Fourth Tour wins are, I once wrote, “more for the record books than the heart … the penultimate step to cycling greatness, [they] often do little to warm the soul at the time”. The past three weeks suggests that nothing has changed. It’s far from the four stages of grief, but you could argue that a first Tour victory is met with surprise and delight, a second admiration, the third respect, the fourth resignation.
As Tadej Pogacar’s fourth Tour win approached with the inevitability of a steamroller this week the chief cycling writer at l’Equipe, Alex Roos, grumbled about the Slovene’s lack of joie de vivre. “For the last few days, his sulks, his grumbles, his bad mood have blurred and eaten away at the ambience of the end of this Tour, because how can you get enthusiastic if the Yellow Jersey himself gives the impression of being bored and going through something painful …?”
