
The day he could finally race his own race – Giro della provincia di Reggio Calabria, 1950 – and took the lead on the climb to summit among the first and play his cards in the sprint, Fausto Coppi overtook him at double speed in a hairpin turn saying "come on, let's go, that guy has a flat tire", "that guy" was Gino Bartali, but he deflated, crumbled, and thus released the last breath in his throat: "To hell with you and Gino".
Renzo Zanazzi, from Mantua then immediately Milan, born in 1924, would have turned 101 on April 5th. He will turn 101 anyway, in the heart and legs of those volunteers who, led by Paolo Tagliacarne from Turbolento, will tackle the "Zanazzi Roads" from Milan, one of the numerous routes designed by Tagliacarne and labeled as "Silent Roads": Zanazzi's route (62 km road), the quirky route (62 km gravel), Zanazzi's 90 (90 km road), Zanazzi's 100 (100 km road) and Naviglian Rhapsody (140 km road). And on Saturday, April 5th "we'll meet – promises Tagliacarne – to pedal remembering and remember by pedaling". For more information https://turbolento.net/le-strade-di-zanazzi/
Renzo, what a character, and what nostalgia. There's not a day that doesn't hit me, scold me, brush past me, or tear a laugh from me. To hell with it. Popular background, socialist heart, domestique legs but champion's mind, Renzo had a destiny as round as two perfectly centered wheels. He dominated among juniors, so much so that he and his younger brother Valeriano would split races and prizes, among amateurs he won, in sprints and breakaways, on road and in cross, among partisans he distinguished himself, always on cycling missions, and turned professional at the end of 1945. He served Gino Bartali in Legnano, Coppi in the national team, Fiorenzo Magni in Ganna, and then, in races, also Koblet, helping him win the pink jersey in 1950. Few but good victories (with a Giro d'Italia stage win in 1946 and two in 1947, with three days in the pink jersey in 1947), and endless stories, accounts, behind-the-scenes tales. When he flew in an American-style race paired with Coppi, wearing the world champion's jersey. When sports director Eberardo Pavesi explained that to go fast, one must forget about sex. When after a Giro victory he received a telegram from the boss congratulating him on the success and then ordering him not to win again, otherwise he would be fired. When after World War II they would cross rivers on foot because bridges had collapsed under bombs and sleep in hotels without running water, heavily populated by fleas.
Zanazzi was cycling with bread and water, ups and downs, eat and drink, all out, to the death. And after stopping racing at the end of 1952, he continued to live, with absolute loyalty, his marriage to the bicycle: as an amateur, as a lover, as an ambassador, as a witness, as a storyteller. Almost until the threshold of 90 years. The bicycle was his companion, his medicine, his road, indeed, his five roads, his life. And also ours.
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