RUDI ALTIG... DESPITE ANQUETIL
A technical marvel, millions of viewers were able to follow live on their televisions the most extraordinary world championship in recent years.
And thousands of them were on the Nurburgring circuit to applaud Rudi Altig, the local boy. But this victory, while crowning a great champion, will nonetheless leave a certain bitter taste: The blond Rudi, who usually leaves his mark on races and is the first to help ignite the powder keg, was content at the Nurburgring to appear like a racing car 500 meters from the finish to snatch victory from the most deserving riders of the day: Anquetil, Poulidor, and Motta, in this case
Altig's return to the leading group, Anquetil, Poulidor, Motta, Zilioli, Merckx, Stablinski, and Van den Bossche, sparked a fair amount of controversy.
Sick, vomiting, and practically beaten with two laps to go, the German champion was able to return to the breakaway thanks to Lucien Aimar, who did a tremendous job... but contrary to the interests of the team in general and Jacques Anquetil in particular. [ICS Editor: when some of the British fans returned to the Cycling Weekly coach after the race they claimed that Altig had been paced up to the leading group with the help of a motor bike]
Altig, moreover, did not hesitate to declare after the finish, "I owe a big thank you to Lucien; without him, I would never have been able to return to the leading group, and I would not be world champion today. I admit that I did not fully deserve this title. In other circumstances and in other places, particularly last year in San Sebastian, where I was beaten in a sprint by Tom Simpson, I would, yes, have fully deserved to win..."
A beautiful frankness, a little embarrassing for Aimar, but for Altig it constitutes a just reward.
A RUTHLESS SELECTION
Even after Rudi's return, Jacques Anquetil never came so close to a rainbow jersey, the jersey he dreamed of to end his career. His disappointment was all the greater.
The German's start 500 meters from the finish line was dazzling but instantly countered by Gianni Motta, dragging Raymond Poulidor and Jacques Anquetil in his wake. The Giro winner made a desperate effort but, tired or perhaps realizing that Altig was his trusted teammate, abruptly broke his effort. Poulidor, surprised to see Motta get up, had a moment of hesitation that proved fatal for Jacques Anquetil The time it took for the Norman to clear was too late to fill the gap. Anquetil died on the white line just behind Rudi Altig and had to settle for second place, the worst if there ever was one in a championship. Poulidor finished in third place, the place usually reserved for him in world championships. For him, the Nurburgring was a repeat of Bern and Sallanches.
It has now been proven that on a selective circuit designed to operate a selection, only a great champion can triumph. One only has to refer to the rankings to realize this. Indeed, with rare exceptions, it contains the entire elite of cycling. Rudi Altig, Anquetil, Poulidor, Motta, winner of the Giro, Stablinski, Zilioli, Reybroeck, Belgian champion, De Roo, Aimar, Van den Bossche, in whom the Belgians have the greatest hopes, Gimondi, winner of Paris-Roubaix and Paris-Brussels this season, Merckx, in whom we already see a successor to Van Looy, to name only the main ones. Of the 22 riders who are at the finish 74 starters representing 13 nations, all the French are there with the exception of Désiré Letort, but that was to be expected. Among the notable withdrawals, we note that of Tom Simpson, the defending champion, at the end of the third lap. The joyful Tommy will hardly have benefited from his rainbow jersey
After the morning skirmishes, notably involving Karstens and Planckaert, who launched into a suicide attack on the seventh lap and took a lead of up to 2'40" from a peloton that was increasingly breaking up, Felice Gimondi had the merit, if not the advantage, of setting the stage alight. With 50 kilometers to go, the dark-haired Felice was perhaps hoping to repeat the surprise move that had worked so well for him in Paris-Roubaix and Paris-Brussels
But at the Nurburgring, the situation was completely different. As one might expect, the Italian driver's initiative provoked a chain reaction in the peloton, particularly from Jacques Anquetil. Jealous of Gimondi's burgeoning fame and anxious to preserve his prerogatives, Jacques Anquetil took matters personally in hand, much to the satisfaction of Gianni Motta, who was forced to play the team game
In this area, Motta can't reproach himself for anything. Considered one of the big favorites for the world race, Gianni Motta fully justified the trust placed in him by Fiorenzo Magni, the Italian coach... and the tifosi. And if Motta couldn't resist Rudi Altig's final push, it was because he was truly exhausted by the constant harassment imposed on him by Anquetil, Stablinski, and especially Poulidor during the decisive phase of the race.
GIMONDI SUCCUMBS
After more than 20 kilometers of solitary breakaway, Gimondi, who took up to 35 seconds from his pursuers, began to weaken and saw Jacques Anquetil close behind him, with Motta, Zilioli, Merckx, Van den Bossche, and Poulidor in his wake, followed shortly after by Jean Stablinski
In great circumstances, we always find Jean Stablinski, true to himself, determined and courageous to the very limit of his strength.
At that moment, the die was cast, and Rudi Altig would have been irretrievably beaten without the ill-timed rescue intervention initiated by Lucien Aimar.
As one might imagine, the German's return caused a moment of astonishment in the breakaway group.
And as with Rudi Altig, a race is never over until the white line is crossed, the German took it upon himself to do so first in the conditions we know, taking advantage of the dismay of his main adversaries, busy keeping an eye on each other—Motta, Anquetil, and Poulidor in particular—the most valiant of a memorable day in more ways than one.
THE HEROIC KERMESSE
Thousands and thousands of supporters then gave free rein to their enthusiasm, invading the track and wildly cheering the one who had just given them a world title when they had lost all hope.
Belgians, Luxembourgers, Dutch, Germans, English, and even French who lined this marvelous circuit at the foot of the old castle in the Eifel and who had fought all day with placards and banners, some forgot their disappointments, some their joys, to drown everything in beer.
It was a veritable fair that crowned a great world championship and a great champion, even if the result is not entirely consistent with strict logic.
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