ANALYSIS | From Coppi and Bartali, to Pantani and Pogacar: Why the Giro d’Italia is the most beautiful race in the world

Every May, Italy is painted pink. Streets are draped in rosy banners, mountain roads fill with eager spectators, and an electric buzz of anticipation sweeps the country. This Friday, May 9th, the Giro d’Italia, the grand Tour of Italy, begins once again, and with it returns a national ritual over a century in the making. But the Giro is far more than a mere sporting event. It is a cultural phenomenon, a source of Italian pride, and a stage upon which tales of grit and glory have unfolded to captivate the world.

In a small town along the route, you might find schoolchildren waving flags and elderly fans reminiscing about past heroes, all united by the Corsa Rosa. For three weeks, Italy’s tifosi will line cobbled village lanes and high mountain passes, cheering as if each pedal stroke carries the nation’s heart with it.

The Giro’s origins trace back to 1909, when a bold idea was born in the pages of Italy’s sports daily La Gazzetta dello Sport. Inspired by the early success of the Tour de France, the newspaper’s editors sought to boost circulation by hosting a grand cycling race around Italy.

From the beginning, the Giro was entwined with the identity of La Gazzetta, famously printed on pink newsprint. In 1931 organizers introduced a novel idea to make the race leader stand out: the maglia rosa, or pink jersey. The colour paid homage to the Gazzetta’s pages, and the jersey quickly became a symbol of excellence and aspiration. Ever since, every cyclist dreams of wearing that iconic pink jersey, if only for a day.

The race itself grew in stature and scale over the decades. Except for interruptions during World War I and II, the Giro has run annually since 1909. By mid-century, the peloton had transformed from mostly local riders to an international cast, and the route expanded in ambition. Longer distances, more stages, and higher mountains all became part of the Giro’s evolution as the organizers sought to test the limits of human endurance. From its humble newspaper-promotional beginnings, the Giro d’Italia has grown into one of cycling’s three Grand Tours, and for many die hard fans it is seen as the best.

In Italy, the Giro d’Italia is nothing less than a national institution, and every spring it unites Italians from all walks of life in a shared passion. In mountain villages, families pack picnics and trek to roadside perches at dawn to claim a spot, turning the stage into a day-long festa. Indeed, from the Alps to Sicily, the Giro brings a carnival atmosphere that no television coverage can fully capture, you have to be there amid the sea of flags and roaring voices to feel its true electricity.

Crucially, the Giro has long been a source of national pride and collective identity. Much like when Italy’s beloved national soccer team plays, the Giro commands attention in every town and household, even among those who aren’t avid cycling fans.

The cultural resonance of the Giro is deeply rooted in history. In the post-war years, for example, the race provided a sense of hope and unity for a nation rebuilding from rubble. The 1946 edition was the first held after World War II and had to navigate a country still physically and emotionally shattered, yet Italians still rallied around the event as a sign of normalcy and revival.

If Italy’s passion gives the Giro its heart, the mountains give it its soul. The Giro d’Italia is famed (and sometimes feared) for its legendary climbs, those punishing ascents that have produced some of the most dramatic moments in cycling history. The race’s mythology is written in sweat and tears on roads like the Stelvio Pass, the Gavia, the Mortirolo, and more recently the brutally steep Monte Zoncolan.

To conquer the Giro, a rider must endure the full wrath of these mountains and the fickle May weather that often comes with them. One of the race’s most fabled episodes occurred in 1956 on Monte Bondone in the Dolomites. That year a blizzard engulfed the mountain, transforming the stage into a scene of epic suffering. Luxembourg’s Charly Gaul, a diminutive climber started that stage far down the standings, over 16 minutes behind the leader.

But in horrendous conditions, Gaul thrived where others collapsed. As snow piled up and riders dropped out with hypothermia, Gaul pressed on through the whiteout. He rode alone in the frozen darkness up Bondone, famously warming his hands with brandy given by spectators, and won the stage by nearly eight minutes. In one day, he erased his huge deficit and seized the maglia rosa.

Fast forward to 1988, and another blizzard would cement a legend. Stage 14 of that year’s Giro featured the Passo di Gavia, a 20km climb that became the stage for what’s often called The Day the Hardmen Cried. On that frigid day, American rider Andy Hampsten attacked up the Gavia’s slopes amid a brutal snowstorm. Temperatures plummeted below freezing as the road vanished under snow. Amid the chaos, riders were found trembling or weeping at the roadside, some climbing into team cars to seek refuge.

But Hampsten, eyes set on the pink jersey, kept grinding upward, ice coating his goggles and limbs. He reached the summit virtually alone, having ridden into a blizzard with fearless determination. Though another rider, Erik Breukink, caught him on the descent to win the stage, Hampsten’s bravery earned him the overall race lead, becoming the first American to win the Giro.

For every triumphant ascent, the Giro has also seen heartbreaking collapses that only add to its drama. Who can forget 2018’s astounding Stage 19? On what was described as “one of the most extraordinary days in Giro d’Italia history,” Britain’s Chris Froome unleashed an 80-kilometer solo attack across the Alpine gravel of the Colle delle Finestre, a move even Tadej Pogacar would have been proud of!

In a move few thought possible, he erased a three-minute deficit, obliterating his rivals with a solo escape and riding himself into the pink jersey. Behind him, the race leader Simon Yates spectacularly cracked, losing over half an hour and any hope of victory in a matter of kilometers. Froome’s all-or-nothing gamble paid off in what will be remembered as a stage for the ages, proving that the Giro’s unpredictability and penchant for late twists remain alive and well.

Beyond individual exploits, the Giro d’Italia has been defined by towering personalities and rivalries that have become part of Italian folklore. The race’s golden era, often said to be the 1940s and 1950s, was dominated by the duels of two men whose names still evoke reverence: Fausto Coppi and Gino Bartali.

Coppi, elegant and innovative, and Bartali, the rugged man of faith, could not have been more different – and Italians loved them for it. Their rivalry spilled beyond sport; it divided households and regions, yet ultimately united a nation starved for heroes in the difficult post-war years.

One iconic story from their rivalry is the 1949 Giro, specifically the monumental Cuneo–Pinerolo stage. It was 254 km long over five mountain climbs, a true marathon. Coppi attacked early and embarked on a solo breakaway of 190 km, an almost unimaginable feat.

As he scaled peak after peak alone, radio commentator Mario Ferretti delivered a line that has since become immortal in Italy: “Un uomo solo è al comando, la sua maglia è biancoceleste, il suo nome è Fausto Coppi!” – “A lone man is in the lead, his jersey is sky-blue, his name is Fausto Coppi!”

Those words crackling over the radio sent Italians into rapture. Coppi won that stage by 11+ minutes; Bartali, chasing valiantly behind, was second on the day. Coppi went on to take the 1949 Giro, and older Italians can recite those words from memory, a testament to how the Giro’s legends imprint on the national consciousness.

Then came the era of Marco Pantani in the 1990s, which reawakened Italy’s infatuation with a true cycling idol. Pantani, the diminutive, bald climber from Romagna nicknamed Il Pirata (The Pirate) for his bandana and earrings, was nothing short of a rock star in Italy.

His style of racing, all guts and attack on the steepest slopes, was a throwback to the days of Coppi. When Pantani danced on the pedals in the high mountains, crowds would swarm the road in a pink frenzy, running alongside him for a chance to push their hometown hero onward. In 1998, Pantani achieved a feat Italians had waited decades for: he won the Giro d’Italia and then the Tour de France in the same year. It took another 26 years for a rider to replicate this feat, as Tadej Pogacar did in 2024.

Pantani’s Giro win that year, taken with daring attacks in the Dolomites, made him a national hero, tens of thousands greeted him in triumph in Milan. But Pantani’s tale would turn tragic. In the 1999 Giro, while leading comfortably, he was dramatically expelled from the race after a blood test suggested doping.

He was not officially caught using EPO at that moment, but the cloud of suspicion and ensuing ban crushed him. Pantani fell into depression and died in 2004, an end that broke the collective heart of Italy. To this day, shrines and graffiti honoring Pantani dot many Giro climbs, and fans still speak of him in reverent, mournful tones. His rise and fall encapsulate the Giro’s emotional spectrum, from the highest highs of euphoria to the most devastating lows.

As the 108th edition of the Giro d’Italia departs on its journey across Italy, it carries with it all the weight of history and the exuberance of a fresh start. Every generation adds new chapters to the saga. In recent years, the race has continued to surprise and inspire: from the unheralded 2016 victory of Vincenzo Nibali, who clawed back a seemingly lost cause in the final mountains, to the fairy-tale win of Tao Geoghegan Hart in 2020, when the young Brit seized his chance in the final stage against all odds.

But who will write their name in pink this year?

Globally, the Giro d’Italia has secured its place as one of the premier events in sport, with viewers from every continent tuning in to see the drama unfold amid stunning Italian scenery. It may be the second-oldest Grand Tour (a few years younger than the Tour de France), but many aficionados will argue it is the most beautiful and unpredictable of them all. The Giro doesn’t boast the same commercial might or worldwide fanfare as the Tour, but perhaps that is part of its charm.

Riders often speak of the Giro’s unique atmosphere: the warmth of the Italian fans (even as they mob the roads), the slightly looser vibe compared to the pressure-cooker of the Tour, and the deep respect for the race’s traditions. The maglia rosa, in its own way, is as coveted as the Tour’s yellow jersey, not because it’s worth more money or fame, but because of the legacy it represents. Wearing pink links a rider to the likes of Coppi, Merckx, Hinault, Indurain, and now Pogacar, and all the giants who have worn it before.

Ask any Italian, and they’ll tell you the true essence of the Giro is the passion it ignites. It’s in the voice of the roadside spectator yelling “Vai! Vai!” (Go! Go!) at a labouring rider, running just to keep up for a few frantic seconds. It’s in the tears of a winner on the podium, wrapped in the flag as the national anthem plays. It’s in the quiet pride of a small-town bar owner who keeps a photo on the wall of the day the Giro passed through his village, bringing everyone together in celebration.

The Giro d’Italia is special because it moves people, emotionally as much as physically. It celebrates the harsh beauty of both Italy’s terrain and the human endeavour, reminding us that suffering can be sublime and that victory can be deeply poignant.