OPINION | The Vuelta a Espana 2025 was the darkest edition of the race

The Vuelta a España 2025 has drawn to a close, leaving behind what will likely be remembered as its darkest edition. Rarely has a grand tour ended with such a sense of defeat, both for the organization and for cycling as a whole. Instead of celebrating the sport, it exposed weakness, an event left stranded without proper management, support, or the ability to shield itself when it mattered most. The race collapsed under the weight of protests and internal disorganization, unable to defend its image or finish with dignity.

This is, at its core, a cycling analysis, not an attempt to equate a sporting failure with the suffering endured by the Palestinian people. Those tragedies exist on a far greater scale. Yet what the Vuelta has revealed is how little importance it holds for those in power. Demonstrations laid bare that almost no one, politicians, institutions, or even the UCI, truly cared about defending the race. Fans too, tired of the direction the event has taken, stood more resigned than outraged.

The decision not to invite the Israeli team requires clarification. The Vuelta excluded them for the same regulatory reasons used earlier this year at the Volta a Catalunya. But unlike in Catalonia, here the race collided head-on with protests, disrupting everything. Israel continues to participate in major global sports (football qualifiers, the Champions League, Euroleague basketball) without the same backlash. This context matters: the Vuelta was neither singled out uniquely nor protected when disruption came.

The governing body did little more than issue a cold statement from David Lappartient’s Swiss home, essentially rubber-stamping the participation of Israel’s team while leaving the Vuelta to fend for itself. The message was clear: “Find your own way to solve the problem.” For an event already limping, this bordered on contempt.

The calendar placement added insult. While the Tour de France protects its Champs Élysées finale like a national treasure, the UCI scheduled other major WorldTour races, Quebec and Montreal, directly against the Vuelta’s closing stages. Can anyone imagine Tadej Pogacar riding a non-Tour event the same day as Paris? Yet Vingegaard, winner of this Vuelta, lifted the red jersey without ceremony, overshadowed by Italian classics and North American one-day races. The message was unmissable: the Vuelta simply doesn’t matter.

If the sport’s institutions weakened the race, its national broadcaster humiliated it. RTVE’s coverage was shambolic. Stages were chopped mid-broadcast, interviews cut abruptly, cameras poorly placed to capture intermediate battles. Coverage bounced daily from Teledeporte to La 2 to La 1, leaving viewers guessing where to watch. Many stages couldn’t be followed in full, an unforgivable failure for one of cycling’s three grand tours. The technical quality lagged years behind the Giro or the Tour, a constant reminder of neglect.

The race faced hostility from all sides. Protesters seized their moment, the UCI stood aside, politicians exploited it, fans disengaged, and even Israel’s team attacked the organization, at one point demanding measures the Vuelta couldn’t deliver. The event lacked the strength or authority to respond.

What remains is an uncomfortable conclusion: the Vuelta has never looked so fragile, so incapable of defending itself. Everyone seemed against it, and it had no means to fight back. The final verdict is brutal but undeniable, the best thing is that it’s over.

.