The Vélodrome André-Pétrieux sits on the eastern outskirts of the sleepy town of Roubaix, surrounded by little other than wilted clusters of trees and quiet suburbia. White walls which guard the stadium are so incongruous that it would be easy to drive by without even an ounce of awareness that the place exists at all. And if you venture inside the gates on any day other than Paris-Roubaix weekend, you will discover cycling’s ghost town.
There will be wind whistling up and over the steep banking, cracks appearing in the concrete with small green springs of grass trying to force its way to life. The grandstand will look down on you, sombre and empty, the folded plastic seats cold and useless, for there will be no spectators there to watch you. If you close your eyes and think hard, you might be able to force yourself to imagine what these hallowed banks have seen over the last 122 years. If you really believe, you could conjure up images of Tom Boonen or Fabian Cancellara sprinting to victory here in a bygone era, or Lizzie Deignan writing history when she burst alone through the gates covered in dirt and grime to win the first women’s Roubaix four years ago. You might be able to envision people in the seats, screaming and cheering for their battered heroes, the bell being rung for the final lap of the sprint, the commentary booming as the winner is announced, the tears and cries from the victors, the national anthems of the podium ceremony, the flashes of the photographer’s lenses, the smell of beer and taste of frites. But when you look again, you will come back to reality and find eerie, unmistakable silence. The only thing that is be left here of those moments are the souls of the people that lived through them.
It is on the first weekend of April every year that the stories are written. On those two days, the professional cycling circus comes to visit Roubaix velodrome for the Hell of the North, the Queen of the Classics, the toughest, most brutal one-day race on the calendar, and peaceful solitude is transformed into booming excitement. There is no other bike race with such a finish: riders are welcomed after a day battling through race organiser ASO’s sadistic obstacle course of farm tracks and jagged cobbles by fans who have travelled far and wide to see them. Before the superstars magically appear in-person, there are big screens streaming the race live to the velodrome, so people know who to expect to see…