A sprint stage ending in a bunch sprint? Reasonable. Pogačar attacking on a mountain? Hardly shocking. The Tour route somehow finding new and inventive ways to make riders suffer? Practically a law of nature.
But every fan also has a private wishlist. Not predictions. Not even realistic expectations. Just gloriously unlikely scenarios that would instantly become part of Tour folklore. The kind of moments that would leave commentators speechless, team directors reaching for blood pressure medication, and cycling fans talking about them for the next twenty years. The sort of moments that definitely aren’t on our bingo cards.
And yet, we’d absolutely love to see them happen.
A fan fixes a rider’s mechanical before the team car arrives
Every fan along the road secretly believes they could save the Tour if given the opportunity. Most of the time, this belief is completely detached from reality. Yet somewhere between the folding chairs, coolers, and questionable camping equipment, there is almost certainly a spectator carrying enough tools to rebuild a small tractor. So, is it truly outlandish to believe that a fan could fix a mechanical on a narrow climb before the team or neutral service car arrives? Yes. Yes, it is.
Not because it has never happened, and not because they wouldn’t be able to. Simply because modern race support is frighteningly efficient. By the time the fan finds the right multitool, the rider will already be on a spare bike, getting pushed back toward the race at a speed that would qualify as assisted flight in most countries.
Still, it would be glorious. For one brief moment, a fan becomes the hero of the stage. And if the rider goes on to save their Tour because of it, that fan will never pay for another beer along the race route again.
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Marlen Reusser takes the yellow in Dijon and never gives it back
There are many ways to win a Grand Tour. Most of them involve climbing mountains faster than everybody else. This is why Marlen Reusser taking the yellow jersey in Dijon and then stubbornly refusing to hand it back would be so entertaining.
To be fair, the first part isn’t far-fetched at all. Reusser is one of the best time trialists in the world, and the 21-kilometre race against the clock has “yellow jersey opportunity” written all over it. The difficult part comes afterwards. Sitting on top of the standings is one thing. Defending that position against Demi Vollering on Mont Ventoux is something else entirely.
But can you imagine how legendary it would be if Reusser simply decimated the field in Dijon and then spent the rest of the race defending every second as if it were family heirlooms? The entire Tour would flip upside down. Instead of the climbers attacking yellow, yellow would be desperately trying to survive the climbers. And if Reusser somehow rolled into Nice still wearing the jersey, every prediction, every bet, and every carefully prepared bingo card would look like it had been written by an unimaginative, overanalytical… You can finish the sentence yourselves.
Kasia repeats the 2024 miracle
Sports fans love claiming they want fresh stories. What they actually want is a sequel that somehow turns out as good as the original.
Katarzyna Niewiadoma’s 2024 Tour de France Femmes victory had everything. Drama, tension, collapsing time gaps, redemption, and enough stress to lead to a major medical emergency for some fans. Recreating that kind of story is incredibly difficult. Lightning rarely strikes twice, especially when the rest of the peloton is actively trying to prevent it.
Yet that’s exactly why we’d love to see it. The 2026 route suits aggressive racing, and Kasia has built an entire career around refusing to follow the script. One perfectly timed attack, one inspired day in the mountains, one desperate defence of yellow, and suddenly we’re watching the sequel nobody thought was possible.
A rider wins from 100 kilometres out
Modern cycling is many things. Fast, scientific, highly optimised. What it generally isn’t is supportive of somebody deciding to attack with 100 kilometres still remaining and then stubbornly refusing to reconsider that decision.
In a one-day race, maybe. In the Tour de France, where riders must somehow do it all again tomorrow, such an effort borders on self-inflicted administrative error. The peloton is too organised, the radios are too effective, and the teams are too good at turning individual dreams into collective disappointment.
And yet, every cycling fan secretly wants to see it. Not a clever attack. Not a perfectly timed move. Just one rider disappearing up the road with the tactical sophistication of a medieval cavalry charge and somehow making it all the way to the finish.
Paul Seixas wins the Tour
French cycling has spent the better part of four decades searching for the next great Tour de France champion. Every few years, a promising youngster appears, and the nation collectively tries very hard not to get too excited. Paul Seixas is making that restraint increasingly difficult.
The talent is obvious. The problem is that so are the obstacles. Winning the Tour de France requires many things, but two of the most important happen to be named Tadej Pogačar and Jonas Vingegaard. Seixas may one day challenge riders of that calibre. The question is whether “one day” arrives several years ahead of schedule.
And that’s exactly why we’d love to see it. Imagine a teenager walking into the biggest cycling race on Earth and simply decimating the favourites. It’s one thing to surprise a great rider in a one-off race. It’s another to repeatedly outplay the two men who have spent the last few years treating the Tour like a private business arrangement. Yeah, it’s highly unlikely. But imagine the reaction in France. If PSG winning the Champions League turned Paris into a war zone, a French Tour winner might finally bring down the Fifth Republic.
The yellow jersey changes hands on the final Montmartre climb
The Tour de France has spent more than a century teaching us one simple rule: by the time the race reaches Paris, it’s usually over. The final stage is where riders celebrate, pose for photos, drink champagne, and try very hard not to crash before the Champs-Élysées. The introduction of Montmartre has complicated this arrangement considerably.
Now imagine the perfect storm: stage 20 ends with only a handful of seconds separating first and second overall. The race enters Paris unresolved. No neutralisation. No gentleman’s agreement. Just one final climb, standing between two riders and cycling immortality.
Could it happen? Technically, yes. Will it happen? Almost certainly not. The margins required are microscopic, and modern Tours rarely remain that close for three weeks.
But if it does, we may witness the greatest Tour finale since LeMond stole victory from Fignon by eight seconds in 1989. The difference is that this time, instead of a time trial, we’d get a street fight on the slopes of Montmartre. And if that happens, every bingo card can be thrown directly into the Seine.
That’s why they’re not on the bingo card
The Tour de France has a habit of producing moments nobody expects. Every year, something happens that sends commentators scrambling for superlatives and fans rushing to explain to non-cycling friends why this is the greatest sport on Earth.
The scenarios in this article didn’t make it onto our bingo cards for one simple reason: they’re just too unlikely. A fan repairing a rider’s bike. Paul Seixas winning the Tour. Yellow changing hands on the final climb in Paris. These aren’t the moments you bet on. They’re the moments you daydream about while pretending to work.
Then again, cycling occasionally ignores probability altogether. That’s why we watch. And that’s why, even though these moments didn’t make the card, a small part of us will still be hoping to witness at least one of them over the next three weeks.
Because the fastest way for something to become Tour folklore is for everybody to agree it probably won’t happen.
