Important warning for the coming summer. It is dutifully aimed at the kind of enthusiasts who adore the big level lap, uncertain, balanced, better until the last stage, better with a crowd of riders stacked at the top of the standings, in a matter of seconds. To understand, the kind of fans who sublimated themselves with the last Giro, resolved in the final 3 kilometers on the Marmolada. Attention, you of the equation leveling equals show: the Tour arrives. A terrifying July of deadly boredom awaits you.
But of course, there comes the boredom that you hate and that you have exorcised several times by enjoying the Democratic Giro, the Giro without phenomena and without dictators. It will be very hard. Pogacar returns to the scene. Roglic returns to the scene. The armored teams are back on the scene, imposing their rhythms and their strategies. The real, heavy, lethal attacks are back on the scene. And the counterattacks. And the duels. And i go head to head. Supersonic chronometers are back on the scene. Those deplorable perversions that we commonly call detachments return to the scene. In other words, the other cycling is back on the scene. To each the of him. Everyone choose and take their favorite. But avoiding everyone to say that theirs is the best. Tolerance teaches that this is not said to be the most beautiful: it is said that I like best.
Then if someone answers I take everything, I like everything, it does the same. However, a somewhat inexplicable equidistance remains, almost unnatural. Because in nature one excludes the other. Right at the last Giro this opposition emerged in the most striking way: what for some (I get into it without camouflaging myself) was a flat, weak, limp Giro, without treble and without enterprises, without thoroughbreds and without champions, for others it was instead the maximum of lust. What was denounced as leveling below was for many an ideal and perfect balance. A matter of taste, a matter of personal aesthetics. But it seems clear to me that the latter will not be able to approach the Tour willingly. They said and wrote it in clear letters every day, in May, asking the fateful rhetorical question: what do you want, the great tour dominated by the usual phenomenon that kills the running and making nothing happen anymore?
Here it is, that hateful kind of big ride. Pogacar returns to the scene, and with him a Roglic even less confident than at other times, due to known problems. What awaits us is already written even before starting: let’s see who manages to prevent Pogacar from winning the third consecutive Tour at the age of 23, a three-of-a-kind human in the entire history of the bicycle.
Think about the depressing prospect: a kid who can win the third Tour at the age in which traditionally you have to grow up very calmly, making your bones, waiting for at least the maturity of 26 years. He thinks the boredom of seeing if anyone can stop this irresistible and overwhelming career of his. And he thinks if even he instead manages to put them all behind, all far away, to the sound of time trial victories and on top of the mountains. He thinks how sad it is to witness every day the extraordinary superiority of an athlete kissed by nature and perhaps by the Eternal Father. He thinks and proceeds with the choice: or the Tour of the half champions, or the Tour of the absolute champion, who knows how to do things that are forbidden and impossible for all other humans.
There are those who feel nothing when they see the champion win the stage in the pink jersey or in the yellow jersey. He finds it obvious and not at all exciting. Maybe, even suspicious, since now the real tests of strength automatically become evidence of indictment. This is the situation, this is our way of putting ourselves into vision. The balance party versus the champion party. Perfect bipolarism, without the possibility of mediation. Democratically, everyone serves himself at will. I vote champion. All time. Never found a champion, in any sport, who bored me: from Federer to Valentino Rossi, from Pellegrini to Jacobs. Maybe I can not cheer for them, but never boredom. It must be that each time, in a different way, they still manage to move the most refined and difficult emotion: amazement.
from all BIKE in June