‘Big Mig’ and the Rise of Marco Pantani (1992–8)
Miguel Indurain had been a professional for eight years and was a veteran of 15 Grand Tours before he first entered the Giro d’Italia in 1992 when he lined up as the reigning Tour de France winner. There are many good reasons for this absence from Italy’s premier race. As a top Spanish rider competing for Spanish teams he was naturally expected to compete in his national tour, the Vuelta a España, while in the earlier part of his career he was required to ride in the service of Pedro Delgado whose main target every year was the Tour de France. That left little or no scope to contest the Giro, but the excessively mountainous nature of the corsa rosa some years was also a deterrent. ‘Big Mig’ in his full maturity, when he took over the team leadership, was the latest, and arguably the best, in a long line of supreme time-trial riders who found a way of winning Grand Tours by hanging tough in the mountains and then destroying opponents in the time trials. If the course was too obviously a mountainfest from the off he was likely not to enter.
Come 1992 and after a long apprenticeship he was suddenly the biggest name in the sport. In 1990 he had sacrificed himself one final time for the fading Delgado at the Tour and could have finished much higher than tenth if he had ridden for himself. The following season, as team leader, he hit his straps and claimed the first of five consecutive Tour de France wins and finished runner-up at the Vuelta a España. Indurain could no longer, in all consciousness, delay his Giro debut and the 1992 route didn’t look particularly horrendous with a reassuring 66km time trial on the final stage if he needed any further encouragement. If the worst came to the worst and he struggled, he could claim with some truth that he was using it as preparation for the Tour de France – as Greg LeMond had done on occasions – while if he got off to a flying start and felt good he could chase the General Classification.
To the surprise of nobody Indurain did start well and simply kept improving, which left the opposition powerless to resist. Stage nine with its summit finish at Terminillo looked fraught indeed but so strongly did he climb that Laurent Fignon, making his final appearance at the Giro, and Claudio Chiappucci both ceded time to him while other climbing specialists had to dig very deep to stay with Indurain. The big Basque repeated that bravura performance in the Dolomites when stage 12 traversed the Staulanza, Giau and Falzarego passes and there seemed no chink in his armour, and it was exactly the same the following day when he dealt comfortably with the Campolongo, Pordoi and Bondone. Indurain in his pomp was a very tough man to counter and throughout the 1992 Giro he had the luxury of knowing that the race this year ended with that long time trial into Milan. Naturally he won that with some ease, making the catch on Chiapucci just before the finishing line. Indurain might not have won the Giro without breaking sweat but he certainly hadn’t overexerted himself. There was plenty left in reserve for the Tour de France, which he duly won six weeks later. Low-key and modest, authorative without being demonstrative, polite without being fawning, Indurain was difficult for Italian fans and media to get a handle on. He sucked the drama and excitement out of a race that thrived on both, but he was in no way a hate figure. There was very little to dislike about ‘Big Mig’ unless you were one of the poor souls being spat out the back when he put the hammer down.
It all seemed ridiculously straightforward and routine, which invariably aroused suspicion. Cycling had entered the EPO era and now the consensus seems to be that from the early 1990s onwards its use was commonplace but its detection rare, with the authorities unable to identify the worst of the dopers until the late nineties and early noughties. Indurain frequently had to fend off questions about his remarkable performances and did so with as much dignity as you can on these occasions while also pointing to his never failing a drugs test – although that is a statistic which rather lost its relevance in light of Lance Armstrong also claiming he never failed a drugs test. His collaboration at times with the now disgraced Italian doctor Francesco Conconi, a pioneer in the use of EPO, adds fuel to the fire for some conspiracy theorists, but what can be said with some certainty is that Indurain was an exceptional athlete with a fairly unique physiological make-up. A resting heartbeat of 28 is about as low as the medical profession has ever encountered in a fit athlete, while his lung capacity was measured at 7.8 litres, which was reckoned to be at least 20 per cent above most other members of the peloton who would themselves be considered exceptional in that respect. From 1985, when he turned professional, to the Grand Tour-winning days (1991–5), he shed the 10kg or 22lb which was key to him being able to compete in the mountains. In 2012, at the age of 46, and 14 years since he had ridden in earnest, his power output was recorded at 450W, which compared favourably with current professionals half his age.
Away from the GC duel, in 1992 the flamboyant Mario Cipollini was beginning to make his mark on the Giro with four stage wins and the first of three Points titles. A muscular, larger-than-life sprinter from Lucca, Cipollini had enjoyed a stellar amateur career and had been steadily making his mark on the Giro with the Del Tongo team, winning a stage on debut in 1989, two stages the following year before his successes of 1992 with the GB-MG team. An outrageous showman nicknamed ‘il Re Leon’ or ‘Super Mario’, Cipollini provided a counterpoint to the grim suffering and introverted nature of many of the GC contenders, appearing to enjoy a life of wine, women and song as he blasted his way to endless sprint victories. In an extraordinarily long career Cipollini was to notch up at least one stage win in 13 separate Giri and ended up beating Alfredo Binda’s record number of stage wins of 41. As an out-and-out sprinter he sometimes offended the purists by making no attempt to actually finish the three-week race, but he added massively to the spectacle and was a firm crowd favourite. For much of that time, particularly with Seaco team, he surrounded himself with a highly trained sprint train which sometimes seemed to reduce his wins to a formality.
Much encouraged by his superb Giro/Tour double in 1992, Indurain decided not to tinker with a winning formula and opted to race the Giro again the following season, turning his back on the Vuelta, a race which strangely he was destined never to win. ‘Big Mig’ was in a rich vein of form and again it was difficult to see where the serious opposition might come from once he distanced himself from other potential contenders in the 28km TT at Senigallia. It was impressive stuff although as a spectacle the race desperately needed somebody to put up a fight and at least land a few blows. In the end Latvia’s Piotr Ugrumov, a gritty and resourceful climber, was that man. The aggressive Ugrumov never stopped attacking but got little joy until the penultimate stage. Indeed, the gap between him and Indurain had widened to 1 minute 34 seconds after stage 19, a 55km TT predictably won by Indurain (although with long uphill stretches, not as commandingly as some might have predicted). The Latvian sensed that perhaps Indurain was weakening and summoned one final effort the following day which ended with a ten-kilometre climb into the town of Oropa. This time he finally put a little daylight between himself and Indurain but the defending champion, going deeper than at any time in his two Giri to date, kept churning away and limited his loss to 36 seconds, giving him his second title by just under 1 minute. It was closer than the previous year but the three weeks of tough racing had again put him in fantastic shape for the Tour which he duly won again to complete the double-double.
The 1993 race was notable in one other respect. Riding in support of Claudio Chiappucci was a 23-year-old specialist climber named Marco Pantani, who was ultimately forced to quit on stage 18 with tendonitis of the knee. Pantani, from Cesena in Emilia-Romagna, had caused much excitement and discussion as an amateur with three consecutive podium finishes in the Girobio, culminating in victory in 1992 after which he turned professional with Carrera Jeans-Vagabond. A product of the Fausto Coppi cycling club of Cesenatico, Pantani was lean but athletic and was clearly destined for the Grand Tours. There the only question was whether he could handle the rough and tumble of the peloton on the flatter days and limit his losses sufficiently in the time trials where his fluid style meant he could be surprisingly competitive although his lack of horsepower was clearly going to be a disadvantage on certain stages.
By 1994 Pantani was in great form and enjoying his first flush of success. Warming up with fourth-place finishes at both the Giro del Trentino and Giro della Toscana, he was nonetheless again expected to ride as support for Chiappucci at the Giro but it soon became obvious that the apprentice was fast overtaking the master. Pantani needed to be let loose in what was to prove an unpredictable race when for once Indurain’s calculated, almost metronomic approach ran into difficulties. A young Russian, Evgeni Berzin from Vyborg close to the Finnish border, torpedoed Indurain’s tried and tested tactics by beating the Spaniard in the two individual time trials with his barely believable triumph in stage eight in particular signalling a changing of the guard, covering the 44km course fully 2 minutes 34 seconds ahead of Indurain. Where did that come from? Berzin also demonstrated an ability to compete well in the mountains and the Russian defended the jersey with a great deal of panache all the way to Milan to win by just under 3 minutes from Pantani with Indurain third at 3.33.
Berzin was that comparative rarity, a Grand Tour winner whose talent was initially forged on the track. A former World Amateur Individual and Team Pursuit champion, he was a second-year professional with the Italian team Gewiss–Ballan when he won the Giro, having warmed up with an eye-catching victory at Liège–Bastogne–Liège. The Gewiss–Ballan team, it should be noted, comes with a health warning. Their doctor at the time was EPO guru Michele Ferrari and subsequent investigations by Danmarks Radio, L’Equipe and La Republique unearthed data recording eye-popping haematocrit level variations within most team members, including Berzin, for the period 1994–5. A reading in excess of 50 per cent was not proof positive of doping but it was considered indicative. Of course, this is an era few cycling historians have any great trust in but, with a definitive test for EPO not developed until 2000, few cheating riders were ‘outed’ and competition results remain.
Pantani lights up the 1994 Giro
After Indurain had reduced the Giro to a low-key promenade for two years, Berzin’s arrival from virtually nowhere was, however, generally welcomed and he was, of course, riding for an Italian team. From Vyborg, blond and very Nordic and relatively outgoing, he was very different from Indurain and that contrast was also welcomed. But the personality who lit up the 1994 Giro was undoubtedly Pantani who, while never really threatening to get on terms with Berzin, claimed two sublime mountain stages in a manner which suggested to the tifosi that a potential campionissimo might finally be moving among them again. With Chiappucci struggling a little and Pantani seemingly out of contention in tenth place at 6.28, the young Italian was given licence to attack in the mountains on stage 14 when in the wet conditions he demonstrated his descending as well as climbing skills to win ahead of the pink jersey group. That was just the warm-up act for the following day when the snowy north face of the Stelvio awaited, not to mention the Mortirolo and Santa Cristina. This was the Tappone where the race would probably be won and lost. As usual there was a flurry of debate and possible controversy as the weather closed in and there were rumours of a possible cancellation or rejigging of the stage, but eventually the peloton headed into the mountains. Initially everybody was cautious and neither Berzin nor Indurain were really equipped to attack on a climb like the Stelvio so it was on the Mortirolo that Pantani launched his offensive, in that athletic, fluid style that characterised his climbing. Berzin briefly attempted to match the Italian but then thought better of it. Pantani still wasn’t an out-and-out threat to his maglia rosa and the probable result of trying to match him would be Berzin cracking. Much better to drop back and just ride tactically against Indurain.
So Pantani was up the road, there was a long way to go and flattish terrain before the final climb, the Santa Cristina. The clever thing to do would be to throttle back a little and wait for somebody to join him and then ride tempo together to the Cristina where he would again attack and close out the stage. With adrenalin running high and the crowd urging him on, such considered tactics were almost counter-intuitive, and throughout most of his career Pantani committed totally from the start of a climb or break, which is one of the reasons why he was so popular. But on this occasion he was right to box clever. This was a stage win that needed finessing. Indurain, sensing that this might be his opportunity to recoup lost ground on Berzin, made his way up to the soft-pedalling Pantani along with Nelson Rodríguez, and together they settled in to consolidate the break. They worked well but when the Santa Cristina hoved into view there was only one outcome as Pantani started dancing on his pedals and disappeared up the mountain, finishing the day nearly 3 minutes ahead of his supposed team leader, Chiappucci, with whom he had endured a strained relationship from the moment he joined the team. Indurain was at 3.30 while Berzin had rallied to finish just 30 seconds behind Indurain which was his main objective. It was a spectacular performance from Pantani and cemented his place in Italian hearts. Pantani in full flow, sprinting effortlessly up a mountain, was an iconic sight, as beautiful, carefree and confident on a bike as he was gawky, preoccupied and just plain odd when he dismounted. Like other great climbers he adopted a different persona on his chosen battleground. The showman came out and the Italian crowds loved him for it. As he prepared for action – and Pantani rarely disappointed and failed to attack on the key climb of a stage – there were a few theatrical flourishes that signalled the start of his latest performance. He would remove his bandana and throw it to a fan on the roadside. Sometimes the sunglasses as well. A nose stud would be prised out and thrown to the masses. He would demolish the last of his favourite jam rolls – he eschewed the power bars and cereal cakes that were coming into vogue – a final gulp from his bidon and he was off. From now on it was him and the mountain. Everybody knew what was coming: he could hardly have signposted it any better. Pantani’s coup that day earned him second place overall in 1994 and a glorious Giro career seemed assured, but for one reason or another it was another three years before he raced in the Giro again and a further 12 months after that before he finally fulfilled his potential in his home race.
As it happened 1995 was the year of Tony Rominger, an exceptionally talented all-rounder, who had broken the world Hour record twice in a matter of days in Bordeaux in 1994 – when the now disgraced Dr Michele Ferrari was in his corner advising his every move – while he also claimed his third consecutive Vuelta a España that year. For three or four years Rominger vied with Indurain as the sport’s pre-eminent Grand Tour rider and 1995, after a six-year absence, was the year he planned a serious assault on the Giro where he had only previously ridden as a gregario. Rominger took control of the race on day two, an 18km TT from Foligno to Assisi, and in truth he never looked back as he became the third Swiss rider to win the Giro behind Koblet and Clerici. Rominger claimed that he wasn’t particularly seeking the jersey so early in the race and wasn’t overly bothered about defending. With long time trials on stages ten and 17 in which to impose his authority there was probably a good deal of truth in that but, equally, it was the first time he had worn the jersey, and been at the epicentre of the race, and his Mapei-GB team were riding strongly. Deliberately manoeuvring to gift the jersey to another team can go against the grain and so Rominger kept tapping away and the challenge never really came. Tactically their main opponents, Gewiss–Ballan, with Berzin and Latvian Piotr Ugrumov in their ranks, also got it wrong. That twin-pronged attack had the potential to at least inconvenience Rominger but the two Eastern Bloc riders didn’t get on and each had individual ambitions. Second and third respectively looks quite impressive in the record books but from a position of some strength they never threatened the eventual winner. At one point, on stage 14, Ugrumov even rode with Rominger against Berzin when the Russian began to struggle in the mountains.
It was another Russian, Pavel Tonkov, dubbed ‘the Tsar’, possibly on account of his rather stylish and regal riding style, who took the honours in 1996 having finished a creditable sixth in 1995. Tonkov was another rouleur who could climb well and only once finished outside the top ten in the ten Giri he contested. To celebrate both the centenary of Gazzetta dello Sport and the founding of the modern-day Olympics, the Giro decided it would start in Athens and there were three sprint stages in Greece before it transferred back to Italy for stage four. That transfer included a rather comical element with the Italian police planning a raid on all the teams as they alighted on the Italian mainland only to be thwarted by Gazzetta who not only got wind of the raids but obtained detailed plans and decided to publish them all the day before they were due to be carried out. With the element of surprise blown the Italian police conceded defeat and cancelled their investigations for the time being. That apart, the first fortnight was largely uneventful but Tonkov made an appearance in pink after stage 13 when he went very well on a lumpy stage and, although he lost the maglia rosa in the race’s only time trial the following day, he recovered the jersey in splendid fashion on stage 21 which took in the Mortirolo, a ride which clinched the race. It was by no means a classic and, with Enrico Zaina in second place and Abraham Olano third, the 1996 podium was a little short on stardust but Tonkov was a considerable rider. All the normal caveats to riders of this era apply but the Russian was always there or thereabouts.
Tonkov was certainly at the start line the following year when a particularly mountainous course had frightened off many top riders, especially those with designs on the Tour de France. Combining the two was now considered nigh on impossible although Marco Pantani was to disprove that in 1998. Pantani, after missing the two previous Giri, made a welcome return in 1997 to boost a lacklustre field that, in addition to those who had opted for the Tour, also found itself without Chiappucci who had recorded a haematocrit level of 50.8 per cent towards the end of the Tour of Romandie and copped a two-week ban that ruled him out of the Giro.
Pantani had been in the wars since his second place in the 1994 Giro. In 1995 he had been showing good early season form but early in May was involved in a training accident, crashing into a team car and suffering bad bruising. Much worse was to follow that autumn with a very nasty crash in the Milano–Torino race when he hit a car head-on and broke various bones in his left leg. That random injury nearly cost Pantani his career and he missed the entire following season as he tried to recover and then regain fitness. For a long while it was touch and go. Meanwhile, the Giro organisers and RAI kept his name to the forefront by getting him to sing the theme song which accompanied the opening credits of their daily coverage, a bouncy Eurotrash number which is far from being the worst foray into song we have heard from a prominent sports star. The Milano–Torino crash was to come back to haunt him in 1999 when the Turin public prosecutor, finally looking into the incident, recorded that blood tests taken at the hospital where Pantani was operated on just hours after the crash indicated a haematocrit level of 60.1 per cent, so abnormally high as to be virtually inexplicable by natural causes.
After a promising start Pantani’s 1997 Giro ended in tears on a nothing day when the bunch had let an escape go 14 minutes up the road on the way to Amalfi and were promenading to the finish. As they descended the Valico di Chiunzi a cat darted across the road and Pantani went tumbling. The fate of the cat is not recorded but Pantani was badly bruised and shaken and lost 12 minutes on the leaders. Overnight he abandoned but he was clearly in decent form that season and kicked on to finish third overall at the Tour.
With Pantani gone Italian hopes rested mainly with specialist climber Ivan Gotti from the Gewiss–Ballan team who had ridden strongly in the mountains in 1996. Gotti took the lead on stage 14 and retained that advantage by limiting his losses to just 40 seconds in the 40km TT from Baselga di Pinè to Cavalese where Tonkov had reckoned on wiping out the 51-seconds deficit, and some. The reigning champion really did have a fight on his hands. There were dramas elsewhere as well. After being thwarted in 1996 the carabinieri successfully managed to conceal their intentions from Gazzetta 12 months later and launched a well-directed raid on the hotel where MG-Technogym riders were staying. There they ‘discovered’ 20 boxes of anabolic steroids, growth hormones and EPO. Their DS, Giancarlo Ferretti, tried to defend the indefensible but within hours the team had been thrown off the Giro. A tough final day in the mountains awaited but Gotti remained strong to close out the race and become the first Italian to win the Giro since Franco Chioccioli in 1991.
And so to 1998 and one of the most absorbing modern-day Grand Tours, the start of Pantani’s golden year when for three months or so he was untouchable on a bike. Gotti’s win in 1997 had been a little bonus to keep the tifosi going, but what they really craved was a Pantani victory and his return to form in the 1997 Tour had offered much hope for the 1998 Giro. At first glance, however, the course hardly appeared tailor-made for him with two 40km time trials seeming to favour the consistent Tonkov who was strong against the clock and in the mountains. Another likely contender was the Swiss rider Alex Zülle of the soon-to-become-infamous Festina team, who had won the Vuelta a España in September 1997. Still, there were some meaty mountain days for Pantani to get stuck into and hope sprang eternal.
For the first two weeks of the race it was Zülle who looked in commanding form while Michele Bartoli, essentially a one-day specialist, attacked furiously whenever possible and lit up the race. Those two headed up the GC but after the climb to San Marino on stage 11 Pantani was handily placed in fourth at 51 seconds, just 1 second behind Tonkov. Pantani, like Bartoli, had also ridden aggressively and, although looking short of a gallop in the early stages, seemed to be coming into form. Pantani continued to chip away at that lead and after winning stage 14 on the ascent of the Piancavallo had closed to within 14 seconds before it all seemed to go wrong in the first TT.
Zülle predictably romped home, averaging a jaw-dropping 53.77kmh, catching Pantani, his two-minute man, in the process and eventually routing his closest rival by nearly 3 and a half minutes. At first glance it looked all over but that was more or less the deficit Pantani had expected and, if not exactly in good spirits, he was a long way from throwing in the towel. He was still in third place overall behind Zülle and Tonkov with the race now entering the high mountains. Once there he lost no time in going to work on stage 17, the Tappone, where the Duran, Staulanza, Marmolada and Sella provided a fearsome second half of the stage. Tonkov attacked on the Marmolada, Pantani joined him along with another Italian climber, Giuseppe Guerini, and, confronted by that three-pronged attack, Zülle cracked. The leading trio forged on until Tonkov lost contact and the Italian combo sped up the Sella Pass. Pantani was riding himself into pink while Guerini was rewarded with the stage win.
Tonkov recovered well the following day to take stage 18, Selva di Val Gardena to Alpe di Pampeago, but Pantani was in close attendance in second place which set the scene for stage 19 – Cavalese to Plan di Montecampione – when Pantani started the day 27 seconds ahead of Tonkov. Stage 19 was truly spectacular with the final long, hot climb into Montecampione serving up a remarkable 45-minute head-to-head between Pantani and Tonkov up the 19km climb to the finish. With a final time trial yet to come, in which Tonkov was widely expected to claw back time, Pantani had to not only win but try and eke out his lead as much as possible. By common consent he needed to win by 1 minute, probably more. He knew it, a grim-faced and suffering Tonkov knew it, as did the roadside fans and watching millions on TV. Time and time again Pantani got up on his pedals and started to accelerate, yet every time the muscular Tonkov, usually known for his smooth style, shuddered with the physical effort as he closed the gap.
With approximately 2.8km remaining the Russian was still on Pantani’s wheel, a remarkable effort on his part, but then with a final throw of the dice Pantani accelerated one last time, not forcefully because he himself was on the limit. He just got up out of the saddle, as he had already done scores of times that day, and upped the tempo again. Head down, Pantani at no stage looked back. As he had done all afternoon he judged Tonkov’s response from observing the Russian’s shadow on the road. For 50m or so Tonkov held firm; still he didn’t yield, the shadow could still be seen at the same angle. And then, finally, the elastic snapped. One minute Tonkov was there, the next he had gone. Tonkov had simply soaked up too much punishment on the way up and could take it no longer. In the final two kilometres Pantani, roared on by his fans, buried himself to finish 57 seconds ahead of Tonkov who was close to collapsing when he crossed the line. It had been a career-defining ride by Pantani, but was it enough? He now led Tonkov by 1 minute 28 seconds, which was just about the exact time the pundits and, indeed, his team thought he might concede to Tonkov if the Russian rode to his known time-trialling form over 34km. On paper there was now every possibility of the 1998 Giro being the closest in history.
What happened at that final, decisive, time trial is that Pantani, to widespread incredulity, defeated Tonkov by 5 seconds to finish third on the stage behind Serhiy Honchar and that Giro-winning performance can be viewed from various angles. Perhaps Tonkov, having given his all in the preceding days in the mountains, had emptied the tanks and given a below-par performance in his time trial. A possibility without question. Or perhaps Pantani – a better TT rider than was normal for ‘pure’ climbers – was inspired by the jersey, the crowd and the prospect of winning his home Tour. Another possibility that cannot be dismissed. Or was it down to doping? On the morning of the time trial his room-mate and gregario for the last three weeks, Riccardo Forconi, was withdrawn from the race after a blood test revealed his haematocrit level had risen above 50 per cent. Why would a foot soldier be displaying such a suspiciously high level on a day when his performance in the time trial was of no relevance other than he needed to make the cut? That, of course, sparked renewed rumours of doping within the team generally or even the possible swapping of the samples by the two riders – which would have involved some form of complicity among officialdom. The Italian public, however, were not in the mood to doubt their new hero over this incident. There was no appetite to taint what appeared to be a glorious victory and the triumphant emergence of a rider who could potentially compare with the great Italian riders of yesteryear. Twelve months later, however, the events of that morning before the final time trial in 1998 resonated loudly when Pantani, seemingly cruising to the most commanding of wins, was kicked off the race for the same offence. In the meantime, however, he revelled in his popularity and celebrity, a situation which was only enhanced in July when he also won the Tour de France. For a while at least he was the most popular and recognisable sportsman in a sports-mad country.