Tom Pidcock Scandalizes Delicate French Fans By Being Too Good At Bike Racing

Some bike racers are lucky and some aren't. An unavoidable reality of bike racing is that some number of riders will fall from contention not because they didn't perform at the level, but because they crashed, their bike malfunctioned at the wrong time, or they simply popped a tire. Both the consequences of those ill-fated moments and their fundamental inevitability are tough for riders to stomach, given the vast disparity between the amount of work they have to put their bodies through to compete in a Grand Tour (spend nine weeks at altitude to target a single stage of the Tour de France) or compete in the Monuments (train all winter) and the suddenness with which that work is obviated. One moment you are contending for your second and likely final monument podium, then a fan reaches into the road and sends you aloft, to crumple into the cobblestones at 33 miles per hour. What can you do about it? That's bike racing.

That's road racing, anyway. Mountain biking and cyclocross make a skill out of avoiding crashes, which makes for more moment-to-moment dramatic racing at the expense of the more tactically sophisticated stuff of their road counterparts. Consider the Olympic cross-country races. On Monday at the women's race, gold medal favorite Pauline Ferrand-Prévot rolled, but the other two odds-on favorites saw their races end with a faceful of dirt and in fourth place, on the losing end of an appeal to disqualify the silver medalist. In the men's race, crashes also played a large role in assorting the podium, only this time, the most highly favored rider in the race had to overcome the inherent misfortune of racing when he got a flat tire. The style in which Tom Pidcock overcame his bad luck was remarkable. (Like crashing, official Olympic highlights being scarce and tightly managed is unavoidable, though I think this lad's commentary adds something the Peacock broadcast didn't have.)

What a move! On the final lap of the race, on the final opportunity to make a pass, Pidcock takes the inside line the short way around a small tree, and wins the gold medal with three perfect, gutsy seconds of riding. That takes such courage and self-determination, which are the two nicest adjectives one could use to describe Pidcock's career. Another might be arrogant; Pidcock has the talent to be among the best mountain bikers in the world, and a monument beast and occasional Grand Tour stage winner on the road, which is tremendous but does not align with his apparent aspiration to win the Tour de France. When he is in the mix for wins on the road, he's one of the more thrilling descenders in the peloton, someone whose grace on a bike is hypnotizing. His descents make his relationship with gravity seem more intimate and finely textured.

As a mountain biker, he has the talent to finally end Nino Schurter's 15-year run of dominance. He coasted to victory in Tokyo, though after he crashed Monday in Paris, he lost over 30 seconds and several positions, and had to ride his way through a large group and a hefty gap. It was sublime racing, the sort where the best rider has to put forth an undeniable show of physical force and tactical savvy, taking on a more painful physical toll and still winning. As Pidcock rolled into the tech zone, he stayed calm, even as his mechanics took nine seconds (way too long) to bring him a new wheel. He was forced to work alone to make up the distance, with soon-to-be bronze medalist Alan Hatherly hitching a mostly free ride. His efforts cost him on the final climb, where Frenchman Victor Koretzky attacked and got by. Pidcock had one shot to take, on the descent, and he nailed it.

Pidcock rode Koretzky's wheel greedily as they fell to earth, and used him to lead out a daredevil sprint through a tight corner. He got his bars past Koretzky's just in time to earn the gap, nudge Koretzky out of the way, and box Koretzky out (per our commentator above, "Bosh! Fuck you Frenchie!") as the road narrowed, then used his gap to cleanly ride away for gold. His move was gutsy and totally legal. Nobody told the French fans, who lustily booed Pidcock during the medal ceremony. (Again, the Olympics and NBC make the process of watching the Olympics totally antagonistic for no reason, so that happens at 1:59:45 in this video.)

"The booing was a shame, because that's not really the spirit of the Olympics," Pidcock said. "But I do also understand it. The French are very passionate. They wanted Victor to win, which is understandable. But, you know, they didn't boo the rock that made me puncture." Koretzky never filed a protest or complained, saying later, "It's part of racing," a truth as bitter as it is undeniable. Every mountain bike race should hope to come down to this sort of drama, with passes being exchanged on the final lap, as the number of crashes and mechanicals will necessary be higher, and are probably as dramatic as their high-speed road counterparts. On the road, avoiding as much of the inexorable bad fortune going around any race as one can is a work primarily of bike handling, though you can make your own luck to a certain, mildly consequential extent; Tadej Pogačar is always at the front, for example, finding safety in speed.

The thrill of mountain biking is found in the decisiveness of that skillset. In other words, it's found in the moment Pidcock flew past Koretzky. The French fans were treated to something special, and it made their boy lose. The commitment to whining about the latter so loud it drowned out the former is rude to the winner, though also admirable for its romantic pissiness. That's also a key part of bike racing.