Thirteen years have passed, but it seems like yesterday. Frank Vandenbroucke passed away on October 12, 2009, in a hotel in Senegal., alone, at the last step of a painful descent. Some say that this sad epilogue gave a legendary flavour to his entire story, parallel to others of that time, from pantani a Jimenez, all with a tragic ending, epic pages torn from Greek literature made of gods on earth.
Belgians still love Frank's image to this day. The boy who seemed to be on loan to cycling from Hollywood and that reputation of “handsome and damned” had always accompanied him, since his debut. A life that was intimately linked to cycling, first of all because of his origins, with his father being a mechanic and his uncle Jean Luc being an excellent protagonist of the era. Merckx e gimondi. Then for that wobbly knee that had been tormenting him since he was 4 years old: He was riding his little bike when a car hit him head-onThree months in hospital, four operations: Legend has it that the child did not shed a single tear from the pain., but he had cried all the tears he had in his body when they had to cut off his cycling shorts…
Frank and Remco, similar and yet so different
Vandenbroucke as evenepoel, united by a sudden transition from the era of games, of immediate junior victories to that of adults, of serious things by skipping over an entire category. Today there is still a debate on whether that choice made by Quick Step was right, also because of the consequences it created throughout the system. It almost seemed natural then: Frank was too strong. Such talent should have been tested immediately in the big theatres, not in the provincial ones…
Frank won immediately, and with each victory he drove the girls crazy, with his dyed blonde hair, his consummate actor's attitude. He won important races, both in line and in stages, and each victory was never ordinary. as were not the defeats like the one in Flanders in the head to head with Museum, the canonical cyclist, a champion on the pedals, but one who didn't offer flashes of imagination or provide fodder for gossip. His greatest victory? He said the Liège of the breakaway on the Redoute, 30 kilometers from the finish pushing on the 39×17, thwarting the efforts of Bartoli who was aiming for a poker, but who, like the others, had noticed that the Belgian was flying that day.
In one day, heaven and hell
A fairy tale, which was about to turn into a drama and it's curious how the two sides of the coin coincide in the same period, in the same event: the 1999 Vuelta. The gods know how to be ironic and give us the most beautiful and the ugliest at practically the same time...
Frank has already won a stage, nothing else is asked of him, but that morning, arriving early for the departure operations, he notices that the Saeco promotional vehicle is a girl so beautiful that the whole line is waiting to get coffee from her and have a smile together. Frank remains stunned for a few long seconds, then calls Massimiliano Lelli to himself, his companion at the Cofidis: "Come on, tell me you know her, tell me you'll introduce her to me». The Tuscan willingly obliges and Frank becomes a regular customer, queuing up several times, gorging on coffee that day and the next and the day after that.
A super victory in the mountains
Mountain stage. Frank is elated by those eyes and pushes himself: "Today I'll win for you and I'll bring you the bouquet of flowers given as a prize." Sarah, that's the girl's name, takes him at his word and promises to be there waiting for him at the finish line. Vandenbroucke puts the team under pressure: we arrive in Avila, a prohibitive goal for someone like him, but that day the Belgian has the strength of HerculesHe beats everyone to it, leaving 70 kilometers from the finish line. They don't see him anymore, and those fighting for the yellow jersey settle for fighting it out once Frank has already arrived. He picks up the deck and brings it to him: "You're a man of your word," Sarah says with a kiss on the cheek. That's the greatest victory, but one with bitter consequences...
In the evening, his excitement knows no bounds. He can't sleep. His roommate suggests a solution: "Take a bottle of alcohol from the minibar and take a sleeping pill."At that moment, he doesn't know he's playing the role of the tempting devil. Frank, unaware, falls for it and slips into a whirlpool, that of addiction.
The delirium and the rainbow jersey
He slides further and further down the drain, a slave to drugs. Those were the doping years, sure, but his history with that plague only goes so far, it goes much further because he's the one who goes further, reaching cocaine, amphetamines. The cycling god becomes increasingly anonymous, marginalized. The teams no longer believe in him because that is not the Frank Vandenbroucke they had come to know..
One evening Vandenbroucke falls prey to his delirium. He puts on the world champion's jersey, the one he had never won and had to buy. He downs a bottle of wine, the most expensive one, and at the same time fills himself up with cocaine. His mother saves him, finding him lying in his roomThe rush to the hospital, the last-minute rescue. But these were only the harbingers of his end, which, as often happens with those who have reached the heights of fame, occurred in the solitude of a hotel room on October 12, 2009. At almost 35 years old. A talent that blossomed too soon, without the mental strength to manage it.
