It was the first week of August 1992 and Hein Verbruggen, the ambitious new president of the UCI, had an elemental problem. The Tour de France, the last of his grand tour triptych, had run its course, and four of the five great classics were archived for another year. Professional bike racing would take place throughout August, September and October, sue, and six of the bigger one-day races belonged to the nascent World Cup series. In principle at least that constituted a season-long narrative (that old cycling chestnut), but in reality nobody much cared. Events like the Wincanton Classic had no prestige to speak of, while Paris-Tours had been haemorrhaging it year on year for over a decade. It felt scruffy and not a little itinerant, while the Gran Prix des Nations was in terminal decline. Only Lombardy and the World Championships attracted significant global interest, but there were six long autumn weeks between them.



Verbruggen had inherited a calendar short on suspense and money, and above all hopelessly lopsided. It needed re-inventing and so, hung for a sheep as a lamb, he picked up the phone and called the boss of the Giro d’Italia.



Carmine Castellano was an agreeable, collegiate man, keen to help and to be helped. Here, however, he explained as politely as he could that it would be lunacy for the Giro even to contemplate a move to early September. Verbruggen had feared as much and so now he tried his luck with the organiser of the Vuelta.