football will always beat cycling

That World Cup Final through the lens of a football mad pro-cyclist.

I went into the archives to find a photo of me riding in a gloomy looking France.

Schadenfreude: pleasure derived from another person’s misfortune

It’s 15:43 on Sunday the 18th December as I clip-clop up the stairs to my apartment after finishing training. Rack the bike, two slices of bread in the toaster and it’s straight into the shower. Shower, get dressed, make a quick sandwich and we’re ready to go. 

It’s 16:02 when we walk into McKiernans Bar, affectionately known as “the Irish”, on Girona’s La Rambla. I’ve missed the first two minutes of the World Cup Final, but a 19-minute turn around isn’t too bad. 

There’s blue, white and red everywhere and I’m hearing “Allez, allez” more times than a Frenchman who’s in a solo Tour de France breakaway on Bastille Day. I, along with the small group of English fans who I join are supporting Argentina. Me, bitter that France knocked England out? Never.

For context, I played football from the age of five. It was my first love and watching it brings out a slightly different side to me.

Two pints of Guinness are ordered, not both for me may I add, and it’s all eyes on the screen in the corner. Guinness may not be the best post-ride recovery drink, but here we are. Argentina go one up, a questionable penalty, but Lionel Messi steps up and slots it away. Argentina scores a second and the bar goes quiet. The French who were basking in the disappointment of England’s loss a mere week ago are now getting a taste of their own medicine. “Allez” has been replaced with “Putain''.

Half time, another pint of Guinness please.

It’s the hope that kills you. As an English football fan, and a professional cyclist, I know all too well about getting your hopes up. Whether it be going for a race win, waiting on a contract to land in your inbox or watching the England football team line up, it is always the hope that kills you.

For eighty minutes, we witnessed an Argentina masterclass. The perfect ending to a perfect Lionel Messi career. In cycling terms, it’s as if Phillippe Gilbert crested the top of the Poggio all alone in his final Milan-San Remo in a bid for his fifth and final Monument. 

Mbappe scores. The bar erupts. The French have hope. Surely they can’t do it? 90 seconds later, Mbappe scores again. The French celebrate, the French have momentum. Are we on for the greatest comeback of all time?

The final ten minutes of normal time are why watching cycling will never, ever live up to football. Football is a rollercoaster of emotions. Happiness, sadness, hope and despair all rolled into one. It’s the excitement of Milan-San Remo but tenfold. In a split second, the emotions of millions can change for better or worse, that’s something cycling will never be able to match and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Extra time comes and the shouts screams of “allez” have returned, the French who were ever so quiet for eighty minutes are in full voice. Step up Lionel Messi, again, 3-2 Argentina. Game over - surely?  This is akin to Gilbert getting caught on the descent of the Poggio, but somehow managing to forge a gap once again. 

Two minutes to go. Mbappe scores, 3-3. (In cycling terms, Gilbert has just been caught with 200m to go.) The French explode with happiness, turn around to give us the abuse we deserve, but we start smiling. This is the greatest football match of all time.

Penalties. There’s an argument that penalties shouldn’t have a place in football, I heavily disagree. The ultimate test of nerves for the biggest prize in world sport. We rush to the tiny screen in the corner that has been a few seconds ahead all night. You can’t watch a penalty shootout when half the bar knows who has scored in advance. 

It’s France against the world. Our group has swelled to include Irish, Belgians, South Africans, and Americans. The talismen, Messi and Mbappe step up and score. But it’s the Argentinians who hold their nerve and prevail. Remember what I said about it being the hope that kills you? 

(For you cyclists, Philippe Gilbert has just won the sprint for the line against all odds)

Even in a town as small as Girona, a hundred or so Argentinian fans parade through the street and dance through the night. Messi wins his World Cup. Football is the winner.

There’s something special about the World Cup. It’s the greatest sporting event in the world. Occurring once every four years, you can track your life through it. Back in 2018, I watched England finally win a penalty shootout from a small hotel in the Basque country while racing with the HMT Hospitals Junior Team. I celebrated with my school friends in our hometown pub when Kieran Trippier curled in his free-kick at the start of that semi-final. 

While watching the last World Cup, I still had two years of school to go. Girona was just some town in northern Spain and racing the bike professionally was a dream. Given my current situation without a contract, it’s easy to be sad, angry or even disappointed. But, when I think about it, for the last four years I have been living 17 year-old Joe’s dream.

Where will I be in 2026? Who knows. Will I still be in bike racing? I don’t know. Will I still be in Girona? Maybe, but probably not. A year ago, I didn’t even know most of the friends that I watched the World Cup Final with yesterday. I haven’t seen most of the friends that I watched the World Cup with back in 2018 for almost three years. The beautiful game, for more than one reason.