What a wonderful country! Down Under!
Sure, it had some advantages,
dating a professional cyclist.

Thibault has always been cute, despite being French.
We had been going out for a few months now
and this was our first trip away together,
to Australia. He would be racing in
the Tour Down Under here,
I would be standing
at the sidelines,
cheering!



When he attacked
in stage 5, I got so excited!



My heart started beating so fast,
I was constantly shouting: "that's my guy!"
He quickly got a major gap and things looked good!



But then, at the final climb,
he was suddenly caught.



Ten minutes after he crossed the finish line,
in sixth position, he met me. I saw that he
had taken a quick shower, which I
appreciated. I just hate a man
that stinks. Thibault was
always hygienic, though.

Anyway,
He met me
with a smile on his face.
I didn't understand any of it.
He explained me that attack was
a manoeuvre, to set up his team mate Pirlo.

I guess I had much to learn from the world of cycling.
But Thibault told me there'd be time for that later.
We had a dinner reservation first, and were
running late. Oh, to be young and in love.

I wanted no special treatment. To be by Thibault's side every step of the way,
to get that kind of access, FDJ made me scout a few races every season.
I enjoyed it, but it was definitely way more fun to watch your kid race.

After Thibault's lackluster performance in Australia, I was shipped off to Italy.
I still have a copy of my notes from this memorable Tirreno - Adriatico.
It's one of those races you never forget and I watched plenty of races.

A 20km mountain ITT on Day 1? Yes please.



Out of the gate it was clear Stone (Ricola) was the strongest rider here.
The 33 year old went to the CT after finishing 3rd at the Tour de France.
He won the TT by 30" over San Marino Classic winner Hagen (Telenor).

Stage 2 was flat. I'm a man of the mountains so... yeah. About that.
I didn't write very much in my notebook.
And what I did write is hard to read.

So, by stage 3 I still hadn't found a decent young talent to report back.
Then I found him. The diamond in the rough.
But, I couldn't tell anyone about him.



An American. FDJ would never bring in an American. Especially this guy.
Joseph Newton-Lavelle. The son of the legendary doper. But the kid had heart.
I watched with the rest of the viewers as he joined the morning breakaway.

The group of 4 had to go 155kms on a hilly Stage 3. No one gave them a shot.
Well, this little engine that could pulled the group and paced 95% of the time.
When the group reached the downhill to the finish, he went into another gear.



It was majestic. His positioning on the bike couldn't be taught.
He broke free from the wheelsuckers he dealt with all afternoon.
Even as Frenchman I couldn't help but cheer. This kid went through Hell.



And came away victorious. It was the biggest win of his career to date.
Yet, he still wasn't getting the credit he much deserved... "Just a fluke."
The media disgusts me. They did when I was a cyclist and still do now.

The kid came 3 seconds away from taking the leader's jersey from Stone.
He suffered for his efforts and didn't show his face at the front again.
He finished 10th overall. But rode his ass off in a stage I never forgot.

I didn't tell FDJ about him. They wouldn't have taken me seriously.
So, I picked the first young Frenchman high up in the GC: Voclain.
I told them what they wanted to hear and I got to keep my job.

One of the most
beautiful races ever.
Liège - Bastogne - Liège!

We came here with a good team,
so I was send up the road to pressure
the other teams into chasing. Off I went!



The plan worked
perfectly. The other
teams had to step up, they did.
My team mates were comfortable,
just following the chasers, sit back and wait!



When I was caught, the peloton
only counted 19 men.

The finale was
tough enough for
a rider to solo to victory.



In the end, Bordeaux was our best placed rider.
Not a big disappointment, but considering
the work we'd put into the plan,
it was rather unpleasant not
to get on the podium
in the end.

Still, for me...
It was a good training.

San Sebastian will always hold a special place in my heart
as it was my first professional bike race when I joined HTC in 2035.
However, it's the 2036 edition of the race that I tell people stories about.

So, allow me to set the stage before we get to the racing.
In the morning the team gathered for its usual tactics meeting.
The basics, nothing new. Once it finished Paul Evans stood up to speak.

"Guys, I'm sorry to say this, but today is going to be my last race."
We were shocked. Yet, at 39 years old, it wasn't that surprising.
I wanted to make sure this race was worthy to be his last.



Forget about tactics. Evans was my mentor and more importantly, my friend.
He watched over me and guided me through the first year of my career.
Even telling me stories about the past and about my father.

He deserved a quality send off and I was going to give it to him.



"Stick on my wheel."

I wanted to give him the best chance to win.
Or, at least the opportunity to be the team leader for one final time.
I got him up and over the last hill, just 15kms flat to finish left.

I did my job and slowly backed my way into the heart of the peloton.



Down I went! Someone wasn't paying attention and ran into the back of me.
I went sideways hitting the pavement hard with the grass just inches away.
Road rash on my arms and elbows. It looked nasty, but wasn't that painful.

By the time I got up the rest of the race had rushed by. No point to continue.
I got in the team car and got immediate treatment from the team doctor.
Then I heard it over the race radio... "Attack! HTC... Evans?!? 6kms out."



I couldn't believe it! Go Paul Go!
The radio went silent as everyone waited in anticipation.
Nothing for about 30 seconds then, "Evans has been pulled back."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.....



Everyone else was too strong. No shame in that.
At least he went out on his own terms and I got to help.
He visited me after the race to check-up on me and say goodbye.

That lasted for almost an hour. Before he walked out I had to ask him
one more question:"Who did you enjoy racing with more, me or my dad?"
He laughed, "Ah, come on. That's not fair. But if I have to answer..."

He paused, shook my hand one more final time and said,
"You. Your father would have never done what you did for me today."

Of course I was pissed off.
I mean, the team didn't include
me in the selection for the Giro d'Italia.

I had to save myself for the Tour.
Or something.
Ridiculous.



FDJ's Giro was one of near-misses.
Not a single victory.

I was resorted to watching the Giro at home.



Stage 20 was action packed and was a truly epic stage.
For once I forgot I wasn't at the race and my tv
sucked me in properly. Higa was in 5th
but planned a coup, a bloody coup!

He won the stage.



...And the Giro.

As for me. I was back at home,
back in the mountains.
Getting ready, with
a one track mind.

...Tour de France...

..Tour de France..

Tour de France