year, but there was no doubt that he was taking his shot at redemption in Holland very seriously indeed. Since around the time of the Giro, he had been working closely with a Milanese doctor, a 38-year-old surgeon and biochemist by the name of Gianni Aldo de Donato. From what little was known of him, de Donato seemed an extraordinary character. In 1959 at the age of 30, he had reportedly discovered the world’s first antiviral medicine. That had earned him a full-page homage in the
New York Times
. Since then, he had gone back to more mundane matters, and was carrying out one of his routine visits in May 1967 when he noticed ‘a strange agitation’ in one of his patients. Further investigation revealed the cause of the man’s ills: he couldn’t fathom why Gianni Motta wasn’t riding better at the Giro d’Italia. Suddenly curious, de Donato had reached for a pen and paper and written a long letter. Motta had replied courteously, and quickly, because before the end of the Giro de Donato was filling another envelope with a handful of yellow capsules and a note about suggested dosage. The pills were perfectly legal, de Donato maintained. Sold under the commercial name LILLY, they contained ‘a catalyst of the 13 biochemical reactions which take place in the muscle’. De Donato was certain that, had Motta taken them throughout the Giro, and had Gimondi not been able to count on the ‘
santa alleanza degli italiani
’, Motta would have won the Giro. Not only that, but he reckoned that 24-year-old Motta had the body of a 21-year-old. He would ‘explode’ over the coming seasons.
‘He’s a squirrel, Mother Nature’s been good to Gianni,’ was the doctor’s bizarre assessment. It got weirder: ‘Put a squirrel and a mole at the bottom of a tree and the squirrel will climb up, while the mole will stay down below. He’s a squirrel, he’s been lucky. He can succeed in everything, he has to succeed in everything.’
Their collaboration had continued and intensified over the summer, to the point where de Donato was now commonly depicted as some kind of mystical shaman who had Motta ‘in his thrall’. Everywhere the doctor went, suspicion stalked him. In the Italian team camp in Valkenberg near Herleen, that had then turned to outright hostility when Motta insisted on both training and eating apart from the other Italian team members, with only de Donato for company. The details of those training sessions defied conventional wisdom about how to prepare for a world championships as well as belief; on both the Wednesday and Friday before Sunday’s World Championship race, Motta had covered 290 kilometres at 40 kilometres per hour. Wild speculation about exactly what de Donato was giving or doing to him spread through the foreign riders and press. Some claimed that de Donato was a ‘neuropsychiatrist’. Others reported that, in the runup to Herleen, Motta had followed the regimen of a NASA cosmonaut. Elsewhere, there were clear inferences that de Donato was feeding Motta much more sinister substances than the meat and vegetable milkshakes which had become his main sustenance.
‘I’ve realised that drugs rule cycling. Doping is the riders’ daily bread. The riders love it because it reduces their suffering. But in my opinion it has put the brakes on the technical development of this sport,’ de Donato tried to argue, clearly to little avail.
The misgivings turned to astonishment on the day of the race when the start-gun sounded and Motta shot out of the bunch. Only de Donato nodded his approval; Gianni was sticking to their plan. In the confusion, five riders had jumped across with him: the Englishman Ronald Addy, the Spaniard Ramon Saez, Janssen’s compatriot Jos van der Vleuten and Eddy Merckx. Nineteen laps and over 250 kilometres remained.
The laps ticked by, the gap grew. At the end of each one, Motta scanned the huge crowds for his guru. De Donato responded with a ‘Forza, Gianni!’ or a clenched fist.
New York Times
. Since then, he had gone back to more mundane matters, and was carrying out one of his routine visits in May 1967 when he noticed ‘a strange agitation’ in one of his patients. Further investigation revealed the cause of the man’s ills: he couldn’t fathom why Gianni Motta wasn’t riding better at the Giro d’Italia. Suddenly curious, de Donato had reached for a pen and paper and written a long letter. Motta had replied courteously, and quickly, because before the end of the Giro de Donato was filling another envelope with a handful of yellow capsules and a note about suggested dosage. The pills were perfectly legal, de Donato maintained. Sold under the commercial name LILLY, they contained ‘a catalyst of the 13 biochemical reactions which take place in the muscle’. De Donato was certain that, had Motta taken them throughout the Giro, and had Gimondi not been able to count on the ‘
santa alleanza degli italiani
’, Motta would have won the Giro. Not only that, but he reckoned that 24-year-old Motta had the body of a 21-year-old. He would ‘explode’ over the coming seasons.
‘He’s a squirrel, Mother Nature’s been good to Gianni,’ was the doctor’s bizarre assessment. It got weirder: ‘Put a squirrel and a mole at the bottom of a tree and the squirrel will climb up, while the mole will stay down below. He’s a squirrel, he’s been lucky. He can succeed in everything, he has to succeed in everything.’
Their collaboration had continued and intensified over the summer, to the point where de Donato was now commonly depicted as some kind of mystical shaman who had Motta ‘in his thrall’. Everywhere the doctor went, suspicion stalked him. In the Italian team camp in Valkenberg near Herleen, that had then turned to outright hostility when Motta insisted on both training and eating apart from the other Italian team members, with only de Donato for company. The details of those training sessions defied conventional wisdom about how to prepare for a world championships as well as belief; on both the Wednesday and Friday before Sunday’s World Championship race, Motta had covered 290 kilometres at 40 kilometres per hour. Wild speculation about exactly what de Donato was giving or doing to him spread through the foreign riders and press. Some claimed that de Donato was a ‘neuropsychiatrist’. Others reported that, in the runup to Herleen, Motta had followed the regimen of a NASA cosmonaut. Elsewhere, there were clear inferences that de Donato was feeding Motta much more sinister substances than the meat and vegetable milkshakes which had become his main sustenance.
‘I’ve realised that drugs rule cycling. Doping is the riders’ daily bread. The riders love it because it reduces their suffering. But in my opinion it has put the brakes on the technical development of this sport,’ de Donato tried to argue, clearly to little avail.
The misgivings turned to astonishment on the day of the race when the start-gun sounded and Motta shot out of the bunch. Only de Donato nodded his approval; Gianni was sticking to their plan. In the confusion, five riders had jumped across with him: the Englishman Ronald Addy, the Spaniard Ramon Saez, Janssen’s compatriot Jos van der Vleuten and Eddy Merckx. Nineteen laps and over 250 kilometres remained.
The laps ticked by, the gap grew. At the end of each one, Motta scanned the huge crowds for his guru. De Donato responded with a ‘Forza, Gianni!’ or a clenched fist.
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