Road cycling purists set aside mountain biking in the early 1980s as a passing novelty. They dismissed and discouraged it with open skepticism entrenched in centuries of dogmatic cycling tradition, saying "This isn't cycling! It won't last!"
Indelible images of evolved acceptance have had a way of etching themselves into cycling lore, and none more powerful than the scene at the Paris Olympics 2024. As Pauline Ferrand-Prévot hoisted her bike overhead after claiming cross-country gold, a passionate cycling-crazed home crowd erupted into a spontaneous rendition of "La Marseillaise." In that moment, France – a nation steeped in road cycling tradition – celebrated a mountain biking triumph with the same reverence, signaling how far the alternative discipline had come.
For some, cycling esports is an unwanted enigma, viewed as a threat to the prevailing sentiment of what real cycling subjectively should be and wrapped in the false narratives that smother it. They say nobody cares about cycling esports, and it's hard to blame them. After being enthralled by the mystique of Roubaix's cobbles or Le Tour's alpine climbs, the idea that a competitive cycling event could happen alone indoors, on a stationary bike, without any risk, can seem absurd.
However, the reaction says more about the rigid limits of tradition, progress, intolerance, and doctrinaire thought than the legitimacy of the sport. Yet, despite broadening acceptance, rapid development, significant resource allocation, UCI endorsement, and support at the national federation level, the discipline continues to be beaten back by persistent misperception. The enthusiasts are left to say, "It has much to offer if given a chance."
To truly understand cycling esports, we first need to untangle the narratives shaped by those disillusioned with their virtual cycling experience – some grounded in fact, others fuelled by resistance to change, skewed perception, irreverence, or outright misinformation.
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