The knives are out, or at least unsheathed, for Jonas Vingegaard at the Tour de France, but then it doesn’t take much to trigger scepticism towards the wearer of the yellow jersey. It is always there, simmering away, even though 25 years have passed since the Festina affair of 1998 and more than a decade since Lance Armstrong confessed his doping sins to Oprah Winfrey.
Vingegaard, like so many before him, is having to recite the same mantra: trust me, I work hard, I sacrifice so much. Believe me, I am not taking anything.
