervous stressed out as well. Now, throw into the mix a deluge seeming to be dispatched by Thor himself, and the stress and nerves of the first day of the Tour reach maximal levels.

Yes, yes, perhaps, dear Readers, Thor, the god of Thunder, really did command the clouds this day. Perhaps he had vested interests? Such mighty rains are common in the northern races: Belgium, the Netherlands, Brittany and Normandy, anywhere in Britain. Even in March here in Nice, the weeklong stage race Paris-Nice, the “Race to the Sun,” has not always lived up to its name. Yet this Stage 1, this Grand Depart, was originally slated to take place in late June when the beautiful Cote d’Azur sunshine could be counted on to bask the riders’ already tanned limbs; O! how they would have glistened! And until this very day, Nice had been baking in the sun for months without a drop of rainfall. Yes, dear Readers, I am now convinced: the god of Thunder surely travelled down to watch such a day of racing. Perhaps he came mainly for a beach holiday because the beaches would not be as crowded this year with the pandemic restricting travel. But when he looked at the riders lined up this morning, perhaps something came over him, perhaps a mischievous relative had been rubbing off on him lately. Did Thor think to himself: “I have come far out of the North to see this fabled Tour de France. I was told the mountain stages are the most exciting, but here they are in mountainous Nice and they are only going over a couple small lumps this day. How entertaining would it be—if I intervened—to see these cyclists’ stress levels cranked up to eleven?”

In all my years of watching cycling, this is up there for most stressful days I have ever seen. Some of the northern classics: Omloop, Gent-Wevelgem, Flanders, Roubaix have had worse weather to be sure, but there it is expected. If you have a bad day you pack it in and you try again tomorrow. Here, everyone is counting on you to make it through today and the next day and the days after that: your job only starts today, what a deficit your team would be at if you had to pull the plug on the first of twenty-one stages…not to mention how gutted you would feel to drop out of the biggest race on the calendar before it even got going. So stressful and dangerous were the conditions this day that the riders were slipping on the roads while going uphill! The descents and the city boulevards were even more hair-raising. We saw Pavel Sivakov (INEOS Grenadiers) bleeding on both elbows. Julian Alaphilippe (Deceuninck – Quick Step) had a scare. Miguel Angel “Superman” Lopez (Astana) skidded across the length of the road into a traffic sign for increasing the pace on the descent ever so slightly. George Bennett (Jumbo-Visma) and the rest of his team upon catching the breakaway with 58km to go actually successfully instituted a neutralization of any racing until the major climbing and descending was completed. There has not been any “Le Patron” of the peloton for well over a decade, such a full-stop neutralization like this had probably not been seen at the Tour since the days Bernard Hinault, the Badger, that larger than life character. They crawled down the descents like snails. And though successful, ironically, George Bennett still slipped and crashed. Such havoc we could accept from Loki, but from you, Thor? Why? Was this all only for your amusement or are there ulterior motives?

The peloton came down off the last descent, back onto the wide straight roads into Nice. A sigh of relief came over all; their hearts were lightened. Egan Bernal (Ineos Grenadiers) consulted his lieutenants at his ease. Greg Van Avermaet (CCC) was laughing at a fellow’s joke. Rigoberto Uran (EF) discarded his rain cape. They all cruised down the straight highway into Nice, parallel to them ran a monorail train, for a few minutes those passengers had the best possible view of the Tour de France. A few more kilometers of truce passed until Benoit Cosnefroy (AG2R) attacked to snap the race back into life. The peloton became strung out, the usual suspects emerged to control the front. With 20km to go, Quickstep, NTT, and Bora all gave chase to Cosnefroy: for stage favorites were in their ranks of course. In the final kilometers, Jumbo and Quickstep were on the front, behind them lurked Ineos, Bora, and UAE; the jockeying for position was so engaging no one, not even his own mother, noticed the catch of Cosnefroy. It had been announced to the teams that GC times would be taken with 3 km to go due to the adverse conditions, but alas! literally beneath the 3 km banner there was a crash. It seems everyone was alright, but many lost a fair bit of skin and lycra including Thibaut Pinot (Groupama-FDJ).

Then we came to it at last: the sprint at the end of a draining, wet, and highly stressful day. In such conditions were the best sprinters ready to contend? Who still fancied their chances? Under the “Red Flame” signifying 1km to go, Peter Sagan (Bora-hansgrohe) was placed well with a teammate driving the pace. Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) was moving up with a lead-out man. Sam Bennett and his Quickstep teammates were surging up the side. Trek-Segafredo were also coming on strong for the reigning World Champion, Mads Pederson, in his Rainbow Jersey. But then as the meters were counting down, I recount my thoughts in that moment: “Who’s this coming around the surging lead-out men? Surely on the other side of the road, Bennett and Sagan do not have the momentum to draw even with him. O! the World Champion is on his wheel, but I do not think he has enough time to come around him either. Why, he’s done it! Well, well, I am surprised, I did not think he still had one of those sprints in him.”

Surely, I should not have been surprised. Such a cold, wet, and hard day; yes dear Readers, such days as these are where Alexander Kristoff (UAE), the Norwegian, thrives. Remember the wins he notched in the 2014 Tour, they were marvelous. And cast back your memory to the Spring of 2015, for that stretch where he was on unparalleled and unreal form. When he won six races in only nine days, the big catch of the lot: The Ronde van Vlaanderen (“Tour of Flanders”). Yes, on that cold and wet Easter Sunday in Belgium five years ago he showed shades of Hercules: he made every split, countered every attack, broke away himself; there was no way he could be denied victory that day. In the harsh Northern conditions the Norwegian has always been in his element, why was I surprised by this hardest of hard men today? Because his hey-day is over, I thought long over. Not since 2018 had Kristoff won a Tour stage, and though that one was on the hallowed Champs-Elysees, the crown jewel of sprints, by that point in the race the top four or five fastest sprinters in the world had already been eliminated from the race. Yes, even Kristoff himself would admit, his best years are well behind him. He has already turned thirty-three, who knew he still had the speed to compete with the Ewans and Bennetts of the world. But today he did, in such conditions it should have been a no-brainer that he was a threat and he should not have been so easily dismissed…yes, Thor, now your plans are laid bare. You came down here not for a beach day, but to help a descendant of the people who worshiped you in the pagan days of old. You know Kristoff’s racing Ragnarok, his Twilight, soon approaches and you intervened to give him the opportunity of a swansong victory. Not just another bunch-sprint Tour victory, but also the coveted maillot jaune, the Yellow Jersey, for the first time he dons it; what a capstone for his career. You have heard the rumblings of the youngsters shaking the foundations of the cycling world, but out of a soft spot for this Man of the North you gave him the conditions upon which he strives so that, if he had the strength, he could roll back the clock and hold off the youngsters one last time at least. And he did have the strength. Well played, Thunder god. A brutal stage, with a fitting winner.

2020 Tour de France: THE PREVIEW: WELCOME BACK CYCLING

August 28, 2020 12:00 PM

The 107th Tour de France begins Saturday August 29, 2020 in Nice

DENVER, CO—It is not July, but here we are again, dear Readers, on the eve of the Tour de France, the most prestigious bicycle race in all the world. The world does not look like did in October when this route was announced, nor does the micro-world of cycling, perhaps it is fitting that the Tour de France does not either? Today there is a new essential article of clothing, everyone knows what Zoom is, and the dear Reader can insert their favorite social distancing joke here. In cycling, the weather, the lighting, the landscapes, and especially the supporting crowds look markedly different thus far, and surely, it’ll continue to get more foreign as we plunge into the Fall. But more importantly, all of last year we were already seeing a new generation rising to the top and that has continued to precipitate even quicker despite the 4-month lockdown. Which young upstart shall grab the bull by the horns this year, and seize their chance with both hands? Will a new team rule at the Tour? How will our old favorites fair…the ones who will even be on the start-line, at least? Who is the favorite? What do we know from the warm-up racing since lockdown?

As to the last question, dear Readers, I’ll be honest with you: not much, we have more questions than answers at this point. The season properly kicked off in a sun-burnt Tuscany, with everyone’s beloved Strade Bianche. It was not the early spring classic to which we are accustomed. O! the heat. O! how the gravel was so loose. And O! how the dust rose. What a hellish re-entry into the calendar that was! And yet what a worthy champion we had: Wout Van Aert (Jumbo-Visma), twice third before, rode the race to perfection. It was finely balanced. It was a thriller. It is was an edition we shall hold dear and not forget. When he rode up that 17% gradient into Siena’s famous piazza to no applause or rabid tifosi exhorting him on, we were reminded that times are still tough, normalcy cannot yet even be faked. And yet, dear readers, in that moment I felt like we were all transported back to 1946, we were watching Fausto Coppi dominate Milan-Sanremo, re-opening the cycling calendar. I became hopeful and excited, I pray we will look back and feel the same about this Tour de France. Wout Van Aert, the cylcocrosser, was not given this honor to welcome back in cycling; he produced it, he earned it. And he followed it up again with another master stroke a week later winning Milan-Sanremo; how beautifully well he played that finale, beating Julian Alaphilippe (Deceunick-Quick Step) in a photo. Who would have predicted such a stunning double from him just two years ago? Then again, who would have predicted a pandemic would shut down the world in 2020 just two years ago?

Meanwhile, the other early story line pertaining to our Tour run up were the skirmishes of the super teams. Ineos swept up the prizes and awards in Occitanie led by defending Tour champion Egan Bernal. And yet they ran into a brick wall in Tour de l’Ain. After months and years of preparation Jumbo-Visma was finally ready to face Ineos at full strength, in open battle. This is the year they shall slay the Ineos hydra with a hydra of their own…or at least that what they tell themselves. But they did well here, at the Tour de l’Ain. Now Bernal still looked fairly good it must be said, but Primoz Roglic (Jumbo-Visma) looked better and the rest of Jumbo took Ineos to the cleaners. But Ineos did not have long to lick their wounds and sharpen their weapons for the next battle. Three days later they clashed again at the Dauphine and many unforeseen events transpired. Sure, sure, Van Aert had yet another quality win for himself and Jumbo-Visma on the opening hill-top finish. On the summit finish of Stage 2, it seemed perhaps a hierarchy for the Tour was being established: Roglic beat the field again with the help of Steven Kruijswijk (Jumbo-Visma), Tom Dumoulin (Jumbo-Visma), and an exceedingly strong Sepp Kuss (Jumbo-Visma) at the finish. He took the scalps of Pinot (Groupama – FDJ), Quintana (Team Arkea Samsaic), Buchmann (Bora – Hansgrohe), Superman Lopez (Astana Pro Team), Dani Martinez (EF Pro Cycling), Landa (Bahrain – McLaren), Porte (Trek Segafredo), and yes, the mighty Egan Bernal. Bardet (AG2R), Pogacar (UAE – Emirates), Mas (Movistar), Uran (EF Pro Cycling), and Valverde (Movistar) were nonfactors. And Thomas (Ineos), Froome (Ineos), and Alaphilippe burned out noticeably too early. And Ineos showed even poorer the next day when mostly the same names were finishing with Rog on yet another summit finish, but this time Bernal was further back with only Pavel Sivakov (Ineos) to support him. And then things began to really nose-dive. Bernal did not start stage four, within the stage Roglic crashed heavily and Kruijswijk even harder because he did not finish the stage. And yet on Stage 5, a fourth summit finish in a row, all hell broke even more loose. Roglic did not start the day, because of the wounds of his crash from the day before. Geraint Thomas and Chris Froome failed to step up for Ineos, in fact the only presence Ineos had all day was Sivakov in a break up the road with Alaphilippe…Sivakov did look bullet-proof though, all the skin came off his shoulder and still he rode with the leaders until the final kilometers. Porte was nowhere to be seen. Quintana dropped out. With Bernal and Roglic MIA, the battle for the stage and the GC was wild and unpredictable. Thibaut Pinot and Tom Dumoulin, part of that stacked 1990 birth year, were the elder statesmen as Superman Lopez, Tadej Pogacar, Dani Martinez, and Guillaume Martin challenged them for the GC win. In the end, Pinot in pole position did not handle the pressure: he was exciting to watch and yet failed to deliver, Martinez took the overall Dauphine win. But the stage honors were just as interesting and just as exciting, for everyone started together and it was Sepp Kuss, the young American, who went toe to toe and took the scalps of all. Yes, yes, what a domestique he will be for Roglic and Dumoulin when the Tour begins in Nice. But will Roglic be recovered? What about Bernal? Who would be selected for Ineos to counter the dominate displays of Jumbo? You see, dear Readers, what I mean when I say we left with more questions than answers?

Well, dear Readers, we found out the answers to some of these questions in the days that followed. And the shocking news was that Geraint Thomas would be leading the Ineos Grenadiers Giro team, while Froome was consigned to a Vuelta leadership role. The champions most recently of the 2017 Tour (Froome) and 2018 Tour (Thomas) would not be starting in Nice this year. The Dauphine was the final test of all of Ineos’ selection candidates, and the two biggest names did not pass. The Ineos Grenadiers (an additional sponsor) will be all in for Egan Bernal. Instead of relying on the experience of two riders that have a combined five Tour titles between them, Ineos decided to play the hot hands of who are on the best form. Forget experience. Forget the headlines. But O! how I lament the headlines we shall now miss out on, how they would have written themselves of the tensions in leadership between the three previous Tour winners.  Let us dream of them no longer, they are not possible now; but surely these are the signs of an older generation being ushered out, and this year they do not even have a chance to defend their place on cycling’s biggest stage. Sure, Ineos are bringing the battle-worn and brilliant Luke Rowe, Dylan Van Baarle, and Michal Kwaitkowski who were rocks in past victories; but Ineos are putting the fate of the team’s high mountain performances into other hands: Richard Carapaz and Pavel Sivakov and Andrey Amador and Jonathon Castroviejo, fresh faces, shall have to be Bernal’s top domestiques in the epic finales. But what of Bernal? He dropped out of the Dauphine, will he even be ready to fight? Apparently reporters at the Dauphine saw him training the following days looking like nothing was out of the ordinary, I would place large sums of money on the idea that he pulled out for just the slightest of precautions: as he should, who cares about placings in the Dauphine if it will affect your Tour performance?

The same can be said for Primoz Roglic. His condition has been kept under more wraps, but insiders say he will be pinging and on flying form. I too think he will be; but the question for me, dear Readers, is will he come in as he did for last year’s Giro or last year’s Vuelta? He was flying too high before and at the start of the Giro last year and in the last week he sank to third overall. But he timed his peak right for the Vuelta and won. Alas! I fear he was flying too high again at the Dauphine, but who knows! Who knows what will happen? Meanwhile, I quite fancy the form Tom Dumoulin is coming into; perhaps he was 95% at the Dauphine and will come to 100% at the proper time. And even without Kruisjwijk who is not good to go for the Tour, both Roglic and Dumoulin will have such strong support from Sepp Kuss, George Bennett, and Wout Van Aert that maybe they have the resources to overhaul Bernal even if he is the best rider in the race?

And what of the rest of the field? Are all the rest just pretenders? Surely there are more than two teams in the race! Thibaut Pinot looks like he might have the legs to win the Tour, but alas! as usual, does he have the head? Who knows with this man! O! How he looked so good in the Pyrenees last year. But then who’s cheeks did not run with tears as he balled his eyes out in the Alps on Stage 19, when he hugged his teammate and climbed into the team car dropping out of the Tour with the knee injury…heartbreaking. Dear Readers, after that event, I have a soft spot for the man: here is a worthy story for a prospective French rider to break their 35-year drought in their home race. What about Nairoman though? He dazzled us all in February with his new lease of life on his new team, Arkea Samsaic. He looked confident, he rode dominantly, perhaps he shall ride like he did in 2013 or 2015, the years he was runner-up? So many thought he would be the first Colombian Tour champion, but the young Bernal beat him to it last year, still it would be great to see Quintana add his name to the tally of Yellow Champions. And what of the rider that makes Bernal look old? Tadej Pogacar. We anticipate and hope a great rivalry shall form between him and Bernal, shall this be their first clash? Third at the Vuelta last year with 3 stage wins when he was only supposed to ride the first two weeks of the race. The sky is the limit for our dear Pog.

Yes, yes in my estimation those are the grandest contenders, the ones on whom large sums should be placed. But of course there are many others. EF with their Colombian trifecta of Uran, Martinez, and Higuita, surely one of them will light up the Tour. Landa has finally been freed: no Aru, no Froome, no Quintana or Valverde, no Carapaz, a whole team to himself; I pray we see the best of him unleashed and unhampered. Bora has their many indistinguishable Germans, Buchmann probably being the best of them as he rode to the most unassuming fourth place in last year’s Tour. Will Superman Lopez bring his cape this year? How about the impressive Dauphine by Guillaume Martin, who could have foreseen such a quality ride? Can he duplicate and triple it, here at the Tour? Porte? Bardet? Valverde? Will they even be in the mix this year? What about my—sorry, everyone’s—beloved Estaban Chaves (Mitchelton-Scott)? O! May we see his two million dollar smile often on the podium this year! And of course, what can we expect from Julian Alaphilippe? The Hector of last year’s Tour: such a mighty warrior he was, and yet he was destined to fall. Hopefully, hopefully he is back on top form by now. He gutted out a good Sanremo, but he was off the pace at the Dauphine. Whether he has another stint in Yellow or not, I know we all want to be entertained by one of cycling’s great showmen.

But for showmen, we can never ever overlook the beloved Peter Sagan, the green machine. With his Giro debut coming so shortly after the Tour, it makes sense he has not been on his best form, but of course we all hope he is now. Surely, he will lengthen his record of Green Jerseys; alas! I cannot see Wout Van Aert challenging him this year with all the team duties he will have protecting Rog and Dumoulin. And of course, the rest of the sprint field doesn’t have a prayer of Green either. In fact the route is so mountainous and hilly this year, I’m unsure how fresh some of these pure sprinters like Caleb Ewan (Lotto Soudal), Sam Bennett (Deceunick-Quick Step), Giacomo Nizzolo (NTT), and Elia Viviani (Cofidis) will be at the end of these stages. Can they get over a handful of Cat 4, Cat 3, even some Cat 2 climbs daily and still be fresh for the flat finish, or will guys like Sagan, Van Aert, Matteo Trentin (CCC), and Daryl Impey (Mitchelton-Scott) be licking their chops at many reduced-bunch sprints? What about guys like Greg Van Avermaet (CCC), Dan Martin (Israel Start-up Nation), Mikel Nieve (Mitchelton-Scott), Adam Yates (Mitchelton-Scott), Philippe Gilbert (Lotto Soudal), and Tiesj Benoot (Sunweb)? With such a hilly and mountainous route, surely, they shall have fertile hunting grounds to notch up more stage wins for their palmares.

Yes, the route is mountainous. And if the stage isn’t mountainous, it is hilly. And if it’s neither of those, there is quite a threat for crosswinds. In recent years I have found some of the route experimentation to be abhorrent, to the point I question if the Tour de France is even a tour around France anymore…or just 21 races that take place somewhere in France. And yet, I look back at some of the routes from decades ago, and I watch stages from bygone eras where rigid tradition ruled the day and I cannot but think that the conventionally was almost criminal! I’ll give it to Christian Prudhomme, the Tour’s Director, even if he goes over the top and fails at times, he keeps the race interesting. Some have called this the Vuelta de Francia, and perhaps the Tour is imitating the Vuelta too much and is stealing its style of relentlessly hilly stages, summit finishes, and GC snares on every stage. But I say “Eh, it’s worth a try for a year.” Surely the Tour shouldn’t steal the Vuelta’s spunk and panache every year, their bread and butter…honestly mostly because I think the Tour should be more regal and dignified; but especially in 2020, this is the year for the Tour to mix it up in my opinion. Sure, sure, it is fun to pour over the details of the route: especially to see what epic and fabled climbs of old will grace our screens again. But dear Readers, let me tell you a little secret, at the end of the day: the Tour is the Tour, in the grand scheme the route will never make as much of a difference as the experts will tell you. There will always be pivotal mountain and time trials stages, and there will always be drama on the stages we least expected. I’ll tell you an embarrassing story, dear Readers. My fascination of route previewing peaked before the 2017 Tour. Somehow I had the idea in my head that if Peter Sagan held the Yellow jersey up La Planche des Belles Filles on Stage 5, he would then have proved he could hold it deep into the race and would be motivated enough to attempt to seal the deal in Paris like he epically did at the 2015 Tour of California. Go ahead, laugh, dear Readers, because I cannot remember how I rationalized any of this, and to boot: 2017 was the year he was DQed on Stage 4! And my route analyses have been severely meager ever since.

And with that the preview has been written. All the YouTube videos have been watched, the podcasts have been listened to, the bets have been laid down, fantasy rosters picked out, and the magazines and blogs have been read, this one last of all. It is not long now, only one more night. One more night before the riders and the rest of the caravan begin their Odyssey. It will be different this time, much stranger. Corona cases are rising again in France, surely there is cause for unease. The rules on positive tests are strict, whole teams could be sent home if they have just two cases. What will happen if Bernal has a 5:00 minute lead on Stage 19, and he tests positive? What about false-positives? Are we sure the race can even make it to Paris? We anticipate this tension all the way through. And then again, alas! it shall not be the same roadside spectacle. Summer vacation will be over. And for the sake of the riders in many situations I actually greatly hope the fans do keep their distance, but O! how I shall miss the chaotic tunnels of noise the riders face in ones and twos as the fans pack in for kilometers on end on a tough Pyrenean or Alpine climb! But this is not the year; let us just be thankful we have reached the eve of the Grand Depart for another year, despite all the circumstances. It is time, for the next three weeks, to tune in to a grand narrative, an epic. Every day is another chapter, every day there is a hero. Shall we see sprinters duel at lethal speeds? Will titans clash in the mountains? What moments shall warm our hearts? And which will break them? What name shall be on everyone’s lips? Whose dreams will come true? What new star will rise? Whom shall the journalists write many paragraphs on, and for whom shall the bards compose so many odes? Who will be the hero, you know, the hero that the youngsters pretend to be riding up the biggest hill in their neighborhood? Who shall claim White? What about the Polka-dots? Green? And who’s name shall be added to the greatest roll-call in the sport?