We don’t know how old the gentleman was who, yesterday morning in Innsbruck, at the start of the first stage of the Tour of the Alps, watched the riders arrive at the team presentation stage and, for at least four or five of them, found physical resemblances to cyclists from the times of our parents and grandparents. He wasn’t speaking to us, but we caught a few names: he mentioned Ottavio Bottecchia, Costante Girardengo, Giovanni Brunero, and Alfredo Binda. He spoke of faces, hair, even similar movements. Perhaps he was right, perhaps not, and to be honest, the latter seems more plausible because, even if we try, we just can’t see those resemblances.
Then, however, we thought of a book we recently read, which argued that as the years go by and many of the people we’ve known are no longer around, the brain strives to find traces of the past in those we meet, and in a way, it overlays the faces of our history onto the faces of others, almost as if it struggles to memorise new ones. So, not only is the cycling our grandparents watch on television often a novel of past stories serving as a backdrop to new stages, but even the appearances of today’s cyclists echo faces from the past in their minds.
Out here, we can no longer see him, but if we were to meet that white-haired gentleman again, we’d ask him who comes to mind when he looks at Domenico Pozzovivo, who, indeed, does have something of a rider from another era.
After all, the Lucanian is only forty-three years old, but his return has sparked a peculiar curiosity, and in his interviews, people search for stories that seem to come from another era of cycling, even though Pozzovivo only retired a year ago. He wanted to dedicate himself to his family, complete his studies, and also avoid the increasingly dangerous roads on which every cyclist spends so much, too much, time.
Next to a rain-streaked window yesterday afternoon, he told us that he came back because his legs are still strong, because he has completed his studies, because he wants to test himself in a sport that is increasingly dominated by youth, and because, in the end, in cycling, when you’re over forty, there isn’t much time left, and if you have an idea, you can’t afford to postpone it. Not just in cycling and not just at forty, we might add, but that’s not the point.
Everyone is drawn to Pozzovivo because his body tells the story of cycling, after all the kilometres he’s ridden and the injuries he’s endured. Everyone is drawn to Pozzovivo because, if he resembles anyone, it’s probably those particular cyclists: taller or shorter than what one might expect from an athlete, with a pedal stroke that’s instantly recognisable, with strong passions and books still in hand long after school is a distant memory. The kind of cyclists you notice and feel compelled to ask at least one question. Domenico Pozzovivo is like them. And, even though we don’t have white hair, this we know for certain.
Tommaso Dati, born in 2002, is exactly twenty years younger than Pozzovivo. Over the past few days, his name had been mentioned in connection with this first stage, starting and finishing in Innsbruck, not far from the pastel-coloured houses overlooking an angry Inn River, flowing under a crooked spring moon. However, when Thymen Arensman made his move in the final stretch of the stage, no one was thinking about Dati anymore. Yet, as the peloton reeled in the Dutchman, it was Tommaso Dati who proved to be the fastest.
He hadn’t realised Tom Pidcock was right behind him, only noticing when he turned around. Perhaps that was for the best, as winning is easier without overthinking. The risk, after all, when you’re very young, is to get scared, to be overwhelmed by reverence, and to make mistakes you’d never usually make. Giulio Pellizzari reminded us of this with his expression upon learning that the last Italian to win here was Vincenzo Nibali. As a contender for the overall victory, the weight of such a comparison must have been daunting. Pidcock’s presence carries a similar intimidation. But Dati wasn’t fazed and left him behind.
As we said, Dati is twenty years younger than Pozzovivo, but on the best day of his life – at least in cycling – he said something that the Lucanian could have said himself: “I’m so happy, I’m thrilled. I’ll reflect on this, of course, but when I get home, I’ll just work hard because the road doesn’t end here, and that’s how it should be: I want to reach the World Tour.”
He has the face of youth, and with it, the reserve and gaze of the young. He resembles the cyclist he dreamed of becoming when days like this weren’t even imaginable, and there were only sacrifices and everything that still wasn’t working. It’s the most important resemblance. Nothing more needs to be said.
photo: from TotA