The season had now begun.
I was at the dawn of my professional career.
Wasn't this what I had always dreamed about?

The new age of cycling started with National Championships.
Great! After the final Scouted Race, I was all pumped up
to get the ball rolling for good, now!

My ambitions changed when I saw the profile. Pavé? Seriously?
The team manager Romain Giraud came up with a solution.
Fayette and Pascal would be today's leaders.
I agreed. What other choice did I have?



After riding all day to control the breakaway,
I was drained with 35 kilometers to go.

All that was left for me was to hope to see a teammate win here,
so the red, white and blue jersey would at least go to FDJ!

Fayette was incredibly strong that day.
Anyone who was there would tell you the same thing.



I finished the race on a 19th spot.
My professional career was off to a
somewhat quiet start, but life just isn't
all that Hollywood promises us. Growing up
in the war, I learned to mistrust America even more.

No, it was a good start. We had the jersey. "On to the next race!" I thought.

After my good (not great) try-out with UnitedHealthCare that
unfortunately didn't end with me getting a professional contract,
I got offered to race in private try-out held by HTC-Highroad a week later.

Going in I didn't know what to think. The invite seemed sincere when
the HTC representative approached me after the UHC try-out,
so really I was just happy to get a second chance.

It stunned me when I got to there to only see five other cyclists.



"Thanks everyone for coming. Due to the small turn out I'm happy to inform you that the first five of you to finish the course will make our team.
Sadly that means one of you will miss the cut, but that's life."

I couldn't have dreamed of a better opportunity!



I can vividly remember telling myself over and over again
not to finish last as the six of us lined up for the 40km journey.



We took it easy for the first 10kms. Enjoying the scenery.



Then we hit the rolling hills. The attacks started to fly.



With an uphill finish I decided my best chance not to finish last was taking it to them with 20kms to go because I would lose in a hilly bunch sprint.



It backed fired. They stepped on the gas to pull me back. I was now reeling.



Miller and Ross went on the offensive. I was struggling to keep up.
Everything had change so fast. I had one task and I was blowing it.



The approach to final climb to the line. I could see where I needed to be.
The question was could I get there. I was running out of time and energy.



Miller and Ross were gone. They made the team.



Congrats to both them, but the real race was taking place behind them.
A dream was going to be crushed...



Gray and Cole took 3rd and 4th, leaving Patel and I for the final spot.
Every meter I was closing the gap, he didn't even see me coming.
Until he looked back because he heard me switching my gear.



Patel got out of the saddle and left me in the dust. I finished last.

Some riders really love to joke around.
The first PT race of the new season would be the Amstel Gold Race.
The route would be almost an exact twin to the Gold Race before the war,
so a lot of climbing was on the program of the day. I liked it already.

The weather conditions weren't perfect
and many of the riders looked tired,
very early into the race.

I decided to go my chances early! With 39 kilometers left to race, I attacked!



After 10 kilometers of pushing the pedals as hard as I could,
the peloton picked me up again, quite easily. Damn it!



But not all was lost. Van Der Poel proved
a most amazing team mate for Pirlo,
one of our very best climbers!

He guided him through the area, knowing every corner himself.
Going into the final 5km, things looked good for our team.



Pirlo didn't want to risk a sprint
and attacked out of the front group
with 2 kilometers to go. It was enough
to take the victory! Van Der Poel just fell off
the podium and managed to finish 4th. A good
day for FDJ. Yet I was left disillusioned, ending 32th.



I was just going over the result sheet when
a deep voice behind me almost scared me to death.

"You have to stop screwing around, son."

After the HTC try-out I figured my time as cyclist had come to an end.
All the other American teams had filled up their roster for the 2035 season.
No one wanted me. I was bad luck. I was a loser...

I was the son of Travis Newton.

I didn't even fully understand what that meant at the time.
So, in my spare time while looking for a minimum wage job,
I also did some research on my father - the cyclist. The cheater.

The first thing I found was his prison sentence... 5 years!
His crime: Fleeing during War time and avoiding to go to war.
So, that's why the police came and arrested him on Draft Day.

After hours of sorting through outdated websites and broken links,
I then stumbled across what appeared to be my father's personal blog.
Stories upon stories of his days as a cyclist and the struggles he went through.



I spent a good few week soaking up every word of that blog,
for this first time in my life I actually felt like I knew my father.
To anyone else those were just words on a screen. To me it was family history.

If they keep associating me with Travis, then I needed to know why. Now I knew.
I spent that month after failing the HTC try-out trying to figure out what I wanted
in life and it was my dad's story that gave me the purpose I was looking for.

To change history - To become the cyclist my father never could.

This wasn't my comeback moment. This was the start of something new.
Yet, it took a Comeback moment to allow me to start anew.
I still remember exactly where I was when I got the call.

It was a fair question. What was I doing here?
On some level, I think I still thought I could stop
my son from making the same mistakes I made.

Maybe I had dropped the ball a few times raising him.
Maybe I could have been a better father. So, I guess
I was here to make up for that.

If Thibault really wanted this life, I was going to make sure he did it right.

After catching up in the hotel, we left for Italy.
Milan - San Remo was the next race on the PT program.

I gave my son some advice.
"Don't jerk around. Don't be a fool."
It may sound hard, but I know my son, he needs this.

What happened in the race baffled me.



Thibault was sitting in the pack comfortably.
23 kilometers were left. FDJ was controlling the
race perfectly. Until my son went up the road like a madman.

Thibault has never been good taking someone's advice.
Why would today be any different? Not his team mates,
not his manager, nor me could persuade Thibault
to stop wasting his energy. And so, San Remo
turned into another disappointment for him.

And, once again, FDJ overcame the
weakness that is Thibault Vergnaud.
Milan - San Remo was won by Thibault's
team mate Miguel Hernandez, in a tight sprint.



FDJ was on a roll, my son was not.
But the season was young, and so was Thibault.

After all, it was only his second PT race. He had a lot to learn, still.
But Thibault needed to shape up. As soon as possible.
The 5th overall pick needed to do better than this.