Welcome Giulio, and by Giulio I don't mean Ciccone, welcome Giulio Pellizzari, welcome to this Italy that has been waiting too long for at least an idea of a champion, even before having a complete champion. A hope was enough, and God willing, now we have hope. That's not little. In these times, it's almost everything.

Welcome Giulio to the world of the greats. Maybe you're not quite there yet, not completely, but in Brentonico you're right on the doorstep. Let's say you've taken the right run-up, finding yourself there at 21 can't be a coincidence and can't be a simple illusion. Sure, everything else is still missing, sure we're only at the beginning of the Alpine headaches here at the Giro, but presenting yourself this way immediately, finally free from Roglic's leash (loyalty is also a skill, if anything the team must answer for your sacrifice), being immediately ready to attack the pink jersey and the entire high-classification group, this alone makes me conclude with maximum happiness: not Ciccone, not even Tiberi, it's Pellizzari who represents the most complete idea of a tricolor tomorrow.

That this celestial revelation falls at the end of a day like this makes everything even more rock. It's the first major stage and they finally serve us the first true-great-exciting Giro d'Italia stage, this Giro without a dominant force, completely opposite to last year, as they say, when the cat's away, the mice will play. We had to wait until the sixteenth stage, but God willing, the mice are truly dancing. To recap everything: the Giro of Predictions falls apart (Roglic-Ayuso duel: one home, the other plummeting), UAE's supremacy falls apart (never seen Del Toro so bad and clogged in this Giro), especially the specter of a horrifying Italian record falls apart, sixteen stages without our victories, falling apart with a triple victory, Scaroni-Fortunato-Pellizzari. And then there's Caruso, almost 38 and a 21-ranked classification, but I've exhausted all adjectives for him.

Praise delivered to Carapaz, to Gee, to Yates for picking up the baton of the foreign delegation with an attacking race (Carapaz the true artist of the day, a round of spritz for him, tell the cashier I'll pay later), at least this time all other words are for Italy and Italians. We've thought and said everything, not out of malice, just for honesty, it's right and beautiful to say some good things today. Among the pastures of San Valentino, everyone takes an immense sigh of relief, a wind tunnel sigh, a sigh that tears flags and dishevels coiffed ladies up to the Brenner.

But it's precisely in this climate of national pride and collective celebration that I return to our dear angel, Giulio Pellizzari. My taste, my opinion: from the deck, I choose him, his is the true triumph. For an eternity, we haven't had an Italian in the classification capable of dropping the leaders. These are real actions, not gifted or merely tolerated. Actions that require strength, intelligence, personality. From the first kilometer without Roglic, finally tasting the scent of freedom, here he is seizing the opportunity like a April 25th, like a Prague Spring, going light and risking a crash, instead capturing the greatest success, proving that everything is there to become Somebody.

It's not worth exaggerating, nowadays to be a true Somebody you must be with the three Absent we know, Teddy-Vinge-Remco: that's the true thermometer to measure the real fever. But damn it, dear Giulio, let me say that we've taken the right exit from the depression ring road, hoping this exit leads straight in the right direction.

It's the beginning of a long journey, our Giulio, Italian Giulio. A brutal journey that throws obstacles around every corner. But we've finally started it. Don't go wrong again, try again, always try. And on the day it might turn out differently, no problem: when you dare, it's better to fall with a remorse (for some mistake) than with a regret (for not even trying).

Thank you Giulio, go Giulio: there's a whole world out there, ahead. Don't miss any opportunity. And no matter how difficult everything may seem, don't forget: 21 years are and will always be, in all generations, the best years of our lives.