Peter Sagan’s Lucky Charm
“This is a bit like vacation for us.” Tristan Hoffman, the Tinkoff-Saxo directeur sportif was in the driver’s seat and we were a handful of miles into the fourth stage of the Amgen Tour of California. The spring classics were a recent memory, the Giro was happening somewhere far away and the Tour was still more than a month away. That this particular stage of the race started on a wooden pier in the resort town of Avila Beach only added to the somewhat relaxed mind-set.
It didn’t take long for strategy planning to begin. A few Tinkoff riders appeared at the rear of the peloton and made their way back to the team car. Team leader Peter Sagan asked Hoffman to show him the stage map. The Slovak pointed to a straight part of the course near San Luis Obispo airport: “This is where we go?” Tristan agreed. A crosswind was forecast for that part of the course. “Problem is, everybody else is thinking the same thing.”
Tinkoff had a problem. The team lost two riders to crashes the previous day and Sagan continued to receive pressure from everyone — from people making comments on social media all the way up to team owner Oleg Tinkov. Sagan’s results in California up to this point were much like the rest of his season: close but no cigar.
Someone in the bunch called for a bathroom break, and the pace slowed as we passed riders lining both sides of the road. As they made their way back through the caravan Hoffman was telling a story — but he suddenly went quiet. I looked over and saw he was looking in the driver’s side mirror. As he started a gentle left turn, I heard banging and shouting coming from the left rear of the car. As he passed the driver’s door, Mark Cavendish had a big smile and said something Cavendish-like to Hoffman. We noticed a photographer on a motorcycle to our left furiously taking pictures of what he must have thought was about to be an amazing incident where one team took out another team’s star sprinter. We laughed. Hoffman’s history with Cav at HTC-Highroad was surely missed by the shooter.
“They won’t work with us.” Sagan was back at the car, again looking at the course map. The pace started to increase and the race radio crackled to life with updates on attempted moves and inevitable responses. No time for talking now. The peloton was picking up steam as it made its way back to the ocean and the finish line in Pismo Beach. Everyone knew it would end in a sprint, but an uphill final few hundred meters made it suitable for Sagan — if he could be in the right spot at the right time.
The caravan’s tires screeched as we made it past the “5K to go” sign when Radio Tour reported: “Tinkoff-Saxo rider. Mechanical.” Without a blink, Hoffman hit the gas and carbon rims banged together in the back, as the mechanic got ready to jump out and fix the problem. There was a quick sense of relief when we saw the rider wasn’t Sagan but Daniele Bennati, whose body language showed frustration with the situation: he would have been one of Sagan’s main lead-out men.
We got back in the car and headed to Pismo Beach. The radio finally announced the unofficial top three finishers. It was hard to hear, but I think it said Sagan won. I looked over at Hoffman but he didn’t react. I stayed quiet. We were directed to the team parking area and the radio repeated the result, confirming Sagan in first place. Tristan yelled: “Holy shit! We won!”
Later that night we ran into each other at the dinner buffet. “Hey, anytime you want to ride along with us, just let me know,” Hoffman smiled. “You’re a lucky charm.” They didn’t need me. A few days later in Pasadena, at the end of the final stage, Sagan’s wheel crossed the finish line a few centimeters ahead of Tyler Farrar’s to give him the time bonus he needed to take the overall win by three seconds!
