The Unseen Bias Against Cycling's Dominance: Why Tadej Pogačar Keeps Missing Out
It’s hard not to feel a twinge of frustration when a cyclist like Tadej Pogačar, who’s essentially rewriting the sport’s history, gets overlooked for awards like the Laureus World Sportsman of the Year—again. Personally, I think this isn’t just about Pogačar’s losses; it’s a symptom of a larger issue in how we perceive and value different sports. Cycling, for all its grueling endurance and tactical brilliance, often gets sidelined in favor of sports with flashier moments or global superstar appeal.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Pogačar’s 2025 season stacks up against the greats. Twenty wins, including the Tour de France, World Championships, and three Monuments? That’s not just dominance—it’s a statement. Yet, Carlos Alcaraz, a deserving winner in his own right, walked away with the trophy. In my opinion, this isn’t about who’s more talented; it’s about the narrative we’re more willing to celebrate. Tennis has a global stage, a history of iconic moments, and a fanbase that transcends borders. Cycling, despite its rich heritage, often feels like it’s fighting for recognition.
One thing that immediately stands out is the recurring pattern here. Last year, it was Rory McIlroy, a golfer completing a career Grand Slam. This year, Alcaraz. What many people don’t realize is that these awards aren’t just about performance—they’re about storytelling. Golf and tennis have narratives that resonate with a broader audience. Cycling, with its niche following and technical complexities, often gets lost in translation. If you take a step back and think about it, Pogačar’s achievements are every bit as monumental as Alcaraz’s, but they’re harder to package into a viral highlight reel.
This raises a deeper question: Are we undervaluing endurance sports? Cycling, marathon running, or even long-distance swimming—these disciplines demand a level of consistency and mental fortitude that’s rarely celebrated. A detail that I find especially interesting is how Pogačar’s dominance is compared to Eddy Merckx, a legend whose name is synonymous with cycling greatness. Yet, even Merckx never won a Laureus award. What this really suggests is that cycling’s heroes are often confined to their own world, rarely breaking into the mainstream consciousness.
From my perspective, the Laureus Awards, while prestigious, reflect a broader cultural bias. They’re not just about who’s the best athlete; they’re about who’s the most marketable, the most relatable, the most globally appealing. That’s not a knock on Alcaraz or McIlroy—they’re both extraordinary. But it’s a reminder that awards like these are as much about the sport as the athlete.
Looking ahead, I wonder if cycling will ever break this cycle. Will a Pogačar, a Van Aert, or a Van der Poel ever stand on that Laureus stage? Or will cycling remain the sport of quiet dominance, celebrated by its fans but overlooked by the world? What this really suggests is that the problem isn’t with Pogačar—it’s with how we define greatness.
In the end, Tadej Pogačar doesn’t need a Laureus trophy to prove his worth. But the fact that he keeps missing out is a reminder of the unseen biases that shape our sporting world. Personally, I think it’s time we start redefining what it means to be the 'best'—not just in terms of wins, but in terms of impact, resilience, and the stories we choose to tell.
