What happened to Jonas Vingegaard in Spain is genuinely puzzling. Not so much because of the crash itself, but because of everything that followed. Starting with the team’s official statement, which turned a trivial episode into an unnecessary case.
In cycling, fans have always followed professionals. It has been this way for decades. It is part of the culture of the sport. In fact, when you have one of the strongest riders in the world in front of you – and a direct rival of Pogacar, no less – it is natural to sit on the wheel, observe, and learn. It has always been like this, and there is nothing scandalous about it.
What is truly surprising is how the situation was handled by the rider. Trying to solve the issue through force, attempting to drop an amateur, is a questionable choice. If there was really a need to get rid of that presence, the climb would have been the most logical terrain. Instead, the action came on a descent, with the result that the crash was caused by him alone, without any contact.
Vingegaard was working, that is true. But precisely because he was working, perhaps the simplest option would have been to keep doing what he was doing, without being influenced by who was behind him. Or, if the situation genuinely bothered him, a simple sentence, a gesture, a clear boundary would have been enough. And this is where the real issue emerges: the complete absence of dialogue.
If it had been clearly stated, “I’m training, I need space,” we would not even be talking about this episode today. Because then, yes, we would be dealing with inappropriate behaviour. But that did not happen. And in fact, we are not talking about a stalker, but about a simple cycling enthusiast.
Those who experienced cycling in earlier years know this well. When Italy was the centre of the cycling world, riding alongside professionals was normal. In the 1990s it was not uncommon to see large groups riding with Gianni Bugno, even when he was wearing the world champion’s jersey. No one bothered anyone. Probably because roles were clear and dialogue existed.
The same happened in Tuscany, where dozens of professionals trained: it was standard practice, and it was accepted. And it still happens today in other countries, such as Belgium, where professionals regularly share the same roads with amateurs and Under-23 riders, without tension and without official statements.
And this is precisely where the situation takes a wrong turn. Because the reaction of the team – Team Visma–Lease a Bike – with a statement that ultimately places the blame on the amateur, appears out of place. From the dynamics, it is clear that the crash was caused by no one else: no contact, no interference. A self-inflicted crash.
Generic calls for amateurs to “leave professionals alone” clarify nothing. On the contrary, they fuel comments, controversies, and above all divisions. We already live in a context saturated with conflict: between motorists and cyclists, between trucks and cars, between motorcycles and urban traffic. Adding yet another divide, this time between cyclists themselves, is the last thing this sport needs.
In cases like this, perhaps the smartest choice would have been another one: silence.
Because when a champion crashes alone, without contact and without external responsibility, an official explanation is not always necessary. Sometimes, staying silent is the best way not to make things worse.
