Fallen Angel by William Fotheringham Read Free Book Online Page A

even more unknown name …’ Another commentator recalled spectators yelling ‘Isn’t that the skinny guy who rides for the green rats?’ At the finish, he took over the pink jersey of race leader amid general astonishment.
    Coppi was as shocked as anyone else. The only time he had spoken about wearing the pink jersey was as a joke, shared with his roommate Mario Ricci. Ricci had noticed that his young team-mate only wore black socks and asked him why. Coppi replied that as an independent he could not afford white ones, which got dirty far more quickly and were harder to wash. ‘We joked that when he won the pink jersey, he would get white socks to go with it.’
    As the Dolomites approached, Coppi grew stronger and Bartali’s strength declined. The Legnano leader began to mutter about quitting the race but was told that his public image would be better served by staying where he was and assisting his young, inexperienced team-mate. He and Pavesi also had in mind that a three-week Tour was a test of stamina better suited to the more mature man. Debutants who are given the unaccustomed responsibility of leading a major Tour tend not to be up to the pressure, and, although Bartali washalf an hour behind, there was still a strong chance that the youngster would not be able to make it to Milan without falling apart.
    Coppi’s crisis came on the stage to Pieve di Cadore in the Alps, when he made two elementary errors: firstly, eating too much at once, secondly, stopping for a moment. He had a stomachful of chicken sandwich when a rival, Vicini, attacked at the feeding station. He panicked. ‘Trembling, I began to chase him,’ he wrote. ‘These were terrible moments – the cars in the caravan had created a dreadful traffic jam on the road and got in the way of the chase. And the chicken I had eaten was weighing on my stomach like a brick.’ By the next mountain pass, the Col de Mauria, he had caught up with Vicini, but he was already exhausted; as the leaders tackled the climb, he was left behind.
    â€˜Overcome with sickness, I had to stop by the ditch, vomiting up all the food that I had tried to get down. One by one, all my fellow competitors overtook me as, bent double with sickness, unaware of what was going on, my eyes swimming, I barely realised that I was losing the pink jersey.’ It was Bartali who saved the youth. Their roles had been reversed: it was the man who had begun the race as leader who performed the loyal team-mate’s duties that Coppi had been hired to carry out for him. By a lucky coincidence, the older man had been delayed by a series of punctures. ‘He stopped next to me … put his arm around my shivering shoulders and passed me a bottle of water. As I lay on the grass and tried to recover, Gino Bartali, the great Gino Bartali, gently began to lecture me, to persuade me that I should go on and win.’
    The pink jersey was saved, but next day came the toughest mountain stage of the entire race, finishing in the town of Ortisei; only 110 kilometres long, it included three massive climbs, the Falzarego, Pordoi and Sella. With only a rest dayand two more days’ racing to follow before the finish, this was where the race would be decided. To make sure his riders would have the extra kick they needed, Pavesi set out the night before and drove up both the first two passes. In a café at the top of the Falzarego he provided the café owner with two bottles and told him to fill them with coffee and hand them to the first two riders over the pass. ‘How do you know they will be your riders?’ asked the proprietor. ‘One will be wearing red, white and green [Italian national champion, the jersey worn by Bartali] and the other will be in pink,’ answered the manager.
    He was correct in his prediction that Coppi and Bartali would ride the stage together, but the precise account of what happened depends on the point of view: