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Peter Sagan's book - My World
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In retrospect, 2014 was not so bad, as - as a patch for all the difficulties - I won the third green jersey in the Tour de France scoring competition and scored seven more victories, but it was really terrible. I was realistic enough to know that I should think more about my rise so far. I was already known and they took care of me in every race, which inevitably led to a reduction in the number of my victories. I have been concentrating more and more on big races like Around Flanders or Roubaix, which are harder to win - that's their point, and everyone needs a little luck for that. I was even willing to come to terms with the fact that I would just step on the water for a season if it was to move me forward in the long run.
But this was not stepping on water. It was forever. I wasn't worth anything. I was constantly exhausted. I won the green jersey again, but in 2014 I left the Tour de France for the first time without a stage victory. No flying salute. Doriti, not even the usual winning salute. I seemed to disappoint everyone: my friends, my family, Peter's team, my teammates, Cannondale (renamed Liquigas), in short, everyone. It's time for a change. Otherwise, I will return to Žilina and give up the whole thing.
(Winter 2015)
We got married in Dolný Kubín, Katka's birthplace. As part of the preparations, I bought a white Cadillac, which we were supposed to take to the ceremony, but like the monster, it broke down the day before. However, I was determined not to let my plans come to my wedding in a truly exceptional car, so I got the second best model - an old green Trabant.
It was driven by my friend Martin, and for coughing and sizzling the engine, we made our way among all the friends and locals who came to congratulate us. However, the first stop was not to be a church, but Catherine's parents' house, to keep an important tradition. To be honest, I'm not sure if this is a traditional Slovak ritual or just a custom in lower Kubín, as I've never seen it before. A slender tree trunk lay across the driveway to the house. The groom's job was to pierce him with an old rusty hand saw so he could continue on his way. So I set to work. After a few minutes of fun and struggling with a blunt saw, the crowd began to crumble. Warmth came over me, and when a trickle of sweat ran down my skin under the heavy wedding suit I was wearing, I began to wonder if we shouldn't have started it the day before. But then, fortunately, my cavalry came, or rather Martin, who appeared by my side with a gas saw, which was found by a compassionate local. It was more to my liking, and the golden brocade that adorned my traditional dress was now more threatened by sawdust than sweat.
Vrrr. Prask. Thank God for that chainsaw. Otherwise, I would have been there so far, pinning my notch with the old blade in the woods, while on the steps of the church, Catherine would look angrily at her watch until her hair was as white as the wedding dress. I like traditions like everyone else, but I planned to get married that day.
(Autumn 2017)
There were about fifteen riders left in the group I was in. We later learned that the TV signal had dropped out at this point, which caused confusion and despair at the finish line, both among spectators and support teams, and led to mass nail biting. Since there is no visual evidence, I could now come up with a story about how I overtook everyone in a one-handed rear-wheel drive and launched a crushing attack that left the others in the dust for miles behind me. Then I stopped at the penultimate corner, where I drank beer and allowed the others to catch up with me, because I had a bad feeling about how I ruined the day for everyone.
However, the truth is that there was almost the same chaos in the group as in front of the snowing TV screen. As we were drawn to the approaching goal, we passed Vasil Kiryienka and my teammate from BORY - Hansgrös Lukas Pöstlberger, who represented Austria. Are they all? Not. I didn't see Alaphilippa. And I'm sure I've seen at least one Colombian on the road ahead, either Rigobert Uranus or Fernando Gaviria, or even both. But! Who is that Dan? Who actually leads in these races? And can we catch up with him?
Come on, Peter, I thought. Scroll to the destination and take care of the location afterwards. Now we were flying around the port, the road turned left, then right, and finally it was about a hundred-meter straight line to the finish line. My heart was in my throat, I felt blood on my tongue. You're close, Peter. Don't do it without trying.
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The book My World is Peter's personal statement full of emotions and tension, but also information from behind the scenes, which no sports enthusiast can miss.
In this book, you will read about the beginnings of his career, what he experienced in the Tinkoff team and how he has experienced the most important races in the last three years. We will learn what his view of Slovakia is, as well as some of his privacy. He talks about relationships with the closest people and other competitors. However, he also talks about his big disappointments, such as the disqualification from the 2017 Tour de France.
Samples from the book:
(Spring 2015)In retrospect, 2014 was not so bad, as - as a patch for all the difficulties - I won the third green jersey in the Tour de France scoring competition and scored seven more victories, but it was really terrible. I was realistic enough to know that I should think more about my rise so far. I was already known and they took care of me in every race, which inevitably led to a reduction in the number of my victories. I have been concentrating more and more on big races like Around Flanders or Roubaix, which are harder to win - that's their point, and everyone needs a little luck for that. I was even willing to come to terms with the fact that I would just step on the water for a season if it was to move me forward in the long run.
But this was not stepping on water. It was forever. I wasn't worth anything. I was constantly exhausted. I won the green jersey again, but in 2014 I left the Tour de France for the first time without a stage victory. No flying salute. Doriti, not even the usual winning salute. I seemed to disappoint everyone: my friends, my family, Peter's team, my teammates, Cannondale (renamed Liquigas), in short, everyone. It's time for a change. Otherwise, I will return to Žilina and give up the whole thing.
(Winter 2015)
We got married in Dolný Kubín, Katka's birthplace. As part of the preparations, I bought a white Cadillac, which we were supposed to take to the ceremony, but like the monster, it broke down the day before. However, I was determined not to let my plans come to my wedding in a truly exceptional car, so I got the second best model - an old green Trabant.
It was driven by my friend Martin, and for coughing and sizzling the engine, we made our way among all the friends and locals who came to congratulate us. However, the first stop was not to be a church, but Catherine's parents' house, to keep an important tradition. To be honest, I'm not sure if this is a traditional Slovak ritual or just a custom in lower Kubín, as I've never seen it before. A slender tree trunk lay across the driveway to the house. The groom's job was to pierce him with an old rusty hand saw so he could continue on his way. So I set to work. After a few minutes of fun and struggling with a blunt saw, the crowd began to crumble. Warmth came over me, and when a trickle of sweat ran down my skin under the heavy wedding suit I was wearing, I began to wonder if we shouldn't have started it the day before. But then, fortunately, my cavalry came, or rather Martin, who appeared by my side with a gas saw, which was found by a compassionate local. It was more to my liking, and the golden brocade that adorned my traditional dress was now more threatened by sawdust than sweat.
Vrrr. Prask. Thank God for that chainsaw. Otherwise, I would have been there so far, pinning my notch with the old blade in the woods, while on the steps of the church, Catherine would look angrily at her watch until her hair was as white as the wedding dress. I like traditions like everyone else, but I planned to get married that day.
(Autumn 2017)
There were about fifteen riders left in the group I was in. We later learned that the TV signal had dropped out at this point, which caused confusion and despair at the finish line, both among spectators and support teams, and led to mass nail biting. Since there is no visual evidence, I could now come up with a story about how I overtook everyone in a one-handed rear-wheel drive and launched a crushing attack that left the others in the dust for miles behind me. Then I stopped at the penultimate corner, where I drank beer and allowed the others to catch up with me, because I had a bad feeling about how I ruined the day for everyone.
However, the truth is that there was almost the same chaos in the group as in front of the snowing TV screen. As we were drawn to the approaching goal, we passed Vasil Kiryienka and my teammate from BORY - Hansgrös Lukas Pöstlberger, who represented Austria. Are they all? Not. I didn't see Alaphilippa. And I'm sure I've seen at least one Colombian on the road ahead, either Rigobert Uranus or Fernando Gaviria, or even both. But! Who is that Dan? Who actually leads in these races? And can we catch up with him?
Come on, Peter, I thought. Scroll to the destination and take care of the location afterwards. Now we were flying around the port, the road turned left, then right, and finally it was about a hundred-meter straight line to the finish line. My heart was in my throat, I felt blood on my tongue. You're close, Peter. Don't do it without trying.
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