Welcome to Escape Collective. Please select your language.
Please note that this is an automated translation and it will not be perfect. All articles have been written in English and if anything appears to not make sense, please double check in English.
Compared to most races on the WorldTour calendar – with names that tell you where the race is, where it starts from, or where it is going – Amstel Gold is a profound outlier. For as long as the race has been in existence its naming rights sponsorship has been courtesy of the Amstel Brewery, which in turn is named after the Amstel River (which runs through Amsterdam, nowhere near the province of Limburg where the race takes place).
Do they make good beer? They do not. From 822 ratings on beer nerd website RateBeer, Amstel's flagship lager gets a weighted average score of 2.23 out of 5. (Sample reviews: "rather dusty and dull", "all foam and blandness", "not good to drink"). The full 'Amstel Gold' race name comes from the discontinued 7% imperial pilsner (2.53 out of 5; "papery, corny, with cardboard ... pretty bad"); these days the race organisers tend to flip back and forth between promoting the lager and the Radler shandy (2.41 out of 5; "that was just a bad lemonade.")
Beer-badness aside, Amstel's sponsorship – funded by parent company Heineken's deep pockets – is difficult to ignore. The standout moment of the podium presentation each year is when the race's conquerers are handed a beer and peer-pressured to drink it.
This year, Slovenian prodigy Tadej Pogačar stormed to victory and downed the entire beer in a hurry – prompting a stunned chuckle from Ben Healy and a speedy surrender from Pidcock. Clearly, Pogačar doesn't give less than 100% for anything (up to and including tepid Dutch lager):
Is Pogačar's demolition of a glass of Amstel an outlier, though? Is there historic precedent for this? Can a look back through the photographic archives tell us anything of value about Amstel Gold – the race, the beer, the great promotion for an awful product?
There's only one way to find out.
Here's the man of the moment, Tadej Pogačar, mid-beer. Look at him go! (Photo: Cor Vos)His eyes flit up to the horizon, a dewy regret starting to form as the carbonation attacks his Tour de France-winning throat ... (Photo: Cor Vos)... but he gets it done. The crowd goes wild; Tom Pidcock flicks a look over that is equal parts awe and sympathy. (Photo: Cor Vos)In 2022, Michał Kwiatkowski had a rather larger challenge on his hands. For reasons unknown, Amstel decided to punk him with a novelty-sized glass, which Kwiatkowski had a spirited crack at. He was always destined to failure, but that's for the best – the ghoulish alternative is a petite Polish man drowning in a glass of beer as big as his torso. (Photo: Cor Vos)In 2021, COVID was still raging but the race was back after skipping the previous edition for the same reason. Wout van Aert came out on top, and is pictured here preparing a fist bump from two metres away. Small beers await. (Photo: Cor Vos)The mask comes down for a quick sip, but no more. Ever the professional. (Photo: Cor Vos)Marianne Vos and Annemiek van Vleuten clink glasses and prepare to meet the Amstel Radler. (Photo: Cor Vos)Vos does not look pleased with the result. (Photo: Cor Vos)Rather more chuffed is Mathieu van der Poel (2019), although he's probably just on a bit of a high after one of the most spectacular wins in recent memory. To his left, Jakob Fuglsang has already made short work of his Radler (or poured it into his bouquet, who knows). (Photo: Cor Vos)Very Blonde Dane Michael Valgren is pleased with how his day turned out in 2018, although there is no photographic evidence I can find of him drinking the requisite beer. Roman Kreuziger (remember him?!) surveys his with a chilly disregard. (Photo: Cor Vos)Now we're talking. Pogačar, Amstel-sculling darling (2023), was standing on the shoulders of a podium etiquette giant in Phillipe Gilbert (2017). In his four wins, the Belgian had plenty of opportunity to practice disassociating while slamming down 300 ml of unpleasantness. In this particular edition, he was riding with a torn kidney so it was probably a nice distraction. (Photo: Cor Vos)Speaking of '300 ml of unpleasantness', here's Anna van der Breggen (2017) with an amuse-bouche for her podium beer ... (Photo: Cor Vos)Ah, there we go. The 2017 podium and their podium Radlers. (Photo: Cor Vos)In 2016, we have a curious artefact: Enrico Gasparotto (Wanty-Groupe Gobert) with an enormous, frosty, apparently empty glass of Amstel. Did the Italian scull three-to-four litres of the filth?! (Photo: Cor Vos)There's even more sleight of hand in that year's podium presentation. Either the brilliant minds of Amstel found a way to put their 'bad lemonade' in a sparkling wine bottle, or they just threw some shrink-wrap vinyl on a budget prosecco. (Photo: Cor Vos)Either way, Gasparotto and a Very Blonde Dane are having fun. (Photo: Cor Vos)Gasparotto was a real podium pest that year, dousing Sonny Colbrelli too. What an eclectic podium! (Photo: Cor Vos)Michael Matthews was third at the 2015 edition. Here he proudly shows his empty glass to a promotional podium hostess wearing a dress made out of coasters. Her body language correctly suggests this is not the triumph he thinks it is. (Photo: Cor Vos)2014: Philippe Gilbert on his way to necking another full glass of Amstel's dreariest. Jelle Vanendert isn't far behind; Simon Gerrans is a two-sip-and-done kinda guy. Gilbert Junior misses out. (Photo: Cor Vos)Alejandro Valverde is the perfect visual representation of an Amstel-related Ratebeer page. (Photo: Cor Vos)"Real pissy, huh, Alejandro?" (Photo: Cor Vos)Enrico Gasparotto took his first Amstel Gold win in 2012, sipping half a glass with restraint rather than throwing it on his rivals. (Photo: Cor Vos)If you thought the Podium Beer ritual was weird, allow me to introduce you to the 2009 situation: where the podium finishers sat in thrones on the stage and got changed in public. Here's Robert Gesink getting help with his shoes (I hope). (Photo: Cor Vos)Karsten Kroon treats the entire spectacle with the haunted aura it deserves. (Photo: Cor Vos)Meanwhile, Sergei Ivanov – a spritely looking 34-year-old – looks at his beer like it's just told him a risque joke. (Photo: Cor Vos)No beers here, just Bjarne Riis looking rattled (1997). (Photo: Cor Vos)"This race, man. It's fucking weird."
