If you’re even a casual fan of bike racing you probably know about the three Grand Tours (Italy, France, Spain) and what a spectacle they are. For three weeks, the race, with its cyclists, support staff, officials, media, and multiple other entities roll around the country in a huge caravan that is unequal parts race, event and circus. Fans who, like myself, have never seen a race of this magnitude should be forgiven for thinking it’s all about the riders and the race. It’s not. It’s about the entertainment, whatever can be associated with the race, no matter how loosely, with the riders playing but one part in the production. In tandem are concerts, publicity events, a traveling expo, art exhibitions, city-wide parties, and any number of ways to part the public from their Euros. And each day it’s repeated in a new town. Grandissimo!
I digress here for a moment. The Giro d’Italia is often credited as being one of three major factors that helped unite the newly reformed republic from a collection of disparate regions into a (sort-of) single entity. The other two are gelato and scooters. Just kidding. The other two are actually the military and television. Basta! Enough of the history lessons.
We left work at 15.15 on Thursday to drive the 30 kilometers south along the coast to Porto Recanati hoping to navigate the traffic, road closures and crowds in time to catch some of Stage 12. In fact, efficiency was the word of the day and we arrived with time enough to spare to enjoy a gelato and watch the final 40 kilometers of the race on the big screen TV set-up on the podium.
While we watched and waited, the energy from the pink clad fans, live and loud narration of the race, a blaring DJ, and the on-site broadcast of the Rai 3 studio show featuring il grillo himself, former world champion Paulo Bettini made for a skin-tingling experience.
We took up places in the front row along the barriers about 50 meters past the finish line and had a perfect view of the break-away and grupetto the first time they came through to begin a 20 kilometer loop around the town prior to the final sprint for the stage. The crowd grew anxious when the big break containing several strong Italians got away in the last 12 kilometers and they went bananas when Filippo Pozzato, Italian national champion, won the stage giving Italy its first victory in this year’s edition of the race. Go here for a detailed stage report and race photos.
The riders disappear almost immediately after finishing, except for those involved in the podium presentations or who have media obligations.
We wandered around for a couple hours taking in all the associated distractions and amusements and within three hours of the stage finish it was difficult to tell the race had ever been there save for the pink decorations in all the shops and the last bits of trash being swept from the streets. It really was a fantastic experience, both as a passionate fan of professional racing and the riders as well as an enthralled participant in the spectacle.
On Friday I was looking through the race report photos on Cyclingnews.com. Turns out, I'm in one of them. But you have to squint. Really squint. In the lower-right, jutting out from above the rider's white helmet is a disemboweled hand holding a camera aloft. That's my hand and my camera!
On Saturday, Inter plays Bayern in the Champion’s League final. And that’s no joke. I’ll be watching it in Fabriano before going to a free Sinead O’Connor concert. Eh, it’s free. Why not?
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