Togliatti, Bartali and the 1948 Tour

The story of the 1948 Tour is well known; how Gino fought back from a huge deficit to take three stages in a row and win the overall ten years after his first Tour win, and how that victory eased the tense political atmosphere in Italy after the shooting of Communist leader Palmiro Togliatti. But what I'm truly in awe of is the character of Gino as retold in Road to Valor, upon seeing the Italian journalists were leaving the Tour and heading back home. Not yet aware of the situation in Italy, and over twenty minutes down on the GC, Gino jumped up from his table and shouted...

"Go! Go home! I know what you're thinking: I'm old. You came here and tired yourselves out for nothing. There's no point in following Bartali's race, that poor old man, eh? But I'm warning you: a stopwatch won't be big enough to record the amount of time by which I'll beat the others. And don't come back to interview me when I have the yellow jersey!"

A stopwatch wasn't big enough to measure his winning margin. And you certainly can't measure the impact his win had in an Italy that was thrown into panic, with mobs taking over factories and local governments and political groups literally heading for the hills, ready to start a revolution.

I realize it's a different age, but what destroyed that bravado in our sport? Is it that respecting your rivals now means you have to bury your confidence? Does our media coverage and online peering into every word and detail around a race bury any spontaneity? Do race radios effectively control our racing to the point that the winner is almost predetermined by power numbers? Has cycling emerged from those postwar days when it was the poor guy looking to escape his situation that caused him to drop his shovel and get on a bike because he might find that labor easier to feed his family?

Whatever it is, more people need to know Gino's story and cycling's rich past.

Slowly But Surely... New Wooden Rim Wheels for l'Eroica!

It was almost a year and a half ago that I picked up my unfinished wooden rims for my Airolg from Cerchio Ghisallo. If you read that previous post, you'd see that I was a little unsure if I could finish the Airolg in time for last year's l'Eroica (I couldn't!). But finally, my components are back from the 'Chrome Guy' and the frame has been decaled by Enzo and all pieces are being shipped to me soon.

In the meantime, I spent a long, hot, humid weekend staining the rims, followed by carefully applying the water transfer logos. This was a highly delicate operation that Antonio did not guarantee success for, as the old D.A.M. (d'Alessandro di Milano) transfers were on dry, seventy-year-old paper! But, with patience and a steady-ish hand, I was able to get them down. OK, so one went on a little crooked, but that's the way things were done in an artisan bicycle industry. I surely wasn't going to waste one of the two remaining D.A.M. logos - you never know when I'll need them again!

After some dry time, I put down two final coats of urethane and allowed them to fully dry in my damp garage. I just put down some black paint on the logos of my Continental 'cross tubulars and slipped them over the now-finished rims to have a look. I'm hoping they'll fit in the frame, as this is a drop-dead look for my 'new' old bike!

l'Eroica, here we come, and we can't wait! And with the short training rides I'm doing on new bikes, I may point towards a SIXTEEN hour day on the bike this year!

Gino Bartali's Road to Valor

Travel has afforded me plenty of reading time this year, allowing me to recently breeze through some great titles like Fignon: We Were Young and Carefree; Sex, Lies and Handlebar Tape; Team 7-Eleven; and Slaying the Badger. But none were as rewarding as Aili and Andres McConnon's much-anticipated Road to Valor.

I've been a Bartaliano (as Bartali fans called themselves in the "war" between themselves and Coppi supporters) since I started this journey into cycling's history. Little by little, la Gazzetta or Bicisport would reveal his efforts in the underground Jewish aid movement, smuggling falsified documents via long training rides to Italian Jews in hiding. In the past couple of years, even more has been uncovered to a much broader audience, culminating in this book, the first big push to an english-speaking public more and more interested in cycling's past (Rouleur or Rapha, anyone?).

The mystery behind the tales are even more compelling since the gruff Tuscan, who had his greatest sporting years robbed by the war, refused to profit by the telling of incredible tales of bravery and intrigue. It was only well after his death in 2000 that it was revealed how he had hidden a family of friends in his cellar during the darkest days of Nazi occupation. When asked about his actions by his son Andrea, Bartali replied that "One does these things and then that's that."

After the death in 2000 of one of the central figures in the movement, Giorgio Nissim, diary entries were discovered by his surviving sons which revealed the extent of Bartali's involvement. This spurred an intense research into his wartime actions and began to uncover an incredible truth about a man whose fame on the bike was to be eclipsed by his heroics during the war.

That's not to say that Bartali was without flaw, either. He was reported to be difficult at times, a pessimist, gruff, often a braggart, and even prone to drink a little more than a religious man should at the time. His most famous quote is "Everything's wrong, we'll have to start all over again." An odd view of the man who became known as "Gino the Pious." But to me, the post-war silence of a man who saved so many by risking his own life speaks volumes in a time when Olympic champions make more press about their podium celebrations than their performances.

Promo video for the book Road to Valor

npr interview with the authors

This Is Why I Love My Car

Peter Sagan: Questo e' un corridore!

I don't do this often, but it seemed appropriate. I'm bumping this post from it's original March 10, 2010 date...

"Now THAT'S a bike racer!" It's not a phrase uttered lightly in Italian racing circles, but in this case, it's 100% true.

Peter Sagan won his first pro race today! After taking 5th in the TT and second by a hair yesterday, the 20-year-old finally struck gold. Reacting to a late move, Sagan joined up in a six man break that included Alberto Contador and Jens Voigt. He then outsprinted the remaining two riders to take an emphatic win, the green jersey for Best Young Rider, and second place overall!

Why am I so big on Sagan? He's one of the quietest guys you could ever meet, and also very polite. When I recently visited the team at a Tuscan training camp, I was greeted by the typical ball-breaking that Italians are so good at. Sagan was the only one to rise from the lunch table and come around to shake my hand with a big smile. I'm always telling him that when he's ready to return to the dirt, we'll have a spot, a bike, and everything else ready for him. Remember, he raced for us on CFR last year and did fairly well, even when saddled with poor starting positions.

At the Tour Down Under, the day before joining in that famous "Lance Break," Peter was getting stitched up by the race doctor after a pretty serious crash. In his rusty, quiet english... "Doctor. Tomorrow. Race!"

And one final reason... the guy is hard on equipment! He puts a bike through its paces like few others.

There's a couple of other phrases you hear around Italian teams:

Tuo corridore - used in a similar manner as when the dog has an accident inside, your wife may specifically refer to 'your dog'. This is reserved for those racers who tend to be a pain in the butt on occasion.

Mio corridore - to be used proudly as I do when referring to someone like Francesco Chicchi... "MY racer".

As it relates to Peter Sagan, 'questo e' mio corridore'!

Happy Birthday to the Greatest American Cyclist

I've been on a book tear lately, quickly consuming titles like Sweat of the Gods and Laurent Fignon: We Were Young and Carefree. Today, I received my copy of Slaying the Badger and can't wait to start reading again. You see, Greg Lemond was my Lance Armstrong. I'm not going to get into the Greg vs. Lance debate, even though I have some opinions. There are message boards seemingly dedicated to the subject.

The first two books went into good detail as to what Greg's miracle Tour win in 1989 represented. It was a real turning point in cycling. Old school versus new school. A shift in technology. Television versus radio and print.

Greg brought the latest wave of big money to the sport (when you consider that in their day, riders like Girardengo, Binda and the Pelissier brothers were making what would be considered outrageous sums).

The list of technical innovations that he pioneered or was an early-adopter is impressive. TT-specific bars, Oakley glasses, clipless pedals, power meters, electronic shifting, titanium and carbon frames and on and on.

His comeback from the shooting accident was inspiring and unlikely. How many Tours could he have won without the accident? He may not have that record, but his career accomplishments leave me with no doubt...

He raced to win, from February to October. When was the last time a Tour winner lined up as a favorite in Paris-Roubaix and Milan-San Remo? The eight seconds are testament to his determination to win the Tour, and even that has its controversy. Those clip-on bars were not entirely legal at that point, and why Cyrille Guimard didn't protest is beyond me.

Most impressive is that he did all this as an outsider in an old-world sport. His triumphs were an unwelcome revelation to cycling's old guard. In his early days in Europe, there was no support group and few Americans to lean on. When everyone tells you that you can't... who can you turn to? His methods and creature comforts were laughed at. Scandalous were the reports from Europe that a cyclist would eat ice cream or Mexican food! Golfing? Spending time with your family? Perhaps the world was primed for a change. His respect for the sport and willingness to fit in on his own terms eventually won the hearts of European fans.

His strong anti-doping stance at a time when mules became thoroughbreds eventually spelled the end of his career. He was left wondering why he couldn't keep up and searched for explanations, overtraining in a hopeless race to form.

To me, he was the first and the greatest. Happy Birthday, Greg Lemond. Thank you for opening my eyes to this sport and leading me down this long road.

La Mitica!

Partly organized by a friend of mine in what is the holy land of Italian cycling, La Mitica will soon be on the mind of every vintage rider the same as l'Eroica is today. The event will take place July 1 and departs from Castellania, Fausto Coppi's birthplace. From there, it will enter Novi Ligure before circling Tortona and returning via the hills and roads that were used by Fausto and Serse Coppi and the first campionissimo, Costante Girardengo!

Words of Wisdom from Cino Cinelli

I'd like to think that this not only applies to racing...

"Sport teaches, above all else, internal honesty with oneself. While racing, there is just one rule: if you promise to help a teammate, you must help him; if you promise to lead out a sprint, you must lead it out; if you promise to give a hand on a climb, you must do so. You can't be clever. Even if you find out that it's truly your day, that you don't feel the chain, that you're going like a motorcycle. Give. Give without pretending. To give is never a mistake. Give so that something or someone will give back. And if you give, you'll sleep well at night."

My l'Eroica Bike For 2012 Has Paint!

It's been almost a year now, but my 1930's Airolg that I HOPE to ride in Tuscany this year finally has some color, albeit black and white. Ciöcc ran into a snag with the 70-year-old decals, so it had to go to an expert... Enzo!

The plan is for him to decal it, pick up the parts from the chrome guy, and ship back to me to build the wood rims into wheels and then assemble the Vittoria Margherita shifter in time to work out the kinks and put a few LONG rides on it for reliability testing prior to l'Eroica!

before...

after.

A king's crown.

Pro Cycling Starts to Look Better and Better

So after just one week of perusing the USA Today, which I really only do while traveling abroad, I see headlines about Meta World Cheap Shot, NFL suicides after years of on-the-job injuries being ignored, and today even police-escorted Cannonball Runs to Atlantic City. Don't get me wrong, cycling has its elephant in the room, yet I'm inclined and hopeful to say that the sport is cleaning itself up.

I'll still remember when my no-longer creamsickle Bucs won the Super Bowl after years of suffering. It was a sporting moment that I'll never forget. 

But I also won't forget the anticipation I had standing on a billboard in Liege watching Nibali gain 42 seconds on the chasing bunch. It was 2007 when Cannondale last won LBL (by Di Luca, who ended up with his own sanction later on) and I could think of no better outcome than Niblet's winning the only classic that I showed my face at this year. He represents the future of Italian cycling like no other in recent times. The heartbreak when he was caught and passed with just over a km to go was unbearable. The tears in the eyes of usually-macho Italian team staffers said it all after the race.

We all have our sporting heroes, I'm just lucky enough to work with mine and support their endeavors. I just finished reading Team 7-Eleven on this trip, and seemingly found myself surrounded by the characters that made US cycling history and set me off on this journey. First, I bump into Ron Keifel at Sea Otter, followed by an encounter with Jim Ochowicz at the team presentation in Liege. I had to thank both of them for their pioneering efforts. Following that, I had a quick conversation with Steve Bauer and for some reason am drawn to a small restaurant near Bergamo to relive those post-Giro celebrations of the first US team to inspire my Italian-centric love of racing.

This week, I may have the chance to meet my first cycling hero. Those following closely on Twitter know who he is. I'll be sure to report back. It is not the equivalent of meeting Lee Roy Selmon. No, it goes far beyond that. For all the Bassos, Nibalis, Sagans and Kings that I am lucky to call friends, it's the cycling superstars of my youth that leave me starstruck. Back when we didn't know what our heroes ate for breakfast or what time they got a massage... or when their convoy made it to Atlantic City?!? Yeah, pro cycling is looking better and better every day!