In Memoriam: Il Pirata, Ten Years Gone

I don’t know if it’s because I see something of myself in them or if it awakens some kind of nurturing instinct, but I always seem to find myself drawn to tragically flawed figures.

Layne Staley and Marco Pantani strike me as two halves of the same whole; incredibly talented yet tortured with mortally addictive personalities, both set loose into a world of over-indulgence. Everyone – including themselves – saw the writing on the wall in the months or even years leading up to their deaths, but everyone seemed helpless to stop the inevitable: a lonely death. To hear Staley sing is to watch Pantani climb; beauty is to witness an artist pouring their anguish into their trade.

I’ve been watching the 1998 Tour and Giro during my morning turbo sessions, and even with the lens through which we now view those rides, his talent was undeniable, but so was his fragile psyche. You can almost taste his self-doubt even as he flies up the mountains like a soaring eagle.

Today, St. Valentines Day, marks the tenth anniversary of Marco’s death, and with that we dive into the archives for a Kermis on Brett’s look at our fallen hero. See also a previous year’s Valentines Day Memorial.

May you go with Merckx, Marco.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

View Comments

  • I've had this photo on my desktop for an unwritten Pantani post, from Il Dolore.

    The early years. Putting the hurt on a Kelme rider.

  • "It was effortless for him..."  All else aside, watching Il Pirata float uphill was art.

  • February 14 has passed down this end of the planet, the flowers are wilting, hangovers nursed, a night of passion abating. A few celebrate a life long lost, others condemn that same life, yet the majority remain oblivious.

    Flawed, yes, brilliant, of course, a victim, possibly... regardless of the semantics, this was a man who showed a human side to the machinations of the time he was a part of, and for his fragile character we cannot condemn him. RIP Marco.

  • I'm not sure I'll see such artistry again in my lifetime.  Watching him in full flight was captivating, whether it was up a mountain or down one. I can't climb out of the saddle with my hands in the drops without thinking of him, and I suspect none of us can.

  • From what I've read and learned about Pantani, he certainly seems to have been a tortured soul. He fought his demons just as we all do. Unfortunately on that day the demons got the best of  him.

    I, for one, truly hope that Marco was able to finally find that peace.

  • My pain is self-chosen.  At least so the prophet says.
    I could either burn, or cut off my pride and burn some time
    A head full of lies is the weight, tied to my waist.

    The river of deceit pulls down, the only direction we flow is down.

    My pain is self-chosen.  At least I believe it to be....

    - Layne Stayley

    Layne must have been a cyclist at heart.  He is missed, as is Marco.

  • I didn't find road cycling until long after the days of Marco, but from what I've learned on this site the comparison with Layne is apt.  Like missing the days of Marco, I never got to see AIC perform while Layne was alive.  I did see Jerry Cantrell in Vancouver some years after Layne's passing.  Great show, but it would have been so much greater with Layne's voice.  It's always so tragic when those whose lives are so tortured leave us too early.  I often wonder if their tortured souls would have found some solace in the knowledge of the impact they had on the many they never knew, and the reverence with which their names are spoken.  Even now after all this time.

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