Among envelopes, folders and files, I also found this piece about Aldo Ronconi, written in January 2003, kept first in the "freezer" (an archive) of the "Gazzetta dello Sport", then on printed paper (with corrections in pen by Ronconi himself) and ended up in a cardboard box. I would have liked to publish it in the book "I diavoli di Bartali" (Ediciclo, 2016), but I shamefully forgot about it. The piece is written in the first person: it is Ronconi who tells the story. This is the second and final installment (the first was published two days ago: https://www.tuttobiciweb.it/article/1787067943?_gl=1*gbijzg*_up*MQ..).

But let's get back to us. I competed in the Libero Ferrario Grand Prix stage race, Parabiago-Rome: first Giacinto Gentile, second me. And the Bologna-San Marino, a national race: again second.

In '39 I moved to Legnano: they gave me a bike and promised me a salary as expense reimbursement, more than 400 lire a month. My father, meanwhile, had gone from 350 lire a month to 500. But we had no pretensions, we worked in the fields, we gleaned and at threshing time we celebrated. Eberardo Pavesi, sports director of Legnano, entered me in the Turin-Piacenza race, with the Penice Pass, a mixed race, amateurs and independents all together. It was June 18 and Fausto Coppi was also there. "Watch out for a certain Coppi – Pavesi told me -. Stay close to him". Two weeks earlier, in the Giro del Piemonte, Coppi had challenged the strongest: Bartali, who came first, Del Cancia, second, Vicini, Valetti. But Coppi, who came third, had his chain break. At the start in Turin I could see Coppi and I couldn't see him, the truth is I didn't even know what he looked like, so I went straight into a breakaway, climbs and descents, and in the end we were three: Bruno Pasquini, Bevilacqua and me. Bevilacqua got a puncture on the dirt road. Pasquini and I were measuring our strength, which was little, when Pasquini also got a puncture. I was alone. But a kilometer from the asphalt I got a puncture too. First Bevilacqua passed me, then Pasquini too. I caught back up to Pasquini, not to Bevilacqua. At the finish line I said to Pavesi: "But didn't you recommend a certain Coppi to me? I didn't see him all day". "You'll notice", he replied. He was right.

I was selected by Adriano Rodoni, coach of the Italian amateur national team, for the Milan-Monaco race. First stage Milan-Trento, first Covolo, me fourth. Second stage Trento-Innsbruck, first me with 12 minutes advantage, and behind Bevilacqua who stayed with Covolo. Third stage Innsbruck-Monaco, and apotheosis. Then a team gathering in Varese in preparation for the World Championship, with Magni, Pedevilla and Fondi. But Germany attacked Poland, the World Championship ended there, and in exchange the war began there. Military service in the Bersaglieri: the colonel addressed me informally and held me in high regard, at the Ravenna district, allowed me to do all the training I wanted and came to watch me when I raced.

In the 1940 Giro Coppi and I were domestiques for Bartali at Legnano. The fourth stage, the Pisa-Grosseto, Bartali, who two days earlier had fallen on the Scoffera, seemed on the verge of retiring. Pavesi ordered us to stay close to him. At the start Sesto Fellini went into a breakaway, he was from the Parma area and raced as an independent in the Il Littorale Group. When he had three or four minutes advantage, Coppi, Succi and others went after him, I tried to follow but Pavesi stopped me: "You know what condition Bartali is in". Yes, I knew that. But I didn't know and couldn't imagine what he added: "If you don't stop, we'll throw you in the ditch". And then, while he was at it: "Get water ready for Gino". In Florence Bartali was already feeling better. At the start of the Florence-Modena stage I was there discussing with Ugo Bianchi, the Legnano mechanic, and despite the surname Coppi said: "Ugo, don't put those gears there for me, but these ones". And he pointed to some sprockets. Succi intervened: "But what are you saying? They could send you home". Pavesi saw everything and said nothing: he already knew that Coppi would win the pink jersey with all of us, Bartali included, supporting him.

In that Giro, at Ortisei, Coppi had a crisis and during the race Bartali had helped him. Then at the table, in the hotel, I allowed myself to encourage him, and Coppi said to me: "If all riders were like you, I would have already won the Giro". He said it with irony. Bartali intervened, furious: "Watch out, Ronconi has a fever. And I'm still the captain here. And tomorrow I'll attack you on the climb". Coppi apologized, but inside, I was crying with anguish. The next day Coppi was still in crisis, but Bartali didn't attack him, in fact, he helped him. That's the good side of the good years of cycling.

But let's get back to us. I finished the Giro, but with a fever, so I ended up two months in a military hospital. It was the fault of a callus on my foot because the shoe was small, or my foot was big, infection, suppuration, operation. I raced the Giro d'Italia, in the morning the mechanic and masseur would hoist me onto the bike, the first kilometers I suffered terribly, then the suffering continued but I got used to it, I finished the Giro with a fever, then two months in a military hospital.

After the Giro, my leave was over too. The old colonel had been transferred, the new one addressed me formally and didn't hold me in high regard. "There's a war", he said. "And my career?", I asked. But with the war you can say what you want, or rather, there's nothing to say. Instead I found the first colonel again, who saved me with a telegram, one day I raced near Pesaro and won. But when I was removed from that position due to age limits, I was immediately sent to the Balkans. On September 8, 1943 I was at the Bay of Cattaro, and when the Croatian major fled, we found ourselves at the mercy of the Germans, we ended up in a concentration camp in Austria, for 22 months, every day building an electrical power plant. One day a foreman remembered me: "But aren't you the one who won the Milan-Monaco?". Yes, I was indeed, the first winner of the Axis, and from then on he treated me with special consideration.

On June 29, '45, St. Peter's Day, I was back in Faenza, and despite the Germans and the power plant I still had the cycling bug. There was no one left at home: my sister had gotten married, my father had been hit during a bombing in a shelter, the wound got infected, and he died without knowing that I was finally earning more money than him.

But let's get back to us and the good years of cycling. I went to the Legnano headquarters with my Romagna friends and Mario Della Torre, the commendatore, welcomed me like this: "Excuse me, Ronconi, do you have any sons you'd like to have race?" I was 27 years old, and he considered me finished. I signed for Benotto. At the Milan-Turin first Ortelli, second Oreste Conte, third Lelli, fourth me, all four from Benotto. Beaten in the sprint, as usual, but I was starting to get going. Then the Giro d'Italia. In the Bassano del Grappa-Trento stage Coppi and Bartali, who were no longer teammates but real rivals, battled it out on the Rolle Pass, where Ortelli came third and I came fourth. I caught them on the descent, Coppi and Bartali standing still on their pedals, Ortelli watching them, I went for it, I gave them six minutes, Coppi only ate back 30 seconds from Ora to Trento. I was flying. I won the stage and in the end I was fifth in the general classification. In '47 I won a stage at the Tour de France, I even wore the yellow jersey, in the end I was fourth, but that Tour would deserve a book. The good years of cycling, Bartali used to say.

My last race was the Giro di Romagna in '52: retired due to a broken bike. Coppi already had his team set up, Bartali too. I also had my team: wife, two children, a bicycle shop, some worries and some concerns. All teammates on the road that make you go slower in races, but stronger in life.

(end of second installment – the end)