We spend so much time discussing routes, tactics, strategies, nutrition, posture, materials, then just add a bit of wet cobblestones and the history of the Giro is turned upside down, especially a Giro lacking other obstacles. It's worth emphasizing this point: so far, the real selection has been made by falls, inaugurated with Landa, continued along the White Roads, this time with the carnage in Gorizia.

And so? And so this would be one more reason not to design such flabby routes, two and a half weeks of pure waiting, waiting for three mountain stages that might even be mutilated by bad weather (not-so-distant experiences).

Falls are a substantial part of the Giro's history, always have been, they are also cycling, but in this Giro they become even more incisive and decisive precisely because in the absence of sifting stages, one constantly races on the edge of seconds and centimeters. Like a house of cards that precariously stands, a gust of wind is enough, just moving one piece, and everything comes tumbling down. Unfortunately, here in Gorizia, Italy falls, the little Italy we had left, Ciccone and Tiberi, Ciccone more than Tiberi. Bad luck? Of course. A lot of bad luck.

However, in lamenting the unlucky, one cannot help but note that - coincidentally? - a 21-year-old, by the way in the pink jersey, emerges unscathed from the slaughterhouse and even in this instance manages to gain ground in the classification. He, already much wiser than his childish age, is of exemplary loyalty: "I always try to be careful, to be where I need to be, but it can only be luck". Luck, undeniably, of course. But meanwhile. Meanwhile, he was there in front, where the veterans are, where those who know that certain wet routes and certain bastard cobblestones can punish more than certain gradients. With him Yates and Visma, behind him his teammate and captain (?) Ayuso, as well as the perpetually camouflaged sphinx Roglic.

It could all be casual, Del Toro might simply have a cosmic rear end, but the clues are starting to add up: unscathed on the White Roads, unscathed in Gorizia, unscathed anyway every day. To me, it seems necessary to recognize - at least up to now - some qualities and some merit: for being a baby, he already rides like an old hand. It's a bit childish to think that he's just coincidentally always in the right place, out of trouble, even where time bonuses are snatched. It can't be a coincidence that he's been wearing this pink jersey for days without tremors and without mistakes, perpetually concentrated, constantly in control of the situation. Of course, the big climbs will measure his fever in terms of endurance and recovery, but what he has already expressed in the first two weeks is more than enough to define him as at least a sharp, very sharp guy. I, who am shameless and hasty, go so far as to say this: clear symptoms of champion syndrome are emerging, a clear profile of a true thoroughbred is emerging. And then I accept all the following chatter: slow down, don't rush, how many have we seen bloom and disappear, he still has everything to prove, what's the hurry, where are you going, where are you going.

The fact remains: in this poor and unfortunate Giro, more dramatic than entertaining, the Mexican kid is towering. Once this was the toughest race in the most beautiful country in the world. There's no longer the toughest race and perhaps not even the most beautiful country anymore, but if our glorious national race can still have a meaning, it's precisely this: becoming a talent show that ultimately reveals who will become a true star in the future, elsewhere.