Greatest Comeback in American Sports History? Look no further than Greg LeMond’s Tour de France Win 30 Years Ago

In American sports annals, a country rich in sport tradition, there have been dozens of incredible comebacks by individuals and teams, but perhaps none more than Greg LeMond’s comeback to win the 1989 Tour de France, exactly 30 years ago, July 23.

LeMond came back from near death, doubling down to rally from a 50-second deficit to Frenchman Laurent Fignon on the final day’s relatively short individual time trial to win one of world’s most challenging and grueling sporting events.

To understand why it should be considered “Greatest Comeback in American Sports History” (or at least one of the top 5), one must reflect on the years leading up to his historic win in Paris that year.

In 1983, as a 22-year-old, LeMond captured the World Championship for road cycling, the biggest one-day event in the sport. Due to age and the fact he was an American, he was thrust on to the world stage. It was a seminal moment for American cycling.  

By the following year, he was battling the best of the sport in the world’s biggest event --- the Tour de France. In 1984, LeMond rode in support of winner Fignon. He then changed teams in 1985, where he waged an unusual battle with teammate and Frenchman Bernard Hinault. It was a well-documented moment in his career, chronicled by ESPN’s 30 on 30 documentary “Slaying the Badger.” During the 1985 Tour de France, LeMond often held back to help Hinault in order for the Frenchmen to win his record-tying fifth Tour de France. 

By 1986, LeMond was too strong and Hinault had to succumb to the rising star instead of trying to win a historic sixth Tour de France.  It was the dawning of LeMond’s reign. The American had stormed the sport and was its new darling. 

But in 1987, an early-season crash in Europe knocked him out racing for a few months. He returned to the U.S. to heal up and took a turkey-hunting trip with his uncle and brother-in-law. While hunting, his brother-in-law mistook him in the bush and fired, hitting LeMond leaving 60 pellets lodged in his body, one in the lining of his heart.  Close to bleeding out, a flight-for-life helicopter flew him to a trauma center in Sacramento.

“As I laid in the field, I thought I was going to die,” LeMond said.

Fast forward to February 12, 1989. LeMond sat in a Chinese restaurant in Santa Rosa, Calif., north of the Bay Area. Earlier in the day, he had completed a 110-mile ride over hills. Over a hefty portion of chicken fried rice, he said: “I honestly think it will take two to three years before I can come back to the level I was at when I won the Tour de France in 1986. And, I’m still not sure I can get back to that level, especially in one or two years. It’s incredibly difficult and it’s an incredibly difficult sport and incredibly difficult event.”

Later that night, as he left the restaurant, it was evident a cool confidence had re-entered his head space. 

“I want everyone to know, I’m not going away,” he said. “I’ve got that feeling again.”

In May, he slogged through America’s biggest race, the 10-day Tour de Trump, a 927-mile race up and down the East Coast. He would finish way down in the overall standings and more than a half-hour down on the eventual winner. The race contained many of the top riders that would race in the Tour de France later that year, including Points jersey winner Sean Kelly of Ireland, and King of the Mountain jersey winner Gert-Jan Theunisse and Combination Classification jersey winner Steven Rooks, both of The Netherlands.

If America’s premier bike race was an indicator, LeMond was nowhere near the form needed to conquer the 21-day Tour de France six weeks later.

“The one thing about Greg LeMond,” said American Ron Kiefel at the time, “he can get into top form relatively quick.”

LeMond was a physical freak. His multiple recordings of Volume Oxygen intake ratio tests in the low 90s were some of the highest ever recorded. His ability to produce insane “wattage for an extended period without cracking”, as they say in the cycling vernacular, was legendary. Simply put, LeMond’s freakish physiology meant he could ride longer at lactic threshold than other cyclists while producing a lot of power, which of course transfers to hill climbing and time trialing.

By July, LeMond had leaned out while putting in extra miles and races.  Yet, he entered the Tour de France with many unanswered questions. LeMond was always a cyclist that could “build into a race,” meaning while other athletes were physically decimated going into the third week of the Tour de France, LeMond was improving.  That would be ‘the feeling’ he was talking about back in February. From that nadir, he knew he could summit again.

American Bobby Julich, who finished third in the 1998 Tour de France and the first podium finisher after LeMond’s 1990 win, said: “There are riders, and I was one of them, that seemed to feel better in longer stage races, especially as the race went on. It is a physiological thing as well as psychological thing. LeMond was no doubt in the same boat, and probably a much bigger boat.”

LeMond was notorious for peaking at the Tour de France. His aspirations were apparent as a teenager. He hung a Tour de France poster in his bedroom in Northern California and age 17 he wrote down his goals. His number one goal was not to finish high school but to WIN THE TOUR DE FRANCE.

LeMond built into the 1989 race not knowing how his form would peak over three weeks. He did know the final week featured his favorite climbs in the Alps and an individual time trial, his specialty.  LeMond rode well and without mistake or incident the first two weeks and found himself within striking distance of Fignon and Spain’s Pedro Delgado, another pre-race favorite.

An epic battle ensued going into the final week. Fignon had resurrected a late career push in attempts to win his third Tour de France. In the process, the French crowd became torn. LeMond had been adopted as a French fan favorite because of his comeback attempt, aggressive racing style, willingness to speak the native tongue, and at lesser level because of his French namesake. For Fignon, it was bittersweet. He felt somewhat betrayed by the French public who seemed more endeared to LeMond. It was evident LeMond’s comeback story was made of legend whether he won or not. He had become a major underdog and the media played it up with voracity. 

The 1989 race finished in an unusual manner. The final day of Le Touris historically reserved for a flat and predictable stage for the sprinters, letting the overall winner and his team enjoy the spoils after a grueling three weeks. But 1989 was different. A 24-kilometer (15 miles) individual time trial (or ‘race against the clock’ that pits every man for himself without team tactics) took place from Versailles to Paris. Fignon’s 50 seconds was deemed ‘incredibly safe’ noting LeMond would have to make up more than two seconds a kilometer, which would be like a golfer double bogeying the final hole while his top competitor shot a hole-in-one. Could it be done? Yes. But these were two of the top cyclists on the planet racing against the clock in peak physical condition. One racing for personal and national pride. Another proving to the world that anything was possible with attitudinal fortitude.

Now 29 months removed from near death, with 60 shot-gun pellets in his body, LeMond began his preparation for the final time trial. Using untapped technological ingenuity at the time, he strapped on an elongated aerodynamic helmet and skinsuit. He placed on extended aero bars (cutting edge at the time) so he could stretch out into a tug position for less wind resistance (which he knew from wind tunnel testing). His back bike wheel was a disk with no spokes. He would even consider abandoning water, which added more weight and any drinking could add precious time. He was truly a 21stCentury man, attempting to take every technological edge from his sponsors Bottecchia bikes, Giro helmets, Mavic wheels and components, and Look shoes and pedals.

As for his adversary...before the final day, Fignon would say: “I am too strong in the mind and in the legs. LeMond thinks he can win, but it’s impossible.”

Starting second to last, one spot and two minutes in front of the uber-confident Fignon, LeMond shot off the start ramp looking like a spaceman in a skier’s tuck, his yellow neon colored helmet and skinsuit blazing through the French suburbs en route toward the Eiffel Tower. Commentators and the throng of international journalists took note as the big screens at the finish line projected the image of LeMond streaking through the streets. A noticeable buzz ensued in the crowd.

Fignon was now in the start house. He had no helmet, only a long blonde ponytail. He had no aerobars, rather drop down ‘bull horns’. By his brazen appearance, there was a sense he thought it would be a crowning promenade into his hometown of Paris.

As the time checks passed, LeMond’s splits were faster. And, as he approached Paris, LeMond’s cadence and speeds got even faster. It was evident, he was feeding off the information coming off race radio that he was gaining ground on Fignon. By the final 500 meters, LeMond was storming down the Champs Ellysees Boulevard toward the finish with demonic fury. 

LeMond finished and within 30 meters had stopped and turned around. Media (at the time permitted on the track beyond the finish line) were flooding toward him, cameras clicking. Curse words were abundant in maybe 10 languages as The Gendarmes began to form a circle around LeMond. Cameras as well as eyes began to ricochet between the time clock on the finish banner and LeMond. Beyond the finish banner, Fignon remained a speck against the Arc d’Triomphe, silhouetted through the dank summer haze. This was a drama not seen before (or since) on the final day of the Tour de France. The Champs-Ellysees began to draw to a hush, a weird vibe for 300,000 spectators.

Tick…48…tick…49…tick…50…

Fignon was barreling to the finish, his bi-speckled face grimacing as his long ponytail flayed behind, but he remained 80 meters out.

LeMond, still straddling his bike, water bottle in one hand, he put grabbed his head, sweat coursing down his cheeks, his jaw dropping while hundreds of cameras moved toward him. A TV motorbike tried to position against the mob scene as the scrum match intensified.

Fignon finished and within 20 meters collapsed to the pave. He seemed more in disbelief than exhausted. He placed his head in his heads and was in a cradle position. LeMond was still grabbing his head in disbelief. Yet, he was upright and smiling.

The crowd took on a weird mix of whistles (boos in Europe) and cheers. It was difficult to assess whether the cheers were for LeMond or Fignon, or, perhaps for both.  Either way, it was an one of the best moments in the history of the sport.

In the aftermath, LeMond would eventually see Fignon and embrace him. LeMond’s hug seemed more of console than ‘hey, mate, that was a great race.’”

LeMond’s eight-second win remains the shortest winning margin in the 100-plus years of the Tour de France. He would go on to win the 1990 Tour de France and place 7thoverall in 1991. Fignon would ironically place 6th overall in 1991 Tour de France, one place ahead of LeMond. He went on to win one stage in 1992 before retiring in 1993. 

In 1992, at a party after America's biggest race the Tour DuPont (which ironically was LeMond’s last big win), I asked Fignon about the 1989 Tour de France. He would tell me in broken English: “I must be honest. I do not see Greg defeating me that day. He is a friend. A hero for the sport. A hero for his country. He comeback from the dead.”

LeMond and Fignon were life-long friends. Fignon died in 2010 following a long battle with cancer.  LeMond said Fignon was an incredibly “talented bike rider” and a worthy adversary which made the 1989 that more epic. 

As for LeMond, 30 years later he is recognized as one of the world’s best cyclist ever. He inspired a generation of world-class American cyclists that included Julich.

“Greg LeMond was one of my heros for sure,” said Julich.  “I looked up to Greg my entire career and appreciate what he and the rest of the Americans of his generation did for the future of American cycling. Watching him win the Tour by beating Hinault in 1986 was amazing, but watching him come back from his accident in 1989 and winning on a small team was probably the most inspiring. It would have to be considered one of the biggest comebacks in sports history.”

(Publisher's Note: Steve Brunner covered the 1989 Tour de France for USA Today.)