April has finally arrived, with its long Sundays to dedicate to the only thing better than pedaling in person: watch the champions pedal during cycling's Holy Week. Starting, of course, from the Tour of Flanders.
The organization
To fully enjoy these days of excitement, as with everything, a certain amount of organization is required. The first thing is to find the location. It is essential that there is a screen that projects the race, be it TV (better) or computer: No cell phone is worth anything when Monument on the stones is at stakeThen, the company. Personally, the writer prefers to enjoy these moments with a small group of friends, the number of which can vary from one to three.
Finally, the supplies. It's hard to enjoy a Tour of Flanders without a few beers, better if Belgian, I agree, but the important thing is that they are there. Their number varies according to personal habits, but experience teaches that the intensity of intake follows the pace of the race. Cruising speed in the first part (almost 270 km is a long distance) then constant acceleration as you approach the decisive walls.
First thrill, Van der Poel's fall
With these promises, we can begin to enjoy a Tour of Flanders with all the trimmings that such an event deserves. The writer tuned in around lunchtime, around 13pm. (But the true purists, credit to them, were in front of the screens as early as 9:45.) In time to see the day's breakaway's advantage, check who's pulling the group, and the position of the favorites.
From there began a long wait towards the key moments, animated however by the thrill of Van der Poel's fall: sigh of relief, the divine showed no signs of injury and after some commotion he returned to the group. The show was saved. But by now we've learned that in this age almost every moment can be a highlightAnd in fact, from -100 km there was almost never a moment's respite.
Pogacar's face and inappropriate phone calls
The attack of the group of passists including Ganna, Kung, Benoot and company. So Visma was belligerent, great news. Only the UAE he didn't have anyone in the breakaway: would Pogacar's teammates have managed to keep those big waves up front from taking too many minutes? But the (few) doubts about the world champion's chances didn't last long.
As the peloton raced at breakneck speed toward the start of the second Kwaremont, Morgado took the lead for a final push. He did so with all his might, even pedaling a bit sloppily, his head nodding.
At that moment Pogacar saw him pass by and laughed, he made an amused noise at him, as if he were sitting at the bar, or on the sofa next to usIt was clearly visible on TV, and a replay was shown shortly thereafter. At that moment, the writer thought: "There's nothing we can do, barring cataclysms, he'll win today."
A friend called just when the best ones were at the entrance to Kwaremont. Rookie mistake, During Flanders the phone must be turned off and that's itFrom that moment on, it was pure spectacle, the best this sport can offer spectators sitting (or even standing or, why not, lying down) all over the world.
All the show of the greats
Pogacar attacked so many times that even watching the race again was almost impossible to keep count. Van der Poel who always followed him, and it looked like it would be a challenge between the two of them again. touching Pedersen who as usual tried to anticipate, broke away but then came back. Van Aert finally up front to play his game: gaudium magnum, the Belgian was back among the greats.
But that expression on the world champion's face left no doubts, in fact all'last passage on the Kwaremont the Slovenian said goodbye to everyone and left, even the divine Mathieu had to give in. In the kilometers between the Paterberg and the finish line the friend with whom I was watching the race placed a question that technically made no sense.
The law of Flanders (and Roubaix?)
"How is it possible that a climber can gain on the flats against four of the strongest rouleurs in the world?" Because this is the law of the Tour of Flanders, the race that inaugurates the Holy Week of cycling. A 269-kilometer race, full of pitfalls, rocks and walls in which all the best riders in the world compete, but in which the strongest, in the end, can bend the laws that normally govern cycling.
E in a few days, in this beginning of April that we will all remember for many years, there is the Paris-Roubaix: another great Sunday to sanctify in front of the TV.
