When Tom Pidcock talks about how it feels to chase down the greatest cyclist of his generation, his language is so vivid you can almost taste the salt-baked sweat on Tadej Pogacar’s jersey.
But as we discuss the pair’s epic duel at the Milan-San Remo classic in March, and what it was like when a bloodied Pogacar went nuclear on the final climb, Pidcock can’t help but smile. “Up the Poggio, when I was following his attack, it was like racing a zombie,” he says. “He was white, white skinsuit, white shorts cut up, blood. He’s a demon. It was incredible.”
