Rovereto—Stradella, 231km
It was the last and longest transition day on the 2021 Giro d’Italia. The stage was 231km and finished in the south of the Lombardy region. Yes, yes, south Lombardy. We now not too far off from Milan where the Giro shall finish, and not far off from Turin where the race began a lifetime ago. And yes, southern Lombardy is in that Nebraska-flat Po River Valley…yes, this is the fourth time this Giro we have crossed the plain. But, but, for this last transition stage a few hills and lumps were thrown in for the finale. With two mountain stages and the final time trial still ahead, the GC teams wanted nothing to do with this tricky finale. Thus, the day had “breakaway” written all over it. It was the usual fierce fight for the breakaway, but once it was away only 19 men were left in the running for the stage win. The peloton would slog their way through the long day and save all of their powder finishing 20 minutes behind the gunslingers in the breakaway up front.
Yes, the breakaway consisted of 19 men, a few of the teams like Androni Giocattoli and Team DSM had numbers with three men each. Surely they and many other teams came with a plan for how to execute a tactical masterpiece to win this stage. But no one’s plans would start before 35km remaining, because it was simply pan flat until then: all rode tempo and did a fair contribution. In the final 35km, there were four sizable and beautiful Lombard hills to be tackled—one of them was classified as a Category4 climb, and the others could have been too. As the break hit 30km to go, the initial attacks began. Two or three clipped off the front, a team with numbers clawed them back into the fold. Instantly, someone else would counterattack. Then minutes later they too would be brought back. Ah! Ah! I was daring enough to attempt to write all of these moves down, but with still 27km to go, I figured this was going to become unruly chronicling if this continued to the line. And then my fears dissipated.
As soon as yet another pair of escapees were reeled in, the Frenchman Remi Cavagna (Deceuninck-Quickstep) smashed the metaphorical gas pedal harder than anyone has done this Giro. The attack was in no way subtle, but no one, no one, had a prayer to be able to say with him. Remi Cavagna, on the move, hunting yet another solo Grand Tour stage win. We have seen him take a brilliant stage at the Tour of California in such a matter, we saw an even more thrilling showing at the Vuelta, now it was time to grace the Italians with such a performance. What obviously must also be stated for those unfamiliar, in recent years Remi Cavagna has proved to be a Top Five Time Triallist in the world. EF’s Alberto Bettiol and DSM’s Nicholas Roche were looking strong this day, and mixing it up in all those initial attacks; not Cavagna. Cavagna had one simple plan to win this stage. No messing around shotgunning attacks and hoping to whittle and shed down the breakaway in ones and twos. No, Cavagna had only one bullet to use. No plastering shotguns, only a powerful well-aimed sniper rifle. He attacked on that first of the four hills, and made sure he was solo so that he could do a makeshift time trial alone and at his “leisure”—in the loosest of senses. Cavagna has been nicknamed the TGV of Clermont Ferrand. Clermont Ferrand is his hometown in central France, a TGV is one of those sleek supremely fast passenger bullet-train locomotives. Ole! Ole! The way this Cavagna flew away, ah! surely he is aptly nick-named. Within 3km he had a solid 20-second lead. As I saw him launch and pry open such a gap, I figured the plot of the day was already done and dusted, so long as Cavagna did not crash. But this was by no means assured. This TGV of Clermont Ferrand seemed to seek out every risk possible. The roads were pristine, but narrow and twisting in between the green Lombard vineyards being kissed by the sun. It would have been picturesque scenery to bask in, but instead we were forced to hold our breath every time Cavagna threw himself at breakneck speed into another corner. With 16km to go, his lead had increased to 28 seconds on the chasers, despite his rivals actually cooperating and working together to chase him down. So why was he taking so many risks, why was he throwing himself so recklessly around all the corners?
Yes, yes, usually part of the fun of the finale of breakaway transition stages is to see the lesser-known riders play tactical games in combination with whatever strength they had left—much as we saw on the Game Theory Stage 12 breakaway day—but it had seemed today Cavagna had thrown tactics out the window, and he would win with just brute strength. The TGV of Clermont Ferrand was away flying to the finish and would not be caught. Truly, I tell you, I was extremely close to begin looking at the coming mountain stage profiles indepth-ly. I was going to prepare some musings about the special character of what traditionally is and always should be a mighty tail-stinging third week of the Giro d’Italia. But on that third of four hills, the time gaps were coming back in: this stage was not done and dusted. Yes, yes, the reasons for TGV Cavagna’s risk takings were becoming clear. There was a Cowboy amongst the pack.
As stated, some of what remained of the early day breakaway had been cobbling together a damage-controlling chase, but they were not making any inroads on Remi Cavagna out front. That is all of sudden until this third of four hills. On that hill, in the form of life, EF’s Alberto Bettiol broke away from his chasing companions to hunt down Cavagna alone. Alberto Bettiol is an Italian, but in recent years he has labeled himself as a man of the Northern Classics when he won the Tour of Flanders in 2019. But here he has been for weeks in subjective competition for most valuable domestique at this Giro d’Italia. Day in and day out he has been by the side of team leader Hugh Carthy supporting his GC pursuits. Never, never, before has Bettiol looked so strong in not only the mountains, but even the highest of mountains. Yes, yes, it was he who did the lion’s-share of peloton-shedding in the savage winter-weather on the slopes to the Passo Giau. It was he who nursed Hugh Carthy up the Sega di Ala climb yesterday—in the same way Lieutenant Dan-i Martinez did for Ineos team leader Egan Bernal. Ah! Ah! The Northern Cobbled Classics men are about as bulky as they come in cycling, yet still Bettiol rode that entire hell-of-a-climb up the Sega di Ala by skinny and lanky Hugh Carthy’s side. Flying form. Truly, he is on flying form. There is no other explanation. And now today, on what is likely his last opportunity of his home Grand Tour, he would make the most of his one chance before tomorrow he goes back to super-domestique duties for Hugh. Surely, I thought he had squandered his chance, already done too much, when he followed and tried to make every move from the initial attacks. But I was wrong, today Alberto Bettiol was a chiseled Cowboy. He had, but two weapons or tools of any sort: a shotgun and his trusty lasso. It was time for Alberto Bettiol the Cowboy to wrangle back Remi Cavagna the TGV of Clermont Ferrand.
At the crest of the third climb of the four hills, Bettiol was within 15 seconds of Cavagna. Both blazed like demons down the descent. Ah! Ah! Only one thing was in their minds, in that moment it was their only pursuit: a stage of the Giro. Neither had one, both were willing to give all to claim it. To see frantic chases such as these is a peak of sport. The rest of the world is paused, all that matters is what shall happen today in southern Lombardy after over 200km of boring flat. Alberto Bettiol was not just an Italian eager to win a stage of his home Grand Tour. No! No! Every fiber of his being was willing himself forward in pursuit of this one goal, on the only day he could spare to be away from his leader’s side. He was beyond pinging-on-great-form, ah! ah! to squander it would be the heartbreak of heartbreaks. Today, today, he was the Cowboy in pursuit of subduing a bovine specimen with the power of a locomotive. Meanwhile, Remi Cavagna the TGV in front was doing the same tunnel-vision goal-channeling endeavor, in the Zone all humans are when they do things greater than themselves. He was not trying to just hold off the chasers to add another great result that shall increase the value of his next contract. No! No! He was trying to outrun a tsunami! He was trying to stave off the charging bulls behind. He was being hunted by the wiliest and strongest of Cowboys. He was trying to warp space and time and will the finish line closer to himself.
But the race was not even between just these two men whose whole beings were exceedingly greater than the sum of their parts this day. Though Alberto Bettiol had distanced the chasers on the climb, and had descended like a madman, still a few men also willed themselves forward thinking in this same tunnel-vision only of the stage win. One man managed to bridge to Cowboy Bettiol, the DSM Irishman Nicholas Roche—son of the great Stephen. With 10km to go, Roche caught Bettiol. Completely undeterred, Bettiol was actually glad to have an ally for the next flat kilomters to help him pursue and maybe even wrangle the superior time-trialing TGV Cavagna. On those next few flat kilometers Cavagna edged out a few more seconds’ lead on Bettiol and Roche working in tandem; the TGV of Clermont Ferrand wanted this stage win O! so very much. But one more hill remained, the fourth of four. Alberto Bettiol the Cowboy had chopped Remi Cavagna’s lead in half on the last hill, how much did he have left for this one?
Very much! With 7.5km to go, the three men and the other close chasers behind were all climbing with their greatest of strengths, but once again Bettiol proved the best among them. Ah! Ah! He could have shotgunned 100 attacks today, his legs were stuffed with three billion bucks, no clay pigeon in the world could outfox him. Nicholas Roche, a leaner man which is better for when the road pitches up, was once again dropped by this Cowboy, Alberto Bettiol. With 7.2km to go, Bettiol could see his target Cavagna—they were within the same motorcycle camera view. Ah! Ah! At last, it was time for Alberto Bettiol to latch onto a TGV at high speeds. Finally it was time to break out his secondary weapon, the quintessential item of all Cowboys: the Lasso. Already long ago the knot was tied. He had unlimited cache of shotgun-shell attacks for the day—his legs really were just that good—but his beloved Lasso he still reserved for the most solemn of situations: never before had he tried to subdue a 20th Century locomotive. Bettiol had Cavagna the TGV in his sights, and he hurled his metaphorical Lasso. Around the nose of the sleek TGV it caught and tightened, Bettiol reeled Cavagna in. Cavagna, Cavagna just could not escape this shotgunning and lassoing Cowboy on these climbs. With 6.8km to go, Bettiol was firmly onto Cavagna’s wheel. It was the Italian versus the Frenchman today, two of the greatest of great cycling nations. Almost to the top of the climb were they, but not yet. Bettiol came to the front of the pair to continue driving his relentless pace. How would this all play out? What would be the strategy for each of them? Who does one back in a sprint if it were to come down to it? As the scenarios raced through our heads, within seconds:
SMACK!
Remi Cavagna the TGV of Clermont Ferrand had blown a gasket, or perhaps a dozen. Ah! Ah! His energy was sapped. His body wreathed and writhed in pain. He had reached his physical limit and he could do no more. He was subdued and surely to be hog-tied. He pedaled squares, Roche behind flew past him still vainly hoping against hope to catch Bettiol again up ahead. But Cavagna was done, and reality was coming back to him. He was in Italy, he would not win the stage, a stronger man had roped him to the ground. That Cowboy would take the day. Cavagna the TGV had given his all, but it was not enough. It has been a long Giro, but the TGV shall have to try again in Sunday’s final day Time Trial in his very last opportunity if he has the strengthen. Today, today his one-bullet powerful sniper-rifle attack was not powerful enough. So strong was the shotgun-attacking Alberto Bettiol the Cowboy this day, none could out distance him. Just as a great basketball player can score on you every which way, in such a class was Bettiol today. It did not matter how: Come hell or high water, victory could not be denied to Alberto Bettiol, wrangler of trains. He crested the climb with over 15 seconds on Nicholas Roche and less than six kilometers to go. He floored down the descent and did not let up until the final hundreds of meters. Roche could not put any more dent into his lead, Bettiol won by over a dozen seconds and was able to post up and cheer with the crowd as he crossed the line. To say he cheered was an understatement, he looked like a top Gladiator having emerged unscathed from a great melee out numbered 20 to 1. All the other breakaway opponents trickled in across the line in tired defeat as if they had just been branded by this illustrious Cowboy.
It was another blinder played by the Giro, for such a long and flat profile this was the best show they could have asked for. For Alberto Bettiol, he has taken a deserved win. He has worked hard for Hugh Carthy and he shall again tomorrow, but today it was endearingly satisfying to see him gain glory for himself on his only opportunity. Ah! ah! Alberto Bettiol, how does it feel to chase down every attack like cattle on the ranch? How does it feel to pepper 10,000 clay pigeon into oblivion with the spray of shotgun pellets? How does it feel to lasso and wrestle a locomotive into the ground? How does it feel to achieve the goal every cell in your body fought to achieve for 230km? You have been one of the selfless stars of this Giro, it has not gone unnoticed; today was only the culmination of it all for you. Yes, yes, surely you shall never forget the day, over the course of Four Hills: you, the shotgunning Cowboy, wrangled the Giro d’Italia into submission.
Cycling Odysseys 