With the forthcoming return of Rabobank as co-title sponsor – a surprise announcement that injects funds into the team but is an uncomfortable reminder of the dark doping days of the original Rabobank team of yesteryear – it’s tempting to write that Visma-Lease a Bike, set to be largely financed by the second biggest bank in the Netherlands for the first time since 2012, are as Dutch as they could possibly be. But at this summer’s Tour de France, their team of eight riders will be rather un-Dutch, for it is expected that there’ll be no representation from the Netherlands. That means no Wilco Kelderman or Steven Kruijswijk – stalwarts of the team’s Tour successes in recent years – and no Olav Kooij or Dylan van Baarle. They’ll be led by a Dane, have Belgians (three), Americans (two), and a Brit and Frenchman, but no Dutchman. When the Dutch cycling fraternity made this realisation at the end of January, it prompted anger and outcry.
“It’ll soon be very difficult for the Dutch to support Visma,” former Tour stage winner Michael Boogerd predicted. “How can we still call this team the flagbearer of Dutch cycling?” he added. Fellow ex-pro Tom Dumoulin expressed his dismay, too. “If they really want to convey that they are a Dutch team, you select a Dutchman,” he said. And adding his voice to the burning fire was former Rabobank rider Stef Clement. “The term ‘Dutch team’ no longer has any value,” he fumed.
Image: ASO
Trade teams have existed for over a century in bike racing, but from 1930 to 1961 the Tour de France was contested by national teams – with some countries (especially host nation France) boasting several different national teams. But since then (with the exception of 1968 and 1969) the world’s biggest bike race has been a competition among privately-owned teams, riders touring France on an exaggerated marketing exercise for whatever business was and is paying their way. Each team is associated with a country, but they are not teams of that country; rather, the team is registered in that country, and they have no obligation to field riders from the country whose flag follows them around. Their masters are executives in suits, not fans at home.
And at this year’s Tour – assuming Rabobank doesn’t pressure Visma manager Richard Plugge into reconsidering his choice of eight riders – Visma won’t be the only team without a representative from the country they are affiliated with: UAE won’t field an Emirati; Bahrain won’t select a Bahraini; Israel-Premier Tech are unlikely to bring along an Israeli; XDS-Astana won’t have any Chinese riders, and perhaps not even a Kazakh; and it can’t be certain that Lidl-Trek and EF Education-EastPost will each bring an American to the Tour. That might be acceptable for nations which are not one of the European cycling powerhouses, but the Netherlands is, and Visma are one of the biggest teams in the sport. Holland’s population of 18 million people, more of them regular bike riders than car drivers, feel like Visma is their team.
Make no mistake, Visma are a distinctively Dutch team in most aspects, and there’ll be a manager, soigneurs, DSs, coaches, physios, communication personnel and chefs from the country at the Tour. But it’s equally true that before the announcement of Rabobank’s impending return, the team’s biggest backer, Visma, is actually a Norwegian sponsor. The software company’s directors, you imagine, would much rather see Per Strand Hagenes or Jørgen Nordhagen selected over the team’s eight Dutch riders.
Image: Chris Auld
It can be argued that too much importance is put on the flag that sits next to a team’s name. Sure, Soudal–Quick-Step are undoubtedly Belgian and the five French teams at the Tour are unquestionably French with all their panache, post-stage red wine and coming up heartbreakingly short, but when at the 2020 Tour Mitchelton-Scott didn’t field any Australians, they were as Aussie as a Walkabout bar or Foster’s Lager, and Ineos Grenadiers with only one Brit (Luke Rowe) were as British as a Brexiteer residing in an European country. So what, then, is even the point of a team being associated with a country?
Ultimately, as Boogerd said, cycling “is business”, and money and success will always triumph and take precedence over romanticism and sentimentality. “I just want to win the Tour,” Plugge reasoned. “If we have more chance of doing so with foreign riders, then so be it.” For all the mottos like inspiring the next generation, trade teams are cold, hard businesses – their purpose is to extract the best return on the investment for their backers, not to select a rider based on their country of birth.
But that’s not to say that teams should dismiss Boogerd’s and Dumoulin’s comments: cycling fans tend to support riders, not teams, but it is easier to support a team from your country if it’s got local representation. The power of being able to relate to a rider – he or she is from my town, rides my roads, raced in the same junior races as me – is immensely powerful, both to young and old supporters alike. It does, even if we scoff at the hashtags, inspire generations, and it does get people on bikes. And in this particular case, it’s not like Visma haven’t got good Dutch riders – Kooij, especially, can feel aggrieved that he’ll be the only top sprinter missing out on the opening week’s sprint festival.
No one should be suggesting that there should be a mandatory place in Tour teams for at least one rider from the team’s host nation – that would mean a cyclist from the UAE replacing a rider on a multi-million euro contract just because #LatestOddUCIRuling – but teams from all nations shouldn’t forget the power of fielding home-grown riders. When the sport is wanting to both swell its fanbase and make its current fans part with more of their money, not having a rider from the team’s associated nation is an own goal that doesn’t need to be scored, especially when it's a European team based in a European nation that is synonymous with cycling. Logic suggests that Rabobank might be having a rather strong and persuasive word in the ear of Visma’s managers and sports directors.
