For 47 times, he was Mr. Giro d'Italia. The first three times he directed it with Armando Cougnet, editor-in-chief of Gazzetta dello Sport, Cycling section, who on the day of his hiring went from home to the newspaper by bicycle - the beauty was that he lived in Reggio Emilia and the newspaper was based in Milan. The other 44 times he governed it alone, although in the last years he was valiantly supported by Carmine Castellano, a lawyer, who however preferred to go by car from his native Sorrento to adopted Milan.

So, every time the Giro d'Italia presentation is announced (tomorrow, finally, in Rome), it is arithmetic (and also dutiful, and also obvious, and also historical) to think back to Vincenzo Torriani. Tyrannical, despotic, irascible, but cunning, inventive, brilliant. Adrenaline-fueled, hot-tempered, bold, he gave his best under pressure. That cigarette, that raincoat, that half-bust. The hoarse voice, the fierce gaze, the quick response. Skills honed in times when computers and mobile phones, internet and wifi did not exist, but with keen eyes and handshakes, given words and mutual favors. When it was essential to make instant decisions, devise immediate solutions. A realm made of connections, and also of cynicism.

Three years ago, Sergio Giuntini wrote "Vincenzo Torriani and the Giro's Italy" for Prospero Editore (400 pages, 19 euros, with a preface by Sergio Meda). A book that begins in Novate Milanese, in a courtyard called the ouiliè, because there Torriani's ancestors had an oil mill selling oils, wines, and grains, and concludes in Milan on Via Mauro Macchi, where he was extinguished by Alzheimer's. Few kilometers as the crow flies, but in the path of his almost 78 years, equivalent to about forty world tours drawing labyrinths from Stelvio to Etna, from Vatican City to Venice, from Elba Island to Lago Laceno, among silent roads and triumphant avenues, Dolomite hairpins and parade grounds, with Montanelli and Fossati, Zavoli and Raschi, from Coppi and Bartali to Merckx and Indurain. The history of cycling and the history of Italy.

But Giuntini gives us much more. As a historian, he digs and explores, rummages and finds. The two times Torriani was a candidate for the Chamber of Deputies, always for the Christian Democracy, both times rejected, indeed, "trombato". The time Torriani - his lead car had hit and killed two children - was seen crying by Raschi. The time Torriani offered one hundred bicycles to Pope Paul VI to be given to poor children. The time Torriani made the race pass through Erto, overwhelmed by the Vajont tragedy, where a group of fans had displayed the sign "The survivors greet the Giro". The time Torriani, in a dispute with the Italian Cycling Federation, was saved by a dissident, Dante Garioni, whom he would promote from Alfa Romeo worker to Salvarani representative and finally to deputy director of the Giro d'Italia. The time Torriani participated in a meeting in a Milanese restaurant to discuss the "moral recovery" of Coppi, and an apartment had already been identified (in Milan - by coincidence - on Via Napo Torriani, no relation), where the Champion could live without the White Lady.

Torriani held all the cards. Teams and riders obeyed. Maybe grumbling, maybe complaining, maybe huffing, but they obeyed. The only transgression, collective, liberating, perfectly understandable, was that "Torriani pays" with which the domestiques, in search of any drink, settled accounts with stolen bartenders, robbed cellarmen, and desperate innkeepers.