Felice Gimondi

Lore & Background

Gimondi's 1965 Tour de France remains one of the sport's great underdog fairy tales. Riding his first-ever Tour, the young Italian from Busto Arsizio dismantled the field with a series of ferocious solo attacks in the Alps, ultimately edging out the formidable Eddy Merckx to take the yellow jersey. The image of this lanky, mustachioed rider grinding up narrow, hairpin-strewn roads while the rest of the world watched in disbelief became an instant classic of cycling lore.

Through the late 1960s and into the 1970s, Gimondi defined a philosophy of racing that was almost antithetical to the modern team-sport model. Where others conserved energy for the final kilometre, he would launch attacks from ten, fifteen, even twenty kilometres to go, relying on his explosive power in the steepest gradients and his uncanny ability to find rhythm on roads too small and steep for the big, strong climbers. His riding style—low, aggressive, almost reckless—made him a spectacle. The crowd loved him because he made the Tour feel like a series of one-on-one duels rather than a relay.

His rivalry with Merckx was the defining sporting contest of the 1970s. Where Merckx was the complete, almost mechanical champion—dominant in the Classics, the sprints, the time trials, and the mountains—Gimondi was the pure mountain artist, the rider who could make a two-hour solo effort look like a warm-up. The 1973 Tour, in which a crash in the mountains stripped Merckx of the lead and Gimondi rode away to a second yellow jersey, crystallised the mutual respect and fierce competition between the two. Even in defeat, Merckx acknowledged that on the steepest, most technical roads, the Cat was a force of nature that could not simply be out-pedalled.

In Their Own Story

The road was barely wider than the bike's handlebars. Hairpins stacked on hairpins, the tarmac worn to a silver ribbon by decades of rain. Behind him, the peloton's engine note had faded to a whisper, swallowed by the valley. Gimondi's shoulders were locked tight, his forearms trembling, the mustache dark with sweat. He did not look back. He never looked back. There was only the next bend, the next wall, the next breath he had to wrench from the thin mountain air. Somewhere far below, in the flatland, the world was still arguing about who was the strongest rider alive. Up here, on this knife-edge of stone and sky, there was only the Cat and the road, and the road was losing.

Reader's Guide

The image that haunts every Tour fan is the 1965 Alps: a lanky, mustachioed Italian grinding up a road so narrow and steep that the peloton behind him has simply stopped, legs spinning uselessly, while he pedals in a low, almost crouched position, attacking as if the gradient were an insult. That single picture—first Tour, first yellow jersey, a solo effort that felt like a personal vendetta against the mountain—became the shorthand for everything Gimondi represented.

His Tour career arc is deceptively simple in outline but extraordinary in texture. 1965: the fairy-tale first-tour victory. A stretch of stage wins and podiums through the late sixties. 1973: the second yellow jersey, sealed by a crash that robbed Merckx of the lead and left Gimondi to ride a masterful final week. Between those peaks, he was the rider who made the Tour feel dangerous, unpredictable, alive.

Tactically, Gimondi was a pure attacker. He did not wait for the final three kilometres. He would find a small, steep section—often a road too narrow for the big climbers to maintain their cadence—and he would simply accelerate, drop the field, and vanish into the thin air. His identity was the solo break, the two-hour ride, the refusal to let the race become a team exercise.

His rivalry with Merckx is the great narrative. Two philosophies of cycling in collision: the complete, all-conquering champion versus the pure mountain artist. Fans still name Gimondi first when they talk about the Tour's most beautiful, most dangerous moments, because he made the peloton's greatest stage feel like a one-man war.

Did You Know?

• Gimondi won the 1965 Tour de France on his very first attempt at the race, a feat that remains one of the sport's most remarkable first-tour victories.
• His nickname 'Il Gatto' (The Cat) referred to his extraordinary agility and predatory bursts on small, steep, technical climbs where larger riders lost rhythm.
• His 1973 Tour de France victory came after a crash in the mountains stripped his great rival Eddy Merckx of the race lead, leaving Gimondi to ride a commanding final week.
• Gimondi was one of the few riders of his era to top both the Tour de France and the Giro d'Italia, confirming his status as a complete Grand Tour champion rather than a one-race specialist.