This year, Pogacar has only been defeated by Van Der Poel – another phenomenon like him – and by Skjelmose, on one of those rare days when every star in the sky seemed to align for the Dane.
Arriving with Pogacar in the decisive moments of a race is like bringing the best sprinter to a bunch sprint: you already know how it’s going to end.
The difference is that the sprinter only needs you to pull him for one kilometer. Pogacar? You have to drag him along for forty.
Looking at how the peloton raced, it almost seems like they simply resigned themselves. As if first place had already been assigned before the battle even began. In terms of energy management, it actually makes sense: trying to follow Pogacar’s attack directly would be suicidal. But there’s still something missing. A touch of tactical brilliance, a team-built masterpiece.
Because right now, the only way to beat Pogacar is to unite forces. They need to try something from afar, burn out his teammates first, isolate him, and then launch attacks – but not with the classic one-against-one, because that would always end badly against an extraterrestrial like him. It would take a team of strong, clever riders, working together and playing their chances.
It reminds me of the old Gewiss-Ballan team, when the “alien” everyone tried to defeat was Miguel Indurain. A team loaded with aces, daring to challenge the unbeatable. Of course, it was almost impossible – especially against someone who could gain time solo first against four bloodthirsty chasers (and what chasers!) and then against an entire peloton. But at least back then, you saw them trying. You saw the effort, the tactics.
After watching the 2025 Liège–Bastogne–Liège, I was left with a feeling of emptiness. I would have loved to witness one of those crazy, desperate strategies that maybe wouldn’t have changed the outcome, but at least would have lit up the race, keeping me glued to the screen wondering if some long-shot attack might have cracked the Slovenian. But no. Even Liège, with a Pogi like this, risked becoming almost dull. Luckily, Giulio Ciccone’s brilliant second place salvaged something from the day.
In the end, I can’t help thinking we’re living through an era of extremely individualistic cycling, where working together as teammates feels almost outdated. A kind of cycling where roles are rigidly defined – as we clearly saw with Visma’s debacle at Dwars door Vlaanderen – and where creativity takes a backseat to pure power. Good for the strongest, who now dominate every type of race. A little less good for us spectators, who keep watching and asking ourselves: “Will anyone manage to beat him today?”
