“I just want to see Mathieu van der Poel race one last time before I die.”

The words are simple. No big sentences, no dramatic exclamation points. Just a wish, written with childlike honesty and a heart that beats faster for one name:Mathieu van der Poel.

11-year-old Mateo Lopez lies in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeping monitors and the soft voices of nurses. A few months ago, he received a diagnosis that no child should hear: end-stage bone cancer. Since then, he no longer counts down the days to birthdays or school holidays, but to treatments, check-ups — and to a dream that he still wants to fulfill at all costs.

“I just want to see Mathieu van der Poel race one last time before I die.”

That sentence begins a three-page letter that he wrote with the help of his mother. A letter that silenced the cycling world within hours.

A letter that went around the world

Mateo has been a fan of Van der Poel since he was seven. His room is full of posters. On his bedside table is a miniature bicycle in the colors of his favorite team. During heavy chemotherapy, he watched reruns of classics to distract himself from the pain.

In his letter he describes how he imagines himself standing along the course, a flag in his hand, shouting when his hero attacks. He writes about Paris-Roubaix, about the Tour of Flanders, about how he turns up the television when Van der Poel goes solo.

“I am not afraid of dying,” he writes. “But I would love to see Mathieu win one more time. That would make me the happiest boy in the world.”

The letter was shared by a family friend on social media. Within hours it was shared thousands of times. Journalists picked up the story. Cycling fans from the Netherlands, Belgium, Spain and far beyond sent messages of support.

What started as a personal wish became a collective call.

Van der Poel’s response

Mathieu van der Poel is known as someone who prefers to express himself on a bicycle rather than in long statements. However, this time he did not have to wait long.

That same evening, a message appeared through his official channels.

“I read Mateo’s letter. Words are not enough. Sometimes winning feels big, but this is bigger than any competition. Mateo, I heard you. And I’m coming to you.”

The simplicity of the message touched people deeply. No grand promises, no media stunt — just a direct, human response.

Fans responded en masse. Some wrote that this is the true meaning of sports. Others shared their own stories of how cycling had helped them through tough times.

An unexpected turn

What happened next felt like a miracle to many.

Less than half an hour after the statement appeared online, a phone call was received at the hospital where Mateo is. Not from a journalist. Not from a sponsor. But from Van der Poel’s management team.

There was no mention of press moments or cameras. They only asked about Mateo’s condition and whether a visit was possible without endangering his health.

The next morning a helicopter landed at a nearby site. Not for a match, but for a meeting.

Without media attention, without announcement, Van der Poel entered the hospital.

The moment itself

Nurses whispered in the hallway. Doctors kept a discreet distance. Mateo’s parents knew nothing—until the door to the room was gently opened.

“Can I come in?” came a voice.

Mateo thought he was dreaming at first. But there he stood. No helmet, no racing suit, just a simple sweater and jeans.

The boy burst into tears. Not out of sadness, but out of pure amazement.

Van der Poel sat down next to the bed. They talked about cycling, about muddy cross-country skiing, about how heavy cobblestones actually are. Mateo asked questions as if he were conducting a press conference. How do you train? Are you ever afraid? What is your greatest victory?

At one point Van der Poel took out a small bag. It contained his competition water bottles, a signed shirt and – to Mateo’s disbelief – a starting number from a recent race.

“But that’s not all,” he said.

A race especially for Mateo

In consultation with the hospital staff and the family, it was decided to organize something special. Not an official competition, but a symbolic “race” in the hospital courtyard.

With the permission of the management, a small tour was set out. Doctors, nurses and even other patients gathered along the route.

Van der Poel did not drive a kilometer-long classic. He drove laps for one boy.

Mateo was brought out in his wheelchair, a blanket over his legs, a flag in his hand. When Van der Poel started for a symbolic sprint, he cheered as loudly as his body allowed.

For a moment there was no cancer. No hospital. Cycling only.

More than a sporting moment

What makes this story so powerful is not just the encounter itself. It’s the reminder that sport is more than winning or losing. It’s connection. Heap. A reason to continue.

For Mateo, the visit meant more than an autograph. It was proof that his idol saw him — not as a fan, but as a person.

For Van der Poel it may have meant a redefinition of success. Victories are in the record books. But moments like these remain in hearts.

The wave of support

When the news of the hospital visit finally came out, a second wave of emotion followed. Cyclists from different teams sent video messages. Supporters started a campaign to raise money for cancer research.

A significant amount of money had been raised within 24 hours.

But Mateo’s mother said it best: “It’s not about the money. It’s about what he gave my son: a memory that is stronger than illness.”

A blessing in difficult times

No one knows how much time Mateo has left. The doctors are cautious. The reality remains harsh.

But in a period dominated by uncertainty, there is now one bright spot: he has met his hero. He saw him driving. He cheered.

“I can sleep peacefully now,” Mateo whispered later that evening.

The power of a last wish

The story of Mateo and Mathieu van der Poel reminds us that heroes do not only exist on stages and in halls of fame. Sometimes they prove their greatness in silence, in a hospital room, without cameras.

An 11-year-old boy’s wish set a community in motion. It showed that behind the professional athlete there is a person who understands what is really important.

And perhaps that is the greatest victory of all.

No one knows whether Mateo will experience an official Van der Poel race. But one thing is certain: in that courtyard, under a soft winter sun, he saw his champion attack.

And for a while that was enough.