The Breakaway

Who moved, who stayed and the one contract I think will matter in March.

A narrow road, a wet crowd and a finish that nobody filmed but everyone remembers.

The cowbell, the van selling waffles and the best view of a sprint in the country.

Brick, banners and a café that has stayed open through every race since the war.

Forty races a season now run on volunteers who have given up their Sundays for decades.

Not the obvious ones. None has won a race above kermesse level.

Shorter rides, longer video sessions and a strict rule about phones at lunch.

Every stage, one paragraph each, and a prediction I will be reminded of in September.

Three years of corrections, arguments and one very kind note from a retired mechanic.

Shirt sponsors, a butcher’s chain and some very generous provincial budgets.

The good, the forgettable and the rider who won with a flat tyre.

Hills, rain and fifty teenagers learning to eat enough at breakfast.