Narvaez and UAE win the stage, Eulalio keeps the pink jersey: it's a Giro of monologues. Only the time trial specialist Ganna's break interrupted the film, then the same screenplay again.

Perhaps to break the monotony, or perhaps to grasp at straws, here in the area there's been a lot of discussion about Vingegaard, seen by many as diminished and downsized after the Versilia time trial.

Was it a real crisis? Since we're not here to ask questions, but to seek some answers, I'll try to earn my salary by hazarding one of my own. No, it wasn't a real crisis. No, it doesn't seem to me at all that Vinge is returning to the vulnerable and beatable. Apart from the fact that if he really is going slow, someone should tell me who among these starters can go faster. The number one rule always applies: for every loser, there must be a winner. Lately, Arensman's odds have been rising considerably, the author of a fine time trial performance (surprise, surprise), but he's not exactly a lightning bolt in the mountains, terrain that's getting ever closer as we approach the Alps.

But even hypothesizing the emergence of a new antagonist (so far the best climber is called Gall), even admitting that the poverty of this VIP roster expresses a name, the question about Vinge remains. My idea is always the same: just as in football they say that in the two-legged cup tie you have to think over 180 minutes, so Vinge is moving on the idea of six weeks. Three preliminary ones here in Italy, three decisive ones further ahead in France.

If that's the score, the music follows accordingly. In the absence of challenging opponents, he exerts himself minimally here. Let's say the right amount. That is to say, he races the first half of the Giro controlling on the scales of a pharmacist (damn it, in cycling it's better to use another profession for metaphors), let's say on the scales of a grocer (oops, again), in short on whatever balance he weighs his energy expenditure, consuming just enough in the only two climbs (Blockhaus and Corno alle Scale), with a view to a third week of settling accounts on the slopes he loves. This plan obviously also includes the decision not to squander himself by wearing the pink jersey too early, willingly entrusting it to the Portuguese wearer (the only case in which the term shouldn't be understood as a synonym for gatecrasher).

This too is a strategy of the dominant, but even a child understands it's not the same as the other dominant on the scene. That one, two years ago in the same situation, unleashed hell by attacking immediately, everywhere, even in the pink jersey, won six stages and then fortunately the Giro ended, otherwise his bulimia would have led him to attempt sprint victories too. Another kind of master, more vicious and merciless. This one has a paternalistic dimension, leaves something for others, administers to the penny, moderates his instincts, doesn't waste anything. The other one also reasoned in terms of six weeks, but simply couldn't hold back, like our ministers with the courtesans of the palace. This one, yes, is made of different stuff (and we understood that even from the simple fact that he avoids road races altogether).

It must be said that Vinge, compared to Teddy, has even more reason not to blow the Giro, having some serious headaches in France ahead. But neither can we expect him to go against his nature, to force himself, to violate his way of being. He's the lord of the climbs, not the absolute lord. And there on the climbs he's decided to impose his reign. It just takes a little more patience. Then the proof will come.

Exactly. It's entirely possible that I now see a different Vinge, that I speak of a different Vinge, that is, a Vinge who moves forward thinking of a six-week race, without leaving anything on the road, without conceding anything to the superfluous. It could be that instead Vinge is another one, the one seen soft as a fig in the time trial, therefore very attackable (very beatable) in the mountains.

In that case, there's no problem. If that's how it is, I'm paid to publicly recognize my own stupidities, and I'll promptly not shy away from it. I'll sign it with a notary's signature. I hope it applies to those who now see him so poorly too...