of servitude. If it was time for a rethink there was no suggestion of it on the road that day.
Sky’s tactic on the mountains remained the same. Keep the speed high. Turn the climbs as far as possible into the time-trial-like efforts that would suit Bradley Wiggins. The workload for
the tactic fell on Wiggins’s teammates, mainly Froome.
The hallmark of the Vuelta is its unique climbs, which present themselves not as long steady hauls to the clouds but as a series of short punchy gradients coming one after the other. It was on
this corrugated landscape that Froome sacrificed himself, hauling Wiggins up the 19km ascent towards the summit finish at Manzaneda. With 3km to go after a day of shepherding his leader,
Froome’s legs finally went. Wiggins found his way home alone.
That evening in Galicia, Froome realised he had left everything on the roads in order to hand the red jersey to Wiggins. Froome was now 7 seconds down in second place. Still, when he crossed the
line he went straight to Wiggins to congratulate him.
The next day, on Stage Eleven, Froome delivered again, responding to a series of attacks before ceding to Wiggins on the long climb home. Wiggins ended the day in red. Froome was second in the
General Classification.
His sacrifice had been huge but it was what he got paid so handsomely to do. And with contract negotiations pending, more reward would come later.
Wiggins retained the jersey through four stages before losing it to Juan José Cobo, a local favourite and the eventual winner of La Vuelta. Froome finished just 13 seconds behind Cobo in
second place on the podium knowing, in his bones, that first place could have been his. Wiggins was third, 1'39" behind.
30 January 2013: Vanity Hotel Golf, Mallorca. It is Wednesday evening, the fifth day of my first week inside Team Sky, and the moment to speak for the first time with Chris
Froome. We have passed each other in the hotel, once he’d sat in the bar reading a serious newspaper. Another morning I’d gone to the small hotel gym to see him work out with Richie
Porte, his best friend in the team.
His friendship with Porte is interesting because they are so different. With Porte, what you see is what he is. And what he thinks is what you hear.
Froome has always been guarded – considering, sifting, then speaking. When his rise began, those who managed Sky’s media affairs would say: ‘We need to get Froomey to give a
little more of himself.’ And that morning in the gym with Porte, he gave plenty. Ben MacDonald, the Team Sky physiotherapist, supervised a session in which the riders did a tough circuit of
strength and stretching exercises.
Porte is small but neatly proportioned. He looked every inch the athlete.
Froome is different, his tallness accentuated by his thinness. More than 6ft tall, he will start the Tour de France weighing 10st 6lb. But when the exercises get tough, Froome’s strength
leaves an impression that would overwhelm every other memory from that workout. In the gym Porte seemed like a boy to Froome’s man.
I am reminded of the story often told within the team to illustrate Froome’s physical freakiness. The former American rider Bobby Julich had been assigned to sand the rough edges off
Froome in the 2011 season. He began by running some lab tests, the results of which startled him. Rod Ellingworth had to check the calibrations on the machinery but the numbers were right. They
knew then that Julich was polishing a Tour de France podium finisher.
That evening, Froome was already there when I arrived. We speak for half an hour or so. He is polite, comes across as intelligent but he is reserved, as if he’s learnt that the less you
say, the less you get into trouble. Two memories survive from the conversation.
The first was his time at St Andrew’s School in Bloemfontein.
How could a 13-year-old from Kenya without a word of Afrikaans have survived at this predominantly Afrikaans school? He said it was
Sky’s tactic on the mountains remained the same. Keep the speed high. Turn the climbs as far as possible into the time-trial-like efforts that would suit Bradley Wiggins. The workload for
the tactic fell on Wiggins’s teammates, mainly Froome.
The hallmark of the Vuelta is its unique climbs, which present themselves not as long steady hauls to the clouds but as a series of short punchy gradients coming one after the other. It was on
this corrugated landscape that Froome sacrificed himself, hauling Wiggins up the 19km ascent towards the summit finish at Manzaneda. With 3km to go after a day of shepherding his leader,
Froome’s legs finally went. Wiggins found his way home alone.
That evening in Galicia, Froome realised he had left everything on the roads in order to hand the red jersey to Wiggins. Froome was now 7 seconds down in second place. Still, when he crossed the
line he went straight to Wiggins to congratulate him.
The next day, on Stage Eleven, Froome delivered again, responding to a series of attacks before ceding to Wiggins on the long climb home. Wiggins ended the day in red. Froome was second in the
General Classification.
His sacrifice had been huge but it was what he got paid so handsomely to do. And with contract negotiations pending, more reward would come later.
Wiggins retained the jersey through four stages before losing it to Juan José Cobo, a local favourite and the eventual winner of La Vuelta. Froome finished just 13 seconds behind Cobo in
second place on the podium knowing, in his bones, that first place could have been his. Wiggins was third, 1'39" behind.
30 January 2013: Vanity Hotel Golf, Mallorca. It is Wednesday evening, the fifth day of my first week inside Team Sky, and the moment to speak for the first time with Chris
Froome. We have passed each other in the hotel, once he’d sat in the bar reading a serious newspaper. Another morning I’d gone to the small hotel gym to see him work out with Richie
Porte, his best friend in the team.
His friendship with Porte is interesting because they are so different. With Porte, what you see is what he is. And what he thinks is what you hear.
Froome has always been guarded – considering, sifting, then speaking. When his rise began, those who managed Sky’s media affairs would say: ‘We need to get Froomey to give a
little more of himself.’ And that morning in the gym with Porte, he gave plenty. Ben MacDonald, the Team Sky physiotherapist, supervised a session in which the riders did a tough circuit of
strength and stretching exercises.
Porte is small but neatly proportioned. He looked every inch the athlete.
Froome is different, his tallness accentuated by his thinness. More than 6ft tall, he will start the Tour de France weighing 10st 6lb. But when the exercises get tough, Froome’s strength
leaves an impression that would overwhelm every other memory from that workout. In the gym Porte seemed like a boy to Froome’s man.
I am reminded of the story often told within the team to illustrate Froome’s physical freakiness. The former American rider Bobby Julich had been assigned to sand the rough edges off
Froome in the 2011 season. He began by running some lab tests, the results of which startled him. Rod Ellingworth had to check the calibrations on the machinery but the numbers were right. They
knew then that Julich was polishing a Tour de France podium finisher.
That evening, Froome was already there when I arrived. We speak for half an hour or so. He is polite, comes across as intelligent but he is reserved, as if he’s learnt that the less you
say, the less you get into trouble. Two memories survive from the conversation.
The first was his time at St Andrew’s School in Bloemfontein.
How could a 13-year-old from Kenya without a word of Afrikaans have survived at this predominantly Afrikaans school? He said it was
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