I’m returning to the Montréal 2026 Cycling World Championships a few days after they ended, because I wanted to gather information and bring together a series of incidents that, in my view, deserve far more attention than they have received.
There is a hidden statistic behind these World Championships—an uncomfortable one, because it concerns components made by major cycling brands, the same brands that are often sponsors, including of the Championships themselves, and major advertisers in much of the specialist cycling press. It is hardly surprising, then, that few have bothered to compile these incidents, given such a clear conflict of interest.
Because, incredibly, in an era when the prevailing narrative constantly tells us that bicycles and components are becoming ever more advanced, sophisticated and high-performing, Montréal 2026 could be remembered as the World Championships of mechanical failures.
And we are not talking about one or two isolated incidents. So let’s do what almost no one has done so far: list them.
Stefan Küng, mixed relay. A mechanical problem after just three kilometres. Switzerland has to ride virtually the entire men’s leg with only two riders, losing its chance to contend for victory.
Georgia Baker, mixed relay. In the same race, Australia is hit too: Baker suffers a mechanical problem during the women’s leg. Her two teammates have to continue without her, and Australia, winner of the previous two editions, finishes fourth.
Victor De Smet, junior men’s road race. A mechanical problem on just the second lap forces him to change bikes.
Nienke Vinke, women’s U23 road race. A mechanical problem while she is still in the leading group. She faces a long wait for the team car and loses contact for good at the decisive stage of the race.
Lore De Schepper, women’s U23 road race. Her chain jams completely. She has to take her teammate Febe Jooris’s bike, but manages to rejoin the group. She finishes sixth.
Eleonora Ciabocco, women’s U23 road race. A mechanical problem around 30 kilometres from the finish. She eventually finishes fourteenth.
Nabyenka Valentina García, junior women’s road race. Perhaps the defining image of these World Championships. Alone at the front, she starts the final lap with a lead of around fifteen seconds, only to be forced to stop by a drivetrain problem, captured by every camera. Her breakaway would probably have ended soon anyway, but this makes the ending all the more bitter.
Ben Oliver, elite men’s road race. His front tyre comes off the rim, leaving the New Zealander stranded at the roadside, waiting for assistance.
Matej Mohorič, elite men’s road race. A mechanical problem and a bike change.
Thibau Nys, elite men’s road race. Almost at the same moment as Mohorič, Nys calls for the team car and needs a wheel change.
Skye Davidson. During reconnaissance for the elite women’s time trial, she breaks her derailleur hanger and a pulley wheel—an issue that has already occurred three times that week. She races the World Championships on a 2015 rim-brake bike lent to her by her team manager.
I have deliberately excluded ordinary punctures and, of course, we cannot know how many other problems occurred further back in the field, away from the cameras.
Incidentally, have you noticed how the reporting has changed compared with the past? Increasingly, we read nothing more than “a mechanical problem”. A generic description that tells us neither whether a chain dropped, a derailleur jammed or a component broke. Above all, it prevents us from understanding whether certain failures are recurring frequently.
Some technicians were questioned after these World Championships, because I was not the only person to notice this anomaly. But their explanations were, at the very least, puzzling. The roads are too rough. Riders shift at the wrong moment, perhaps under load on a climb. Are we serious? A road racing bicycle has to work on roads. These are bikes that race at the Tour of Flanders and Paris–Roubaix. And we are talking about athletes competing in a World Championship, not a village race. Some simply responded with “no comment”.
What if we look back ten years? Richmond 2015 and Doha 2016. Failures existed then too, of course: dropped chains, jammed derailleurs, bike changes. But online, fewer than half as many documented cases can be found as at Montréal. This is neither an official statistic nor an exhaustive comparison, but it is a difference that deserves attention. Especially considering how much we have been told over those ten years about technological progress in components.
So I ask myself: which direction are we heading in? Are we truly developing better technologies, or are we turning technological innovation into mere marketing hype? Above all, why aren’t the manufacturers of these components being held accountable for their failures? Why do we settle for vague references to “mechanical problems”, without investigating what actually happened?
In this atmosphere, which I frankly regard as a code of silence, where manufacturers’ commercial interests are intertwined with those of much of the cycling media, it becomes difficult to believe that every innovation is driven solely by a desire to improve the product.
And so, one final question: what good is saving three watts if reliability then costs you the chance to compete for victory in the race of your life?
