Vingegaard hands over victory in the Tour de France time trial to teammate Van Aert

With the

that the

wear when pedaling, but more modern, less sloping, more upright, Filippo Ganna crosses the finish line.

Better time, says the Italian giant, but nothing to do, it's against the clock, it's going to be won by the monster in green, Van Aert, of course.

The Belgian wins.

He does it by the will of the boss, the winner of the Tour.

The first Dane to be crowned on the Champs Elysées since Bjarne Riis in 1996.

Wout Van Aert, chosen by all, by his Danish leader, by the time trial world champion, and even by fate and the timekeepers who set his start at 4:16 p.m. knowing that his number is 16, does not pedal, he devours the Quercy the

, the calcareous plateau, its slopes, its gorged rivers and picnic, its karst so Slovenian in name and not in taste, its caves excavated drop by drop, and among its monasteries and palaces, fig trees and vineyards, and castles in balance crazy about the precipices that enchant and exhaust tourists in tank tops, capri pants and flip flops.

To each his music.

should have sounded to him

;

the cycling fishmonger Jonas Vingegaard, more in yellow than ever, would have done very well with Mendelsohn's wedding march, what less, his happy link with the brilliant Tour, or, more Mendelsohn, his dream of a summer night, which he shares in the goal, already in flesh and kisses, and in happy tears — what a fright, you almost fell, but here you are, whole, in yellow, and so strong, but you are in the bones, you don't even weigh 60 kilos, but how many watts, how little there are almost 52 per hour, barbaric—, with his loves, with his girl, Trine, with his daughter, Frida, who was born precisely on the day that his predecessor in the Jumbo leadership, Primoz Roglic, lost the Tour against Tadej Pogacar, which now, three years later, is just a shade of white, bloodless, busted, as he promised it would end because he would never stop fighting.

And he fights until the first 10 kilometers, a quarter of the day, along the narrow road towards Rocamadour de los peregrinos.

And he can't anymore.

Never has a winner of the Tour defended his victory the following year with as much desire, will and struggle as Pogacar, for whom the cycling polka of the New Year's concert would sound with which historic TVE began its cycling broadcasts, so much rhythm, so much indefatigable spirit.

He alone, and his fists, against an entire team, a strategy designed months ago and executed to the millimeter, and they even have perfect mannequins of their cracks so they don't get bored in the wind tunnel, and a Danish cyclist who hit him hard in all face to face, and in the liver, and left him already without air, in the monstrous alp of the Granon, where there is no oxygen.

“I have made mistakes, I have had bad luck with the covid in the team”,

says the winner of the two previous Tours.

“I will return with more hunger, with more desire, stronger.

And I hope Jonas is."

Crossing under the finish line, Van Aert, the great power, winner at almost 51 per hour after Vingegaard, equal in time, lifted his foot on the great slope of Rocamadour after having a scare in a curve, no doubt he would have been fine with the

Pictures ringing

and it sounds just on the radio at that moment, glory and fanfare, and so, framed, he will be adored and questioned, and, perhaps, not understood by the boring ones, who, given the ease of the Belgian —1.90 meters, 78 kilos, a slightly more stylized Indurain— in the mountains, sprints, filming, time trials, his imposing leadership and so many virtues, do nothing but wonder, could Van Aert win the Tour if he set his mind to it?

Some even venture that his shows of omnipotence and omnipresence on boulders, bridges, mountains, valleys and plains of the Tour was nothing more than a rehearsal organized by his team's laboratory to analyze each day the data of his speeds, watts, fatigue, recovery, average speed of ascent, and thus, decide if in the future, the Belgian, from Herentals, like Emperor Van Looy, Rik 11, and 27 years old, a cyclist for pleasure and not for necessity, can be your leader in the Tour or another grand tour.

Van Aert responds and laughs.

"Oh, the question, the question," he says.

“Let me enjoy this Tour, my three stage victories, for now, the great team work.

Now I don't see the future.

I am very happy with who I am.

Right now it could be in the top 10, at most.

It's not my goal, it's not what I like. I need to go out every day hoping to win the stage.

I am stronger with that idea.

Why would I want to change?

The purest fans listen to him and applaud.

Everyone fears the experiments, making him a Samson without a mane.

To win the Tour he would need to improve his endurance in the mountains, lose a lot of kilos.

And with that, and with no guarantees of being able to be anything else, he would lose power, which is what he loves most in the world, dynamite, since his beginnings in cyclocross, since he got stuck climbing Siena in the Strade Bianche , since in the Tour it is everything without being yellow.

And Vingegaard agrees.

“I don't think I have the ambition to fight for the generals.

He has the mentality of a classic rider, every day a battle for victory.

He has more fun that way, and he earns more,” he says.

“But if he changes, and he is good, of course I would share the leadership of the team with him.

I already do it with Roglic, right?

And we work very well with two leaders, as has been seen”.

The final photo of the time trial.

Tour photo.

The best three of the best Tour, yellow, white and green, the first three.

And the wise and calm old Welshman Geraint Thomas, next to him, and on the podium in Paris.

The Tour of all the good flavors.

May 2023 arrive.

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