Racing in Italia

Lombardia could arguably be considered as the epicentre of amateur cycle racing worldwide, and if you happened to be a sprinter there was nothing more in the world you could wish for. Here the roads were paved in gold, the sun shone all season long, and week after week 100 plus bike riders would be on the start line beside me, yes the land of milk and honey.

Last season I had raced, but after signing for Ceramica Lemer for the 2009 season, I didn’t race, I really raced. Ceramica Lemer was based in Buscate, home of the legendary Giuseppe Saronni, the 1982 World professional road champion, but other than this fact, Buscate seemed to have little else going for it.

From March through to October I would spend every Sunday driving across Milan to race on this side of the city, here the racing was far more intense and the fields were far larger than I had been used to last season, where I had raced closer to our home in Crema.

Living here in Italy, my heritage laid claim to the Italian blood that flowed through my veins, but it seemed that there could be no claim to Lombardian sprinters blood. Fast twitch fibers it seemed were not part of my genetic make up, and this made Lombardia a very very difficult place to race.

My Italian language skills were coming together as slowly as my sprint, however I quickly learned a few vital words, Fuga; there never was one, Volata; there always was one, and Gregario; I would quickly become one.

Fuga; The Breakaway.

The only chance I had in this sprinters paradise was to get into a breakaway and hope that break away would succeed. That required a 100 percent effort, not only by me, but also by my break away companions. Too many times the breakaway would fail through a frustrating lack of co operation within the group, or worse we would be caught within kilometers of the finish, 5km to go in Galliate, 1km from the line in Liscate and finally in Corbetta we succeeded, however my better judgement was clouded by my enthusiasm and I crossed the line 7th.

Volata; The Sprint.

Lombardia must be the home of the sprinter, here they are fast, they are fearless and they are very good. Given that all the crack teams have at least one crack sprinter, it is in the interests of most teams to chase down the fuga so the finale would end in a volata. Francesco Gionfredo, former World Champion and hell sprinter, Frank was good, very good and when it came to the volata he was king, come August he had notched up 11 wins and 9 second places.

Gregario; or as the French say Domestique.

The gregario is the guy that goes to the front of the race and rides as hard as he can to bring back the fuga, so it ends in another bloody Volata.

Frank was our Capo and it was my job to make sure if I wasn't in the fuga, there sure as hell wasn't one come a kilometer to go leading into the volata. Only then my work as a gregario was done for the day.

Sunday's in Italia, what a brilliant time of the week, and whats more if we still had the legs after racing on a Sunday we could race again on Monday.

Despite the fact at 47 I was unlikely to ever become a sprinter, Italia was one hell of a place to live and race.

A new season beckons

The season rolled to a close here in the land of milk and honey. After a fantastic mid season, the final two races were just horrible. Broken spokes, bunch sprints of 100 up, and crashes; I just wanted that season to finally end.

I was a broken man, the season had been long and hard and my first maintaining that sort of intensity in a long long time.

My intention had been to pack up for the year a fortnight earlier, however I was just desperate to find a new ride for 2009. Team Aker, the glamour boys of the Lombardian plains were showing moderate, if slightly disinterested interest. They were cool, so cool, that they strutted around race sign on each week. Angelo Denti was there star, and he had even started to acknowledge me after I had finished in the breakaway with him several times. This was the team for me, and my sources, Guiseppe, had told me Angelo was keen to ride with me.

The last race of the year, we cornered Angelo in the bar and over post race espresso exchanged telephone numbers. He would talk with Mr Beschi, Aker Team manager.

Also in the bar in Castel Saint Angelo that afternoon, was Mr Gianfredo, and he sought us out, Felix, Nicky and my ever faithful team manager,Guiseppe. Mr Gianfredo and team Lamer Ceramiche wanted me in 2009. Perhaps it was just vanity, but I could see myself in that white Aker kit. Angelo and I; we could strut together.

For my own piece of mind I wanted this tidied up before I left for New Zealand in a fortnights time. Guiseppe finally tracked down the elusive Mr Beschi, Aker team manager, at his home in Brescia. Well it turned out that bastard Beschi didn't want me for 2009. There would be not strutting with Angelo next summer, Aker would be kicking sand in my face instead.

Mr Francesco Gianfredo. There was something about this little rider from Paullo, he had the confidence of a champion and immediatley put things into place for 2009. I was in, and as soon as I returned from New Zealand he would organise a meeting with Mario, team manager of Ceramiche Lemer.

Well these boys turned out to be dead PRO, from the first night dinner meeting in their local trattoria, to the delivery of my perfectly fitting Nalini team kit. Mario had it all in hand.

I attended the Lemer team presentation for 2009, with my ever faithful 11 year old interpreter at my side, I shook hands with the legendary Guiseppe Saronni on the stage while being presented as the new rider for the forth coming season, all of a sudden those bastards down at Aker didn't look so bloody smart after all.

Francesco Gianfredo, the quiet man from Paullo had reason to be so confident, my new team mate had been the amateur veteran world champion in 2007 and had 17 wins to his palmares for 2008.

If there was sand to be kicked this summer, it was Frank and I that would be doing the kicking.