The Tour de France between the solitude of Oss and the excess of company of Philipsen

The attackers said: Come on, it’s useless to keep this little theater going, come and get us.

The group replied: No, come on, stay there a little longer, there’s no hurry.

There was no need for words to get to the point. They haven’t been there, they understood each other immediately at the Tour de France. Andrei Amador, Mads Louvel And Daniel Oss they were ahead of everyone, chased by hundreds of wheels, dozens of which had only one purpose: to keep those three at such a distance that an increase in pace would have made it possible to catch them easily and above all in a short time. Louvel got tired of playing that there were 53 kilometers left to go, Andrey Amador half a dozen kilometers later. Daniel Oss stayed in front by subtraction. For a lifetime he paved the way for Peter Sagan, guided his movements as a group, nursed and launched him, was his shadow, advisor, grand vizier. For a day, a few hours, he distanced himself from the captain and his friend. Far away, on the run, a total change. It was worth staying there, enjoying the effect it has, even if the ending was obvious and there was no possibility of any carnival reversal. It could have been worse, it could have rained. It rained. But in the summer, especially when cycling, especially in the Tour de France, especially after a sticky heat, the rain is never so unpleasant. The peloton would have preferred to get wet a little earlier and approach the sprint on dry asphalt. Also because there would have been space and time to do it.

Pursued and pursuers had played who was slower for a while, tens and tens of kilometres. The hope was to see a surplace challenge, a relocation of what made the spectators in the velodromes open their mouths, who cooked the legs like a Galibier or a Tourmalet. It went badly. And yes, there are quite a few pistards in a group.

Then the speed increased, it became dizzying. Slightly downhill road, wheels turning at over eighty kilometers per hour. At sixty Julian Alaphilippe’s shoulder rested on that of the yellow jersey Jonas Vingegaard. The two trembled, broke down, recaptured the perfect line, nothing happened. And fortunately, it would have been a disaster. Because not all runners are tightrope walkers, extreme balancing act is usually the preserve of sprinters.

The sprinters entered the scene at the last minute, they recited a couple of choral lines, but those that give the sense of the whole work. And the best was, as the fil rouge of this Tour foresees, that of Jasper Philipsen. Still first, in front of everyone for the fourth time. On this occasion, however, as never before. There was no Mathieu van der Poel to lead the way, to open the waters. He had to make do, he did it very well, in the usual way, using strength and intelligence, cunning and strong manners. Many got lost in that chair game that took place in the last five hundred meters. Wout van Aert was lost, it’s not the first time. Mads Pedersen was lost, Caleb Ewan and Fabio Jakobsen evaporated. We needed to float with experience, flair and centrifuge, said Urs Freuler, who won several sprints in the 1980s. Alexander Kristoff and Peter Sagan have resurfaced, the former finishing in the top ten twice, the latter never. All people who know how to ride a bicycle perfectly, who know how to handle any (or almost) unexpected event.

The Tour de France will offer plenty of unexpected events tomorrow. He offered so many yesterday. A little less today. But days like this are needed, you need to catch your breath, fix the level of lactic acid in the muscles as much as possible. There is always a need for slowness to enjoy the speed, calm to enjoy the fight, backgrounds to appreciate the voracity of the movement of the legs on the pedals and the fight.

Tour de France, 11th stage: the order of arrival and the general classification