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I don't know if this year we'll hear about astonishing cycling feats, of long-distance breakaways, pink and cyclamen jerseys, or heart-stopping time trials; I hope so, but I'm starting to doubt it.
Sunday morning, seized by an insatiable need for a saddle, I set up the rollers in the garage and, given the period of monasticism and seclusion, dedicated myself to an indoor workout.
Taking advantage of the cloudy day and in an attempt to emulate the weather conditions (just to better get into the part), I loaded a DVD on the laptop with the commentary of a gloomy and very rainy 1987 Paris-Roubaix, and with the group, I pedaled, as if I were a hamster in a nervous breakdown, imagining unattainable finishes and improbable podiums…
Imagining indeed, because in the amateur competitions I've participated in, I have always distinguished myself by finishing among the last, but never hitting rock bottom, strong and determined not to suffer the disgrace. Never defeated!
Who instead stood out for being always the last of the caravan and made a living from this eternal placement, was Luigi Malabrocca, nicknamed "the Chinese" because of those almond-shaped eyes. A nickname given to him none other than by Fausto Coppi himself, with whom il Luisin began to compete in local races before moving on to great cycling; a heroic post-war cycling made of epic duels, low blows, bumpy roads, sensational delays, jollity, and the will to rise.
Malabrocca, a cyclist born in 1920, turned his last place in the ranking into a job, and since the black jersey was instituted, which was physically worn during the stages of the tour by the last in the ranking, he dedicated himself body and soul to that goal. Certainly not without cheating or at least playing cunning, since the prizes given to the last were nothing to envy compared to those distributed to the first.
The book narrates the hilarious heroic adventures of Malabrocca, a noble hero of the last ones, able to conserve his strength to a minimum, engaging the low gear with monastic regularity and managing to hide if necessary out of the group, like the time he hid under a bridge, chased by a crowd of entertained youngsters who cheered him on, just to finish last. Alliances with other riders were the order of the day; the important thing was to finish last, agreeing with them to split the prize, whether in money or in kind.
He earned quite a bit and became very popular among the followers of the Giro who no longer waited just for the leading group but stayed along the track cheering for their hero, capable of redeeming himself from his condition of last, who would not disdain stopping with them to drink a drop of red accompanied by a good salami, in a spirit of solidarity friendship.
A black-and-white story of Italy read from the perspective of the last, adventurous, funny, curious, and full of behind-the-scenes stories and astute trickery at the edge of the rules that delivers a winner loser, a last who becomes first, a misfortune turned fortune. And suddenly we're all like Luisin!
Ah, I forgot: tomorrow I'll tackle Gavia and Mortirolo, and on Thursday I'll be on Mount Ventoux!
To listen to during the reading: "La Bicicletta" - Tetes De Bois
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