Vittorio Marcelli turns eighty tomorrow. Vittorio is a demanding name, Marcelli noble. Perfect for a world champion. It happened – the past is remote – in 1968: amateur gold in the road test. And then, in the 100 km team event, bronze at the 1967 World Championships, gold at the 1967 Mediterranean Games, bronze at the 1968 Olympics. On his bike he exceeded the speed limits of the cars. He was a human machine.
Marcelli was born (“In the cave of his grandparents’ house”) in Magliano dei Marsi (“Here every village has its own history”) during the days of the retreat (3 June 1944, precisely), immediately fell in love with cycling (“As a child, hand in my mother’s hand, on the side of the road watching the runners go by, I promised ‘one day me too’”), grown up (a lot: 1.87) in the myth of Fausto Coppi (“His death was a shock”), the following year – it was 1961 – he began racing (“In the Velo Club Pescara”) and to win (“in Luco dei Marsi”), the turning point immediately (“Richetto Eboli: former professional, more teacher than sports director, we all owe him a lot, me, Taccone, Cervellini, the Meco brothers”), then amateur – as he says – “for life” (“For the Olympic block”), its color is blue (“From 19 to 26 years old”).
The meeting with Marcelli this time in Tagliacozzo, in a public appointment wanted before the Giro d’Italia. Gems in his memoirs. His seriousness: “In the retreats, I never went on the run at night. At Acqua Acetosa it was almost impossible: there were sheepdogs”. His workouts: “We in the quartet went away at fifty an hour and came back at fifty an hour, the others did like footballers, not much.” His awardsi: “Athletes’ company at Cecchignola, I won on Sunday and Monday, and Vanni Loriga, captain, gave me four days’ leave”. His Olympics: “In Mexico City, the heat, the mosquitoes, a skylight, we lived separate, secluded, like monks.”
That time as a student: “A race near Perugia, on the eve of the race Eboli turned to the organizers, ‘give us half the prizes now and we’ll go somewhere else’, we were considered braggarts, on the morning of the race Eboli gave the orders, we won the race by a landslide and we took all the prizes.” That other time as a student: “In Bitonto, one hundred and seventy starters, 142 km at 42 and a half on average, fixed gear 49×16, and the night before sleeping in the sacristy of the church of San Nicola with four flannel blankets”. That time as an amateur: “When I reached the finish line and then went to the hotel, I took a shower, looked out the window and saw the others arriving”. That other time as an amateur: “At the West Berlin race, first the team time trial in front of the four Swedish Pettersson brothers, then in a 215km stage, breakaway, everyone falling behind one by one”.
Professionalism is less happy: “The front row was already occupied, all that remained was to act as a gregarious, 1969 in the Sanson, 1970 in the Salvarani”, “I ran little, not as I would have liked and should have, I was someone who would have wanted and should have run even at night” . However two Tours of Italy and three Tours de France, two as an amateur and one as a professional: “That two-man escape, with Taccone, we arrived in Scanno, we could have finished first and second at home, but Taccone didn’t agree”, “That escape alone, we arrived in Viterbo, 130 km against the wind, caught seven from the finish line”, “That second place at the Castrocaro Grand Prix, about eighty kilometers against the clock, 1’40” from Gimondi but ahead of everyone else. On stage Adriano De Zan told me ‘follow me’, he showed me my rough De Rosa time trial bike, to make more of an impression he convinced me to explain to the audience that it had been given to me shortly before the start and that I had never tried it, which was almost true.”
Only two years as a professional: “Then they made me stop.” The farewell was bitter: “I didn’t find my name on the starting list. If you want, they told me, you can still sign up. Here’s the bike and the shirt, I replied.” But with a clear conscience: “I did everything I could.” Remaining tied to that world (of cycling) that had made him go around the world (of racing): “As a coach, as an enthusiast, as an old man in love”. To make us understand: “I found a job at Autogrill. I stayed there for 25 years, finally as director. One day I was in Milan. I called Fiorenzo Magni, just like that, out of respect. Where are you?, he asked me. At the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, I replied. He came to see me.”
Marcelli owes his life to cycling: “We were in Mexico. I took a bath with Pietro Di Caterina. I didn’t know how to swim. We were saved by Flavio Martini and Benito Pigato.” Cycling and life are team sports.
