It’s a helluva sport, cycling. The ups and the downs: just ask Wout van Aert. The Visma-Lease a Bike rider took a beautiful win at Paris-Roubaix–but it was more than just a bike race.
His long-awaited victory wasn’t just about finally winning the Queen of the Classics, it was about someone who never made it to the velodrome. Van Aert himself has had a roller coaster ride in the peloton these past few years, but it was back in 2018 he suffered something far worse than a crash or bad luck–his teammate died after the race.
Eight years ago, Michael Goolaerts died after suffering cardiac arrest during the race. On Sunday, van Aert crossed the line in Roubaix with a finger pointed to the sky.
“This victory is for Michael,” he said after outkicking Tadej Pogačar in a two-up sprint, finally shaking years of bad luck at a race that had so often slipped through his fingers.
Back in 2018, though, there was no result to celebrate. In a message published on his personal website (now no longer active, found via road.cc), van Aert could barely process what had happened. It was van Aert’s first go at Roubiax, riding back then for Vérandas Willems-Crelan. He would go on to finish 13th.
“My thoughts go out to my team mate, Michael Goolaerts, who lost his life yesterday,” he wrote. “No report of my race… because it’s of no importance.”
It was supposed to be a different kind of spring. A big ride in Roubaix, then a holiday. Instead, “all my results this spring disappeared with the death of our team mate… So I end my road campaign with a very bitter taste in my mouth.”
The two had known each other for years, growing up in the same region, racing first as rivals, then as teammates. Van Aert remembered him simply: “someone who smiled… always extremely motivated.”
Paris-Roubaix had been Goolaerts’ dream, too.
“We also spoke to each other during the race… He was going to help me for as long as he could. That didn’t happen.”
When the news finally came later that evening, the team gathered together, holding onto hope that never turned. “In the late evening, Michael lost his battle,” van Aert wrote. “‘The Hell of the North leads to heaven’… I don’t know what to make of that today.”
On Sunday, he did.
After years of setbacks—times when, by his own admission, he “did stop believing”—van Aert found his moment.
And when he pointed to the sky, it was more than just a celebration. It was remembering his friend, and finally being able to give him the tribute van Aert had been planning for almost a decade.