Coppi was dead for over forty years when Carlos was born. Carlos’s mother had not been born yet, the woman who hugged him as soon as he crossed that finish line, who gave him so much kisses that it almost hurt his ears, and who didn’t ride in Almunecar yesterday because he had to go to Mallorca to see the son wearing the Spanish champion’s shirt. Ana Maria, who is the grandmother of the boy as well as the best Almunecar language teacher, was the one who was actually born. Dona Ana Maria is also aware of the fact that her grandson is becoming a star in feats like ‘Il campionissimo.
Carlos Rodriguez Cano has two victories as a professional. Two victories at postin, and two that are very similar. Distant attack to which only television and motorcycles can respond. A half-minute gap, and a relentless time trial to reach the finish line. The Tour of the Basque Country’s last line was at the garage ramp. He could barely lift his arm while balancing on the bike. Yesterday’s gave him the opportunity to celebrate, beat his chest and shout, Let’s go! He entered with his arms extended, fixing a photo to tell the story.
Carlos, 21 years old, has a thin, almost transparent body and long legs. His posture on the bike reminds me of Coppi. He holds his heron parallel to the ground and keeps his elbows open. . His victories, however exaggerated it may seem to be to compare a pipiolo to the first great champion of cycling, begin to resemble one another. They radiate beauty and a sense of superiority.
Almunecar’s 21-year-old winner won yesterday’s Spanish championship with overwhelming authority. The penultimate climb was his most difficult. He accelerated quickly without getting off the saddle, and in two corners he destroyed the chances of his followers. It was a joy from there to the end. He was determined to complete the remaining two kilometers of ascent.
Coppi lived by the motto, “The most amazing feat is the most crazy.” This is how Coppi wrote some of his most memorable feats. He suspended the law gravity once and floated to the top on the Izoard. Carlos must not know what I am talking about. His mother. Dona Ana Maria is not his mother. It’s enough to me to dream it, and that the kid wearing the orange Ineos jersey that I see at Salobrena on Sundays is closer to the myth of solo victories. “A solo man is the commander, his jersey’s white and his name is Fausto Coppi.” Don’t stop, Carlos, don’t stop.
