'You're not going to cry there' - Pavel Bittner on the long ride back in Roubaix’s broom wagon

The 23-year-old had been caught on the wrong foot when teammate Dillion Corkerry came across his line in the chaos of an early cobbled sector, and that bruising touch of wheels set the tone for an afternoon that would unravel quickly thereafter. 

Bittner had been sitting comfortably in the front group of around 50 riders, the protected card alongside John Degenkolb, his energy preserved through the opening hours of a race that, unusually, had no breakaway.

"We flew into the first couple of sections in decent positions and I was really happy because I was not expending any energy," Bittner recalled. "I was always up there, I didn't have to chase any gaps."

Then it all fell apart in the space of a few seconds. A crash on the left side involving two Ineos riders prompted Bittner to ease right, and Corkerry, who hadn't seen him, came across at the same moment. The contact pushed Bittner into the advertising banners on the side of the pavé.

"There were these banners from this sunglasses brand, straight into the grass," he said. "I rolled in, I was like, okay, I'm going to save it, I'm going to come back - and then it just took my front wheel."

He switched to his teammate Niklas Märkl’s bike and kept chasing, but a second flat ended his race. When the broom wagon caught up, he climbed in.

What followed is the part of bike racing that the broadcast feed never shows. The broom wagon that ferries abandoning riders to the finish is, on a day like Roubaix, a moving room full of men whose ambitions have just collapsed in a ditch. 

Bittner spoke about it without self-pity. "This year the van was actually full," he said. "It was like fallen soldiers. There were guys from all the teams. You kind of have a chat. It's kind of funny. You're not going to cry there."

He described the odd dynamic of riders who had been battling one another an hour earlier, now sitting shoulder to shoulder in the back of a van, exchanging race notes and gallows humour. In his account, the only way to make the day bearable was to laugh at its absurdity.

The debrief with the team was similarly matter of fact. Trying to limp to the finish outside the time limit would have meant a week of recovery for no real gain.

“The team supports you, because they understand how it works,” Pavel Bittner said. “If the race doesn’t go perfectly and you crash, it is what it is. In the end I had a week off the bike afterwards to prepare for the second half of the season.”

Asked if he wants to return to Roubaix, there was no hesitation. “For sure. I want to have a race that goes how I want, where I leave everything out there and see what the result is. It’s a race I have to do every year.”

That, he suggested, is the peculiar pull of the Monument: the cobbles can tell you, in the moment, that you are not made for them, only for that message to fade in the months that follow.

"Sometimes it feels like you hit those cobbles and you have some kind of mechanical, you're like, maybe cobbles is not for me, maybe I'll just stick to the bouncy brands. And then after the race you're like, maybe next year I'll try one more time. It's a funny one. I think it's good that the short-term memory is not the strongest one. Luckily you forget how much you were in pain."

Whether Bittner will ever win Paris–Roubaix is another question. He is realistic enough to admit his best shot at a Monument probably lies somewhere between Roubaix and Milan–Sanremo, depending on how his career develops. What sets him apart, though, is the willingness to keep coming back, unlike many sprinters who try the Hell of the North once and quietly drop it from their calendars.

The race, he said, has treated him “pretty shit”. He keeps lining up anyway. That short memory, he suggested, is the only reason any sprinter ever does.

Listen to the full Hotseat episode with Pavel Bittner 👇