King of the Road

A recent cartoon in a Belgian newspaper showed King Baudouin eagerly clasping the hand of Bicycle Racer Eddy Merckx. In the surrounding crowd, one spectator is seen asking a companion: "Hey, who's that fellow shaking hands with Eddy?"

Good question. While some Europeans may have trouble identifying the monarch of Belgium, just about everyone recognizes Merckx, the reigning king of the road. One of the most popular athletes on the Continent, the handsome Belgian dominates bike racing the way Brazil's Pele rules soccer. Fans hail him as the "Beethoven of the bike." Sportswriters call him "the synthesis of bulldozer and adding machine." France's own great racer, Jacques Anquetil, simply shrugs: "Unbelievable."

Out of Sight. Two weeks ago at Vail-ly-sur-Sauldr. Merckx overwhelmed the field to post his 227th victory in the past five years. It is a wonder any rivals showed up at all after Eddy's crushing victory in last month's Tour de France, the richest and most prestigious event on the bike-racing calendar. A grinding, 23-day marathon that begins and ends in Paris, the Tour twists through 2,702 miles of lung-straining terrain. The daily laps are so brutal that strategy counts for as much as speed and stamina; the wise racer rides in the pack, pacing himself and hoarding energy for a final sprint. Not Eddy. "Why wait?" he says. "It's just as easy to be pedaling out front." In his first Tour last year, Eddy astounded everyone by sprinting away from the field on one particularly rugged lap in the Pyrenees, riding solo over three peaks and beating his nearest competitor by eight minutes. This year, on the grueling, 120-mile leg from Lake Geneva across the Alps to Grenoble, 20 riders kept pace with Merckx to the foot of the first mountain. Four peaks later, Eddy emerged alone at the summit of the final, 4,200-ft. climb. Then, as he hurtled down the twisting mountain road at 50 m.p.h., he calmly took a wrench from his pocket and adjusted the seat of his bike. Whirling into the Grenoble stadium, he circled the track and still had time to complete a leisurely ceremonial lap before his closest competitor hove into view.

Cellar-Cured Tires. Th's year's Tour victory was worth $10,000, which Eddy gave away to his teammates and to charity. He could afford to. His other purses, plus endorsements, will bring his income close to $375,000 this year. But money is the least of it--or so he insists. Unlike most racers, Merckx did not take up the sport to escape from poverty. The son of a well-to-do Brussels grocer, Eddy says simply: "I pedal because I love to ride a bike." He was barely 19 in 1964, when he won the world amateur championship. After turning pro, he won his first big race, the Milan-San Remo in 1966. The following year, he became world professional champion; since then, he has won every major race on the Continent.

Tall and lean (5 ft. 11 in., 165 Ibs.), Eddy estimates that he pedals some 21,000 miles during the nine-month season. He starts training each year with a modest 30-to 40-mile daily practice, soon works up to 90 to 125 miles a day. A perfectionist, he "cures" his tires by storing them for three years in a cool, dry cellar. His bikes are like nothing ever seen in the local sports shop: an 181-lb. model with ten speeds for the sprints, a more rugged 22-lb. version with twelve speeds for the mountains.

At 25, Eddy thinks that he can keep going for another four or five years. Then he intends to retire. "I don't want to quit when I'm going downhill but when I'm at the top," he says. Until he does, what are his rivals to do? One French sportswriter had a suggestion: he would like to see Eddy carry a 30-Ib. pack on his back as a permanent handicap.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.