Champion of champions

I'm beginning to gather together quite a collection of books by British cycling journalist William Fotheringham, and for good reasons. In my humble opinion, there is no one better when it comes to capturing the real essence of such a wonderful sport.

The newest work of his to join my library is titled "Fallen Angel: The Passion of Fausto Coppi" (Yellow Jersey Press, 2009). The timing on the turning of the pages of this publication is quite fitting, given the fact that the great Italian bike racer died sixty-three years ago in early January.

Fotheringham is the best.

In a nutshell, Fausto Coppi was a professional road and track cyclist in the 1940s and 1950s. Along with securing a fistful of one-day races and Classics, just too numerous to mention, he also won the Giro d'Italia — five times — and the Tour de France — twice. In fact, on two occasions, he finished first in the Giro and Tour in the same year; the first person to do so in 1949. Among his other accomplishments, Coppi established a new world hour record in 1942 — traveling 28.4 miles in sixty minutes — and he was the world road champion in 1953. He was virtually unstoppable from 1949 to 1952.

While Fotheringham's book offers interesting background on the racing competition, it's the details concerning his life that are so fascinating: his growing up years in a tiny village in northern Italy; his experiences during the Second World War; his intense rivalry with fellow Italian Gino Bartali, their impact on cycling and how it helped lessen the misery of the post-war years; and the ultimate misstep and defining moment which rocked a nation — his relationship with the White Lady, his mistress.

It should be pointed out that Coppi — nicknamed il campionissimo (Champion of Champions) — was a God-like figure, both on and off the bike. That said, his influence as a top-flight cyclist had far-reaching recognition and was no less noteworthy. He was ahead of his time. Raphael Geminiani, a French bike racer and teammate of Coppi, was quoted in the book: "There is someone avant-garde in every field, and Coppi was the avant-garde of cycling. First, he got to know himself, how far he could go physically, then everything else followed that. Every cyclist since has been inspired by him. Nothing fundamental has been invented since Coppi."

Tragically, Fausto Coppi died at the age of 40, coming down with malaria following a trip to Africa that included sightseeing, big-game hunting, and some bike racing. The latter part of Fotheringham's excellently written 268-page book goes a long way in outlining the death — many claiming it was easily avoidable — of one of the greatest bicycle riders of all time and the resulting legend. That lives on to this very day.