Milan-Sanremo, the first edition, Sunday, April 14, 1907. The gathering at 3:30 AM at Conca Fallata. 33 out of 62 registered riders respond to the call. The start at 5:18, 48 minutes behind schedule. The starter is Giuseppe Vigorelli, former track cyclist, former councilor, industrialist, who would have designed the velodrome on Via Arona. The weather is awful: dark, cold, rain, sleet.

In Pavia, at the first checkpoint, five Italians pass: Cuniolo, Ganna, Gerbi, Galetti, and Albini. In the second group, with the French, is Giovanni Rossignoli. They call him Baslot, the bowl of wine and soup. A Pavia native, he is welcomed with honors, tributes, applause, and cheers, despite the hour and weather. Who knows, maybe he gets emotional, certainly distracted, Baslot falls in the descent of Ponte Vecchio, just a few meters from home, on Via dei Mille. Maria, his mother, is waiting for him there. "Giuanìn, take the umbrella, it's raining!" his mother tells him. "Mama, hold it for me or you'll get wet," the son replies. A kiss and off he goes.

The umbrella is a historical case. This version belongs to a journalist of the time. Clemente Canepari contests it in his diary: "Romanticized chronicles", "Nothing more imaginative could have been born from a journalist's brain", "I can assure you that, having practically ridden elbow to elbow with Rossignoli for the first 60 kilometers, I didn't notice anything." Claudio Gregori, in his "The Novel of Baslòt" (Bolis, 2019), reveals: "Canepari's assurance, however, is gratuitous. In fact, Rossignoli fell in the descent of Ponte Coperto and Canepari slid in front of him with the French. He certainly was not present at Baslòt's rendezvous with his mother, a few meters later, while the journalist was there".

There is also another version, narrated by Stefano Domenichini (sdiario.com) in the story of Giuseppe Ticozzelli, the only one who ever played a football match with the azzurri national team (Italy-France 9-4 in 1920, arriving at the stadium, Sempione, by bicycle, 56 kilometers from home) and having participated in a Giro d'Italia (in 1926, independent, with the black starred jersey of Casale, his football team):

"Ticozzelli saw him for the first time in 1907, when he went to Pavia for the passing of Milan-Sanremo. Baslott (Domenichini writes it with two t's, ed.) was in a breakaway, under a rainstorm. At the height of Porta di Borgoratto, Tico saw a woman running towards the rider and handing him an umbrella. Baslott slowed down, opened the umbrella, and restarted with great vigor, with his simian, clumsy but effective style, made even more unsteady by the black rain cover that, between viscosity coefficient and bumps on the wet and muddy cobblestones, felt useless and lost, but present in that March moment. When, years later, Tico met Baslott, he asked him if that umbrella made it to the riviera. The cyclist became serious, lowered his chin and said: 'That woman was my mother. I had to wait three turns before throwing it away'".

Tomorrow rain is forecast. Some umbrellas will pop out. Don't extend them to the riders. Perhaps only Rossignoli would have accepted it. But from his mother.