by Peter Sagan
That was some podium. Me, Cav and Tom. The World Champion from 2015, the World Champion from 2011 and the World Champion from 2005. Great podium, shame about the race.
Gabriele was going berserk. He was so sure I’d win; he had been all year. Bless his heart. Some bets and challenges would be paid off now and it would be a delicious payday, no matter what the expense. As we waited for the podium, he and I watched the replay of the finale in the press area, and they were playing it with the English commentary. It went something like: ‘Cavendish! Cavendish! Cavendish! Oh … Sagan.’ Gabriele was wetting himself.
I will be in the rainbow jersey for another 12 months. Sorry, Euros. It’s the wardrobe for you.
Part Three
Bergen
On Bora - hansgrohe
At the end of 2015, Oleg Tinkov announced that he was going to step away from the sport at the end of the following season. To say the announcement took us by surprise would be a whopping understatement. We knew that he had been at the centre of a largely unsuccessful and frustrating drive to reduce cycling’s dependency on sponsorship, but I don’t think anyone had realised he was ready to step away from the sport altogether. Colourful as ever, he said he felt like Don Quixote tilting at windmills, and I have to say that when he sat us all down to break the news, I did feel a tinge of sympathy for him. Securing funding for our sport can be a real scrap and perhaps the system does need an overhaul. But the sport also clings to its traditions and I’m certain we’d need a few more Olegs all pulling in the same direction before we witness a noticeable improvement.
Any kind of abrupt change can be alarming, but I could immediately tell that Lomba saw an opportunity. He quickly settled my nerves and reassured me that the outcome would be positive, and of course I entirely trusted him. When had he ever let me down? However, I couldn’t help but feel anxious for both Juraj and the rest of my teammates. Yes, I was UCI World Champion, but I could still appreciate the stress they must have been feeling. I came up through the haphazard Slovakian system, remember!
The responsibility of pitching for a new owner and sponsor fell to team manager, Stefano Feltrin, with whom Lomba had a testing relationship over the years. The idea of dancing to his tune was distinctly unappealing.
And so as the 2016 season rolled on, various opportunities and outcomes were explored and scrutinised. We wrote up a shortlist of attributes a new team needed in order to appeal to us and decided that a key factor would be ensuring that I had the freedom to listen to my body and race the events which would be best for my career. It seemed more important than ever that I was able to take control of my racing schedule if I was going to peak at the right times. God knows I’d had enough battles with Oleg already about our conflicting objectives. They were distracting and hopefully they wouldn’t be a feature of my future team. I was also looking for a team manager who understood the important role of Team Peter and had a vision for how our compact, focussed unit could integrate into a larger team for the benefit of all. What else? A level of professionalism and long-term stability that meant I could focus on riding, the opportunity to bring over Juraj and some of my ever-dependable teammates, oh, and the moon on a stick, perhaps?
There were mentions of several large teams, but somehow joining one of the bigger outfits felt like a step backwards. Could I realistically expect to avoid wrestling over race schedules and goals when there were other top riders with their own opposing ambitions on the same bus?
It was at this point that an exciting, refreshing opportunity came into view. At that time, BORA–Argon 18 was a relatively small team with grand ambitions. They were riding under a pro-Continental licence but were set for the top tier in 2017. We met with founder and CEO of BORA Willi Bruckbauer and team manager Ralph Denk. They were instrumental in guiding me to make one of the best decisions of my professional career. To give you a little background, BORA is a German company that specialises in sophisticated kitchen extractor systems, which means you can do away with those big hoods you have looming over your stove. Much like Oleg, Willi is a cycling fanatic who wanted to get into the sport to expand his company brand, although I think it’s safe to say that’s where their similarities end. He is passionate, but thoughtful and precise. Anyone can grab a microphone and make absurd claims about taking their team to the top of the sport, but Willi and Ralph had such a clear strategy, and they wanted to position me at the heart of it. They listened to us intently and seemed unphased when we stated our desire to keep Team Peter together, which would mean bringing in Tinkoff teammates Maciej Bodnar, Michal Kolář, Erik Baška – and Juraj obviously – to the team as well. For the first time I began to visualise the role as a true team leader.
Willi was also in the process of signing a second key sponsor and German brand, Hansgrohe, a bathroom product specialist who had previously been involved in cyclo-cross, sponsoring the Superprestige series. I was reassured that this extra investment would guarantee our position rubbing shoulders with the big boys. And, of course, without Hansgrohe’s involvement, I would never have been photographed taking a shower for their international marketing campaign. I’m sure we’ll squeeze a shot in the book somewhere for you. You’re welcome.
The final major step in their development, and critical in my decision-making, was their plan to also sign up Specialized as our bike supplier on a three-year contract. Knowing that the bikes would be a consistent factor through a potentially unsettling transition was incredibly reassuring, and beyond all that, they make fucking good bikes!
And so the deal was done, and I maintain it’s probably the best decision we’ve made in our careers. I say ‘we’ve made’, because it was very much a collective decision. Like I said, I might stand on the podium from time to time, but I do so as a representative of all the guys who help get me over the line. It was as much a decision for them as for me.
And so BORA - hansgrohe have arrived in the top tier of pro cycling and what an extraordinary start we’ve had. In 2017 the team, including backroom staff, has doubled while the riders have performed to an exceptional level. At one point in 2018 we had the Slovakian, German, Austrian and World road-race champions all riding together at the Tour de Suisse. It wasn’t entirely clear what the BORA - hansgrohe team jersey actually looked like!
So that’s the story of my move to BORA - hansgrohe and now we look to the future. It’s such an exciting time for this vibrant young group. Funny how things work out.
2017
WINTER
So, I mentioned that after Doha I needed to pay out on a few things. I touched on this subject earlier, but Gabriele says I need to explain exactly how this stuff works.
All joking aside, these challenges with people close to me are really important. I told you about Katarina and Lomba having to ride round Lake Tahoe, didn’t I? That’s what I’m talking about. With the expansion of Team Peter and the embracing of the Team Peter roster and ethos within the BORA - hansgrohe umbrella the whole challenge thing was taking on a life of its own.
It was difficult to celebrate in Doha, but not impossible. Qatar is not a ‘dry’ state, but it has pretty strict rules on where you can buy alcohol and where you can drink it. Anybody who has seen a Slovakian sports fan anywhere in the world will know that there is a uniform that must be carried at any time: a Slovakian flag; sports or training clothing made out of a synthetic material, usually, but not essentially, a shell suit; a branded baseball cap, preferably marketing an energy drink and, enforceable by law in Bratislava, a maxi-size can of Pilsner Urquell lager. It is rumoured that fans at the Doha Worlds had to obtain special permission from Slovakian diplomatic services to walk the streets of Qatar’s capital without the requisite can. We are a law-abiding yet resolute country and we stayed legal without being swayed from our destiny: to party.
When we got home I got my little black book out and totted up who owed what.
Now, I should explain that these little side issues are not bets in the traditional sense. A bet would be ‘If you
win, I’ll do this, but if you lose, you have to do this.’ It’s more communal than that, usually a challenge that means we all have to do something funny or crazy if it comes off.
Sometimes this is just a fun thing to pass the day. For instance, there was one occasion after a race in Belgium, we did a Hansgrohe event, and then a few of us went to this really superb restaurant in Kortrijk to eat. It was me, Juraj, Giovanni and Gabriele. While we were eating this guy came up to me in the middle of the meal and said, ‘Hi, I have this brand of shoes that I’d really like you to wear.’ ‘OK,’ I said, swallowing a piece of steak and putting my knife and fork down, ‘that’s nice, but I have a shoe sponsor so I can’t really do that, but thank you anyway.’ ‘What size are you anyway, I’ll bring you some.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘my brother here Juraj is a 43. And my brother from another mother here Gabriele is a 42.’ That obviously wasn’t what he had in mind. There was a beat as he swallowed, glancing at the two guys he’d clearly never seen or heard of. ‘Sure thing. I’ll bring them to your hotel in the morning.’ Great, see you tomorrow. Needless to say, we’re still waiting.
Anyway, we were laughing away and having fun. The next thing, we were having a bet on the bill. The furthest away on guessing the total amount had to pay. We do this fairly regularly, but we don’t usually eat in restaurants as swanky as this one, and let me tell you, that Giovanni Lombardi knows how to order wine.
I may have given you the impression that Gabriele is acutely aware of the cost of things, especially when it is likely to be him paying for them. This doesn’t stop him losing his shirt to me on a daily basis when it comes to PlayStation. He still maintains it’s a deal he has with Giovanni to keep my morale high before races. If so my morale is very high all the time, even in the middle of winter. The challenge on this day, in this restaurant, confirmed my suspicions about Gabriele: he guessed the amount of the bill to within a euro. One euro! In a fancy restaurant at a table of men with expensive tastes showing off to each other and with the confidence of those who think they probably won’t have to pay. He had obviously memorised the price of every item we’d ordered and mentally counted it all up.
The pressure was on. Giovanni does all my deals and takes care of my finances, so if he lost I’d be more concerned than if I’d lost myself. No need to worry, he was safely within the ballpark. Me? Well, when you’ve been involved with this lot as long as I have, you always suspect a challenge like this might be on the cards and you stay as alert as … well, a sprinter. You didn’t really think I’d lose did you? Oh Juraj, my sweet, sweet brother … get your credit card out. At least you’ll have a nice new pair of invisible shoes waiting for you in the morning.
Gabriele spent most of 2016 telling the planet how I was going to win a second UCI rainbow jersey in Doha. Early in the year, he said to me that if I won, he would get the Peter Sagan logo tattooed on his ankle. ‘OK,’ I said, ‘very nice. And what do you want from me in return?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘something that means a lot to you that will mean a lot to me too.’ ‘How about this?’ I put my hand inside my shirt and pulled out the gold chain and crucifix I have worn since I was a teenager. ‘Wow. You’d do that? Yeah, let’s shake on it.’
There is a YouTube clip of me shooting across the finish line in Doha. As ever the first man to greet me was Gabri, leaping with delight. You can see me shouting something and pointing wildly. You might think that it was some kind of Cristiano Ronaldo/Richard Virenque celebration, but you’d be wrong. I was pointing at Gabri and shouting, ‘You’ve got one week to get that tattoo done!’
Next, I want you to picture Giovanni Lombardi. He was known as a fox when he was a rider. In 15 years as a pro he’d been everywhere, done everything, worked for Gianluigi Stanga, Walter Godefroot, Mario Cipollini and Bjarne Riis and never once taken shit from anyone. He is the sort of man who would look smart in decorator’s overalls. Can you imagine a less likely candidate for a PS ankle tattoo? Well, he’s got one. And he’s got a white Cadillac too. That’s how Doha paid out.
It must have been in the wake of this that the discussion turned to Bergen. It all sounded a bit premature to me. I haven’t spent a lot of time in Norway, but I’ve seen enough of it to know that the roads tend to go up. And if the heat had suited me in Qatar, how the hell was I going to cope with Norway in autumn? Of course, I’d be going, I was the World Champion, but it seemed a long way off. I could already feel the crosshairs resting on my shoulders as all the other candidates took aim. A hundred riders, a hundred stories, ninety-nine snipers’ rifles lining me up.
That didn’t stop the bets rolling in.
At a family get together, Dad told Lomba that he would give up smoking if I won in Norway. That was 50-odd years of dedicated puffing that he was willing to turn his back on. That was a massive motivator for me. We all think we’re immortal when we’re young, and teenagers growing up in Soviet Europe were no less susceptible to the lure of the cigarette than the rest of the world. We think of our parents’ health as they get older and if Dad packed in smoking, that would be a fabulous win.
Lomba had a more peculiar tobacco weakness. Somewhere along the line – I think he said it was in Sweden or somewhere in Scandinavia – he got into chewing tobacco. Nasty stuff. Dad got him to promise that he’d bin the spittoon fodder if he was going to give up the fags himself. Giovanni wasn’t too bothered at that stage, thinking that Bergen was a long way off and a bit hilly for the more statuesque rider like the annoying Slovakian lad he kept getting lumbered with.
We set some targets for 2017. We’d start in Australia at the Tour Down Under. The cycling press were talking about what a massive step up it was for BORA - hansgrohe, and why was I going to a little team like that when I could have gone to Quick-Step, Sky or the like. They weren’t seeing the bigger picture. For me, it wasn’t a step up at all, it was a honing and a distillation of what we needed to achieve. No need to support a bigger team’s conflicting aims. No question of a learning curve: we were a band of brothers who had done this more than once but in other jerseys, in other cars, on other massage tables, in other training plans, on different workstands. And we still had Specialized bikes to ride.
After that, the programme had an asterisk planted next to the following races to signify a concerted focus:
Flanders
Roubaix
California
Tour
Canada
Bergen
OK, it was a longer list than most team leaders would target, but I liked that. If you put all your eggs in one basket and you drop it … that’s a big mess to clear up.
Bring it.
2017
SPRING
Milan–San Remo is a cool race. I came second there in 2013 in a sprint from a little group when Fabian Cancellara and I concentrated on each other too much and got caught out by that wily German sprinter Gerald Ciolek. Hang on, I hear you say, isn’t MSR something crazy like 300 kilometres? And you weren’t so good at the long races then, as you have made clear over many pages? Full marks for concentration. But that year, the weather was awful and they shortened the course. Approaching the Turchino Pass, it was snowing so hard that the race was stopped and we all got into cars and drove through the tunnel instead! It also has to be said that the first half of the reduced race wasn’t as hard as it could have been, due to the fact that nobody wanted to be out there. The snow gave way to rain and it was generally one of the days when professional cyclists really earn their coin.
Four years on, now that I was a Monument winner, I had high hopes of doing the business in San Remo. The parcours is hard enough that the majority of bunch kickers get cleared out by the finale. The little climb of the Poggio just before the finish is short enough that it can be a springboard rather than an obstacle for me on my best form. Technical descents, like that of the Poggio are fun for me, and I fancy myself in a small group on the Via Roma.
The Italians are a romantic bunch and they all went mad when I attacked on that iconic final
stretch. Not so much because it was me, but that lovely UCI rainbow jersey was ticking all their boxes. The first big race of the year, Il Primavera, the biggest Italian one-day race, the World Champion … they love that kind of thing. And, you know what, it’s supposed to be entertaining. People don’t watch bike races just to find out the result. If that was the case, they would just read the paper in the morning or check their phones. Fans want drama. And if you can’t make the effort to give them something to shout about when you’re wearing the rainbow jersey, well, frankly you shouldn’t be wearing it. People often ask if I feel the pressure of the jersey. Well, I feel the jersey, it’s true, but it’s not pressure. It’s a responsibility to entertain.
I had a little gap going over the top and flew round the hairpins through the orchards, greenhouses and vegetable patches of the south side of the Poggio.
It felt great. I thought I would have enough. But guess what? There’s that pesky Polish opponent of mine again, good old Michal Kwiato in his new Sky jersey with the rainbow collar and cuffs scooting down behind me. Ah, you’re kidding, Julian Alaphilippe too? What does a man have to do to win this race? Outsprint them, I guess.
If I’d won that sprint, I’d be telling you it was the greatest sprint in the history of cycling, but I didn’t. However … it was a pretty damn good sprint.
I had to lead it out, unfortunately. We’d been going through and off between the three of us – we had to, the whole race was right on top of us. Looking back I probably did a bit too much and when we got into the town and I expected one of the others to come through, they were wedged in preparing for the sprint. I kicked hard from the front before Kwiato or Alaphilippe could jump me and I got a gap, but the finishing line was way off and I could feel them gaining, gaining … we hit the line with such synchronicity that a pistol crack wouldn’t have split the three of us. Kwiato and I actually hit each other under the effort of throwing our bikes at the line, but we all kept our balance. The commentators didn’t know who’d got it, but I did: Kwiato. He had judged it brilliantly. Fair play to my longest-standing rival.