Saturday, 1 pm: I am on the top of Valcava, the steepest climb of this new 'Giro di Lombardia' which, according to many experts, is probably harder than the ones of the previous years. The air is cold (there are about 5 degrees), but the sun is shining: not a typical Lombardy day, then. Still, many trees have already lost their leaves and this reminds me once again why the Giro di Lombardia is also known as Race of the Falling Leaves. Some old competitions are connected to the period of the year in which they're traditionally raced and this is true for important Classics like Milan-Sanremo ('la Primavera'), Paris-Tours and for the races of the North, which take place in the so-called 'Holy Week of Cycling'. The Tour of Lombardy unfortunately may lose its nickname next year, when it will be raced at the end of September. Give that this year on the last Sunday of September we had about 20°, I'm afraid that the so called 'Lombardy weather' (characterised by cold, rain and fog) will soon become a memory. Anyway.
The riders have just started the Valcava climb and I have enough time to think about all the things that have changed during this last, crazy season. Two riders have abandoned the peloton forever, another rider has spent 4 long months in a hospital. Some riders have had a year full of glory, some haven't. Still, one thing remains the same: Andy Schleck was second in a Grand Tour. Years pass, that placement remains.
After a short await, the first riders appear. Van Summeren is the first one: he's suffering and, as I see him pass, I think about all the things he's shared with us on a crazy day in April, when he won Paris-Roubaix and he proposed to his girlfriend. Arashiro watches the wheel of the rider in front of him and is probably wondering why he had to go on a breakaway. Pasqualon spits, Corioni looks tired: Valcava is a hard climb and the cold weather is not helping the riders. The soigneurs in a BMC car take a look at the riders at the front and so do the supporters. Someone screams, many people clap their hands, an old man tells the riders that the climb is almost over.
A few seconds later, the peloton arrives. Liquigas is pulling, I recognise Ballan just because of the screams of the man next to me. My mum and I recognise Lovkvist, my dad recognises Chris Anker Sorensen. I get a glimpse of Mollema and Sivstov and I think of HTC Highroad: Kanstantin is the only HTC rider who hasn't retired from the race yet and as I saw him ride by I think of the history of that glorious team.
A few seconds later, a Leopard Trek rider - is he Denifl? - rides right next to me and I think about all the problems that this team has had so far. Wouter's death in May, the lack of important victories, the merger with Radioshack... I also think about the fact that Mortensen and Denifl are off to Vacansoleil, whereas Lund is back to Saxo Bank and Fabian Wegmann has signed a contract with another team too. A strange year, for FabWee: his son was born in June, but that joyful event was shadowed by the thought of his roommate Wouter who, at the moment of his death, was awaiting the birth of his first child too.
All the riders in the peloton have already ridden past me as my mind goes back to the race. A QuickStep rider receives a sticky bottle from his team car, Tosatto works hard to get back to the main group. I see Nick Nuyens and I see a photographer taking a picture of Berard right in front of me. Wouter Mol is clearly exhausted and, as soon as he reaches the top of the climb, he turns his bike backwards and he stops: his season ends here, in Valcava, just like the one of many QuickStep riders and of a Liquigas rider who doesn't even bother reaching the top of the climb. The man in green in fact simply catches his rain jacket, puts it on and starts riding on the fast downhill road that directly leads to Lecco. A Movistar car drives up the climb as the smell of car brakes becomes almost unbearable. I think of Tondo and Soler and of this crazy cycling season once again.
Less than 10 minutes after the beginning of the show, the 'Fine Corsa' car arrives and puts an end to my cycling season 'live'. Two hours later, I watch Nibali trying to make a deed between Ghisallo and Lecco. Still, Vincenzo is unlucky: Rogers gives it all and, once he's run out of energy, Thomas Lovkvist sets a hellish pace at the front. Vincenzo gets caught a few kms before the beginning of the last climb. Lovkvist soon reaches the bottom of his energy tank too, just like his teammate Uran. A terrible strategy for Team Sky, just like for team Katiusha: they both had some of the strongest riders, they both let victory slip away.
As I think of this, Basso tries to make the difference on the Villa Vergano. Still, on the steepest part of the climb the strongest rider is Oliver Zaugg. The Swiss rider knows he has the form of his life and he knows he's attacked in the right point: he gives everything he has in order to get his first victory ever, he gives everything he has in order to exploit this extraordinary moment of his career. Oliver never looks back, he just keeps on pushing the pedals and telling himself that he can make it.
After a breathtaking solo ride, Zaugg arrives in Lecco: one curve, another curve, and then he sees the finish-line. Martin, Pozzovivo, Niemiec and Rodriguez are far from him, so Oliver can finally raise his arms and scream all his joy: I, Oliver Zaugg, a modest helper, have finally made it to the top of my sport.
After the finish-line the Swiss rider doesn't look particularly moved, probably because he still hasn't realised what has happened. Journalists want him to say something, he replies their questions in perfect Italian. On the podium, Oliver enjoys the crowd, the sun, the champagne, the trophy and the kisses of the miss: this is his moment, this is the fairy tale of the helper who finally becomes a champion - a fairy tale that cycling often offers to his supporters.
In the meanwhile, Italian journalists complain about Nibali. He shouldn't have attacked on the Ghisallo, he shouldn't have done that, he shouldn't have done this. Vincenzo tries to defend himself from the very same people who, a few kms earlier, seemed unable to stop praising him. Journalists criticise Liquigas, no one talks about Sky and Katiusha's terrible tactics: Lovkvist was amongst the strongest this afternoon, but he had to sacrifice himself in order to help (?) Uran (19th); on the other hand, Katiusha made a mess with Paolini's attacks on every single descent of the race.
But still, critics are useless now. The season is over, Oliver Zaugg has got the first victory of his career in the last race of the 2011 year. From tomorrow everyone will start thinking about the new Giro, about the Tour presentation, about the cycling market. Still, today is Oliver's day: he's raced as a champion, let him enjoy this triumph. Well done man!!
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