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De Gendt wins an escape that wins the Neapolitan stage of the Giro d’Italia.

Latest NewsDe Gendt wins an escape that wins the Neapolitan stage of the Giro d'Italia.

What I announced happened, long live! what I announced happened, what a misfortune!

As a self-respecting author, Guillaume Martin lives on the never smooth roads of Naples – and on a hill from which cyclists could almost reach and pick a good juicy and sour fruit from the famous lemon trees on an island so close to Procida – the torment of Nostradamus, happy from that that he succeeded in predicting the end of the world, and unfortunate because he carried it out. He is in the four, with the famous Van der Poel, who, as usual, overestimated his abilities and blew up the stage for the sake of another, and among them Zhirmey, chasing another four, with the Spaniard Arkas among them.

The innate selfishness of the runner, who, as he recounts in his essay La société du péloton, prefers everyone to lose before helping another win, denounces his persecution. Belgian Thomas de Gendt (3rd, Arkas) wins with just a few seconds, who multiplies himself by working generously for his partner Vanhoek, also in the quartet, but when he tells him he can’t take it anymore, he generously takes the responsibility easily rests on the Riviera di Chiaia, where tourists walk around in pink hats and drink gelato al limone, and locals bathe in the dirty waters of the sea.

And very few people remember, at least they care, maybe yesterday’s life was Eurovision, a ride, a fleeting and beautiful vision of cyclists at full speed, that the bearded De Gendt himself, with such a crazy heart, won the Stelvio crazy escape to the Giro, won by unknown Canadian lacrosse amateur Ryder Hesyedal, and in which Purito Rodriguez, the second, learned to cry on the podium.

Behind the Trek is hard at work to protect Juanpe’s pink jersey, who also inflicts his fair share of beatings while watching the restless Kamna who tries to tickle him a couple of times. They save her just over a minute from an attack by Guillaume Martin, who, to console himself, is advancing at least in the overall standings.

Cyclists don’t see how well lemons can quench their thirst. They fly at over 43 per hour on one stage without a minute to catch their breath. It is enough for them to look for the shade of branches on bumpy roads, the scorching sun and giving the sea that blue color that its poets-singers so sing about, and not lose heart, thinking that today the heaviest mountain of Abruzzo, Blockhouse, is arriving. The mountain is a symbol that will make the favorites hit it hard, not think about the consequences of their actions, not be afraid of them. And do not admire success, insidious. Whoever wins the Blockhouse does not win the Giro. And only Menshov in pink in 2009 arrived in pink in Rome, at the end of the Giro del Centenario of that year.

Eddy Merckx, a 21-year-old boy, was revealed there in 1967 before becoming a cannibal; there the taranga was hit hard on Merckx, already cannibalistic and vengeful. There, Nairo Quintana felt like a patron of the 2017 Giro, and Dumoulin did not arouse even a shadow of suspicion on the very day that a badly parked police motorcycle hit Mikel Landa, then co-chief of Sky, with his co-chief Geraint Thomas. and Adam Yates. Despite this, the Giro did not win the Nairo, but Dumoulin, and for this reason Landa set a price for the top of the mountain, where the merino sheep of the Bourbons, who had owned half of Italy for so many years, were fattening.

“If I lose the lead, I lose it, and if I keep it, everything will be fine,” says Juanpe, a Lebrija native who sings carpe diem daily in Italian and English. “Every minute in a pink T-shirt is happiness.”

Behind him, lanky cyclists sharpen the knife of Richard Carapaz, who regrets that his faithful Castroviejo, who fell on Friday, arrives with a bad body where wisdom can cost more than the legs of his leader Simon. Yeats, Pello Bilbao, Mikel Landa, those who survive day by day with heart and head, always the next day.

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