The Tour de France is often remembered for its tales of heroism, grit, and glory. But just as enduring are the stories of misfortune, oddity, and sheer human fallibility—none more so than the unforgettable moment when Abdel-Kader Zaaf, an Algerian cyclist with guts and character, was undone not by the mountains or the peloton, but by a bottle of wine and a brutal sun.
The 1950 Tour de France was run in a post-war Europe still regaining its footing. Cycling was a national obsession in France and a proving ground for many colonial riders seeking recognition. Zaaf, an Algerian Muslim cyclist racing for a North African team, was not among the favorites, but he was a strong, resilient rider, known for his determination and gutsy attacks.
By the 13th stage—from Perpignan to Nîmes—the Tour had already shown its teeth. July 27th brought not only the peloton but also a wave of oppressive heat. Temperatures rose above 40°C (104°F), and riders battled sunstroke as much as they did each other. Water was scarce, and team support cars were less organized than today. Thirst was a constant companion.
Early in the stage, Zaaf broke away with fellow North African teammate Marcel Molinès. The pair built a substantial lead—reportedly around 20 minutes ahead of the main group. For a brief moment, it looked like Zaaf might pull off a career-defining win.
But the heat was relentless, and without enough hydration, Zaaf began to fade. It was around this moment that a spectator, perhaps seeing his desperation or just offering a “refreshment,” handed him a bottle. What Zaaf assumed to be water or juice turned out to be wine.
Accounts differ slightly, as legend and fact often blur in cycling folklore, but it’s generally agreed: Zaaf took a few swigs, then a few more. Wine, in those days, was not an uncommon “energy drink” among cyclists—many believed it gave warmth, courage, and even a quick sugar boost. But Zaaf was not used to alcohol, and the effect was immediate.
Within kilometers, his pedaling became erratic. He swerved across the road. Spectators said he was singing or shouting. Eventually, he stopped altogether and collapsed under the shade of a tree. With the Mediterranean sun baking the road, it was a small mercy.
Passersby tried to revive him. Some offered water, others helped him to his feet. Remarkably, Zaaf got back on his bike—but the wine still had hold of him. Dazed, he mounted and began pedaling—in the wrong direction, back toward the oncoming peloton.
Spectators waved their arms and shouted. Eventually, Zaaf realized his mistake, but the damage was done. He was disqualified, later taken to a hospital, and did not start the next stage. The win he flirted with had slipped away, not through lack of legs, but through a moment of charming, human miscalculation.
Zaaf never won the Tour or a major international title, but his story entered the lore of the race. He became, unintentionally, a symbol of the chaos and unpredictability of early road cycling. Some French newspapers poked fun; others admired his courage and resilience. In Algeria and among North African fans, he remained a pioneering figure.
He returned to the Tour several more times, always a fighter, always popular. But he was never able to escape the image of that hot day under the tree, when a bottle of wine briefly turned him from athlete to legend.