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July 23, 1989. I finished my time trial: 24.5 kilometers from Versailles to the Champs Elysees in Paris. I know the road that goes all the way down to the Seine from my amateur days in the ACBB, and the rest of previous Tours de France – mostly downhill, a decent surface, and a few underpasses to slow down, even a little. The hardest part is the climb to the curve of the Champs Elysees, which we are doing in the opposite direction.
I’m trying to keep my place over Sean Kelly in the general classification so I put a 54 outer ring on the lo-pro bike and do a proper warm-up. After the start I am not feeling very well, but I seem to be going fast on the descents and on the flat parts by the river. The only time I change gears is to get out of the underpasses, but I never get off the 15 sprocket, so I fool myself into thinking I won’t do too bad.
When I cross the line, Thierry Marie has the best time and I lost a couple of minutes, which, given my abilities, don’t disappoint me that much. As the French would say, I was in my place… I was in the expected place.
A few guys ahead of me come and go as I am circling the finish line, waiting to see Laurent Fignon walk down the famous cobblestones of the Arc de Triomphe and be crowned the winner. It’s strange to finish a three week tour with individual effort and not be surrounded by your fellow travelers, so I’m soaking up the environment as best I can, despite having sore limbs.
Then rumors of Greg LeMond begin to circulate: he is flying, crouched in his triathlon position and going like a train. Fignon, on the other hand, is fighting with his bike.
A silent silence reaches the space beyond the finish line. LeMond shoots down the hill and Daniel Mangeas announces best time for the American, and at record speed. Three minutes and a little faster than I was seems ridiculous to me, but even more amazing is that Fignon seems to be on the verge of losing the victory while racing with everything he has.
There’s a countdown as it gets closer, and then a roar from the collection of parasites, partners, healers, journalists and race officials that make up the crowd gathered after the finish line. I realize I have goose bumps. Greg wins, Laurent loses and there is confusion in the heads of everyone present.
September 20, 2020. Tadej Pogačar’s task seems insurmountable; Taking advantage of a minute of the race leader, Primož Roglič, is something of a dream. He’s more likely to lose that much, given the way the Slovenian oldest has been controlling the race and responding to the 21-year-old’s attacks. If they were racehorses, then Roglič definitely has the top form, and you won’t get great odds at the bookies for another Jumbo-Visma stage win.
Unsurprisingly, Wout van Aert sets the best time, then Tom Dumoulin beats him and the Yellow Perils seem to have everything in their hands. Again.
Pogačar starts, and I can hear the first line of The Who’s Father O’Riley Playing… Here in the country, I fight for my meals. It always reminds me of Flanders, for some reason.
The UAE Team Emirates driver’s best young rider’s white jersey hardly differs from his team’s kit, and he looks powerful as he rides at 60 km / h on the flattest part of the course. Two minutes behind on the road, Roglič is pedaling a smaller gear, going a little slower, but slower anyway, and there could be a race after all. This was not in the Jumbo plan, that’s for sure.
The murmurs begin in the press room; this could be close. This could be Fignon and LeMond, seconds instead of minutes. Someone mentions that stage bonuses could be the deciding factor. All eventualities suddenly come back to the table when Roglič tries to stabilize the gap, but it is growing and Pogačar does not slow down. The fast start theory to scare your rival seems to be just that: a theory. Perhaps the race leader from stage 9 is reserving himself for the final 6km run to La Planche des Belles Filles. Maybe it’s as stupid a theory as scaring him into trying too hard.
The last proper climb of the 2020 Tour begins, and the UAE makes a relatively average bike change for Pogačar, time wise, not the fastest, but not the slowest. The mountain classification is at stake between Richard Carapaz and Pogačar of Ineos Grenadiers, so the lighter and more familiar road machine will make the difference, even though there are a few awkward times to adapt to different handling characteristics.
Three minutes later, Roglič also has a bike change, a little further up the mountain, and it is a much more rushed affair, which takes longer. Panic has gripped him. The 30-second loss to Pogačar turns into 40, instantly, and he’s still on the go, while Roglič is turning a gear ratio that’s small in comparison. One of them is moving forward and the other seems to be stationary.
Moments later, the virtual GC appears on the screen, and Roglič’s 57-second lead has been swallowed up by his only rival, and all who look know that history is being made here.
At the finish line, Dumoulin and Van Aert gasped, not from oxygen debt this time, but from realizing that Primož Roglič’s bad day has hit the stage when they least expected it. All those miles in the wind, in control, safe, focused, committed, in command, and have been ambushed by a child.
Pogačar takes the stage victory, the polka dot jersey, the white jersey and the Tour de France general title. The UAE have done the unthinkable and have claimed four stage victories and three jersey rankings, and all that from a team that was neither an overall team nor a sprinters paradise.
As their sporting director Allan Peiper mentioned a few days before, they are aware that they need to strengthen the team to support Pogačar in the years to come, so I hope it will soon be another super team to fight with Jumbo-Visma and Ineos Grenadiers. .
There aren’t many guys who have won a Tour de France on their first visit, and even fewer have won multiple jerseys as well. Eddy Merckx comes to mind, but these are different times, with more information and a more calculated approach, which is exactly why the goosebumps associated with seeing Tadel Pogačar are even more exciting.
