The black jerseys: those at the bottom of the general classification, those at the top of the sentimental standings. Because the black jerseys belong to the domestiques, in perpetual struggle with the time limit and minimal energy. They are the most human and the most humble. The most like us. The eighth installment is dedicated to Pietro Tamiazzo.

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Tamiazzo, the first last place?

"My first last place was also my last. Milano-Marcolina, youth category, a classic race. But I knew nothing about it—I'd only done three training sessions in total. Not only did I not know how to ride in a group, I didn't even know how to stay on my feet. I crashed three times during the race, got back up three times, and only made it to the finish line because it was mandatory. Last place, as I said. I covered quite a distance that day: 20 km from Melegnano to Milan, 60 km of racing, another 80 km from Marcolina back to Melegnano, 160 km total. I got home dead tired and injured, but happy."

Is the bike happiness?

"My first bike was a gift from my father, a farmer, and it had been given to him by the landowners. We Tamiazzos were ten: father, mother, and eight children. I was the second child and the first son. We were dirt poor, living in hand-me-down clothes, discarded shoes, broken toys. The bike was small, brownish, a woman's bike that belonged to one of the two landowners. Since he was—can I say it?—a dwarf and I was small, the bike fit me perfectly."

Then?

"The passion had seized me through the radio. Bartali and Coppi, Massignan and Battistini... my heroes. I started on that small bike, got a taste for it, and continued on a used bike that a mechanic-sports director named Natale Scotti from Melegnano got for me. After elementary school came work. Training at night. I'd leave at 2 in the morning, in the dark, without lights, from Melegnano to San Colombano al Lambro, 30 km there and 30 back. Youth category, then juniors, and my first race. Last place, as I already said."

And the first first place?

"Youth category, the Pavia-Romagnese race, finishing uphill, halfway up Monte Penice. I won by a large margin. That day too, I covered quite a distance: 30 km from Melegnano to Pavia, 80 km of racing, but on the way back I found a ride on a motorcycle with my bike on my shoulder. Bike plus motorcycle, I beat everyone. Once, as an amateur, I left early in the morning on a motorcycle with my bike on my shoulder, 180 km from Melegnano to Savona, then 180 km of racing up to the Lurisia Spa, second behind Cravero by just 20 centimeters, but winning 12 gold medals between mountain prizes and intermediate sprints, I got rich. Then another 180 km on the motorcycle with my bike on my shoulder to get home. Two shoulders like this."

Was life beautiful?

"I loved everything about cycling: races and riders, sacrifices and values, hardships and hopes, roads and routes, and more the climbs than the descents. A cyclist's life is still like it was 200 years ago: if you want to go fast, you have to do it yourself. The sports directors taught me some of it, the more experienced and older teammates taught me some, and the races and crises taught me the rest. As an amateur, at Castelfidardo, I went solo 35 km from the finish. With 500 meters to go, I had a 1'30" lead, but suddenly I hit the wall—I was so hungry I couldn't see straight. I finished fifth, 30 seconds back, only because a teammate pushed me and guided me. The Excelsior president told me: you wanted to be Coppi, but you're not Coppi. He was right. It was a good lesson."

And so, a domestique?

"Professional from 1969 to 1973, one year at Max Meyer, two at Ferretti, and two at Zonca. Two Giro d'Italias, one Tour de France, and one Vuelta. The 1969 Giro, the only one I finished—stage ten, from Potenza to Campitello Matese, 254 km—I won the pink cap. The intermediate sprint classification, not points-based, but time-based. From now on, Gastone Nencini, our sports director, told me, you won't work for anyone else. Not even for Claudio Michelotto, who finished second overall. I was exempted from domestique duties because the final winner of the pink cap was entitled to a lot of money—I won't say how much, those things are only discussed in private—anyway, money to be divided with the teammates. I managed it. And in Milan, at the Vigorelli, after Felice Gimondi's two victory laps in the pink jersey, I did two laps with the pink cap. I went home with 15 pink caps, one a day. Then you know how it goes, a pink cap here, a pink cap there, even a pink cap donated to the Ghisallo Museum, but I still have one pink cap. Framed."