He plays the model employee: opens the file and closes it within the established timeframes and methods, without conceding anything to the unexpected. He doesn't exhaust himself with fatigue, doesn't work overtime, certainly won't take early retirement for arduous work: however, the work is perfect. He had decided to take the pink jersey at Pila, and at Pila he takes the pink jersey. First his colleagues start the preparatory work, each one punctual and precise at their own post, then the file lands on his desk and the operation is completed.

At -4.6 kilometers a single attack is enough, then upbeat pace mode, without overdoing it, because after all the mission is conceived over six weeks, three here and three in France. That's enough anyway to stamp the document and move on to the next one.

Third stage (out of three mountain finishes), pink jersey already locked down, but above all a brutal return to the monotony of the despot, which the public has never much appreciated in Pogacar's management, but which doesn't change much here. Perhaps less blatant, less theatrical, less voracious, yet equally crushing. From here to the end, a well-known week awaits, held together only by the hope that the tyrant grants some moments of great entertainment, with the well-known solo victories. Teddy had won six, Vinge is already at three: the idea of matching the great rival could be the right motivation to push even harder, even if the nature of the two remains quite different, boastful for the Slovenian, calculated for the Dane.

Certainly in either case you can never count on spectacular coups d'état. There are no conspirators up to the task. We've seen them – as on the Blockhaus, as on the Corno – we've weighed what they're made of: the Galls, the Hindleys, the Aresmans, the Storers and the Bernals, all fighting like gladiators, all defending by shooting balloons into the stands, certainly none in a position to concede anything to the idea of a duel. A duel with Vingegaard in the Giro is not on the agenda, let alone a three-way battle.

Lovers of balance, devoted to the finale at the last stage, fanatics of classifications decided by time bonuses: get comfortable and wait for next time. This year it's a technical knockout at the third round again, all that's missing is the towel being thrown in from the corner. Or to be less drastic, they're racing for second place. But all those doubts about his health and form raised after the time trial? Let's drop it, for decency's sake.

Like it or not, Vinge is racing another Giro, him against him, himself against himself. He can decide on his own how much and when to spend, without anyone even being able to imagine playing tricks on him (I hope I wasn't the only one who saw it: when he attacks towards Pila, no one even tries to follow him anymore, a scene that reminds me of something and someone). When I ask him after the race if at Pila he didn't just win a stage, but the entire Giro, he also answers like a model employee: "No, there are still three very hard mountain stages, anyone can have a bad day..."

Sure. Anything can happen, the television pundits keep telling us on repeat: suppose some innkeeper from Cassano d'Adda or Feltre puts laxative in his apple pie, Vinge could also lose the Giro. To me, who am more cynical and disillusioned, it seems much more likely – speaking of anything can happen – that if he feels like it he'll win those three very hard stages too and treat himself to the pleasure of matching the other phenomenon, six stages and final victory, just to restore certain parity.

And anyway: this, not suspense, is what we'll be able to talk about from here on. I hope no one dredges up the theme of his vulnerability and his beatable nature, immediately raised after the time trial. Rather, it seems to me more enjoyable to follow the slow comeback of Pellizzari, a matter entirely our own that's no small thing. Very good signal at Pila, but let's not shout about it. If it's a comeback, we're only at the beginning. He's put it in first gear. Waiting for the acceleration.