"The Impossible Double"

Jacques Anquetil needs little introduction. He is now remembered fondly as a legend of the sport. A man whose tales hark back to a golden age of cycling. Here we will focus on one of his most incredible achievements. An achievement that, at the time, was believed impossible. One which, prior to its attempt, Anquetil himself believed unattainable. The Critérium du Dauphiné Libéré and Bordeaux-Paris double. 

Jacques Anquetil

Let us start at the beginning. The year was 1965 and by this point, there was very little left for the stylish Maître Jacques to achieve. He had amassed an, at the time, unrivalled Palmarès which included: an hour record, 5 Tours de France (with 4 in a row), 2 Vueltas a Espana and a Giro d’Italia.  

Meanwhile, his public perception was near its worst. The apparent ease with which he took victory seemed to displease his home French crowds. A stark contrast to his, universally loved, arch-rival ‘the eternal second’; Raymond Poulidor, who won his only grand tour the year previous.   

In the preseason of 1965, Anquetil's Director Sportif, Raphael Geminiani, thought of a novel idea to boost Anquetil’s public image and restore some, much lacking, national pride in the great champion. The task: win the Critérium du Dauphiné Libéré an 8-stage race finishing on the evening of the 29 of May in the French Alpes; then the day later win the 567km race from Bordeaux to Paris starting close to France’s east coast. An incomprehensible challenge. 

The first hurdle was to win the Dauphiné. On its own not the Biggest Challenge for Anquetil, but one if he lost would leave him with egg on his face, and have him leaving for Bordeaux with his tail firmly between his legs.  

Poulidor was potentially at his strongest that year, coming off the back of a second-place to his teammate in the Vuelta a Espana (the Vuelta wasn’t moved to the late summer until 1995). A race in which he won both time trials; leaving the, ever Poulidor favourable, press to think he was an equal to the great Anquetil.   

A mighty battle ensued on the roads of the Dauphiné that year. The bleak weather that can still linger over the high peaks in late May made an unwelcome presence. Anquetil who had a well-documented inability to deal with the cold was leading the race by around a minute when the freezing temperatures took their toll on his skinny frame. On the final major climb to Grenoble, Anquetil was dropped. A final last-ditch effort on the hair-raising descent allowed Jacques to regain contact with the Poulidor group and in so doing save his Yellow jersey by the barest of margins. The time trial on the penultimate day allowed Anquetil to pull out another 13 seconds and finish the race with a one minute and 43-second victory margin over Poulidor in second place.   

Maitre Jacques after winning the Dauphine

No sooner was one race over for Anquetil, another to the start line of the second had begun. The victorious Norman stepped from his bike in Avignon at around three in the afternoon. By the time the results were finalised, he had collected his bouquet and completed the podium duties.  He then had 35 minutes for a quick meal and a wash, before into the car again to Nîmes airport. At the airport, President of France, General Charles de Gaulle, a great fan, had loaned Jacques a privet government jet.  

Forty minutes in the air and a short drive later, Jacques was eating kidneys with red wine in the hotel restaurant. Perhaps an odd choice for many but not Jacques Anquetil. At one in the morning, the race to Paris started and somewhere near the back, there was a drowsy figure with high chiselled cheekbones and a flowing blond quiff. The unmistakable figure of Jacques Anquetil.   

Bordeaux-Paris was a race not like any today. With the vast distances the riders covered in a single-stage, it allowed for a now peculiar style of racing. It started much like any other race, but at Châtellerault, roughly the halfway point, each rider was allowed to follow their own Derny (a cross between a pushbike and a motorbike) to the finish line in the Parc des Princes velodrome, in Paris.   

There was an unwritten code of honour that no cyclist would attack before Châtellerault and that at this point if a rider should wish, he could change his clothes and his bike. Then, the racing would begin in earnest again when all riders were ready. It was at this point when the whole plan seemed doomed for Anquetil. Dead on his feet from fighting the bitterly cold night weather, he lay on the back seat of his team car “Don’t take my bike from the car; I am packing it in right here” he told the mechanic, “That's it, finished.”  

Now is when the Directeur Sportif, Geminiani, played a masterstroke. “Okay, I understand,” the calm former pro empathised. “I just ask one thing, shake me by the hand, for it will be the last time. I cannot stand a pansy.” The ploy worked, the red mist descended on Anquetil and with that, he was back on his bike in a flash and chasing the Paris bound Derny.   

Anquetil and Tommy Simpson, near Paris

The anger must have run deep that day in Jacques, as when the race decisive attack came, it was he who made it. On the Côte de Picardie, near Paris, Anquetil cranked up the pace, leaving the only remaining challenger, the Brit, Tommy Simpson, unable to follow.   

As Anquetil entered the Parc des Princes velodrome, he did so alone. An ovation, unlike anything in Jacques career, shook the small Parisian track. Finally, he was being given the type of reception his powers deserved.  

“The impossible double” had been completed, and the popularity of Maître Jacques skyrocketed.   

This was bike racing, however, and for Anquetil, it was a job. There were no lavish celebrations, no great after-party, indeed Jacques didn’t even raise his arms as he crossed the line. Such was the life that the next day he was back racing. A small Criterium in Maubeuge in the north-eastern region of France had paid for their man. The show must go on.