He also won five stages.
The Tour has effectively become *Columbo* on bicycles. The culprit is revealed at the beginning; the next three weeks are spent establishing exactly how he did it.
His rivals attacked in the mountains.
Pogačar responded by cycling faster, a tactic they had apparently not prepared for.
He took the yellow jersey with the air of a hotel guest being handed the key to his usual room.
From there, the peloton followed him across France, pointing him out to one another.
Six minutes and 26 seconds is not really a winning margin. It is a separate appointment.
By Paris, Pogačar had enough time to finish, shower, change and begin wondering where everyone was.
His rivals congratulated him and promised to return stronger next year, an annual tradition now similar to saying ‘we must do this again sometime’ to someone you never intend to see.
Tour organisers are considering several measures to restore competition.
These include giving Pogačar a heavier bicycle, starting him from Belgium and requiring him to tow the publicity caravan.
The French government may simply classify him as weather.
The mountains were beautiful. The crowds were enormous. The racing was magnificent.
Suspense received treatment at the roadside but did not recover.
The Tour returns next summer, when Pogačar will attempt to win it for a sixth time—or, as it is increasingly known, arrive.