Cycling World Erupts: Vingegaard’s European Championship Flop Ignites Fury from Cycling Legend Manolo Saiz – “Choose Your Wife or Your Bike!”

The picturesque roads of Guilherand-Granges in southern France were meant to crown a new chapter in European cycling history on October 5, 2025, but instead, they became the stage for one of the sport’s most explosive controversies yet. Jonas Vingegaard, the Danish dynamo and back-to-back Vuelta a España champion, lined up as a pre-race favorite for the elite men’s road race at the European Championships. With heavyweights like Tadej Pogačar and Remco Evenepoel in the mix, whispers of a dream showdown had fans buzzing for weeks. But in a stunning twist that left the peloton – and the cycling universe – reeling, Vingegaard cracked spectacularly early, dropping from the lead group with over 109 kilometers still to grind. His abrupt abandonment didn’t just end his race; it unleashed a torrent of backlash, culminating in a blistering tirade from Spanish cycling icon Manolo Saiz that has social media ablaze and divided loyalties like never before.

For Vingegaard, the day started with quiet confidence. Fresh off a grueling Vuelta victory in September – his third Grand Tour win of the year after a runner-up finish at the Tour de France – the 28-year-old Visma-Lease a Bike rider had extended his season specifically for this one-day showdown. “It’s a good opportunity to ride a one-day race again,” he told reporters the day before, hinting at ambitions to expand beyond the multi-stage marathons that have defined his career. Denmark hadn’t tasted continental glory in years, and Vingegaard, with his climbing prowess honed on the brutal cols of the Pyrenees, seemed primed to deliver. Teammate Mattias Skjelmose even stepped up as interim leader after Vingegaard’s exit, finishing a respectable fourth, but the damage was done. Only 17 riders crossed the finish line in a race brutalized by relentless climbs and crosswinds, yet Vingegaard’s early fade stood out like a dropped chain in the pack’s collective memory.

The fallout was swift and savage. Danish ex-pros piled on first, with former Tour winner Bjarne Riis – Vingegaard’s own compatriot and a 1996 yellow jersey holder – lambasting his preparation. “He didn’t take it seriously enough,” Riis fumed in a post-race interview, pointing to Vingegaard’s two-week post-Vuelta hiatus as a fatal misstep. Another Dane, ex-Quick-Step manager Brian Holm, went further, dismissing the whole effort as “eighty percent marketing.” Holm argued Vingegaard showed up more for selfies and sponsor optics than silverware, drawing crowds of journalists who rarely grace European Championship pelotons. Vingegaard himself offered a mea culpa, admitting to Cyclingnews, “I had more time off the bike than I hoped… I don’t know if it was fatigue or those two weeks, but I didn’t have the legs.” His words rang hollow to critics, especially as rivals like Pogačar – who stormed to victory in a solo masterclass – arrived razor-sharp after targeted build-ups.

Enter Manolo Saiz, the 70-year-old Spanish maestro whose name is synonymous with cycling’s golden – and occasionally gritty – eras. As the former Once team manager who steered the likes of Roberto Heras and Jose Maria Jimenez to Grand Tour triumphs in the 1990s and early 2000s, Saiz has long been a voice of unfiltered authority. But his post-race broadside on Spanish radio station Cadena SER crossed into personal territory, naming Vingegaard directly in a rant that’s since racked up millions of views across platforms. “The contempt for the country and the fans is unacceptable,” Saiz thundered, his voice gravelly with decades of peloton wisdom. “It’s time for him to choose between his wife and his bicycle!” The barb, aimed at Vingegaard’s recent marriage to Maria, a childhood sweetheart who rarely steps into the spotlight, struck a raw nerve. Saiz painted the Dane as a fair-weather patriot, more devoted to domestic bliss than national duty, especially after Denmark’s investment in his career – from junior academies to national team support – yielded zilch on home soil… or rather, French roads.

The comment has polarized the cycling community like a mid-race split. Supporters of Vingegaard, including a chorus of Visma fans on X (formerly Twitter), decry Saiz as an outdated dinosaur whose own legacy is tainted by doping scandals from the EPO-riddled 2000s. “Manolo’s just jealous Pogačar outshone his era,” one viral post quipped, garnering over 50,000 likes. Vingegaard’s camp has stayed mum, but insiders whisper of quiet devastation; a teammate reportedly spotted the rider “really sad” in the team bus, scrolling through the hate. On the flip side, Saiz’s defenders – many older Spanish and French fans – hail him as a truth-teller calling out the modern pro’s work-life imbalance. In an era where riders like Evenepoel juggle fatherhood with podiums, Vingegaard’s choice to prioritize recovery over racing feels like a luxury few can afford. “Fans buy tickets, not excuses,” Saiz doubled down in a follow-up tweet, tagging UCI president David Lappartient for emphasis.

This isn’t just tabloid fodder; it’s a symptom of cycling’s evolving fault lines. The European Championships, once a continental afterthought overshadowed by Worlds and Olympics, are gaining prestige – Slovenia’s 2026 hosting promises even bigger crowds. Vingegaard’s flop raises thorny questions: Can Grand Tour specialists like him truly pivot to the high-octane chaos of one-day epics without full commitment? And in a sport where national pride fuels sponsorships, does personal life get a pass when the jersey’s on the line? Pogačar’s unchallenged win – his third major title of 2025 – only amplifies the contrast, turning Vingegaard from heir apparent to cautionary tale.

As the peloton packs up for off-season reflection, Saiz’s ultimatum lingers like exhaust fumes on a mountain pass. Will Vingegaard return fiercer, channeling the slight into 2026 motivation, or has this exposed cracks in his unbreakable facade? For now, the debate rages online, with hashtags like #VingegaardChoice and #SaizSpeaks trending globally. One thing’s clear: in cycling, where legs fail and loyalties fracture, the real race is always off the bike. Whether Vingegaard pedals toward redemption or family fireside, the fans – scorned or not – will be watching every crank turn.