The 1973 Tour of Switzerland contained one of those small but significant moments in British cycling history that are often missed. It wasn’t a Tour de France breakthrough, or a monument victory, or even a career transformed overnight. It was just that, for a few days in June 1973, British pro cycling stepped onto the stage it had rarely been invited to, and Sid Barras made sure nobody could ignore it.
Two British teams started the 1973 Swiss Tour, which was remarkable for a start. TI-Raleigh was one, still finding its feet before becoming one of the defining teams of pro cycling. They had 8 of their own riders but it was not a great race for Raleigh in terms of results. Only Dave Lloyd and Brian Jolly finished, but they had planted a flag and the wins would follow.
The other British team was improvised, and in some ways more romantic. It was listed as Holdsworth-Campagnolo, but it was really a composite team of 4 riders from Holdsworth and 4 from the Bantel team.
Even combining two squads was sometimes allowed. So Holdsworth and Bantel joined forces, at least on paper. They still raced in their own team kit; orange and kingfisher blue for Holdsworth, and black for Bantel. Sid Barras started the first road race stage in Bantel’s black, but would not wear it for long.
That stage went from Zurich to Hendschiken. A group of around 30 riders broke clear early, and most stayed away. Barras was in it, so were his Bantel team-mate Reg Smith and Holdsworth’s Colin Lewis. The break contained plenty of fast men, but none faster than Barras.
He was a devastating sprinter, one of the fastest of his generation, but he was also strong. The stage rolled up and down all day. Barras hung on over hill and dale, then, when it came down to the gallop, he did what Sid Barras did best. He zipped past everyone to win.
With victory came race leadership, the yellow jersey, the first British rider to lead the Tour of Switzerland. Even now, after a long professional career rich in wins, Barras still places that day high among his achievements. “It wasn’t a flat sprinter’s stage, it was up and down all day so I’m really proud of it,” he says, adding “It was good to wear the leader’s jersey next day, too; it got us instant respect from the Europeans.”
That last line matters. Instant respect. British professionals of that era often had to fight twice; once against the race, and once against the perception that they did not quite belong in Europe. Barras’s win cut through that, he was wearing the leader’s jersey of one of Europe’s great stage races. The composite British team was no longer a curious sideshow; for that day it was the show.
Of course it couldn’t last, the Brits didn’t yet have the depth to go with their strength and speed. Next day was split into two parts; 100 kilometres in the morning, followed by a 12-kilometre uphill time trial. Barras lost the overall lead after being boxed in during the morning sprint, but he kept the points jersey. Dave Lloyd gave Raleigh something to build on in the afternoon, finishing 18th in the time trial.
By stage six, from Grachen to Meiringen, the route was getting savage. There were 4 first-category climbs that day, including the giant Nufenen Pass. Living on a diet of weekend road races and evening criteriums, the British based pros had a huge disadvantage. Barras, Billy Bilsland and Les West all abandoned. Holdsworth’s Gary Crewe battled through as best Brit that day, finishing 26th. By the end of the race only two British riders remained; Crewe taking 34th overall for Holdsworth, and Lloyd 42nd for TI-Raleigh.
On paper the British adventure had faded. Raleigh had survived rather than shone. The Holdsworth/Bantel experiment produced a stage win, a leader’s jersey, a points jersey, then was ground down by the mountains. But that’s only one way of seeing it.
Another way is a glimpse of possibility. TI-Raleigh would grow into a serious European force. British riders would gradually become less exotic in continental pelotons. And Sid Barras had shown what a British sprinter could do when placed in the right moment, with enough strength to reach the finale and enough speed to finish it off.
It is tempting to wonder what Barras might be in today’s cycling world. Modern sprinting is a science of positioning, aerodynamics, nutrition, lead-outs, race programmes, marginal gains and protected status. A rider with Barras’s finishing speed would be identified early, developed carefully, surrounded by specialists and sent to races that suited him. He would not have to stitch opportunities together from composite teams and self-made chances. He might have been a World Tour sprinter with a train built around him.
But perhaps that misses something too. The charm of Sid Barras in Switzerland in 1973 is precisely that he did it the hard way. He was not guided into the finale by a machine. He got himself into the break, survived a stage that was far from flat, then won against established European professionals on their own roads. That was more than a sprint, it was a statement.
For one day in 1973, British cycling did not ask the pro peloton politely if it belonged, Sid Barras showed it did.
And more than 50 years on, Sid is still riding at the age of 78. He’s still strong too, and anyone who’s ridden with him knows the sprint is still there. Just don’t turn up to ride with him in winter without mudguards… Those who know Sid will know what we mean.
Photos: John Pierce Photosport International.
