The Gents of Ghent. That’s what they used to call the British cyclists who lived in the East Flanders city during the sixties and were major players in both Belgian and
world cycling.

Tom Simpson, Vin Denson and Barry
Hoban were the most famous ex-pat residents, but there were many more
who were trying to follow their path into
big bike races like the Classics and the
Tour de France.

There were so many Brits and Aussies in fact that in some amateur kermesses races in the region the predominant language was
English, and on a couple of occasions the local newspapers bemoaned the fact that the
only representatives the city had in the Tour de France were British. It was considered
a civic disgrace.

A change began in 1967, when Tom Simpson died in the Tour de France. Vin Denson returned to England and the dream of English-speaking racers to live in Ghent and follow Simpson’s path to victory in races like the Tour of Flanders began to pale.

It was left to Barry Hoban to stay on in Ghent and fly the British flag at the head of the European peloton, and what a good job he did of it too. Eight stage victories in the Tour de France; third place in two of the hardest Classics, Paris-Roubaix and Liege-Bastogne-Liege; second in the sprinter’s Classic, Paris-Tours are just some of the amazing performances Hoban put up.

A new era
Today British riders who have come through the British Cycling system and achieved amazing track results are making inroads into the top end of European road racing, but any one of them will be proud if they could look back at the end of their road race careers on having achieved what Hoban did.

In 1974 he won Ghent-Wevelgem in front of a star studded field. It was the last victory a British rider had in a Classic, and Hoban is still the only man other than Tom Simpson to have won one. Set in that context, more than 30 years after he achieved it, the importance of what Hoban did on that cold April day is easy to appreciate. This is his account of
what happened.

“Ghent-Wevelgem centres around the climb of the Kemmelberg. It’s a case of keeping out of trouble, keeping sheltered from the crosswinds then making sure you are well
placed for the Kemmelberg and surviving the
splits that happen on it.

"But there isn’t just the Kemmelberg to worry about, there are other climbs like the Rodeberg and Zwarteberg, and they are taken in a circuit so you do them all twice. Coupled with that, Ghent-Wevelgem was longer than it is today, 244 kilometres, what I call the real Classic distance. A lot of riders can win races up to 200 kilometres, but it takes a Classic winner to win a longer one.

“Anyway, all the Belgians wanted to win Ghent-Wevelgem that year, which is normal because they always do, but they had additional pressure because of the two Classics raced that year
an Italian, Felice Gimondi had won Milan-San Remo and a Dutchman, Cees Bal won the Tour
of Flanders.

“And when you think who those Belgians were you can see that I had a job on my hands. Eddy Merckx, Roger De Vlaeminck, Walter Godefroot, Frans Verbeek, Eric Leman, Walter Planckaert and Freddy Maertens, legends all of them, and they were all fired up to win.

“After the first circuit of the hills about forty of us were left at the front, including all those Belgians and a good few tough racers from their teams. But, for once, I had the luxury of two riders from my team with me at the front towards the end of a Classic, and boy did I intend to use them. One of them was Raymond Poulidor, and when I think of the work I’d put in for him over the years in the Tour de France; well, it was a lot. I have to say that he paid me back that day though. My team mates really looked after me.

“The second time up the Kemmelberg was brutal. Merckx went on the rampage and riders were popping out of the back all the way up the climb. The group was disintegrating but I was just managing to hold on. I really mean just, because I was on my limit.

“To make matters worse, as I got nearer to the top I could hear the chain chattering on my bottom gear. We had friction gear levers in those days and sometimes when you made a big effort your legs could pull the chain off the biggest sprocket. I couldn’t take my hands off the bar’s to pull the lever back because I was hanging on for grim death. All I could do was pray that the gear stayed in until the top.

“I did, but my problems weren’t over. On the flat run in rider after rider attacked, the pace was so high that we took another three and a half minutes out of the chasers and the overall average was 44 kph. Merckx in particular was devastating, putting in big attacks right over on the opposite side of the road to where the wind was blowing. Everyone was grovelling in the gutter. He kept getting small gaps, but another attack would bring him back.

“Merckx tried one more attack with one kilometre to go, but was brought back and as we hurtled towards the finish I was perfectly
placed behind Merckx, Leman and De Vlaeminck.

“I always psyched myself up for the sprints. I literally talked to myself inside my head. I’d say, ‘Come on Barry, you are going to be electric, you are going to explode off this wheel and win,’ and as I talked I tightened my grip on the ‘bars and got ready to go.

“We were doing 60 kph by now with only a few hundred metres left, but I was still in forth place with Merckx going like the clappers at the front. Nobody could get around him, because to overtake him they would have had to ride in the wind. But suddenly the front three fanned out across the road as the others had to start their sprints. I was just behind, wondering how I was going to get through when a gap opened between Merckx and Leman.