Sempre con noi: Remembering the day Wouter Weylandt died

wear my #108 T regularly and think of him and the day ...

This is a really great piece, would be good to have something published every year of a similar nature. I remember the day as well, I was working on an important experiment and periodically checking the live feed in gaps. After seeing the first reports I remember just abandoning work and repeatedly hitting F5 for hours hoping it wasn't to be the outcome everyone feared.

The finish of the neutralised stage the following day was just glorius, absolutely beautiful.
#108

nice of cav to dedicate his win to wouter weylandt

Very moving piece, takes me back to that afternoon and the live images - I remember it vividly as if it was yesterday. Seeing riders hurling themselves down treacherous descents sends tingles down my spine every time now.

I've sat here for nearly 10 minutes thinking of what to say but all i can come up with is Simon, thank you, a beautifully written piece.

This is a very moving article, Simon. You've brought it all back to me, though the way I found out was a little different.

I was there in Reggio Emilia and took photos of Wouter at the sign-in. It was an especially happy day for me because it was the first time I've been able to attend the start of a stage in a Grand Tour. Luckily, I had a great camera to get photos with.

Since I thought of Leopard Trek as "my boys", I made a point of getting as many photos of them as I could. I'm so glad I did. I managed to get three lovely shots of Wouter and a few more of his teammates.

I returned home and settled in that afternoon to watch the race, only to see the terrible footage on live television. I remember sitting on the sofa, tears streaming down my face while I hoped - desperately, uselessly - that I was misunderstanding the announcers and Wouter would be okay. I knew better, though, after hearing the tone of their voices and seeing the grief in their eyes.

It still feels surreal, as though it can't have happened - every time I look at my photos that feeling of shock and disbelief comes rushing back. I felt that today with your photo, as well.

The neutralized stage the next day simply increased my love and my passion for a frequently (and, yes, unfairly) maligned sport. The sportsmanship demonstrated by the riders that day, as well as the respect and devotion displayed by the fans, showed the world how deeply participants in this sport care for one another, rivals and teammates alike.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and your photo with us.

I remember the graphic scenes on Eurosport, it was obvious that the camera crew hadn't been told to stop filming as it was just another crash. The images were from RAI and so Eurosport has no control over what was shown. That one shot of the prostrate Weylandt was enough for me. It was obvious he'd suffered catastrophic trauma to the head.

The crash shaped the race for a while then as is the way of things a kind of normality returned that tried to remember and honour a fallen sportsmen without overwhelming what was still an ongoing race.

RIP Wouter Weylandt.

I remember how numb I felt when I heard of his death. It wasn't even sadness, it was just numbness - this was so unbelievable and unthinkable I couldn't even accept this fact. And when I saw the goodbye from Leopard-Trek and Farrar... Gosh, it was an unspeakably sad moment to me.

I'm not a kind of a cycling fan who would remember every prize in a cyclist's palmares. I do, however, remember very well how much work Wouter has always been doing for his teammates and how tough he would become when they would need him.

To me, he's one of those unnamed heroes who would jump into fire for his teammates and not even expect too much in return - just a pat on his shoulder and a "thank you" from the bottom of one's heart. This is how I will remember Wouter.

RIP

Simon this is a great piece, its clear that this has made a big impression on you.

It is so sad to hear of anyone dying so young, I suppose in particular someone like a pro cyclist who is going to be in absolutely top shape health-wise and by the sounds of things had everything to live for.

If there is any consolation to take from this, it's this: we're living in an age now where in many cases medical science has progressed so far that it can keep us alive, but not far enough to preserve quality of life. My own father lives is essentially a vegetable in a nursing home and it is so, so upsetting to see him not to recognise either me or my mum, and to struggle even for the most basic vocabulary.

How would you rather go? Alzheimers? Or at 100km/h going downhill doing what you love? I know which I'd want (albeit living to a ripe old age first).

It was awful. I was following that stage via text updates at work, and quickly found a streaming video source once I'd heard there had been a crash.

In the minutes afterward I was trawling the web for more information and heard about the graphic images that had been broadcast on Eurosport, and the even-more-graphic ones that apparently appeared on some other European channels. For a split second I considered hitting YouTube but quickly dismissed that, having no stomach for it.

Google news results were coming thick and fast, and about the time the medical helicopter appeared I remember a Belgian report with the words 'Wouter Weylandt dood'. I don't know a lot of Dutch, but that one needed no translation and chilled me horribly. It was a long while before any of the confirmed reports, and can only have been speculation at the time, but it left me feeling empty and a little sick. That feeling only worsened when the formal announcement came.

Over the days that followed I thought a lot about his girlfriend and unborn baby, about the potential consequences of rider error or mechanical failure, and about what the impact would be to my own family if something happened to me whilst riding. I mentioned it to a few of the old boys at my cycling club the following week, ex-racers some of them, and although they were fully aware none of them wanted to talk about it especially - too much of a reminder of the ever-present dangers of our sport maybe.

It's amazing how much of an impact the death of someone distant can have. I didn't know much about him before he died, and to be honest I don't know a whole lot more now, but he still often comes to mind - especially when taking caution on fast descents or checking my bike and kit before a ride. I'm sure he deserves to be remembered for more than that, but I guess I can't go back and create memories that weren't there in the first place. This photo helps though.

This photo will be the one I will cherish. To see a young man looking so vital and alive as he rides to the start of the stage is beautiful to see. Who knew the day would end so tragically, not I for one. I raged at the riders for continuing, not realiseing they didn't know of the tragedy until crossing the finish line. Wouter will be remembered not as the rider who died, but more for the image displayed in this photograph. RIP Wouter, with us always.

World Class sport is often cut-throat and uncaring, only interested in its own self-importance, money and victory at all costs. Cycling is not immune to this.
It, sadly, takes an incident and tragedy of this nature to bring into perspective the realities of life.

A fitting tribute.