Ah, yes, the great Belgian Hope, the l’enfant terrible. God bless ‘em, he was great to watch. And the off the bike antics were the stuff of legend. He’s the poster child for when the drugs defined the cyclist. There is a story where Frankie Andreu see’s Vandenbroucke in an airport, swimming in a pile of Louis Vitton luggage. Andreu goes up to him and says, “Hey, Frank, it’s me Frankie.”
Vandenbroucke has no idea who he is. “We raced on the same team last year. Andreu? Frankie Andreu?”
Vandenbroucke is so zoned out on god knows what that he just sits there in an ocean of brown leather drooling on himself. Awesome. What’s the point of making money if you can’t enjoy spending it?
And there is more: Unexplained shotgun blasts at home, the drugs are for my dog, not showing up for events, racing while suspended under the name “Francesco del Ponte” with a photo of Tom Boonen on his license, and basically life on the needle. I’m surprised this guy doesn’t have full blown AIDS. See his wiki page.
Liège-Bastogne-Liège 1999: La Redouteby