“It seems incredibly tough to live in his shoes” – Rival reflects on the pressures of Tadej Pogacar’s fame

At the very top of modern men’s cycling, dominance no longer brings just sporting control. It brings visibility, expectation, and a level of attention that never truly switches off. That reality was laid bare this week by Oliver Naesen, speaking in an interview with IDL Pro Cycling about what it is like to race in the same era as Tadej Pogacar.

Naesen’s comments came while reflecting on the changing nature of racing at the Tour of Flanders, where the presence of Pogacar and Mathieu van der Poel has fundamentally altered what is tactically possible for the rest of the peloton.

“With those two at the start, there isn’t much dreaming,” Naesen said. “They’ve also got a world-class team that completely sacrifices itself.”

He pointed to how riders who once looked like contenders now struggle even to race for their own results, highlighting how collective strength and star power have reshaped the balance inside the bunch.

Asked whether such dominance affects a rider’s willingness to attack, Naesen’s answer shifted from tactics to something more human. He suggested that Pogacar’s position at the very top of the sport now comes with a cost that goes far beyond racing.

“We’ll only be able to properly judge what they’re doing in a few years,” he said. “Because he’s not going to keep it up for another ten years. It seems incredibly tough to live in his shoes.”

Naesen then referenced a moment he had recently seen from Pogacar’s training, using it as a snapshot of how little privacy cycling’s biggest star now enjoys. “I recently saw a little clip of a pee break in training, with a fan sprinting up to him. He can barely pull his shorts back up. That’s just not fun.”

The remark was not framed as criticism, but as quiet empathy from a rider who operates a step removed from that level of global attention.

Naesen contrasted Pogacar’s experience with his own, and with that of Belgium’s biggest names, explaining that even in one of cycling’s most intense fan cultures, there remains a line between recognition and intrusion.

“With me, people look into my trolley in the supermarket and say, ‘Ah, a bag of crisps, what are we doing mate?’” he said. “People over 60 know me, at least on the train. Then they look at me and go, ‘Who are you again?’ In a charming and polite way.”

He noted that riders such as Wout van Aert and Remco Evenepoel already live with a far higher level of attention, even during routine rides. Pogacar’s situation, he implied, has moved beyond that entirely.

“For their coffee ride they practically need a dark corner table,” Naesen added.

Naesen’s reflections offer a rare perspective from inside the peloton, not on how Pogacar wins races, but on what it costs to exist permanently at the centre of the sport. While the Slovenian continues to redefine what is possible on the road, Naesen’s comments suggest that the burden of being cycling’s most recognisable figure is now felt just as strongly away from it.

It is a reminder that in an era of overwhelming dominance, even success comes with pressures that are increasingly difficult to escape.