RAYMOND POULIDOR’S LEGACY

It’s May and I’m standing at the Col d’Agnes, the highest point on the final stage of the Ronde de l’Isard, one of the most prestigious U23 races on the calendar. Motorbike marshals stream past, then a mini- caravane publicitaire reaches the summit. Just half a dozen vehicles, one carrying Miss Toulouse. But it’s the one in which Raymond Poulidor is travelling that the couple of dozen fans at this summit home in on. “Vite! C’est Poupou!” a man standing next to us urges his family, and they join the flock around the car. The 83-year- old steps out and engages in what has become a familiar routine, shaking hands, posing for pictures, acknowledging compliments, and smiling, always smiling. He’s like everyone’s favourite grandad.

Poulidor wasn’t the last link to what is viewed in France as cycling’s golden age, that period of economic boom in the 1950s and 1960s when the home nation dominated the Tour, but until his death in November he was by far the most significant. To a large extent, Poulidor incarnated the French ideal: down-to- earth, brave, tenacious, loyal, someone who gave their all and accepted the results with dignity even when they came up short.

There’s perhaps not an equivalent in the UK, a figure that has transcended their sport to the extent that their name and the qualities it is seen to represent has become part of the language. The adjective 'poulidorien' describes a plucky battler who doesn’t quite achieve their overriding objective. However, like so much of what is said about Poulidor, this word is rather wide of the mark. He may not have won the Tour or even worn the maillot jaune, but he attained something far more elusive, becoming a national treasure. As President Emmanuel Macron said, Poulidor may not have worn the yellow jersey, but he was “the yellow jersey in French hearts”. He wasn’t the greatest racer, but ultimately became a one- off as the personification of the qualities that draw us to sport.