Before we review “Coppi” by Herbie Sykes, first a little tale.
Kirkcaldy, 1971 and I’ve recently joined the local cycling club, my knowledge of the sport’s history is sketchy but one thing I do know is that Eddy Merckx is unequivocally the king.
Senior club member Chic Davis tries to explain to me that whilst Merckx is prolific he doesn’t have the charisma or style of the long dead Italian rider, Fausto Coppi.
Furthermore, he thinks that had the Second World War not come along and uninterrupted the Italian’s career there’s every chance that his palmarès may have rivalled those of the man from Brussels.
With the certainty that the ignorance of youth bestows upon one, I pooh-pooh such suggestions.