The road from Vrhnika to Novo Mesto is one, long, swerving downhill. It’s a familiar road for me, as I come to Novo Mesto quite often to visit with a friend of mine. The road goes through Dolenjska, the rolling, pastoral part of Slovenia near the Croatian border known for its particular blends of sour wine. Today it is hot and humid, the kind of day where it’s better to roll down the windows in the car than blast the A/C. Meanwhile, under the same hot sun, the peloton is keeping the breakaway on a short leash.
Matej Mohorič is tucked into the back of his Bahrain Victorious train. He wants to win in Novo Mesto, where he was defeated in a sprint by Tadej Pogačar last year. Not only does he want to win today’s stage, he wants to win the entire race, something which is still possible, but Mohorič will need to have nothing short of a perfect day. The breakway must be caught in time, after which he can be in the mix for crucial bonus seconds. And after that, he’ll need to win the stage. The stage itself is like a miniature Slovenian Milan Sanremo — a decisive couple of small hills and a daring run-in to Novo Mesto, home city of the race organizers, Adria Mobil.
Here’s the situation: As it stands, Filippo Zana has one second over Diego Ulissi in the GC, who in turn has four seconds over Lorenzo Fortunato. The whole top 10 of the GC, which includes yesterday’s winner Peña (12 seconds down) and some strong contenders like Bora-Hansgrohe’s Aleotti (11 seconds down) who’s been aggressive all week, is compressed within 51 seconds. It’s that close.
Mohorič himself is 22 seconds off the best time and he’s running out of time, despite the hellish pace of Bahrain. The break is a minute ahead with 52 kilometers to go. Mohorič will need to attack soon if he wants to take it all. He will need to win solo. He can’t wait ‘til the sprint because there are only 20 odd bonus seconds left including the stage win. The only one who benefits from a sprint is Jayco AlUla, even without Groenewegen, who elected to take to the bus to the stage finish in order to preserve himself for the Tour de France.
At the front, Dusan Rajović is pushing. The gap lingers around a minute. Zwiehoff from Bora also pulls. There’s too much interest for too big a prize to allow for shenanigans. In the break are two characters from yesterday: Zoccarato in the king of the mountain’s jersey and the tenacious Dillier, accompanied by four others, but they are being hounded, hounded, hounded. The road is running out, it is unraveling. The story is unraveling too.
Meanwhile, Primož Roglič is here. He is a hero, a king among men. He is happy, and it is a joy to see him happy. He mingles with the organizers, people from his old club Adria Mobil, and, of course, VIPs, big smile on his face. Security guards keep out interlopers and children wanting an autograph. Sponsors and notables drink champagne. It’s a necessary evil, I suppose, this tier-ification of cycling, this creation of a second cycling for people with money and influence. Cycling is not a profitable enterprise, but I’m not sure how much profit is gleaned from these kinds of things in the first place. I first felt this separation, this alienation most intensely at Paris Roubaix, in which an entire party platform had been set up on the Arenberg Trench, obscuring the view of those who gathered for free at its exit, many of whom had been doing so for decades.
Maybe this is not the right place to write about this, but I can’t help feeling that the separation of the wealthy and influential from other fans is merely one of many reflections of our age of profound inequality, something replicated in all aspects of life, including sport. And right now, at this juncture, a big party feels wrong anyway. Something about the whole thing sits uncomfortably with me, to the point where I’m self-consciously writing this. Then again, one must be gracious. How could anyone planning this have known what would happen this week? None of this is Roglič’s fault, or anyone’s fault. We are all just here living our lives, doing our jobs in the same shared world. The security guards usher me past the buffet. I see Roglič. We say hello to one another. We disappear into our own, different obligations.
In the race, there are 11 kilometers to go. Things are ending quickly, with extreme, frenetic briskness. Not even enough time has passed since arriving to take in the scenery of Novo Mesto, the wide, broad Krka river and the winding little roads lined with sweet Baroque houses. It’s as though everyone riding wants to get this over as soon as possible. At the start of the final climb, the peloton snags every straggler and the finale of a whole week of waiting opens up.
It’s kind of inevitable, in a narrative sense, that it would be Mohorič and Zana who would detach themselves from the bunch in the final minutes. They make it look easy and professional. When they disappear in front of the bunch, they are equally matched here. On the climb, which though only about two kilometers long, has, at its worst 20% gradients, Zana has the advantage over Mohorič. But on the descents, equally breathless, it’s Mohorič who passes his rival in an attempt to win the whole thing, not just the stage. Zana, however, is not so keen to let him go and despite his dramatic incident yesterday, he’s unfazed. The pair snake through the lush Dolenjska hills, through the fabric of farms and forests, through the small villages, through the trellises of adoring fans.
Into Novo Mesto, Zana and Mohorič are together. Slovene has a special way of denoting things being experienced by two and only two people or things, the dvojina, the dual-subject. Zana and Mohorič. Vidva sta. They-two. Neither is intimidated. Each will walk away with something from today, and as such they work together as the chase with the other GC men stagnates behind — Aleotti, Ulissi— as is so often the case. They’re too wary, and then, it is over for them. That special something snaps. Mohorič can win the stage, but with Zana there, the GC is foreclosed to him. It’s bittersweet.
Last year, Mohorič was outsprinted on these very slopes into Novo Mesto by Tadej Pogačar, a memory he would not like to repeat. Zana, equally, is not one to grant favors. The whole town, asleep four hours earlier, erupts with excitement as the cyclists emerge into view. Roglič and his wife Lora lean over the barriers, as much a part of the crowd as any ordinary people, cheering just as loud. They are home. Mohorič is in the slipstream. Zana punches. Mohorič follows, overtakes. Screaming, screaming, screaming. Zana has won the Tour of Slovenia. But it is Mohorič who pushes himself that much farther on the day. When he crosses the line, he points to the sky. For Gino. There are tears in his hazel eyes. The man who so often says so much, does not, in this moment, need to say anything more.
I managed to find Mohorič for a minute after all the pomp and circumstance of the race ended (Roglič included, flashing a Tom Cruise-like smile behind Ray-Bans.) For a moment we spoke, and as soon as we did, both of us began to cry.
I’ll leave you here with his words, verbatim:
The whole team, we were very focused today, trying to stick together and trying to give our best performance to honor Gino, because we know that he would have liked us to do so. He's not here with us anymore. When I was feeling pain in my legs or burning my legs today, I was also thinking of him and the fact that he can't feel that same pain anymore. It was a hard emotional week for us…I think Gino was too good for this world and God took him from us back to Himself. So, I don't know. He wanted to make the world a better place.
I was also pretty close to him because yeah, in his first grand tour, the Giro two years ago, we shared the room and I was the crucial part in his stage when he didn't believe in himself. But I always said that in the days before that stage, and during that stage, Gino, you ride your own race, you never look to the others. You just focus on yourself. You give your best performance, and then you see where that takes you. You don't need to stress about anything. If you made it this far, you are probably a good cyclist. So you just need to focus on yourself and enjoy because not everyone can, not everyone has the gifts to be a professional bike rider and we are very fortunate to do what we do.
And you need to enjoy every moment to this, every moment of this, because you never know when and how it ends.