Tadej Pogacar seals his yellow jersey with no embarrassing steps – Libération

The Slovenian will win his third Tour de France, following another stage victory this Friday, July 19 at Isola 2000. Vingegaard and Evenepoel are not competing in the same category.

In Barcelonnette, at the finish of Thursday’s stage, a guy is walking a parrot on a leash in a park. A dog leash. It looks like a fluorescent green kite. The man lets the bird fly for a few moments. Then, when the parrot seems too high, he pulls. A sharp flick of the wrist. That’s more or less the effect Tadej Pogacar had on us when he launched an attack 9 kilometers from the finish. He pulled sharply and Matteo Jorgenson (Visma Lease a Bike), who was three minutes ahead, seemed to be riding his machine next to the yellow jersey in the next moment. In Isola 2000, this Friday, July 19, the Slovenian crushed the Tour de France.

Already, at the start, in Embrun, there was this presentiment. This threat in sight, characterized by the Alpine canines drawn not on the horizon but very close, a vision never faded throughout the 144 kilometers of this 19th stage. The Col de Vars raised its slopes from the first tremors of the day. In Châteauroux-les-Alpes, the peloton zigzagged between bales of hay, placed on the dangerous edges of the road. Here, these are not the blazing Alps. Tin roofs on rickety hovels. Caramel-colored tarmac.

Snow and empty air

A group of riders escapes. They are led by a strange, shrill sound. It comes from a veuze, the Vendée bagpipe. It is the work of a couple in their sixties, alone on the road. The man’s cheeks, out of breath, turn a garish red. The lady sings: “Where are you from, my dear?” The two say: “We said we’d do a bit of entertainment. It’s encouraging for the riders when they hear music.” Among the encouraged escapees are two teammates of the rival for the yellow jersey and defending champion, Jonas Vingegaard. “I said to myself that maybe they were planning something, that Vingegaard was going to go off into the Bonette,” Pogacar would later suggest.

The summit of the Bonette: the climb to infinity. Infinity rearing up at almost 7%. The roof of the Tour, the highest road in Europe, 2,802 meters high and 22.9 meters long. Hundreds of cyclists measuring themselves once morest the monster. The Bonette is not only immense, it is devious. It is staggered. Signs indicate the altitude. The rear end of the peloton would prefer not to know. Souvenir shop at 2,000 meters. At 2,159 precisely, stone projections and mountain flowers. Snow puddles in sight. A lake whose translucent water you might drink with a straw.

Skin on bones

Three kilometres from the summit, an organisation launches a call for blood donations. At an altitude of 2,610 metres, the edges turn to dust. As dry as cocoa powder. Tents have been set up next to a snowfield. Empty air. The Bonette gradually becomes bare. Up there, there is the skull of an old man, bald and grey. Richard Carapaz, the Ecuadorian who had already won two days earlier at the summit of the SuperDévoluy, takes the lead. One of the most flamboyant riders of this Tour. He will finish the day wearing the polka-dot jersey of best climber on his shoulders. The peloton, for its part, is nothing more than skin and bones. Four of Tadej Pogacar’s teammates surround it. Jonas Vingegaard, all alone, has not launched any attacks. The Slovenian, who was once said to be uncomfortable at these altitudes, is gliding.

Then, the slope drops for forty kilometers, to Isola. We see the first chalets made of oak beams. There, it is a wide climb towards the famous resort. Sides of cement walls, tunnels; the charm is consumed. Matteo Jorgenson takes off 13 kilometers from the finish. Then, the outcome is known. Predicted. Played. Tadej Pogacar wins if he wants. And he wants to. He leaves in his wake a new duel forming, between Remco Evenepoel and Jonas Vingegaard for second place in this Tour.

“You’re trying to maintain your illusion.”

Matteo Jorgenson, 25, arrives as white as a sheet. He rests his head on the handlebars before shaking it. Last year, Libération spoke with the American, the day following a finish at Puy-de-Dôme that he crossed in second position, caught 500 meters from the line. He spoke regarding his misadventures on the bike: “When you’re young, you watch the races and you think how beautiful it is. But when you’re a rider, you see the other side of the picture. And you try to keep your illusion.”

Pogacar, for his part, acts like a winner. There are two days of racing left but, with a 5-minute lead over Vingegaard and 7 over Evenepoel, the Slovenian has dispelled doubt: heads he wins, tails he wins. The post-stage interventions of the yellow jersey always take place in two stages. First France Télévisions, to whom the Team UAE rider says: “I didn’t really know if I might take three minutes [à Matteo Jorgenson].” And dares: “In the last few kilometers, I was also weakening a little bit.” Then the press conference, with all the followers, in which he let himself go. Long minutes on his preparation, his training on these passes of the Alpes-Maritimes, he who lives year-round in Monaco, before getting up. “Thanks guys, ciao.”

Updated at 7 p.m. with the story from our special correspondent