Luciano Ravagnani wrote about rugby. But he knew everything about cycling. Born in Costa di Rovigo, died today in Lonato del Garda, he was 88 years old. And he loved Fausto Coppi.

From reporter to correspondent, from editor to columnist, up to historical memory - it is said so, with kindness, towards those who write and age -, but in his case it was true, his memory did not spare calendars or illness, Parkinson's disease, which made his hands tremble, but not his memories. Available and generous, never ambiguous or slippery - a rarity even among journalists -, Luciano was a gentleman, an honest man, a true gentleman. Never heard raising his voice, never seen yielding to temptations of scandals and controversies except to say and reiterate the truth, that is, the facts, and his truth, that is, his opinions.

When you needed advice, a discussion, a verification, when you had an idea and were not sure it was good, when you begged him for a piece, a foreword, an intervention, when you asked him for a thought, an episode, he was always there. I realize I have received from him (for "The Legend of Maci" about Battaglini and Rugby Rovigo, for "The Lion and the Cuirassier" about Carwyn James and Doro Quaglio, also for "The Most Beautiful Meta in History" about Welsh rugby) more than what I gave or returned to him. And I feel guilty about this. The last phone calls always ended with a request of his, which always remained pending: he would have wanted me to write a book about Dolomite cycling, from Gino Bartali first on the Rolle in the 1936 Giro d'Italia, I would reply that books on this theme already existed, he would counter that not even one was written in my way, at that point I would breathe, prevaricate, temporize, stammer, and leave everything - precisely - pending. A couple of times I tried to retaliate by inviting him to write a book about Coppi, in his own way. At that point, he too would sigh and prevaricate. And I would insist by guaranteeing him that I would find him a publisher. A nonsense, because he could have found a publisher quietly on his own.

In over 60 years of journalism, Ravagnani crossed eras that today could be considered pioneering, romantic, professional, even serious and honest. From paper-and-pen to typewriter, from personal computer to Internet, Ravagnani was always a point of reference, because the mind continues to be essential, to make the difference and survive technology. If no one, not even in our environment which is certainly not immune to jealousies and envies, has ever dared to scratch his moral candor, his intellectual acumen, his cultural heritage, his proverbial modesty, his innate discretion, it is because Ravagnani was unassailable.