Inside Team Sky

by Walsh, David

  Going into the long time trial the following day Wiggins had proven he could do more than just time trial. Froome had proven that he had arrived. At last.

  That was Sunday. Froome should have been spent. On Monday, in the old university town of Salamanca, he would have been excused for cruising. Instead he sought and was granted permission to put his foot on the gas. And so Chris Froome ad-libbed his way through a gruelling 47km time trial which ran in a loop out from and back to the city.

  Time-trial days involve a burst of intense effort but lots of waiting around. Most of the heavy hitters in the discipline were out early. Taylor Phinney (BMC Racing Team) set the early mark. Fabian Cancellara (Leopard-Trek) eclipsed him. Then the German time-trialling star Tony Martin of HTC-Highroad took a couple of minutes out of Cancellara’s time. A couple of hours and many riders passed without anybody coming near.

  Wiggins came down the ramp like a demon though. His first intermediate split after 13.3km was a second faster than Martin’s. Wiggins was in business.

  Froome passed the same marker a little later, turning in a respectable time some 24 seconds slower than Wiggins.

  When Wiggins pressed the turbo button, however, nothing happened. At the 30km mark he found himself 19 seconds behind Martin. Understandable. Tony Martin is Tony Martin. But when Froome passed the same mark he had gained 23 seconds on Wiggins.

  So to the final run home, 17km into Salamanca and the Plaza Mayor. By the time Wiggins got there he was 1'03" behind Martin. Forgiveable, until Froome rode home 23 seconds ahead of his team leader.

  After the heroics on Stage Nine, Sky had expected that this time trial would give Wiggins a substantial lead on General Classification. Instead the red jersey was handed to the gangly apprentice, Chris Froome. He was pleased, but aware of the difficulties the situation presented.

  ‘I’m in trouble. This situation was never the plan. I got the green light to go for the time trial as hard as I could. I’m over the moon.’

  They had a rest day before heading into the Cantabrian Mountains. Team Sky who had never seriously challenged for a Grand Tour had the red jersey on the shoulders of their stronger climber. His leader was in third place. The problem was that Chris Froome had come here for weeks of servitude. If it was time for a rethink there was no suggestion of it on the road that day.

  Sky’s tactic on the mountains remained the same. Keep the speed high. Turn the climbs as far as possible into the time-trial-like efforts that would suit Bradley Wiggins. The workload for the tactic fell on Wiggins’s teammates, mainly Froome.

  The hallmark of the Vuelta is its unique climbs, which present themselves not as long steady hauls to the clouds but as a series of short punchy gradients coming one after the other. It was on this corrugated landscape that Froome sacrificed himself, hauling Wiggins up the 19km ascent towards the summit finish at Manzaneda. With 3km to go after a day of shepherding his leader, Froome’s legs finally went. Wiggins found his way home alone.

  That evening in Galicia, Froome realised he had left everything on the roads in order to hand the red jersey to Wiggins. Froome was now 7 seconds down in second place. Still, when he crossed the line he went straight to Wiggins to congratulate him.

  The next day, on Stage Eleven, Froome delivered again, responding to a series of attacks before ceding to Wiggins on the long climb home. Wiggins ended the day in red. Froome was second in the General Classification.

  His sacrifice had been huge but it was what he got paid so handsomely to do. And with contract negotiations pending, more reward would come later.

  Wiggins retained the jersey through four stages before losing it to Juan José Cobo, a local favourite and the eventual winner of La Vuelta. Froome finished just 13 seconds behind Cobo in second place on the podium knowing, in his bones, that first place could have been his. Wiggins was third, 1'39" behind.

  30 January 2013: Vanity Hotel Golf, Mallorca. It is Wednesday evening, the fifth day of my first week inside Team Sky, and the moment to speak for the first time with Chris Froome. We have passed each other in the hotel, once he’d sat in the bar reading a serious newspaper. Another morning I’d gone to the small hotel gym to see him work out with Richie Porte, his best friend in the team.

  His friendship with Porte is interesting because they are so different. With Porte, what you see is what he is. And what he thinks is what you hear.

  Froome has always been guarded – considering, sifting, then speaking. When his rise began, those who managed Sky’s media affairs would say: ‘We need to get Froomey to give a little more of himself.’ And that morning in the gym with Porte, he gave plenty. Ben MacDonald, the Team Sky physiotherapist, supervised a session in which the riders did a tough circuit of strength and stretching exercises.

  Porte is small but neatly proportioned. He looked every inch the athlete.

  Froome is different, his tallness accentuated by his thinness. More than 6ft tall, he will start the Tour de France weighing 10st 6lb. But when the exercises get tough, Froome’s strength leaves an impression that would overwhelm every other memory from that workout. In the gym Porte seemed like a boy to Froome’s man.

  I am reminded of the story often told within the team to illustrate Froome’s physical freakiness. The former American rider Bobby Julich had been assigned to sand the rough edges off Froome in the 2011 season. He began by running some lab tests, the results of which startled him. Rod Ellingworth had to check the calibrations on the machinery but the numbers were right. They knew then that Julich was polishing a Tour de France podium finisher.

  That evening, Froome was already there when I arrived. We speak for half an hour or so. He is polite, comes across as intelligent but he is reserved, as if he’s learnt that the less you say, the less you get into trouble. Two memories survive from the conversation.

  The first was his time at St Andrew’s School in Bloemfontein.

  How could a 13-year-old from Kenya without a word of Afrikaans have survived at this predominantly Afrikaans school? He said it was not easy at the time but when you looked at the bigger picture you saw the benefits. It toughened him.

  Everything Froome says is delivered in well-formed and politely expressed sentences but you soon learn not to confuse politeness with softness. The other memory came from the corner of Froome’s soul where you find granite.

  The conversation had turned to the coming season and how he felt about riding the Tour de France in the same team as the defending champion, Bradley Wiggins. ‘What I want,’ he said, ‘is to arrive at the start in Corsica with my chance to win the race. Nothing more, nothing less.’ What he didn’t say but wanted you to know is that he would have his chance to win this year, no matter what. His intensity recalled what Apollo Creed said to Rocky Balboa: ‘Now, when we fought, you had that eye of the tiger, man, the edge!’

  Two weeks later, Froome rode his first race of the year, the Tour of Oman. On the fourth day he rode well to finish second to Spaniard Joaquim Rodríguez on Green Mountain, took the leader’s jersey and attended to the usual podium, media and anti-doping duties. A car waited to take him the twenty kilometres to the team hotel.

  ‘The car’s over there,’ someone said.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll ride back, a little extra training.’

  Eye of the tiger, man.

  He is the man.

  When I speak to Bradley Wiggins he appears to acknowledge this.

  ‘When we go to the Tour and the form guide says Chris is the man, I will be supporting Chris, we’re in a team and that’s why we’re successful.’

  First though, a brief reminder of some things which happened on the 2012 Tour de France – the race which turned Bradley Wiggins from sideburned mod into knight of the realm and national institution. Froome was there for another stint of stoical servitude.

  Stage Seven. The climb into La Planche des Belles Filles. Tough. Tough. Tough. The gradient goes from 14 per cent to 22 per cent. And you’ve had a long day. Richie Porte did his dog work and when h
e handed over to Froome only Wiggins, Cadel Evans, Vincenzo Nibali and Rein Taaramäe remained in contention. And Froome.

  Froome injected some pace into the business. Evans went with a kilometre to go but he had miscalculated. Froome, Wiggins and Nibali trailed after him like the tail on a kite. With 100m to go the stage was anybody’s, so Chris Froome decided to make it his. He nipped around Nibali for his first ever stage win. Wiggins finished a couple of seconds behind Evans. All were happy.

  ‘Now he has got his stage and he is going to be an integral part of me winning this race,’ said Wiggins, his presumption barely masking the fear that Froome wouldn’t be satisfied with one stage win.

  So to Stage Eleven. 148km to La Toussuire. All was looking well heading into the first real mountaintop finish. Wiggins in yellow.

  It is said that at a team meeting that morning, Froome had inquired if he had permission to attack from 3km out. That, he was told, would depend on Bradley. Froome’s eagerness was fed, not just by his natural competitiveness, but by a puncture on the first day of racing which had cost him 1'25". He felt he could do his work for Wiggins and get a podium finish for himself, but only if he was allowed to retrieve the time lost by puncturing.

  Circumstances were different from La Vuelta, as by now Wiggins had two minutes on Froome, but letting Froome jump early could mean that Nibali and Evans would tag along with him eating into Wiggins’s lead as he went. Whatever, nothing would be allowed to damage the team’s pursuit of the Tour’s yellow jersey.

  An attack from that far out? It’s unlikely, Froome was told, but maybe in the last 500m. As it happened, Evans launched a madcap attack with 56km to go but got burned on the Croix de Fer, the second savage hors catégorie climb of the day.

  The last climb of the day is La Toussuire, 18km of torture. Richie Porte takes his turn at the front. The peloton stretches out in survival mode now. Team Sky has the same tactic as ever: high steady pace, burn off as many as you can.

  Today, though, Vincenzo Nibali is feeling defiant. He shoots ahead of Wiggins’s group and makes a break for glory with 12km left. He is asking Team Sky what they have. He goes and he goes fast. Team Sky leave him be and pedal on. This is the Kerrison Way: react by not reacting, continue riding at an even tempo because that way you get to the top in the quickest time. So Plan A is still operational. Richie Porte drops away leaving just Froome and Wiggins to implement it.

  Froome pushes on. Wiggins follows, Frank Schleck and Cadel Evans trailing him. Froome, as usual, rides his bike in that almost boyish way, knees and elbows attached but separate from the torso, head down, eyes constantly pointed at the road directly below. It works though. He hauls Nibali back in.

  So it goes. Nip and tuck at the front. With just 6km left only Wiggins, Froome and Schleck have any chance of catching Nibali who has broken away again. Five kilometres to go and Froome is working like a faithful sheepdog, dragging Wiggins back to the ambitious Nibali. This time Nibali appears genuinely spent.

  Wiggins sits in behind Froome. Sliding uphill. Thus it shall be.

  But suddenly Froome breaks. Leaning forward into the incline, accelerating. It is surprising and it is confusing. A sliver of madness in Team Sky’s bloodstream. Nibali gives chase. Wiggins is left in yellow, forlornly climbing alone. In the team car, Sean Yates asks Froome had he Brad’s permission for this? What is going on, Froomey?

  Finally Froome relents. He straightens in the saddle, slows and waits for Wiggins.

  In the aftermath Brailsford and his team did what they do best. They controlled the controllables. What were beyond their reach were the storm clouds gathering on social media. Bradley Wiggins’s wife Cath tweeted, pointedly thanking Michael Rogers and Richie Porte for ‘genuine selfless effort and true professionalism’.

  Froome’s partner Michelle Cound tweeted that she found this ‘Typical’. That she was ‘beyond disappointed’. She added later, ‘If you want loyalty get a Froome dog – a quality I value although being taken advantage of by others.’

  There it lay. For their part, Wiggins and Froome did their best to varnish over the cracks in their relationship. Behind the scenes Wiggins, who at the best of times needs to be handled sensitively, was saying that it might be best if he himself went home. In front of the microphones and cameras, Froome and Wiggins threw each other little bouquets of nice words.

  There was one more hint of insurrection. On Stage Seventeen Froome appeared to go rogue again on the finish to the summit at Col de Peyresourde. This would be the last ascent of the entire Tour. Wiggins just needed not to get left behind and, barring unprecedented catastrophe, the Tour de France was his.

  But . . .

  With 4km to go on a mini descent of the Col, Froome conferred with Wiggins. What was said is unclear, but with just over 3km to go Wiggins kicked on and Froome tucked in behind. To the onlooker it looked as if Wiggins was drafting Froome to give him the chance to break after the stage leader Valverde. Froome left Wiggins behind and the lead group of eight riders shattered. Froome kept going.

  He took a glance back at Wiggins, however, and Wiggins didn’t look right. Valverde was catchable now. Froome seemed to urge Wiggins on but Wiggins’s head was in a different place. He was about to seal the Tour. Froome kept urging him on. Wiggins kept declining.

  To keep the pot boiling, Froome’s partner Michelle Cound tweeted three words: ‘DAMN IT GOOOOOOO.’ Froome decided not to abandon Wiggins, however, and sacrificed the stage by 19 seconds.

  Nobody was impressed. Sean Yates told the media that Froome had a lot to learn. Froome noted that he thought that it had been an ideal stage for Team Sky to win. Wiggins promised that soon Froome’s day would come.

  They got to Paris as number one and number two in the General Classification, but by then it was becoming clear that Froome expected to be riding with a Wiggo dog working for him in the 2013 Tour. He felt he could have won the 2011 Vuelta, might have won the 2012 Tour and his days of ‘could have’ and ‘might have’ were over.

  Their relationship will be a key narrative of Team Sky’s 2013 season. The backgrounds of the two men each make for compelling stories but they could hardly be more different. Both have clear difficulties in their family upbringing but they grew up in environments so disparate that it is a miracle that their paths ever intersected in pro cycling.

  Wiggins was born and reared in Kilburn. He grew up in Dibdin House, a large block of flats owned by the Church Commissioners, but has been swaddled by British Cycling from the time his talent first emerged. From the age of twelve onwards he was riding the eight miles to Herne Hill velodrome for track racing. He follows the programme, understands the system.

  He has never clung to a tree for two hours while a belligerent hippo waited to kill him. Froome has. He grew up outside Nairobi, collecting snakes and scorpions, the only white kid in a gang who would spend days and weeks cycling in the Ngong Hills. He came to Europe alone, represented Kenya alone, did virtually everything alone until he entered the realm of the controlled controllables.

  In retrospect, too much perhaps has been made of the breakaway. Froome pulled back. No physical damage was done, Froome did rein himself in, Wiggins lost no time. But the relationship between two leaders in a cycling team can be like an exotic fruit – once mishandled, bruised forever. Wiggins felt betrayed and humiliated by Froome’s brief show of strength. The rift between the two men remains.

  When I meet with Wiggins it is a logical jumping-off point. Had he really wanted to come home from the Tour de France? Was Froome’s jump that serious?

  ‘Because you perceive something to be something, what happens within the race, whether you are right as to how you perceived it is another thing but at the time, it’s like what happened there, in hindsight and obviously racing since, a winter has gone by, and you realised that wasn’t the intention of someone, but at the time you take it as you see it. Because we had a plan, we were in yellow, everything was going great, we’d dropped Cadel, four of us left, we’re nearly at t
he summit, it’s nearly over and then Chris goes and it’s like “what’s just happened?”

  ‘But in his mind, he was thinking, I want to get rid of Nibali so he is not chasing me for second, you could see now looking back, having spoken to him and that, what he was thinking at the time, in the heat of the moment, in the Tour and everything, on those stages, he has a lot going on.’

  What becomes clear as Wiggins speaks is that the relationship with Froome is dysfunctional. I put it to him that he perceives Froome as having betrayed him and that as such there is no way back. He doesn’t demur or correct me.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever really forgotten it, especially the one in the Pyrenees, right at the end, there was two of us left, it was over, the time trial is tomorrow, the Tour is won, to jeopardise that, I still felt whether we were going for the stage or whatever, Valverde was there, I still don’t one hundred per cent understand that, but enough time has passed. I just accept it, that was whatever, but we have a professional working relationship.

  ‘I said in January, we sat in a hotel down there, and they asked what are you two like off the bike. I said we don’t room together, we don’t mingle off the bike, but we are two very competitive leaders of this team and we both want to win, and that’s it really.’

  At the end of the day it all worked out. Wiggins won the final time trial. He won his Tour de France. Ultimately Froome obeyed team orders. He stopped and waited. On Toussuire and in the Pyrenees.

  ‘Did he do anything wrong?’ says Wiggins. ‘Perhaps he didn’t. He played ball, Chris.’

  But Wiggins and Froome don’t have enough of a relationship left upon which to build something new. Here in early 2013 they are still speaking in riddles about their intentions for the season. At the best of times it would be difficult to ask a four-time Olympic gold medallist and reigning Tour de France champion to step down and play superdomestique to the man who had butlered for him the year before. With the distance between Froome and Wiggins seeming irreducible, it seems impossible.