But perhaps more remarkable than his physical attributes and impressive skills set is his sheer strength of will. He has used this to impose himself on both his team and the pro peloton. In 2012 he was employed as a super-domestique in support of his team leader, Bradley Wiggins, who indeed went on to win the Tour de France.
Problems started during the race as the pair climbed La Toussuire. Brad was in yellow, more than two minutes ahead of Froome in the General Classification (GC), but Froome was clearly frustrated. Feeling in the form of his life, he suddenly put in an attack on the leading group, which included his team leader, Wiggins. Within seconds he’d created a gap of more than 30m (100ft) and Bradley was clearly struggling. There was no way that Wiggo could keep up with his supposed domestique, the man whose job it was to guide him up the mountains. Back in the team car, Sky race director David Brailsford was going crazy on the radio, ordering Froome to fall back and support Bradley. The theatrics with which Froome responded were so over the top it reminded me of a bad mime artist. There are subtle ways of getting on to your radio, but he almost ripped his shirt off, holding out the under-jersey radio mike for the whole world to see. There he was, still powering up the mountain, one-handed, looking behind him almost in disbelief at the faltering climbing abilities of his supposed team leader. It was a clear message that he was the stronger rider of the two, and that he was capable of taking the yellow jersey himself.
In the aftermath, Team Sky put their PR faces on to cover up what was clearly a move from Froome that was way beyond any team orders. But Froome still wanted to make a further point: on Stage 17 in the Pyrenees, he again went ahead of Wiggins and started to make frequent glances back at his teammate, pulling ahead while gesturing for him to hurry up and join him. As Laurent Jalabert, the retired former Tour winner, said at the end of the stage, ‘It wasn’t a beau geste. . . You don’t do that to your teammates. I think it darkens the triumph of Wiggins.’
Back in the Sky bus at the end of the day, it was chaos. Bradley was threatening to pull out of the Tour. Brailsford was battling to control the situation. Both stars had to be appeased. Froome was clearly the stronger; Brad was on the edge. Time for some masterly management. Whatever happened in the bus that day remains secret. But order was restored. How financial this settlement became was a matter of huge debate and speculation among the journalists. What was clear, however, was that this was the day Froome became Team Leader in Waiting. They rode on. Froome toed the line. Brad won the race.
Froome’s behaviour was not soon forgotten by Wiggins.
The sheer brazen impudence of Froome’s actions were in stark contrast to the face he puts on in front of the media. The choirboy looks hide a brute within who will employ almost any tactics to impose his will on those around him. What’s almost scary is the cold, calculated way in which he does so.
Froome’s intelligence and skill at manipulating the rules were highlighted again in the 2014 Tour, where we could see him planning on the hoof too. Occasionally this has to be defensive. The riders were coming to the end of a stage and within the 20km (12-mile) limit of not being allowed assistance of any kind from the team cars. These are rules designed to make racing safer so that bidons and feed bags are not bouncing around and hampering a climax. Froome had, for once, miscalculated his food intake and was heading for the cyclist’s nightmare – ‘the bonk’, where all energy suddenly drains away because of a lack of nutrition. Froome raised his hand to indicate a technical issue such as a puncture. The commissaire radioed for the Team Sky car to come forward to assist. There was no puncture. Instead, Geraint Thomas went back to the car and collected gels. Chris was faltering as Thomas quickly returned. Seeing what had happened, the race director went apoplectic. Froome was taking the risk that the only sanction would be a fine, nothing more severe. The fact is that Froome, even in extremis, had the nous to read the situation and dealt with it, albeit by bending the rules on feeding so late in the race. This is genius.
While Froome plays the diplomat in press conferences, he’s not averse to approaching journalists to put his view across in a more uncompromising fashion. And with some force. He texts me occasionally. In the 2013 Vuelta a España, on the opening kilometres of a tough climbing day, he crashed into a barrier on the side of the road, the type that blend gently into the ground. They were not immediately obvious and should have been pennanted by a race steward. Sure enough, Froome crashed into them. I commented at the time that this could have been as a result of his head-down riding style, which has him contemplating his handlebars. It’s a position he seems to be comfortable riding in and has been noted by many. Froome battled through the stage but was later forced to pull
