Ravenna—Verona, 198km
Today Giro d’Italia kept things extremely simple: another pan-flat stage across the Po River Valley, from Ravenna to Verona. The past few days of racing have been ferocious, and tomorrow the Giro shall tackle what is arguably the toughest climb in cycling: the Monte Zoncolan. I begin writing this recap mid-stage (68km to go) for a three-man breakaway is up the road with only a gap of 3:38. In the Po Valley, the Nebraska of Italy with little chance of wind, we must seek out other entertaining content beyond the racing that shall not heat up until the final sprint. Which is actually good, because the Giro made a point that this day would serve as a tribute to a titan of literature. The stage began today in Ravenna, which in addition to being the home of the extraordinary Basilica of San Vitale, it is the place of death and burial of Dante Alighieri. The Giro has come to Ravenna this year as pilgrims of a sort to pay respects to this man, for it is the 700th anniversary of his death; the stage began at the Tomb of Dante. But why pay tribute to this man who has been dead for 700 years? Who was this Dante? As we wait for this sprint to send us home happy, let us revisit a story that is now indispensable from the Western psyche. Let us take a swig of some of the finest high culture. Let us pay tribute to the Italian who wrote the greatest literary work in Italian and medieval history.
Most will have heard some reference in high school or college to Dante’s Inferno. This is the Dante Alighieri we are praising today on the Giro. But of course, the Inferno is only the first third of Dante’s magnum opus: The Divine Comedy. The “Comedy” part of the title only comes from the ancient tradition that if the work does not have a tragic ending, then it must be comedy with some sort of happy ending. The “Divine” part comes from what this is a journey though. Yes, yes, all have heard some strange references about Dante’s trip down, down the circles of Hell in the Inferno seeing mythical, historical, and contemporary figures along with a slew vividly described wicked monsters. But the Comedy end not at the last bottom circle of icy-frozen immutable Hell. The journey continues into the second third of the Comedy: Purgatorio. Still escorted by faithful Virgil, the epic poet of Aeneid fame, Dante must climb Mt. Purgatory. O! Is not Dante not onto something when he compares the path to righteousness like a struggling ascent to a mountaintop? Surely, we cycling fans can all relate to that whether we know it or not. And at the top of Mt. Purgatory? Yes, the gateway to the Heavens, to Paradiso—the last third of the Divine Comedy. Ah! In Paradiso we are treated to many absolutely wonderful tales, conversations, and discourses with a multitude of saintly men and women. Ah! For seven centuries, this work has been treasured by not just Italians, but all mankind. Not only is it devastatingly effective on a theological front, the poetry itself is an unrivaled feast to any lover of literature. Dante’s Comedy is widely considered one of the greatest literary works in human history, a true cultural pinnacle right up there with Michelangelo’s David. And most dear to my heart, it is a proper epic to be counted alongside the Iliad, Beowulf, The Lord of the Rings, and the Grand Tours of Cycling.
Dante Alighieri was a Tuscan, born and raised in 13th Century Florence. He was part of a noble Florentine family that descended back from the Romans. He was one of those Renaissance Men before the Renaissance began—in fact it was thanks to works like Dante’s the Renaissance would begin in Florence a century later. In addition to getting his hand dirty in the ruthless Florentine politics, he was a student of history and the Classics, he tried his hand as a pharmacist, and of course he became an accomplished poet. So accomplished across a range of fields, Dante was self-admittedly not the most humble of men. When he visits the circle of the Prideful in Purgatorio, he predicts—even accepts—when he comes back after life: it is in this circle he shall have to spend the most time in redemptive labor. There is an early scene in the Inferno where Dante goes on to meet five of the great poets of the Classical Greco-Roman world. Already accompanied by Virgil (the greatest of Roman poets), Dante meets Homer (yes, the greatest of the Greeks), Horace, Ovid, and Lucan. To quote from Mark Musa’s translation:
And after they had talked awhile together,
they turned and with a gesture welcomed me,
and at that sign I saw my master smile.
Greater honor still they deigned to grant me:
They welcomed me as one of their own group,
So that I numbered sixth among such minds.
Do you see what Dante is doing here? Did I not say he knew he was not too humble? Yes, here he is numbering himself an equal amongst the greatest Classical poets of old. Ah! But here is the real testament to the man: remarkably, in this moment he is actually still under-selling himself. Yes, yes, ask any literary scholar who has read the original works of all these men and surely they will tell you: Lucan? Ovid? Horace? These poets cannot hold a candle to the great Dante! Yes, yes, Dante only numbered himself among the top six, but most would say he is in the top three with Homer and Shakespeare for all-time greatest European poets.
Yet despite all of Dante’s accomplishments disaster struck in 1302, when he was exiled upon pain of death from his native Florence after being unjustly framed in a political scandal. His life was in danger, his property was confiscated, and it was difficult for him to contact his family. He spent the rest of his life wandering in exile. Unlike other political exiles before him who rose violent rebellion and civil war among the political factions, Dante stepped away from it all. It was in his exile that he produced the described Divine Comedy. Instead of destructively bland and routine civil war, Dante simultaneously produced a literary masterpiece and a roadmap for the soul. But instead of the Classic, traditional, affluent, gravitas, high Latin Dante wrote the Comedy in the vernacular; he wrote in his native Tuscan dialect. Because his work became so pervasive and accessible throughout all of Italy, when it became time to standardize the language at Italy’s unification, it was Dante’s Tuscan dialect that would become the official modern-day Italian. Still today in all Italian schools, Dante is what all literature classes progress towards. Yes, yes, Dante Alighieri—for seven centuries—has been unifying Italians much in the same way as our beloved Giro d’Italia does today. We should praise the Giro organizers for fitting such tributes as this into their route.
Alas! Dante never returned to his native Florence, his exiled wanderings came to an end soon after the Comedy’s completion in Ravenna where Stage 12 of the Giro began today. I am not sure what to say to those who tuned in today to talk about cycling, because the content of the stage really was rather unremarkable. Perhaps the organizers wanted us to lyrically wax and muse on Dante. Perhaps they wanted the commentators of the broadcasts to recite excerpts from the Inferno to accompany the uneventful procession of the peloton to the finish in Verona. In my medium, that is what I have done today. But to append this tribute with some relevant content from the modern-day sporting epics, the sprint into Verona was a rewarding view.
After 13 second-places on Giro stages—including one relegation from first place—Giacomo Nizzolo (Qhubeka Assos) finally took his first Giro stage win. The sprint was a simple dead-straight false-flat uphill drag. One of the Jumbo-Visma lead out men, Edoardo Affini, in the final hundreds of meters found himself with a small gap off the front and he went for broke. He tried to ambush all the sprinters and steal a march. And only one man was able to deny him: this heroic Giacomo Nizzolo with the European Champion’s Jersey. He had to scramble and launch his sprint from very far out, but he had the speed to hawk down Affini and come around. He came around cleanly and dominantly—no photo was needed. “Nizzolo, Nizzolo, Nizzolo,” the announcer shouted as he came across the line in victory. Finally, finally he has the win he has been chasing his whole career—a stage of his beloved home Grand Tour. Perhaps if Dante were alive today, he could effortlessly bust out a Giro Comedy on a weekend. He would conserve with all the Italian cycling greats: Coppi, Bartali, Girardengo, Binda, Magni, Gimondi, Moser, Cipollini, and Pantani. But perhaps, Giacomo, your more modest tale with such a rewarding ending would make for a great unlooked for interlude as so often come up in the Divine Comedy. Yes, yes, Nizzolo’s story of unburdening himself of the record of most second-places without ever taking a win—such a tale belongs in a happy-ending comedy.
Cycling Odysseys 