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The spring classics felt like ages this year. After a lot of weak performences, his main goals were finally in reach: Ronde van Vlaanderen and Paris-Roubaix and for prepararion Dwaars door Vlaanderen.
Wednesday arrived. Everything went perfect. They were three against Powless. Easy win. They decided to let him sprint. It was a disaster. Absolutely embarressing.
Sunday came, Tour of Flanders, the biggest race in Belgium. Pogačar won. Solo. No big suprise. They sprinted, second place was gone early, nobody could follow Mads. So it was him or Mathieu for third place. Again them. Who else? It was always them. And of course it was Mathieu in the end.
He came in fourth, a good result, but it didn‘t feel like one.
Again, sunday came, and with it Paris-Roubaix. This time, he wanted more then a fourth place.
He felt better than the past weekend, he felt good, hopeful, everything seemed possible. That was until the race started.
Pogačar and Mathieu tried, he held on, but at Arenberg, he had to let them go.
After that, they tried for Matthew, but he got dropped, the race was just too hard for the young brit.
He heard Richard‘s words, „Pogačar crashed, Pogačar crashed.“, but they were already too far away.
Mathieu won, the third year in a row the dominator of this race, his race.
He arrived at the vélodrom with Mads and Vermeersch, he was able to beat his countryman, but the dane, who seemed to be in the form of his live, took the third place, while he came in fourth, again.
He just immediantly went in the bus, took a shower, without hundreds of people watching and taking photos.
He watched the podium ceremony on TV, watched them raising their stone trophes, celebrating like they owned the world, enjoying their podium, the podium he was not enough to be on. He was not enough.
Not enough anymore.