It certainly doesn’t feel like a bit of fun right now, even though the road leads up to the Juxkopf. Although ‘leads up’ almost sounds like an understatement. We’ve just been winding our way through Spiegelberg on a flat road, when suddenly the road drops away and leads up towards the sky more steeply than any staircase in one of the Swabian half-timbered houses along the route climbs up to the attic. Suddenly, everything comes to a standstill. Or rather: the three cyclists in front of us stand up out of the saddle and heave themselves up the ramp, which has a gradient of up to 15 per cent, forcing the five cars behind them to stop briefly. I’m sitting in the back seat of the fifth car and have to lean forward just to be able to see ahead or upwards through the windscreen. Whilst the riders wind their way uphill metre by metre, the cars set off again at a snail’s pace: At the very front is race director Fabian Wegmann’s car, followed by the team cars of the three breakaway riders, then the neutral support vehicle, and then us. You really can’t get any closer to a cycle race than this. Unless, of course, you’re in the saddle yourself.
It’s the second stage of the Lidl Deutschland Tour, from Schwäbisch Hall to Offenbach an der Queich, and I’ve been given the privilege of riding as a VIP in an ‘In Race Car’ at the invitation of the main sponsor, Lidl. And that’s not all. I’ll be spending the whole day as a VIP guest at the Deutschland Tour.
The backdrop to the start area in Schwäbisch Hall is stunning. At the foot of the grand staircase leading up to St Michael’s Town Church, the start arch, the grandstand for the team presentation and the VIP area are all laid out. Long before the start, the grand staircase is already packed with cycling fans. From the steps – where open-air theatre has been performed in the summer for many decades – they have a perfect view of the cycling action on the market square.
The VIP area opens at 10 o’clock. I’m given a guest pass to wear round my neck and a wristband that grants me access to the buffet. Armed with coffee and a butter pretzel, I’m about to set off to explore the area when a D-Tour member of staff – recognisable by his white and blue outfit – approaches me and introduces himself: Roman Jördens, a former professional cyclist, will be driving the In Race Car, which I’ll be allowed to ride in. The 53-year-old is a true cycling insider who has worked for many years in a wide variety of roles in professional teams both large and small, for the German Cycling Federation and within the cycling industry. He tells me where the car is parked, explains the schedule leading up to the start, and where we’ll meet.
A short while later, the presentation and registration of the 18 teams taking part in the Lidl Deutschland Tour begins. At first, I watch from behind the barrier as the cyclists ride their bikes up a ramp onto the stage. Then I discover that you can climb a spiral staircase to the roof of the glass-fronted VIP truck and, from there, get a view of the riders’ bike computers on the neighbouring stage. The presenter introduces each rider by name; the audience applauds heartily and proves to be well-informed. When the names of German riders such as Nils Politt, John Degenkolb or Georg Zimmermann – familiar to viewers from TV broadcasts of the Tour de France – are called out, the crowd gets particularly loud.
Just before twelve, we meet up by the green Skoda in which we’ll be following the race. Roman Jördens switches on the radio transmitter for Radio Tour. There’s a promising crackle and hiss from the speaker before a voice welcomes the listeners, explains the details of today’s stage and wishes everyone a great race. Here we go. We roll slowly over the cobblestones of Schwäbisch Hall; ahead of us, the motorbikes of the police escort rev up and leave the old town via the Henkersbrücke, which spans the River Kocher.
Right. So where are the racing drivers now? Ludwig Ziegelmeier, the winner of a prize draw and the second VIP guest in the car, and I crane our necks. But there’s nothing to be seen just yet in the maze of roads leading out of Schwäbisch Hall. The race is still neutralised; the racing drivers and their support vehicles are getting organised. Ten minutes later, we reach the ‘Kilometre 0’ marker; Radio Tour announces over the loudspeaker: ‘Fast start at 12.17.’ Roman Jördens explains: ‘We always stay ahead of the peloton in our car. If a breakaway group forms and builds up a lead of more than a minute, we can sometimes slot in between the peloton and the group.”
A short while later, the moment arrives. Three riders from the German Continental teams break away from the peloton and quickly open up a gap of more than a minute between themselves and the peloton. Ole Theiler from Rembe | Rad-Net, Ben Jochum from Lotto Kern-Haus Outlet Montabaur and the Spaniard Alvaro Sagrado from Storck-MRW Bau are among them. Shortly afterwards, they race past our car. I’m fascinated by how fast they are and how close they are. From the open car window, you could almost touch them if you stretched out your arm.
The small support convoy for the three breakaway riders is forming: race control, three team vehicles, the neutral equipment van, and our In-Race Car. Roman Jördens keeps manoeuvring the car so that we have a clear view of the three riders – sometimes from behind, sometimes from the front. Coordinating this is surprisingly straightforward. Jördens moves slightly ahead when he reaches the race director’s car, in which Fabian Wegmann is seated in the rear left-hand seat. He is being driven by the French former professional Sébastien Hinault, who also carries out this role for the organisers ASO at the Tour de France. Jördens looks over into the car at Wegmann and points forwards with his hand; Wegmann nods and gives us an imaginary nudge with his hand – provided the road is wide enough, clear and unobstructed.
As we creep uphill again behind the three breakaway riders at the Juxkopf, bad news comes over the radio. The gap to the peloton is shrinking. From just under two minutes, it’s suddenly down to 1 minute 30 seconds, and the seconds are ticking away. Roman Jördens glances nervously in the rear-view mirror: “If the peloton catches up now, we’re in trouble,” he says. The problem is that the road is getting narrower and narrower, narrowing into a sunken lane from which there is no escape. The cars are clogging up the road and would have nowhere to swerve if the racers wanted to get past. Suddenly, I feel an unpleasant tightness in my stomach, even though I’m just a passenger in the car.
More agonising minutes pass, during which the three riders at the front battle their way up the double-digit gradients, whilst the five cars behind them are forced to stop time and again. Even after the mountain classification, the road continues to climb. Time gap: “One minute ten,” blares the Tour radio. Then the road levels out and, seconds later, we experience a new extreme. The racing drivers ahead of us vanish into the forest in a flash as they hurtle down the steep, winding country road; Roman Jördens, unfazed, floors the accelerator and, with the tyres squealing, throws the Škoda from one bend to the next like a rally car. I grab hold of the backrest in front of me and wedge myself between the door and the centre armrest to stop myself from tumbling through the car, and I’m sure I briefly saw a three-digit number on the speedometer. Ludwig Ziegelmeier glances back at me and remarks dryly: “You really have to hold on tight...”
A short while later, calm returns. At least in the car. The gap between the breakaway riders and the peloton stabilises again. We’re driving a good distance ahead of the race until Roman Jördens keeps an eye out for a suitable place to stop. “Time for a picnic,” he says with a smile. It’s a well-chosen spot: we park just before the end of a long, uphill straight. From there, we can see the approaching riders about a minute and a half before they pass us. In the boot, a generously stocked lunch box from our sponsor Lidl awaits each guest, containing a drink, sandwiches, fruit and other treats – enough to easily see us through more than just this day. It starts to rain.
Then flashing lights appear at the foot of the hill – the race director’s car, with three riders in front of it, still riding at breakneck speed. As they draw nearer and race past, I can see their flushed, rain-drenched faces and recognise the effort it must be taking the three of them to maintain their lead over the pack for more than two hours now. With my sandwich in one hand and my drink bottle in the other, I almost feel a twinge of guilt and, for a moment, think it’s a bit inappropriate to be watching the riders whilst being so well-provisioned myself. But I don’t have time for lengthy musings; Roman Jördens shouts: “Get in.” We have to set off quickly; the gap to the peloton is closing again.
35 kilometres from the finish, the breakaway attempt by Ole Theiler, Ben Jochum and Alvaro Sagrado has come to an end; the peloton has caught up with the three of them. The expected bunch sprint at the finish in Offenbach an der Queich is shaping up. We set off early to arrive in good time and witness the riders’ finish live. On the way there, I find myself pondering how casually observers often refer to a “straightforward stage” that “inevitably” ends in a bunch sprint. Even from the car, so close to the peloton, I found the stage really tough – at least the first two-thirds of it.
Together with thousands of enthusiastic spectators, I then watch the sprint in Offenbach. Once again, I’m completely blown away by just how fast you can ride a bike in a race. It’s a spine-tingling moment as the pack of the fastest riders hurtles across the finish line, accompanied by the cheers of the fans and the drumming on the barriers. And the winner – as surprising as he is deserving – Alessio Magagnotti from the Red Bull-Bora-hansgrohe U23 team, writes yet another remarkable chapter in his own story with his first professional sprint victory at the age of 19.
What a special, eventful day with a unique perspective on a cycle race! We say goodbye to Roman Jördens, who guided us so knowledgeably and entertainingly, and set off for home with our minds full of memories. During the journey, it strikes me once again just how many enthusiastic spectators we saw all along the route, come rain or shine. Young people, older people, lots of families. Time and again I saw children, their eyes sparkling, who could hardly wait to hold aloft their homemade cardboard signs with names like “Nils” or “Dege” or “Max”. Then I hear the news and reports on the car radio about the disturbances at the DFB Cup football match between Kaiserslautern and Mannheim, which is taking place this evening. Suddenly, I’m even more impressed by the cheerful, family-friendly atmosphere at the cycle race, where everyone is focused on the athletes. And I think to myself: I definitely chose the right sport to watch today.
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