Last Sunday, we were treated to a rarity: an open, thrilling final stage of the Tour de France.
Good thing that the promise of three ascents of Montmartre to the base of Sacre Coeur proved gripping to the fans, though, because most riders seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of a departure from the traditional romp up and down the Champs Elysées; indeed, much of the peloton appeared simply to sit in, sit back and sit it out.
That riders could essentially opt in or out of final-day engagement, thanks to the Tour’s organizers guaranteeing no changes in General Classification times or standings from around the stage’s midpoint, is what made this innovation work.
I’ve always appreciated the Tour’s planners’ willingness to break convention. For a 122 year-old institution, le Grand Boucle proves quite open to innovation.
Just in recent years, the Tour has somehow managed to discover spectacular new climbs — and to rediscover a rather nasty other ascent that had been out of use for decades.
Cobblestones in one year, out the next. Give gravel a try. Suspend the team time trial — until bringing it back. Include time bonuses (always include time bonuses); try time bonuses for mid-stage summits. Feature short, col-heavy stages. Route the parcours through neighboring nations.*
Some wrinkles prove eye-roll worthy, as on 2018’s Stage 17, when riders started on a grid, based on General Classification ranking — a grid that vanished within 100 pedal strokes. But most Tour-crafting ingenuity pays off; even if a new concept doesn’t return after its maiden inclusion, it likely, momentarily engaged the interest of fans — especially fans like yours truly, who have been following along for decades and appreciate a little spice.
But eyeballs, ratings and throng-size aren’t the only criteria in considering a Tour innovation’s promise against its peril: It must pass rider muster as well. After all, the peloton has been known to slow — or even to stop altogether — to voice collective frustration with conditions.
Which is what makes yesterday’s new route so brilliant: On its own, adding the short but decisively steep Montmartre climb was simply a fan-appealing response to the evident popularity of the ascent during the Olympic road race — but by essentially making racing up the climb (and down the subsequent harrowing, cobbled descent) optional, the riders looking to compete could give the crowds what they wanted, while the rest could all but enjoy a spin around Paris.
This unspoken agreement was manifest in the riders’ crossing the line first in a flurry, led heroically by a triumphant Wout van Aert, and then in a trickle: twos and fives, and tens and fifteens; mixes of different teams, and of GC contenders, climbers and sprinters. In virtually every other year domestiques would have been risking skin — and exhaustion — to shepherd a fast finisher to the front; this year, most eased over the line, chatting and smiling.
Adding the Montmartre climb — and subtracting the pressure of the General Classification competition — thus offered something for everyone: a final, frenetic spectacle for the viewers; a chance at redemption, glory — or both — for a handful of racers; and relief for most of the peloton. While the official concern effecting the GC neutralization was the weather, I expect that in future Tours, we’ll again see the ascent to Sacre Coeur — and we’ll also see the same early closing-out of the GC, irrespective of conditions.
Indeed, this year’s final stage offered something for everyone — except for the sprinters, who lost yet another opportunity to vie for Tour de France triumph; the last couple of decades have seen a drip-drip-drip dwindling of stages ending in bunch sprints.
Maybe the Tour’s organizers can look into that.
*My prediction: in the next five years the Tour will start in the not-exactly-neighboring United Arab Emirates.
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