A journey through the 1989 Tour de Trump and the Katusha Project of 2008 and beyond. From unfulfilled promises ("it will become more important than the Tour de France") to the Kasachok dances as Moscow was covered in Christmas snow. Cycling as a common thread among figures we'd like to remember for their sport, not their weapons.
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For once let's try to fly...high.
In alphabetical order, the characters are:
- Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, born October 7, 1952 in St. Petersburg: politician, former KGB secret service agent, prime minister, successor to Boris Yeltsin alternating with Dmitry Medvedev
- Donald John Trump, born June 14, 1946, in New York, United States of America: politician, entrepreneur, television personality, 45th and 47th US president before and after Joe Biden
In chronological order, according to his highly personal agenda, the agenda is reversed, and Trump "anticipates" Putin by almost a quarter of a century.
Both are on everyone's lips. The Russian for the invasion of Ukraine. The American for the daily spikes, which have dominated the media (and beyond) since January 6, 2024, that is, since he ignited the revolt of his own people, who stormed Capitol Hill in Washington led by low-level shamans because of Trump's incessant declarations against Biden, portrayed as a usurper of the White House.
The bicycle, understood as a means of interpreting high-level cycling and certainly not as the most eco-sustainable and democratic means – even if "muscular" – that exists on Earth when used for travel and sports tourism.
In 1989, the meeting with Trump was nothing short of… hilarious.
In 2008, the meeting with Putin was simple, but fleeting: nevertheless extremely interesting.
May 1989. The city of Albany, capital of New York State... across an endless bridge that would make Matteo Salvini's yet-to-be-built one envious! Good riders gather in the county seat of the same name: Albany, to be precise. Also in the mix is Greg LeMond, winner of the Tour de France three years earlier, as well as two career world titles. From the ashes of the Coors Classic, which in Colorado had inherited the stigma of the international race from the now-defunct Red Zinger, thanks to Billy Packer, the Tour de Jersey becomes the Tour de Trump thanks to the funding raised in Manhattan at the headquarters of the new American business tycoon, the real estate developer. Stretching approximately 1.400 kilometers, the race is designed through Richmond (which would later host a World Championship in the second decade of the 21st century) to Atlantic City, thanks to the extraordinary economic interests Trump had acquired in the city of casinos.
That edition would be won by Norwegian Dag Otto Lauritzen. But the memories are mostly localized in Albany. On the eve of the competition, the "boss" par excellence, the financier, reveals himself: Donald John Trump. He steps out of a limousine. He looks for hands to shake and finds plenty. He is accompanied by a beautiful woman, who is neither Ivanka nor Melania. His press secretary, Greg Nelson, is busy putting together a press conference for three high-profile international publications: two American outlets and one European one (La Gazzetta dello Sport). The two American journalists practically eat up the entire time. And we at La Gazzetta risk being left empty-handed. No questions to ask and only one answer available: "yes" to Trump's invitation to schedule a one-on-one meeting in New York City.
“Do you know where Trump Tower is?” the owner asks.
“Yes, on Fifth Avenue, after Tiffany,” we reply.
“Oh no!” he replies. “Tiffany is the one that comes before Trump Tower.”
“Okay, got it: we’ll be there. What time?” We end the conversation.
With the timing set, all that remained was to set sail for Manhattan, waiting for the stroke of 17 p.m. on May 3. The overseas expedition had been planned to prepare the ground for LeMond's arrival in the Corsa Rosa, wearing the ADR jersey. He had recovered from the 1987 hunting accident in California when he was shot by his brother-in-law Patrick Blades, who mistook him for a turkey hiding in a bush.
In short… LeMond would have remained in the race for more than a week, first in Atlantic City and then he would have come to the Giro to prepare the assault on the second Tour de France after the one in 1986, while Trump “got caught” on the indicated day and then who knows when, considering that there were a lot of small groups of “yuppie” protesters around who threatened to block the sporting event.
The choice seemed obvious. Greg Nelson—whom he'd met at the 1984 Los Angeles Games when he was press secretary for the Santa Monica Track Club, then led by Tom Tellez, and who had been praised by Carl Lewis with four gold medals!—marked "done" on his calendar, and it was imperative to arrange a good interview.
Trump then lived on three floors of the Tower, furnished identically, one above the other, "because I don't know what time or with whom I'll return at night, and so as not to disturb my wife I stay on a certain floor, but I expect to be able to leave my car keys in a certain empty pocket and bring them back to a certain place the next morning," he explained with a certain smugness during the visit to the apartments, which were carbon copies of each other.
Megalomaniac? Something more. And perhaps worse. So much so that now we're not surprised by what he manages to do on even days, only to be denied on odd days: see the differentiated tariffs, the promises later reneged on Ukraine, the Gaza Resort, the abandonment of NATO and Europe to their respective fates, the oil "confiscated" from Venezuela, the reneged commitment on the climate emergency, the cancellation of contributions to over sixty UN agencies...
He let out a rant: "The Tour de Trump will become more important than the Tour de France!" How would he now explain its disappearance from the International Cycling Union's calendar as early as 1991? Donald withdrew his support. The "Trump" became the "DuPont Tour" and then slowly slipped into oblivion. The Tour de France is still thriving, generating nearly half a billion dollars in revenue per season.
Let's turn the page and move on to December 2008.
In the wake of the teams set up by Oleg Tinkov, between beer and debit cards and the “Datcha” in Forte dei Marmi, in Russia the feeling grew that the bicycle was the social element dividing the past from the future.
Oligarch Ikor Makarov, the father-master of Itera, the man capable of imposing natural gas everywhere, convinced Vladimir Putin to focus on cycling and Team Katusha was founded.
"Ours is not a commercial project, but a political one. The goal is not to promote a specific product or brand. We work to introduce young people to cycling through cycling as a form of sport, with the aim of encouraging an active lifestyle for the benefit of the individual and, therefore, the country as a whole." These are the words of Team Manager Andrei Tchmil, describing the Katusha project.
Tchmil came from the Far East of the former Soviet Union. Born in Khabarovsk to an army graduate and a music artist, he arrived in Ukraine at a very young age and began cycling in Moldova. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Tchmil turned professional in 1989 with the Alfa Lum-Colnago team of the Bruchi di San Marino. During his career, he won three of the International Cycling Union's monument races: Paris-Roubaix, Milan-San Remo, and the Tour of Flanders. After a brief stint with a small Belgian team (where he also found a wife and passport), the shrewd Tchmil won over Makarov and with it the leadership of the Katusha Project.
So much so that in December 2008, Tchmil and I ended up in Moscow for the team presentation to Putin. We arrived at the Kempinski. A quick visit to the GUM department store, where Rolex watches unique to the world were on display. Lunch was served at a restaurant in Red Square. A long bus ride into the city to visit the Itera headquarters (now Areti, like Makarov's three yachts), where he was greeted by a real Ferrari F1 car hanging on the wall. And off to the official presentation of Putin's team, whispering about the Spanish riders who dominated the UCI rankings at the time: Joaquim Rodriguez and Carlos Sastre, who overshadowed the young riders from Makarov's first team.
Between a toast and a performance by Kazachok, around midnight, from the dim light enveloping the stage, Putin emerged. Everyone stood and remained silent. A greeting to all present. And an invitation... "Please return to the airport. Your charter is waiting for you. And if you don't leave soon, you'll be blocked by the snow that's falling hard," Putin said. "And you guys are a credit to our Russia!" he said in a low voice, but it was as if he were shouting to the entire country.
The charter was among three planes that took off that night, along with the scheduled flights for Putin and Makarov. The "commercial" plane was headed to Pisa. It landed on December 24th. Had we not listened to Putin, we would have spent that Christmas in Moscow. Who knows what it would have been like...
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