Cycling betrays Israel
The news that the Israel Premier Tech cycling team is dropping the word “Israel” from its name and rebranding for 2026 honestly left me gutted. This organization wasn’t just another squad on the pro circuit. From day one, this team carried real meaning.
It existed to spark hope, to offer guidance and global cycling opportunities to young riders in Israel and from places you rarely hear about in cycling. The team tried (against the odds) to show what Jewish values like Tikkun Olam could look like in action, on the roads of Rwanda, in Europe, and everywhere in between.
I’m not naive. I recognize, like any breathing human, that the war between Israel and Hamas generated enormous outrage and heated controversy worldwide. However, the backlash faced by the Israel Premier Tech team should not be seen as a justification for erasing its identity or sidelining its athletes.
It’s hard not to take this personally. For the last decade, I’ve watched Israel Premier Tech carve out a place in cycling for Israeli athletes and anyone who dared to dream. I’ll admit, I felt a genuine rush whenever I could post about an Israeli rider winning a tough stage or mixing it up at a Grand Tour. It was proof, at least for a while, that sport can smash boundaries and encourage us all to see the world differently.
I’ve loved cycling my whole life because it’s where I find peace, joy, and genuine connection. Out there, chasing friends up hills, the only thing that matters is the spinning of wheels and the beat of your heart. There’s no judgment or politics when you’re suffering through the final climb or laughing at an inside joke with your crew at the summit. It’s a sanctuary where the world feels simpler and kinder.
That’s why this rebrand feels like a betrayal. It didn’t spring from the team’s ambitions or a desire to be more inclusive. It’s the result of ugly external pressure, ranging from aggressive protests at big races to organizers quietly urging the team to bow out and sponsors willing to pull the plug unless “Israel” disappeared. The Vuelta a España wasn’t just disrupted; it was defined by hostility and fear, and the fallout spread to France, Italy, and beyond.
Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. Since last fall, antisemitic incidents across Spain and France have soared. In Spain alone, the jump was a staggering 321%. France logged over 1,500 cases in just weeks. The headlines, attacks, vandalism, and threats aren’t just statistics. Ultimately, they colored the team’s perception and the opportunities for its athletes.
What cuts deepest is the hypocrisy. In the end, Israel Premier Tech’s own sponsors told them its brand was too risky. Meanwhile, teams from other countries with political, financial, human rights, and kleptocratic controversies ride on unscathed. This situation strips away the notion that sport can be above politics or that fairness means anything when the pressure mounts.
When Sylvan Adams announced his departure, his pain was palpable: “This is a very painful moment in my life. I cannot take an active role in a team that no longer bears the name Israel. I will continue to fight to defend our right, as Jews, to live in peace, safety, and freedom from the wave of hatred, violence, and antisemitism that has surged since the tragic events of October 7.”
The loss here isn’t only a name, but also the sense of community, hope, and openness that made this team matter. Every time I ride, pushing past the noise and the headlines, I feel what cycling could be for all of us. It means true competition, shared joy, a shot at something lasting. The Israel Premier Tech story is a warning. If we let politics and hate decide who gets to play, we lose what makes sport, and maybe even life, worth the ride.
