They have never met before, he and this monstrous Alpine pass. Today the Galibier even a persistent rain scratches it and climbing for 18 km to the top, at 2645 meters, is an even tougher mission. Outside it would be the July 27, 1998but it doesn’t seem like it. Tour de France, fifteenth stage: Grenoble-Les Deux Alpes, a maze of cyanide hairpin bends for the already worn out calves of the caravan. If you then add that the race is led by someone who looks like a cyborg, that is Jan Ullrich, you almost wonder who makes you do it, to squeeze you. Yet certain feats are born precisely from sporting desperation. And remembering them now, with a new Tour that has just started, is even more good for the heart.
Marco Pantani he knows that at the start he is 3’01” behind his invulnerable rival, but he is determined not to give in to despair. This could be the stage that sucks away all his last energy, or the fast track to an unthinkable redemption. He has just won the Giro and has also had the satisfaction of an intermediate success, down here. His belly could therefore be close to saturation, if one were a normal guy. But he pedals outside these perimeters.
Even though it is the first time he has attempted to tame the treacherous French hill, he has studied the route thoroughly. He knows its folds and nuances. He knows that the steepest section awaits him in the last 10 km, when the gradient categorically refuses to drop below 8-9%. At the start, he grips the handlebars tightly and, behind the lenses of his iconic fluorescent yellow frame, gathers the necessary mental energy. To unseat Ullrich and rise to the rank of the new chansonnier of the Tour, a memorable performance would be needed.
There are two cases, as often happens in life. He could decide to stay in the wake, clinging to the leading group until the last and steepest stretch, the one where all the energy contained in his body explodes, standing on the pedals, towards glory. Or, but it’s riskier, leave on a solitary escape from far away, taking the feudal ruler from Rostock off guard: by choosing this option he could explode in the middle of the attempt. If there is any doubt about the strategy he will adopt, it is almost immediately dispelled. Marco doesn’t flirt with half measures. If he wants something, he chooses to go and get it.
So one starts surreal 50km long escapehis body soaked with sweat and rain, his face plastered with the astonishment of the group that sees him break away so early, the indignation of Ullrich who thought he was untouchable, and instead he has to pedal harder. But no one can keep up with the pirate. Not even Jan, who surprisingly accumulates a painful delay. Pantani climbs onto the pedals amidst the incredulity of the television commentators, who immediately express their perplexity, fearing the risk that he could deflate in the middle of the attempt, that his is an act of cycling arrogance that he is destined to pay dearly for.
Instead Marco leaves and never stops. He gets to the end, triumphing with about a minute and a half over Massi and Escartin, who heroically try to maintain a glimmer of dignity.
The one that confuses Ullrich, who arrives trudging nine minutes later, his face contorted in a mask of authentic suffering, the wide-open pupils of someone who seems to have seen a specter passing before him. The antechamber of the yellow jersey is here, along with a memorable lesson: in the crests of life you have to get up on the pedals.