Über uns

„Eine ganze Welt öffnet sich diesem Erstaunen, dieser Bewunderung, Erkenntnis, Liebe und wird vom Blick aufgesogen.“ (Jean Epstein)

Somersault on the Moon – Notes on Strade Bianche 2022

(Text: Patrick Holzapfel)

The fan­cy signs of wine­ries – tel­lingly writ­ten in per­fect Eng­lish – on the side of the epony­mous white roads across the Cre­te Sene­si, a beau­tiful land­scape in Tusca­ny trans­for­med by humans over cen­tu­ries, must have loo­ked as if they were put up in defi­ance of the dust cover­ed bodies and bicy­cles racing past them in what has beco­me the most attrac­ti­ve one-day race in pro­fes­sio­nal cycling next to Paris-Rou­baix. No wine in the world, not even the famous Chi­an­ti pro­du­ced along­side the rou­te, could ease the pain of the riders par­ti­ci­pa­ting in Stra­de Bian­che. Howe­ver, their reward is a nar­ra­ti­on embedded as thic­k­ly in myth as the modern world can pos­si­bly accept. The word hero grows as clo­se to the­se roads as the rows of cypress trees – the race was even foun­ded as a L’Eroica. The repor­ters the­re refer to the natu­ral ele­ments as if they were some Home­ric mischief brought to the mor­tals by gods; they speak and wri­te of eter­ni­ty as if that’s all we aim for when peda­ling towards our own exhaus­ti­on; their sounds of awe are accom­pa­nied by the fren­zied exci­te­ment of the peo­p­le stan­ding on the side of the road like lost mar­kers of for­got­ten civi­liza­ti­ons. Tho­se visi­tors from the real world – some of them loo­king sur­pri­sed as if the race pas­sed their gar­dens wit­hout war­ning – wear jackets and sun­glas­ses to pro­tect them­sel­ves from the dust whir­ling through the air (we know the meta­pho­ric of dust), and even a frigh­ten­ed hor­se has to watch in panic as the cara­van thun­ders past its once-so-quiet refu­gio at the foot of a rol­ling clay hill.

Cycling’s hun­ger for legend and archaic expe­ri­en­ces is almost ridi­cu­lous, but it is also the most roman­tic jus­ti­fi­ca­ti­on for the absurd task of try­ing to ride your bike fas­ter than ever­y­bo­dy else. In the case of Stra­de Bian­che, make no mista­ke about it, this hun­ger is a cal­cu­la­ti­on. As oppo­sed to other gre­at races, this one comes with next to no histo­ry. It was only in 2007 that the race beca­me a fix­tu­re in the inter­na­tio­nal calen­dar of pro­fes­sio­nal cyclists, and though the­re have been some remar­kab­le edi­ti­ons in tho­se fif­teen years, it’s hard to compa­re them to the cen­tu­ry old sto­ries of steel bikes other races come along with. The race is built on nost­al­gia for a cer­tain type of racing which is very hard to find in modern cycling; racing wit­hout being able to cal­cu­la­te. It leads uphill and downhill over kilo­me­ters of gra­vel roads (which make up more than a third of the total rou­te), small streets and finis­hes after a nar­row and steep climb up Via San­ta Cate­ri­na on Piaz­za del Cam­po in pic­tures­que Siena.

In this sen­se the Stra­de Bian­che might be one of the few events in public sports in which we can see a suc­cessful attempt at his­to­ri­cal pre­ser­va­ti­on. While the inte­rests of money and power sub­vert most attempts in other occa­si­ons (for exam­p­le in foot­ball or the Tour de France), the rather naï­ve and pas­sio­na­te desi­re for legend gives Stra­de Bian­che an air of histo­ry in the making. It helps when the riders are remi­nis­cent of what was once refer­red to as heroes, like in the edi­ti­on of 2022.

It’s true that obser­ving cycling races on tele­vi­si­on comes with a lot of pati­ence, which is a euphe­mism for bore­dom. This is not the case with Stra­de Bian­che. The first image of the men’s race we could see this year was a somer­sault on the moon. In a hor­ri­ble crash cau­sed by gus­ting winds, almost half of the riders fell down on the grey-blue, lunar-like soil. One of the them was World Cham­pi­on Juli­an Ala­phil­ip­pe, a favou­ri­te who loves the came­ras and didn’t dis­ap­point them with a spec­ta­cu­lar sal­to off his bike. Later, he would pay the pri­ce for his crash as he strai­ned to catch up to the other favou­ri­tes through hea­vy head­wind. He couldn’t keep up with the best rider on that day but then, nobo­dy could.

Right behind Ala­phil­ip­pe, a cer­tain Tadej Pogačar fell less spec­ta­cu­lar­ly but – undoub­ted­ly – with a smi­le on his lips. This smi­le is hard to explain. The­re is a lot that is hard to explain. In cycling, we’ve lear­ned that when­ever some­thing is hard to explain, it’s pro­ba­b­ly a cau­se for doubt. Pogačar is a 23 year old, two time win­ner of the Tour de France. He also won the Il Lom­bar­dia and Liège–Bastogne–Liège in 2021. Actual­ly, it seems as if he wins when­ever he wants to on wha­te­ver ter­rain. The only rider com­pa­ra­ble to him in the histo­ry of cycling is Eddy Merckx, the can­ni­bal, who is refer­red to as the grea­test of all time. Pogačar, who looks like an enthu­si­a­stic school­boy, is a force of natu­re, and the per­fect win­ner for this race. He didn’t only win it, he atta­cked around 50 (!) kilo­me­t­res befo­re the finish line and mana­ged to go all the way wit­hout any help, lea­ving the bunch of world-class cha­sers no chan­ce. Such an effort is what jour­na­lists refer to as epic.

In the past cou­ple of years five riders and three teams have taken con­trol in the world of cycling and released it from the cold, data-dri­ven, robot-like bureau­cra­cy domi­na­ting the sport for a deca­de with cham­pi­ons like Chris Froo­me, Brad­ley Wig­gins or Geraint Tho­mas. The­se riders are Pogačar, Wout Van Aert, Mathieu Van der Poel, Juli­an Ala­phil­ip­pe and Pri­mož Rog­lič. All of them risk losing in order to win. They ride not only for records but for glo­ry. Four of tho­se five have now won the Stra­de Bian­che in the last four years. That’s no coin­ci­dence. In them glows the very same desi­re and nost­al­gia as in the race its­elf. Their style is more dar­ing, wil­der, more erra­tic than any­thing we’ve seen in this sport in the last thir­ty years (with hono­ura­ble excep­ti­ons like Mar­co Pan­ta­ni or Alber­to Con­ta­dor). Embedded in tra­di­ti­on as they are (Van der Poel is even the grand­child of the gre­at Ray­mond Pouli­dor) we basi­cal­ly alre­a­dy know – becau­se such is the histo­ry of this sport – that they will fall at some point. Howe­ver, they will fall in style just as Ala­phil­ip­pe demons­tra­ted, and to wit­ness their fall and pos­si­ble resur­rec­tion might just be ano­ther cau­se for beau­tiful legends car­ry­ing eter­ni­ty across time.

Fur­ther remark: The­re is ano­ther type of a long fal­len hero resur­rec­ted. His name is Ale­jan­dro Val­ver­de. He will turn 42 years in April. It’s his last sea­son. One should wri­te a book about his care­er. He finis­hed second. It’s not an over­state­ment that he is the real hero of this race. Like Pogačar he see­med to smi­le throug­hout the who­le race. It’s sort of his trademark.

Smi­ling in pain. I find it hard to ima­gi­ne that despi­te the pres­su­re and the fier­ce com­pe­ti­ti­on invol­ved the­se smi­les do not dis­play a love for the sport.

1 Tadej Pogačar (Slo) UAE Team Emi­ra­tes 4:47:49
2 Ale­jan­dro Val­ver­de (Spa) Movi­star Team 0:00:37
3 Kas­per Asgreen (Den) Quick-Step Alpha Vinyl Team 0:00:46
4 Atti­la Val­ter (Hun) Grou­pa­ma-FDJ 0:01:07
5 Pel­lo Bil­bao Lopez De Armen­tia (Spa) Bah­rain Vic­to­rious 0:01:09
6 Jho­na­tan Nar­vaez Pra­do (Ecu) Ine­os Grenadiers
7 Quinn Sim­mons (USA) Trek-Segaf­re­do 0:01:21
8 Tim Wel­lens (Bel) Lot­to Sou­dal 0:01:25
9 Simo­ne Petil­li (Ita) Interm­ar­ché-Wan­ty-Gobert Maté­riaux 0:01:35
10 Ser­gio Higui­ta Gar­cia (Col) Bora-Hans­g­ro­he 0:01:53

Last hero to arri­ve in Siena:

87 Mari­jn van den Berg (Ned) EF Edu­ca­ti­on-Easy­Post 0:18:31