Pou Pou celebrated more than ever. Wherever he is, his smile shines in a special way. His grandson, Mathieu van der Poel (29), achieved eternal glory as a cyclist in Glasgow. The one that Raymond Poulidor, known as the eternal second, slipped through his hands so many times. His descendant, carried away by the excitement at the finish line, surely remembered how in 1974 Eddy Merckx made his grandfather sign another silver by two seconds. This time, neither Van Aert, his Poulidor, nor Pogacar, the modern cannibal, second and third respectively, came close to his excellence. Thus, Van der Poel reconciled his family with a race that made him immortal yesterday.
The Dutchman was crowned world road champion for the first time in his career, having previously won five in cyclocross. But it wasn’t an ordinary victory but an enormous one. He put on one of the finest displays on the bike in memory at these levels. A great and superlative show. The 271 kilometer route between Edinburgh and Glasgow contributed to it, a wonderful labyrinth that served as an amusement park for cyclists, guinea pigs of a premeditated torture. All the representatives of brave cycling, which shines today and is the pride of past generations, went there, and the show emerged naturally.
The race began with a group of nine runners trying to spring a surprise, although their fate was always set. Behind, in the pack of favourites, Denmark started hostilities with 100 kilometers to go. From here, the frenzy. Never did 100 kilometers feel so good. A blink of an eye and Evenepoel, reigning champion, was attacking with fury with 97 to go. A sigh and Pogacar tried to surprise right away. And Trentin, Pedersen and Van Aert. Whip to whip. There was no truce or compassion.
The first major selection came with a strike from Van der Poel 90 from the goal. Here the Dutchman, Van Aert, Pedersen, Pogacar and Bettiol left for the first time. It was clear who were the strongest. But they didn’t make room and Evenepoel arrived furiously to launch his offensive. However, the Belgian suffered excessively with the course and at all times was away from the hot spots of the race. The attack by the Italian Bettiol during a pit stop caused the race to go haywire. The constant repetitions were sandpaper on the legs. The route, as technical as a cyclocross, required extreme concentration.
After the Italian, the fantastic four came out again: Van der Poel, Pogacar, Van Aert and Pedersen. It was this year’s Tour of Flanders moved to Glasgow. At that moment, with 36 to go, Evenepoel gave up for good. His gesture was as eloquent as it was painful. With Van Aert, also Belgian, in front, it was cancelled. The Spaniards also said goodbye at that time, and it was Alex Aranburu (19th) and Iván García Cortina (30th) who would manage to reach the finish line.
At the moment of truth, the rain appeared to redouble the drama. As Bettiol loosened the rope, 22 meters from the finish line at Montrose Street, a hard-fought 200m, Van der Poel unleashed all his fury with an unyielding attack. Van Aert first and Pogacar then tried in vain to catch him. Nothing could happen to the Dutchman until a slip sent him to the ground.
Misfortune was coming his way again. Like a year ago, when he was arrested by the Australian police the night before the World Cup match in Wollongong. With glory so close, nothing could stop him this time.
The World Cup was decided there. Scratched on side, back and elbow. With the shoe off and the knee bloody. Van der Poel gritted his teeth and took what was rightfully his and history’s. Power, finesse and intelligence at the service of talent, his best moment seemed to arrive at any moment. In Glasgow, in the most chaotic and merciless race in memory, he signed his immortal. “This victory is everything for me and completes my career,” he said at the finish line. A triumph for which his grandfather, Raymond Poulidor, who died in 2019, always fought (he added a silver, two bronze and three fifths in 18 attempts), and for which he will no longer be forgotten.
