Beniamino Schiavon, from Laigueglia, was director for many years of the local Autonomous Care and Stay Agency, under whose impulse the Trofeo Laigueglia was born in 1964. Many stories from the first editions were collected by his sons Massimo and Roberto before Beniamino's passing in 2023. We present them in a sort of staged race towards the opening classification of Italian cycling.

1975 - EDDY IS HERE BUT DOES NOT START

Laigueglia is a small crossroads of wheels and dreams, of water bottles and corridor chatter. This is where the season begins, this is where every cyclist, from domestiques to captains, dreams of standing out. It's not just a race: it's a ritual, a first testing ground, the moment when champions shed the shadows of winter and show the world their legs, desire, and, above all, heart.

And in the midst of this excitement, two names stand out that alone would fill any square: Felice Gimondi and Eddy Merckx. One, the Italian, is consistency personified, a champion who knows how to suffer and is not afraid to lose. The other, the Belgian, is the Cannibal, the one who leaves nothing behind, the one who wins and wins again, as he did here in 1973 and 1974.

Merckx is in Laigueglia for the hat-trick, and it's clear from the start: he brought the entire Molteni team and took his usual place at the Splendid hotel. But it's not that simple, and we know it well: cycling is made of pedals, but also of contracts, negotiations, compromises.

It's the night before the race, and suddenly news arrives that something is wrong: Giorgio Albani, Merckx's team manager, wants to talk to the organizers. It's never a good sign on the eve of a race.

Beniamino Schiavon, Giancarlo Garassino, and Pino Villa rush to the hotel, and there the bill is presented, quite literally: Merckx will not start unless his fee is adjusted. The Cannibal, the king of the roads, blocked by a money issue. The Molteni managers are as rigid as the north wind: "Either this, or nothing". Hours pass, talks happen, mediation is attempted. Clearly, Eddy wants to race. He's there, off to the side, sitting in an armchair in the lobby, with the body of a champion and the look of a boy who has just had his favorite toy taken away.

But this is not just about Laigueglia, it's about the entire calendar, the classics, the big races: giving in today would mean lowering tomorrow's price. And so, nothing. Eddy will not race. Schiavon sees him leaving the negotiation room, with misty eyes and bowed head. This is not the image of a defeated man, because Merckx will never be defeated. It's the image of a cyclist prisoner of the system, of a champion who must give up not because of his legs, not because of the road, but because of a signature that doesn't come.

The next morning, the Trofeo Laigueglia starts without its most anticipated protagonist. What remains is the memory of that Merckx who would have wanted to race and win, and instead had to stay and watch, with tears in his eyes and his heart already far away, perhaps on the roads of Belgium, where everything began.

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