The crowd froze when Tim Wellens broke the silence, his voice trembling as he recalled the shocking moment Tadej Pogačar cried out in pain, clutching his knee during the grueling Valence stage.
Spectators, reporters, and even rival teams were stunned. Pogačar, the embodiment of endurance and precision, had never shown weakness before. Now, for the first time, he faced a true test of resilience.
According to Wellens, the scream came without warning. Pogačar slowed down abruptly, signaling distress, forcing team cars to rush forward while medics sprinted alongside the moving peloton in chaotic fashion.
The UAE Team Emirates car pulled over instantly. Inside, mechanics prepared emergency ice packs, and the team doctor leaped out. The entire convoy halted in tense confusion as radios buzzed with updates.
Fans following the live broadcast gasped. Commentators hesitated, unsure whether to announce an abandonment or wait for confirmation. Within seconds, “Pogačar injured” trended globally on social media platforms.
Wellens said the atmosphere felt surreal. Riders whispered to one another, wondering if the champion’s reign had just ended. Even the opposing teams slowed down, respecting the gravity of the unfolding drama.
For the UAE team, panic was palpable. Each member knew how vital Pogačar was—not just as their leader but as their spirit. Losing him meant losing the heartbeat of the entire race.
Medical staff examined his knee carefully. Cameras captured Pogačar grimacing but refusing to leave his bike. The world held its breath as he clenched his fists, eyes blazing with determination.
Then came the moment no one expected. Instead of signaling withdrawal, Pogačar adjusted his position, took a deep breath, and shouted, “I’m not done yet!” The words electrified his teammates instantly.
With one powerful push, he remounted and started pedaling again. His face was pale, his leg trembling slightly, but his focus remained absolute. Every turn of the crank became a declaration of defiance.
Wellens followed closely, shouting encouragement through the wind. He later admitted he had goosebumps watching Pogačar fight back from what seemed like certain collapse to reclaim control of his race.
The cameras zoomed in on the peloton’s reaction. Riders nodded in admiration. Even rivals like Vingegaard exchanged glances of respect. Everyone knew they were witnessing something extraordinary—an athlete transcending pain itself.
As Pogačar regained momentum, the UAE car radioed updates confirming he would continue. The tension eased slightly, but the uncertainty remained. Would the knee hold for the remaining kilometers?
Fans flooded X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram with messages of awe. Clips of the moment went viral within minutes. Phrases like “Lionheart Pogačar” and “Unbreakable Champion” dominated global cycling hashtags.
Behind the scenes, team physiotherapists prepared emergency recovery protocols. They knew the inflammation risk was high. Still, Pogačar’s willpower convinced everyone to keep believing in the impossible.
By the final kilometers of Valence, he wasn’t just surviving—he was attacking again. He launched a daring counter, overtaking several riders and crossing the finish line visibly in pain yet triumphantly upright.
Tim Wellens, exhausted and emotional, described it as the bravest act he had ever seen. “His eyes said everything,” Wellens told reporters. “He wasn’t racing others—he was racing fate itself.”
After the stage, medical tests confirmed no major ligament damage. Fans rejoiced, chanting his name outside the team bus. The world exhaled in relief as Pogačar smiled and waved, ice strapped to his knee.
Experts later analyzed his resilience, calling it a defining moment in modern cycling history. It wasn’t about victory—it was about spirit, endurance, and the human refusal to surrender.
As night fell over Valence, the image of Pogačar riding through pain became an instant legend. Even Wellens admitted, “That day, we didn’t just see a rider—we saw the soul of cycling.”
