Remco Evenepoel: the next Eddy Merckx (part 2)

It’s only February. This is just the Volta ao Algarve. We really can’t read too much into anything at such an early stage. Let’s all stay calm.

But…

I REALLY THINK REMCO EVENEPOEL MIGHT BE THE NEXT EDDY MERCKX!!

Shit. Sorry. I see what happened there.

I’ve gone and been exuberant. I’ve allowed the teenager that lives inside me to plunge a balled fist out through my chest, wave it at the nearest passer-by, and project my own romantic idealism onto a pro cyclist.

No worries. Panic over. The forty-three year old me is back in the saddle. It’s all measured analysis from here.

Because Evenepoel, you see, is not so much the new Eddy as the first Remco. And it’s a different era. You cannot compare eras. Cyclists have to be so specialised these days. There can never be a new Eddy any more than…

…blah-de-blah-de-blah.

Hang on a minute.

Dear readers, I have to break this to you. I think we’re going to run with the Remco-is-the-new-Eddy thing. We need some innocent sporting joy to banish the doom and gloom of the modern world. This is not the time for knowing cynicism.

Let’s save the chin-stroking for those more important aspects of life: the condition of western democracy; our planet’s climate; the British public’s obsession with Greggs vegan sausage rolls which are not healthy but are a super-processed marketing exercise loaded with added fat, sugar, and salt…eat some real food, people!

Again, sorry.

This is what happens when I chin-stroke, see. I WILL NOT give Remco a foot-up onto my high horse and lead him down my cul-de-sac of earnest societal analysis. He deserves better. The kid is only trying to inject a bit of joy into our lives.

HE’S THE NEXT EDDY MERCKX F’CHRIST’S SAKE!

Embed from Getty Images

I, for one, am very much looking forward to each and every one of his next five hundred race wins, particularly all those Tours de France: especially the one where he wins the race, six stages, and all the jerseys.

I assume Deceuninck Quick Step are in negotiations with Moltemi and have team-issue woollen jerseys in production as we speak? Perhaps we could find the guy who punched Eddy on the slopes of the Puy de Dome back in 1975 and get him to re-enact it with Remco for the cameras?

But I know what you’re thinking. What if he turns out to not be quite as good as our man Merckx? Which is, y’know, a possibility.

Well, I’ll tell you: we’ll downgrade him.

We will remain committed to Remco and his role as an idealistic reminder of past glories rather than an individual pro cyclist in his own right, and he can become the new Roger de Vlaeminck. Still great, but not Eddy.

De Vlaeminck is too great?

OK, he becomes the new Rick van Looy. The new Philippe Gilbert? Freddy Maertens? Tom Boonen? We just keep working our way down. And if we get all the way to the bottom and we’re just left with Remco Evenepoel?

You’ll find me in a Greggs, munching a vegan sausage roll and earnestly button-holing passers-by to remind them that Eddy is, was, and will forever be the greatest.

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(Top Image: By Granada – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=73042456)