White shirt with green and red stripes and back 165: Mirco Maestribut everyone calls him Donald Duck, because – in his words – “when I was young I was a bit of a loser” or perhaps also because “there was a rubber puppet that I always wanted to take with me”. 32 years old, height 1.85m, weight – as far as I can tell – in struggle with, because unlike tall and thin, small and nervous ones, hollow faces, lean chests, degreased calves, Donald Duck is almost a Scrooge, it’s no coincidence that he goes crazy for Florentine girls, those with meat and bone, medium cooking. Born Guastalla, residence Suzzara, Lombard accent. Gregarious by nature and size, by surname (gregarious men teach how to live) and above all by nickname (we don’t remember many of Gastone’s lucky gregarious men, not even a few, perhaps none).
Mirco Maestri is one of those runners you root for even when they stop running and start walking again. As Fornaciari, for one. As From Dalto, to say another. Ninth year of professionalism, a lot of them, if you consider that most, after a couple of years, are forced to downgrade from runners to cyclists and make a living not by riding bikes but by fixing them. Him, five victories, stage and general of the not impossible Tour of Rhodes, time trial stage of the Tour of China I (if complete and not in installments or zones, the Tour of China would last a year), Grand Prix Slovenian Istria and Grand Prix Slovenia which – considering the origin of Pogacar – are becoming increasingly important. And in addition, to be honest, the points classifications of the Tour of Rhodes and the Tirreno-Adriatico and that of the mountain of the Tour of Turkey. In Italy, zero. It is difficult to be a prophet in your homeland and also difficult to be a teacher. Much more valiant, in my humble opinion, the victories in the rankings dedicated to the greatest number of kilometers on the run. Because he leaves often, never mind if he (almost) never arrives. In the air, in the wind, in danger. “I want to enter, if not into the roll of honour, at least into that of memories”. He also succeeded in that of hearts.
Today Maestri was the protagonist of the stage. He had Julian Alaphilippe as his escape companion. Knowing his honesty, there will not have been a single moment in which Donald Duck dared to imagine himself as the winner of the stage. Yet he shot as if he were very sure he could prevail in the two-man sprint. Yet he made changes to the Frenchman who was already world champion, conqueror in classics, specialist in walls, champion in days of glory. Yet he brought prestige to cycling, to his spirit, to his beauty.
Maestri’s feat ended 11 and a half kilometers from the finish lineafter 145 minutes of escape and with a 47 second advantage over his pursuers. Planted, plumbed, firm on a wall in the Marche region, it seemed to be pushing not a bike, but a tractor. Devoured and swallowed, he still found strength and pride to finish ninth, a minute and a half behind the winning and jubilant Alaphilippereceiving the applause of the spectators and above all the embrace of the smiling and grateful Alaphilippe himself. “The best day – said Donald Duck – of my life”. And with this he taught everyone a good lesson: to be happy it is not essential to win.
