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There are riders who are easy to categorize: sprinters, climbers, model domestiques, champions with long lists of achievements. And then there are those who defy categories. Those who leave their mark through their personality, their freedom, their assumed contradictions. Nico Mattan is one of them. Winner of Ghent-Wevelgem in 2005, teammate of Frank Vandenbroucke, luxury domestique, then atypical ambassador for Kwaremont beer, he embodies a bygone era of cycling: freer, more instinctive, more rock’n’roll. A type of cycling where you could still eat fries with mayonnaise the day before a race, drink ten beers the evening of a victory with Peter Van Petegem, and win a major classic three days later.
By Jeff Tatard – Photos: Nico Mattan’s personal collection/DR
First pedal strokes: Marseille, Agrigento, Bogota and the school of the 90s
Nico’s first memory as a professional takes us back to the south of France, in the early 90s. “My very first race was with Franck in Marseille. He won right away at the citadel.” The tone was set. Very quickly, horizons broadened: as early as 1994 in Agrigento and then in 1995 in Bogota, Nico discovered the intensity of the World Championships. Baptism by fire against a flamboyant generation: Olano, Pantani, Jalabert, Museeuw… Immense champions, with outsized personalities.
Nico, meanwhile, learned quickly. A loyal domestique, he integrated into the workings of the peloton, while also showing glimpses of his rouleur qualities. Prologues became his preferred playground. “I won the Paris-Nice prologue twice, in 2001 and 2003. I even beat Millar and Cancellara.”
Not bad for a guy who was announced as a second-tier rider. But Nico wasn’t there to play a conventional role: he wanted to live his cycling his own way.
Ghent-Wevelgem 2005: the day of glory
And then there was April 6, 2005, a day that would remain etched in memory. Ghent-Wevelgem. The classic for the strongmen. In the final kilometers, Juan Antonio Flecha seemed to be heading for victory. But Mattan caught up to him, carried by encouragement and race cars. “I lived three kilometers from the finish. When you win near your home, you don’t sleep in a hotel. You go home a winner,” he smiles.
The victory sparked controversy: many accused him of having benefited from the slipstream of the motorbikes. Nico never hid it: he seized his chance. And he owns it. “It’s not because you know all the roads that you can win.”
For him, the controversy wasn’t important. What was important was that he won a major classic. That he inscribed his name alongside the greatest. And that he offered his Flemish public a home victory.
Paris-Roubaix 2002: the race of his life
And yet, if Nico had to choose his most beautiful race, he wouldn’t name Ghent-Wevelgem. Not even his victorious prologues. No, for him, it was Paris-Roubaix 2002, won by Johan Museeuw.
“That day, I rode 200 kilometers out front. I was in the breakaway, I was riding like never before. With 30 km to go, I was still in contention to finish second behind Museeuw. But I slipped on an oil slick, and I lost everything. Result: I finished seventh or ninth. But for me, that remains my best race.”
In his voice, there is no bitter regret, but a sincere pride. The pride of having existed at the heart of the Hell of the North, of having stood up to the greatest on the cobbles.
Adversity and friendship: between Museeuw, Pantani and… “the two madmen”
When asked who left a mark on him, Nico immediately names Johan Museeuw. “In my era, he was the strongest. All the classics could have been for Museeuw, he was that far above everyone else.”
But the most vivid memories don’t just concern rivals. They also concern companions on the road. Franck Vandenbroucke, of course. But also Philippe Gaumont. Nico still laughs about it: “Franck and Philippe, they were two madmen. Two guys capable of the worst as well as the best. But always with a smile.”
These madmen, as he calls them, gave the peloton a special flavor. A carefree attitude, an irreverence. No meticulously planned career path. Just talent, flashes of brilliance, excesses.
Vandenbroucke: the friend, the brother, the boss
It’s impossible to talk about Mattan without mentioning Franck Vandenbroucke. Their friendship began early. “My first contract in 1994, I did everything for him. Pinning on his race numbers, washing his clothes. Back then, there wasn’t even a washing machine in hotels. We washed everything ourselves in the sink.”
This loyalty lasted more than ten years. “Until 2001, I worked for him. I started winning for myself at 30.”
Nico retains a tender and clear-eyed memory: “Franck, he was the boss. Even the sports directors had no authority over him. He decided, period. He had incredible charisma.”
Vandenbroucke’s death devastated him. But Nico doesn’t forget him. He published a book, organized tributes, keeps his memory alive. “I still manage his Instagram page. Ten years later, I still post photos on important dates.”
And he goes further: he wrote a song, with a musician friend, in homage to Franck. A melancholic piece that evokes their complicity and their destiny.
=> Listen to the tribute song to Franck Vandenbroucke
Bernard Sainz: the inspirer
Among the figures who left their mark on him, there is also a controversial character: Bernard Sainz, nicknamed Doctor Mabuse. But for Nico, he remains a guide. “I never had a coach. Bernard, he gave me advice. Never any medication. He never offered me anything.”
There’s the famous anecdote from the year 2000. Nico caught chickenpox before the Tour. The team doctor prescribed strong antibiotics. Bernard, however, said no: “Don’t take that. Just take my Solvarum drops.” Nico obeyed. A few weeks later, he finished 20th in the Tour de France. “The doctors never understood. But I never had a problem with Bernard. He helped me.”
And then there were his radical methods, on the eve of major events. “10 days before a World Championship, he made me ride three times in the same day: from 9 am to noon, then from 1 pm to 4 pm, and again from 5 pm to 8 pm. Three hundred km in the legs in a single day.” Extreme training, which testifies to this empirical and instinctive approach advocated by Mabuse.
For Mattan, Sainz represents another way of seeing sport: more natural, more instinctive, less medicalized. A striking contrast with today’s ultra-controlled cycling.
Beer, fries, and the philosophy of life
Nico has a simple philosophy: cycling is hard, so you also have to know how to enjoy yourself. “Me, I ate fries my whole career. With mayonnaise.” He laughs as he talks about his excesses. “With Van Petegem, we could drink ten beers on Sunday after a victory. And three days later, I won Ghent-Wevelgem.”
Today, he looks at the young riders with amusement. “Remco is afraid to drink half a glass of champagne. Me, I never believed in that. If you’re strong, you’re strong.”
However, there’s no question of denying modern demands. But Nico defends a truth: don’t enter into absolute rigor too early. “Young people aged 17-18 are already living like pros. It’s too early. You have to leave them alone.”
Kwaremont beer: a second life
Nico found his post-career in an unexpected role: ambassador for Kwaremont beer. “It’s the first beer that linked its image to cycling. Since then, everyone has copied it.”
He talks about it with passion, as a new profession, but also as a continuation of his life as a rider. “I saw a rider drink the entire pint on a podium. I won’t say who,” he bursts out laughing.
For him, beer remains a symbol of conviviality, not of excess. “Before, it was a reward. Today, some believe that a glass of champagne will destroy them. It’s ridiculous.”
Céline, friendship and family ties
In the great whirlwind of cycling, some relationships matter more than others. Céline Vandenbroucke, daughter of Jean-Luc, former sports director, is one of his lifelong friends. “I’ve known her since 1994. Her father was my manager. We’ve remained close.”
For Nico, she embodies this human connection, this extended family that cycling is. “She always had an incredible address book. Armstrong, Wiggins, Gilbert. And yet, she remained simple.”
A look at modern cycling
When asked what he thinks of cycling today, Nico sighs and smiles. “Young riders are monitored everywhere, all the time. They’re sent to altitude at 17. But everyone is different. You can’t lock a kid in a room for three weeks, he’ll go crazy.”
And he adds a concrete example, with that mix of frankness and humor that is his own: “If you do that with Arnaud De Lie, you’ll lose him. A guy like Arnaud, I know him well, you have to leave him at 300 meters altitude, with his cows and his sheep.”
His observation is clear: too much rigor kills spontaneity. “Me, I started performing at 30. Today, at 26, some are already quitting because they’re fed up.”
Quiet wisdom
As he concludes, Nico appears at peace. He doesn’t have the polished veneer of a smooth champion. But he has a raw truth, a rare authenticity.
His advice to young people? “Don’t be too serious too early. Eat fries. And find your own path.”
A simple, but powerful legacy. That of a rider who never cheated himself, who gave everything, and who continues to keep alive a certain idea of cycling: free, human, joyful, a little crazy sometimes, but so true.
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