The noise level always rises, but the numbers don’t add up

It's hard enough being from anywhere in Britain and fitting into road cycling's Euro-focused pro peloton. For someone who has often claimed to feel a bit "out there on my own", it's fitting that Cavendish, 39, originated from the Isle of Man.

Speed, though, was always the friend of a man who would become known as the 'Manx Missile'. "I'm passionate about motorbikes. I'm from the Isle of Man - that's in people's blood," he tells BBC Sport.

"I couldn't afford a motorbike. I watched the TT [motorcycle races], but… I didn't start cycling until I was nine years old, and realised I was in love with it.

"There's no cycling in my family. My parents were always encouraging me to do many things - not just sport. I played instruments. Football, dancing, cycling…

"I practised to make myself better and ultimately compete. For some reason I always wanted to be the best. And sometimes it got me in trouble, but it was also was a driving factor."

A driving factor to shout… at people. Competitors mainly, and - fairly frequently - journalists

"I remember me and Mark did an under-23 World Cup race," says Clancy, with a wry smile. "There was an argument at the finish line, and two riders were in each other's faces… Mark, and I think it was a German rider.

"The other guy said sarcastically: 'Yes, yes, Mark you're the best… you can go where you want and do what you want.' And Cav threw a bottle on the floor and shouted: "I effin' am the best!"

For what was a shared passion, Cavendish and Clancy would take very different journeys across their careers on the bike - Clancy the warm and dry, yet harrowingly harsh, wood of the world's velodromes; Cavendish the wet, oil-smudged tarmac of the European continent.

But they bonded as academy riders and housemates.

"It's funny, I still think of Cav as that fella that turned up in a fake Lacoste tracksuit in a Vauxhall Corsa with 21-inch rims on it in on the first day of the academy," smiles Clancy.

"He was a character - larger than life, but he was an inspiration as well. He wasn't that interested in going out and socialising. He had a good party now and again, but he was there for business.

"He always said he was the best in the world even when he was a kid. I just thought he was mental… delusional, even. But I started believing it around that time to be honest. He started winning races that were legit."

But the line used so often in retelling the story of the sporting superstar - that 'you just knew this kid was going to make to it' - was absent with Cavendish.

If anything, you just knew he wasn't.

"I actually think it all started with that academy journey," says Ellingworth. "Mark was funny, and a talker, and he'd hold court.

"He was always messing around, always taking the mick out of people… that Isle of Man humour can touch your bone every now and again.

"As a last-year junior, I couldn't quite understand why this lad hadn't been to the junior worlds and been selected more for the national team. It was very numbers-driven then, and it was very much down the line of: 'If you can't produce the numbers now, you will never be able to produce that engine.'

"And also if somebody's attitude stinks a little bit, do they fit in?"

Ellingworth remembers arriving at a rented riders' house in Italy to find the front door wide open and nobody around, removing all the bikes, laptops and other possessions himself "to teach them a lesson".

He would only find out years later about the girlfriend of Cavendish who spent the afternoon in a wardrobe to hide from Ellingworth as he watched Formula 1 with Clancy.

"The house was on two levels, so when I arrived at the bottom, the girls would leave out of the top of the house," he says. "I don't know why they panicked - I wasn't bothered."

But Cavendish was in the cross hairs. A lot of money was being directed into British Cycling 20 years ago, and a lot of success was expected.

As academy boss, Ellingworth would have some serious convincing to do.

"I never saw him as some people saw him… a bit of a problem, bit of a troubled kid, always messing around. I saw that as a really good thing. They've got a bit of flair about them.

"Also, I believe you could develop the engine. But you cannot put the passion in somebody's mind. That's done from when they were young kids.

"Cavendish had a real passion. I think that's what this programme allowed them to do - to grow in a little bit more of a safer environment and sort of teach them longevity."

The poster boy of a clean(er) era

So how did Cavendish end up on the road, testing and flexing the virtually immovable hierarchical structure of a pro peloton run, at the time, by a dominant Lance Armstrong and others?

"I rode the Tour in my first year as pro and was way out of my depth," remembers Cavendish as he looks back to 2007. "The consequence of success and failure on such a high level… that's what I thrived on and based my whole career on.

"I'm a big believer you can do what you want to if you put your mind to it. I knew what level I had to be at and I was determined to do it the year after."

And he did. Coming into Chateauroux on stage five after a hot 232km of the 2008 Tour, Cavendish did - in a Team Columbia jersey - what he would go on to do another 34 times; jostle for position while an ever-more volatile peloton swarmed like angry bees honing in on a victim.

Trying to block out the swearing, shouting and deceptive calls from competitors, and navigating roundabout, and town-centre twists and turns, he timed his launch to perfection and sprinted for the line with a furious burst of sustained effort few could ever match.

"One Tour win makes a whole career," he says. "When I first crossed the line it was shock, disbelief, amazement, joy… every positive emotion you can imagine.”

That joy never left Cavendish when he was on the bike, competing.

The floodgates opened after that first win. Cav began the habit of a career, winning four sprint stages across three weeks in 2008.

The following season it was six, including his first victory on the famous cobbles of Paris' Champs-Elysees on the Tour's blue-riband final stage.

He would never better six in one Tour - winning 'just' five the following season along with the overall green points jersey.

Cavendish the legend was up to speed. He would never be more prolific.

Inferior numbers, imperious race craft in the year it all went right

Speed is only one small part of a winning sprint. And Cavendish's numbers weren't the best in the beginning, or throughout his most illustrious career.

"I think there are various things at play when you look at how he rides his bike," says Ellingworth.

"Is he the most powerful bike rider? No, not by a long way. However, he punches above his weight, if you like. There are other bike riders who are much more powerful than him, but timing is absolutely essential.

"Knowing when to go, knowing the right sort of line to follow and the feel for the group. His actual bike-handling skills at those moments when they're doing 70km/h, and his vision where he needs to be… all that combined together fits really well.

“He sees it in slow motion. And he sees all the detail - how he remembers things is really exceptional. Every drain cover, if there's a barrier sticking out, or a curve in the road. He's really good at sort of visualising and remembering and recalling that information.

"There's a lot of factors which make him the world-class bike rider that he is."

If timing was Cavendish's thing, he was about to catch the 'Sky Train' at just the right moment.

Fresh from winning the coveted rainbow stripes at the Road World Championships in true Cavendish style, he - in that jersey - epitomised cycling's Britpack in 2012.

The UK was in the grasp of Olympic and cycling mania. The gold rush of 2008 on the track had translated to the road, thanks to the dreams of Sir Dave Brailsford and Ellingworth. They were taking on the French and Belgians with the aim of becoming the first British team to win the Tour de France, with Bradley Wiggins as the first British champion.

It was a peak moment for Cavendish, who sees his 2012 season as the highest high, when everything and everyone in British road cycling's golden generation came together and ruled the world. Wiggins, already winner of the overall yellow jersey, even led Cavendish out for his victorious sprint down the Champs-Elysees.

"That was a special time," remembers Cavendish. "It still gives me goosebumps thinking about it.

“Cycling has this incredible thing that people experience things together… the hardship you go through - the suffering really bonds people. Brad is like a brother to me."

With pride comes a number of very heavy falls

In some ways, it had to get worse - what other way could it go? No sooner had the shimmering summer vibes of 2012 broken through, the planets started to go out of alignment.

"He's very sociable so having him on the bus, the noise level went up tenfold, and the laughing went up tenfold," says Ellingworth.

"But there were also moments when it was a bit dark and he liked to throw toys out the pram when things didn't happen."

Cavendish - supported by Sky's very busy domestiques - was aware there was only one colour in the eyes of Brailsford and the team's very main-event-orientated sponsor: yellow.

And while the team would go on to win a further six Tours up to 2019, Cavendish jumped into the abyss way before that.

The strength, power and skill remained at top Belgian sprinting outfit Quick Step in 2013 - but there were fewer Tour stage wins and more outbursts at journalists and competitors.

A move to the South African Team Dimension Data in 2016 was revitalising, and even yielded a spectacular four Tour stage victories in 2016, which included wearing the yellow jersey after a win on stage one. Plus a silver medal on the track at the Rio Olympics in the omnium.

But Cavendish's relentless work ethic turned into inexplicable fatigue, precipitating two of the sport's more harrowing crashes in recent times: the first at the 2017 Tour when green-jersey rival Peter Sagan punted Cavendish into a barrier at 70km/h, causing bloody, Tour-ending shoulder injuries for Cavendish, and disqualification for himself.

But the somersault from a head-on collision with a central reservation in the 2018 Milan-San Remo monument was even more graphic and debilitating.

The Epstein-Barr virus meant he was not able to fully recover from efforts. Over-training, and pushing one's body way beyond what is healthy, is one of road cycling's many occupational hazards.

But the condition can become permanent without substantial rest. Instead of sacrificing competition, Cavendish was sacrificing food to stay light and improve his numbers.

A descent into depression followed.

"Down times happen to any athlete and anyone in life," says Cavendish. "Things aren’t always going to be rosy."

Cavendish’s wife Peta and his five children were a support network he could never doubt.

But on the road, even an old friend with a big budget couldn't bring back the good times. In fact, it would end, literally, in tears.

"He had done a project with McLaren and had introduced me to a guy who worked at Bahrain-McLaren, John Allert, who's now running Ineos," says Ellingworth. "The whole ambition was there but then Covid hit.

"I'd sort of backed away from coaching. I just couldn't do it all. I couldn't give Mark the attention I had before because I was running the team.

"I didn't feel like he was doing enough work, so he didn't get selected for the Tour. It all started going a bit pear-shaped then.

"I think I neglected Mark just in terms of not giving him as much time as I had before… not listening to him the same as I had before.

"But we were all sort of fighting a little bit at that point, weren't we? All concerned about our own families and life going forward. And it was just a bit of a mess. So we didn't part from there in good ways. We didn't talk to each other for a little while."

In the past, much of Cavendish's frustration would be put through the bike itself - many times a machine worth more £15,000 would need substantial work after a sprint - one speciality being a broken or lost chain.

But as illness and injury prevented this outlet more and more, the frustration would be directed elsewhere. After a particularly gruelling Ghent-Wevelgem one-day race in October 2020 - thanks to a wildly flipped, Covid-affected cycling calendar - Cavendish broke down in tears and proclaimed it was "maybe my last race".

"There are times when I thought it was probably the end - it was more through lack of opportunity to ride rather than what I knew I could do," says Cavendish.

"The most difficult thing was knowing I could perform and being told "you're old" by people retiring earlier than the age I was… it didn't make sense they were in position to say whether I could do it or not. I just thought I had to keep trying."

Two fairytale comebacks and THAT record

The question was not around Cavendish's want. The question was around who would want him. No matter who you are, 36-year-olds are rare in the modern pro peloton.
After the TV tears, everyone thought it was over. But there was one person watching who had unfinished business.

Patrick Lefevere - a man matched only by Cavendish in his outspoken nature and in giving journalists nightmares. He was CEO of a Quick Step team (known in the peloton as the ‘Wolfpack’ for their predatory nature) where it all started turning less favourable back in 2015.

Lefevere says: "He was desperate on the TV and I saw it and I thought: 'No, that cannot be true.' I called and he came to my office and we found a last-minute deal."

Basic salary, no big contract, just his bike and whatever personal sponsorship deal he could secure for himself.

"He won his first stage [at the Tour of Turkey] and had a Zoom or Facetime and he starts crying, and that was my best moment," says Lefevere. "Then I put down the phone, and said: 'Now we're gonna drink Dom Perignon.' Because then I understood he would be doing a great Tour."

It was only really now that 'The Record' was starting to be discussed again. That record… a record Cavendish frequently reminded everybody he wasn't particularly bothered about.

A record, slightly skewed by the fact Belgian legend Eddy Merckx - widely regarded as the sport's best - had won 34 Tour stages of varying disciplines across the '60s and '70s, including many in the mountains, being the all-round yellow-jersey contender (and five-time winner) that he was.

Cavendish, thanks to the refinement of the sprinting discipline since Merckx's time, took his wins on the flat.

But even if Cavendish wasn't going to engage in the fanfare of 'Project 35', the rest of the world would do it for him in 2021.

By stage four into Fourgeres, near Le Mans, amid wild celebrations, the countdown was on as he won his 31st Tour stage.

"Mark is old but didn't lose his speed," says Lefevere. "He knows very well how to prepare himself, maybe more than 10 years ago. There is no way you win more spectacularly - his position on the bike, with his nose on the front wheel. That's the way he expresses himself.

"When he won first stage in the Tour, I think that was one of biggest emotions I ever saw in 20 years of my team, with everybody. And then the miracle happened: one stage became four and then the green jersey."

Nearly a decade after the Sky years, and Cavendish's glorious win on the Champs-Elysees, it was all set up for a fairytale, record-breaking moment back on the cobbles.

But, as the sun set on a glorious summer's day in the French capital, Cavendish careered towards the line in typical marauding fashion, the trademark grimace on his face… to see a Belgian cross the line in front of him.

Wout van Aert kept the record in the Low Countries and, with a smile on Merckx's face as he watched, Cavendish was once again inexplicably cast back into the wilderness.

The record – finally

What should have been a triumphant return to the Tour had turned sour.

It was already decided before the new-year training camps that Cavendish was not going to contest the 2022 Tour, Lefevere turning to Dutchman Fabio Jakobsen instead.

Six months later and a collapsed attempt to join French minnows B&B Hotels looked like a deeply underwhelming end to a glittering career.

But yet another perceived villain from the past - cycling has many of those - came to the fore.

One of the few accolades which got away from Cavendish during his career was the London Olympics road race gold medal, won by Kazakhstan's Alexandre Vinokourov.

Now boss of Astana-Qazaqstan – a virtually state-funded Kazakh World Tour team - 'Vino' seized upon a chance many were surprised others didn't: for Cavendish's final attempt to break Merckx's record everyone in the world apart from the man himself seemed to want so badly.

He came agonisingly close in Bordeaux, only to be beaten, of course, by another Belgian in Jasper Philipsen.

A crash and broken collarbone ended his race, with Cavendish - arm bound in a sling - tearfully saying goodbye once again.

But Vinokourov wasn't listening. "We have a chance, and we have to use it," he said.

Cavendish simply wanted to race. That was what he said motivated him throughout his whole career. Not records, not notoriety. Just the essence of competition.

So, one year older, and on the very same fifth stage, almost exactly 16 years since his first win on a balmy French summer’s day, one last battle cry.

The beauty of that final record-breaking victory in Saint Vulbas near Lyon was perhaps not his trademark low-set charge to the line, or the perfect timing of his launch.

It was that, after all the doubts, the let-downs, the myriad signs it was time to stop: illness, injury, ignorance…

… one more time, he beat the best in the world, who were all employed to replace him. Philipsen, Jakobsen and an emergent Biniam Girmay.

All great sprinters, beaten fair and square. By the greatest.

Credits

Written by Matt Warwick
Subbed by Reece Killworth
Design by Scott McCall
Images by Getty Images