They started the Tour with fire in their legs and a dream stitched into their jerseys.

Alpecin–Deceuninck came to the 2025 Tour de France with a clear plan: get Jasper Philipsen into green and keep him there. With Mathieu van der Poel as his leadout engine, they had precision, power, and belief.

Stage 1 made it all look easy – Jasper flying over the line, yellow on his shoulders, green within reach.

The energy was electric. The plan was working.

But cycling, like life, doesn’t always stick to the plan.

Stage 3 hit like a thunderclap. Jasper, favourite once again, pushing hard for intermediate sprint points, went down – hard. A controversial crash that shattered more than bones. A broken collarbone, two ribs, and a brutal silence in the team bus afterward.

Just like that, the man they’d built the strategy around was out.

The green dream gone in an instant.

It was a crossroads. And every rider, mechanic, and staff member knew it.

The easy move would have been to lower expectations. Play it safe. Drift into the rest of the Tour and just survive. But instead, they did what true teams do when tested: they gathered. Talked. Opened up. No egos. No blame. Just honesty.

What now? What’s our purpose if the green jersey is no longer the goal?

It wasn’t a loud conversation, but it was a brave one.

They talked about identity – not just results. About showing up. For each other. About continuing to ride with intent.

Mathieu van der Poel, never one to back down from a challenge, took the weight of yellow on his back into Stage 4. It wasn’t his original mission, but it was the mission now. His legs screamed on that final climb.

Pogacar was coming, relentless as always.

Van der Poel didn’t win the stage. But he fought. Gritted. Held on. Second on the stage. We held our breath as the commissaires did the countback.

YES! Still in yellow. Still standing.

And that, more than any sprint, was the moment the team found itself again.

Not built around one leader, but bound together by trust. Not chasing jerseys, but riding with purpose. They didn’t fracture. They reformed.

They became more than a sprint train – they became a unit. Every bottle handed up, every pull on the front, every painful turn on the pedals meant something more.

They belonged. Together. Even when plans fall apart. Especially then.

This is true teamwork.