I Tried to Stare Into Eddy Merckx's Soul. It Didn’t Work Out Like I Hoped.
I want to write about Eddy Merckx. First, I have to write about Belgium.
The journey into Belgium is something I look forward to every time. The place appears to be on the verge of total collapse. It is best measured when driving there. You need to go through Holland and Germany to appreciate the collapse of Belgium. Because in comparison to their neighbors, known for perfection regarding infrastructure, city planning, and general order, it wouldn’t be all that embarrassing if they—Holland and Germany—would one day just knock at the one of the parliaments of Belgium and go: So listen... You need help?
[The Complete, All-BS Guide to Who's Gonna Win the Tour de France]
I am in Brussels. It's hosting the Tour de France's Grand Depart in honor of Eddy Merckx. Walking the streets of Brussels is an international affair. All colours of the human race. You see where Benetton got the idea. Truly, this place is as diverse as it is confusing, because basically Belgium can’t decide if it’s a country or a construction. Ask anybody. Ask the guy in the newsstand. Ask any of the thousands of European employees who work in the ministries or committees this city is so famous and infamous for. All will give you a different answer. Belgium is a personal matter. And as with the country, nobody in Europe knows what to make of Brussels either. Take its language. Even though people want English to be used as an unofficial compromise language between Dutch and French, French remains the lingua franca, and laws require Dutch and French translations. The acceptance of English as a language for communication with the city's public servants depends entirely on their knowledge of this language, though they must accept questions in French and Dutch.
I will soon write about Eddy Merckx.
Despite its name, the Brussels-Capital Region is not the capital of Belgium. Article 194 of the Belgian Constitution establishes that the capital of Belgium is the City of Brussels, the municipality in the region that is the city's core. The City of Brussels is also the capital of both the French Community of Belgium and the Flemish Community. The Flemish Parliament and The Flemish Government have their seats in Brussels and so do the Parliament of the French Community and the Government of the French Community.
[How Do You Compare to a Tour de France Pro?]
Flanders and Wallonia. Or, as we say in professional cycling: Ronde van Vlaanderen and Liege-Bastogne-Liege. De Ronde is known as the Flemish World Championships, and that will tell you something about their understanding of themselves. We have our own local World Championship! Of course, Liege is indifferent to this, and they pretend they can’t hear the Flemish. What? We can’t hear you! Because Liege has Phillip Gilbert. The Wallonian is the most accomplished rider in today's peloton with four different Monuments and the Rainbow Jersey in his palmares, and Liege will tell anybody who is willing to listen, that this is what matters more than anything else in Belgium, and so this is how we get to Eddy Merckx, because the most accomplished rider EVER, Baron Edouard Louis Joseph Merckx, The Cannibal, with 19 Monuments and three World Championships to his name, just walked by. That’s right. The home boy of Brussels is officially in the house! The man is here! The machine has arrived! Half bike, half human! OMG! It is widely accepted that Belgium is to cycling what Brazil is to football. Hell, didn’t they invent the bicycle here?! Sure they did! And after they invented the bike, they invented Eddy Merckx to put on it!
The minute the GOAT walked by I get a call from Brian Holm, director sportive of Belgian team with the impossible name Deceuninck-Quick Step. This year Holm is staying home after more than 20 Tours de France to his credit, and now he wants to make sure I’m in Brussels for the Grand Depart and the latest gossip.
"Brian. I’m looking at Eddy Merckx!"
Brian Holm has lived in Belgium for 17 years as a professional cyclist. He is a knowledgeable force in cycling and also one of its more colorful personas. He goes off immediately: "Eddy! Let me tell you about Eddy. At one point during the late 80s we started going to the movies. But the Belgians didn’t understand that. They got a little nervous, you know. The movies? they said. Why would anybody want to go to the movies? If you had time off as a professional rider you either went to get a massage or relaxed at your house. The movies was a waste of time, they said. Anyway, we saw Ghostbusters and Beverly Hills Cop and the biggest star in Hollywood was Eddie Murphy. But the Belgians didn’t care. They already had an Eddie. They had Eddy Merckx. And he was the baddest motherfucker they’d ever known!"
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The Tour de France feels at home in Belgium and has been coming here for decades. Belgium, as a nation, reminds ASO of how to maintain power keeping everyone unsatisfied while taking their money. Before the Grand Depart, again the teams are upset about ASO’s control over TV rights, and again Tour boss Christian Prudhomme shakes his head. Children, children, please! The UCI is also shaking its head, it is perhaps a more permanent shake, and so everybody is shaking their heads and no one in cycling has a bigger head to shake than Eddy Merckx! I mean, look at him! Look at that head! Wow! Merckxism has taken control of Le Tour. It is the reason we are here. The greatest cyclist of all time won the Yellow Jersey, the first of many to come, 50 years ago, and this is what Le Tour and professional cycling is celebrating. Eddy is flattered. Belgium is flattered. Even Brussels is flattered.
Eddy, Belgium, and Brussels. All flattered.
It’s hard to imagine what goes on inside that head of his as he is strolling into the thousands of people chanting his name. For 50 years Eddy Merckx has been signing autographs left and right, and when you occasionally bump into him at a bike race, he has the look of a half-confused celebrity with no sense of direction. He is not at fault. Because for 50 years people have been gently pushing him in various directions. All Eddy Merckx has had to do for half a century is show up and look like Eddy Merckx and so that’s his life.
When he looks at you, he doesn’t look at you. It’s a non-look. There is an invisible gap when attempting eye contact with a man like Eddy Merckx. His stare automatically ends in front of your eyes and inside that remaining distance is where your stare meets his. You are now both staring into a void. This is where you communicate with him. At a stance. From a distance. He is the only person I have ever met where you feel you are communicating with a non-human. His eyes are black holes.
Eddy, Eddy, Eddy!
Even his entourage looks at him in awe. They can’t believe they get to push him around today. This way. That way. The Cannibal disappears into the crowd, the chanting following him towards the podium and the start line around the corner from Palais Royal. It’s time for him to face the world while leading the neutral start through his home town on this, his 50th anniversary of winning the first Maillot Jaune. The crowd parts like a biblical scene.
Eddy is gone. Not that he was really here, with me, at least. And I find myself in front of the Ineos team bus. Geraint Thomas steps out and the crowd goes "uhh," and not in a good way.
"That guy is too pale, isn’t he?" a British man mumbles to his friend. His friend looks suspiciously at the defending champion. "Now I wonder how much training he has done for this."
It’s true. Word on the street is that although Geraint Thomas is a top athlete he has begun his training too late. His season hasn’t been good. Then there was an early crash at Tour de Swiss. I move closer. Is that bags under his eyes? Hmm. Geraint has clearly been enjoying his win last year. That picture with Leo Messi in a parking lot. Some say, too much enjoyment. Rumor, gossip. Who knows. But there is no denying that even a Welshman shouldn’t be that pale in July.
I call up Matt Stephens. The Eurosport presenter knows everyone in pro cycling and everyone in cycling pro is also conveniently in his phone. He will have the latest news. We sit down and order coffee.
"Tell me. Whats going to happen at Tour de France?’
"Its nice for once that we can say: we don’t know. I interviewed Geraint yesterday. He is professional and he knows how to win this. But I think Bernal is the more likely candidate. David Brailsford is upset about not having Froome but… well, he said at the Giro that they have three riders that can win Le Tour."
"Feisty."
"Yes. He said, 'let’s make Geraint and Froome feel uncomfortable!'"
"Haha!"
"With a twinkle in his eyes, obviously. Egan Bernal is a once in a generation rider. Fignon was 23 when he won his first Tour. Ullrich was 22. Maybe Bernal [at 22] can do it. An outsider is Mikael Landa. On paper Movistar should do a solid TTT and nobody is talking about Landa. This is interesting. He has the age and needs to show himself because Nairo Quintana has plateaued. I mean. He hasn’t been there for a couple of seasons now. So he won’t be a factor. And Valverde? No. He has lost weight, but won’t be a threat. Mikael Landa is my dark horse. Bernal is my favorite. And I like Geraint."
"What about Fuglsang?"
"Fuglsang said yesterday: I’m not worried. I’ve done my results. All this is bonus. So he is confident and relaxed and therefore very dangerous. Can he stay upright and healthy through the first week, he should be a main contender. But the fact that we list different names means we’ll have an explosive race. Adam Yates is here with his brother. But he can probably only podium at best. Simon is probably not on his best form. Vincenzo Nibali, however, is the only other winner of the Tour in the peloton. Second in the Giro. He is always dangerous."
"Said he’d hunt stages."
"Well if he loses five minutes…"
"Then we’ll know."
His phone rings. He excuses himself and disappear into the growing crowd. A couple of hours later I join Eurosport UK and get a chair next to Bradley Wiggins. The former champion is here as a moto commentator. He leans in: "I brought some old jerseys. In case we need them on the show."
"Let. Me. See. Them!"
"Ha! Yes. We’ll look at them later. I have Merckx’s Yellow Jersey from 50 years ago. Coppis from 1949. I have that, too."
"Let. Me. See. Them!"
"Later!"
I go to see the peloton five kilometers out from the finish.
WWWWWUUUOSSSCCHHH!!
Human beings just instinctively make sounds when the peloton flies by! WWWOAH! YAAAZZ! WUHUU! Me, too. For 25 years I’ve watched bike racing from every angle possible, and I still half-laugh half-scream in excitement when the entire peloton pass me! The amount of air they push is amazing. A small storm.
They say bike racing is best watched on television, if you want to see what is going on. And this is true. On the road you have no idea what is happening. But it doesn’t matter. Most people don’t care about who the winner will be when you are on the road. Yes. We cheer for everyone regardless of team and country. We applaud the exercise, their struggle and fight. And that experience you can’t get in front of the TV. You don’t feel the side wind. You can’t feel the pouring rain or burning sun from your sofa. Ever walk up Alpe d’Huez? You get a new perspective walking up one of those mountains. Oh, this is what they are doing! I can hardly walk up this slope for longer than 10 minutes and these guys race it! Ah, I see! We watch the Tour on our TV’s and we enjoy it. But once in you life, you should really go and witness it live. It’s the truly greatest show on Earth.
Eddy Merckx won it five times. We haven't talked about this. He might—would—have won a sixth if he showed up in 1973, but he didn't and poor Luis Ocaña got the title. Other great racers have won five Tours, but they are still not Eddy Merckx. It is obvious to say only Eddy Merckx is Eddy Merckx, but what do I mean? I tried to find out. I found Eddy, and tried to look into his eyes, but I could not catch them. Fifty years after his first yellow, Eddy Merckx is still winning.
Vive Eddy. Vive Le Tour.
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