A sad news hit the world of sports journalism, that of the death of Claudio Ferretti, 77 years old, unforgettable voice of sport, a fine and intelligent journalist, with kind manners and a deep knowledge of the sports movement.

Claudio Ferretti wasn't just about football, he wasn't just about the whole football minute by minute in the company of two other great radio reporters like Sandro Ciotti and Enrico Ameri. Claudio Ferretti had followed with passion much more: boxing, athletics and even cycling.

Hewore the suit of correspondent on several occasions and the world of cycling remembers him with particular affection because he was ... son of art. That's right, with one more story, each time to be told and explained with his grace: because his father, Mario, is linked to The Sentence that summarises one of the greatest feats in the history of cycling, perhaps of sport. Mario Ferretti, on 10 June 1949, to open with his radio commentary of the Cuneo-Pinerolo stage of the Giro d'Italia, pronounced these words that we all have sewn on our hearts: There is only one man in command, his shirt is white and blue, his name is Fausto Coppi.

There's more than one man in charge now. Who we remember with his voice.

And after the voice here are the words of Gian Paolo Ormezzano who remembered him so well when he came to visit us at Palazzo Monferrato a few months ago and wrote and used these very words:

As a journalist from Turin, I was born to the real job in Tortona, shouting out articles and headlines with the reportage on Fausto Coppi who was dying. I grew up in my head and heart, and also in my stomach, in Novi Ligure, the town of friends of mine, such as Marina Coppi , a teetotaler, and Claudio Ferretti, a pleasure-loving colleague and son of Mario, the lonely man, as well as the home of museo del ciclismo , on which I have carried out ethical rather than aesthetic surgery, changing it from Campionissimi to Campionissimo. In football I loved, I think a little bit loved back, Gianni Rivera, and my father used to tell me that Valentino Mazzola was a nice mix of Adolfo Baloncieri and Giovanni Ferrari.

 A bicycle museum in Alexandria for me is an act "due to" and "due from" a city capital of a province that has probably the highest density of great sports champions in the world. But be careful: the word "museum" evokes ancient scales and woodworms and mummies if lived statically, in sighing contemplation. In reality the bicycle is changing, it is becoming "other" in various forms, it is pervaded by electric shocks and innervated by lunar metals, it respects and exalts the prophecy of Fiorenzo Magni who, as a Lancia dealer, said: "I give a bicycle to those who buy me a car, but soon they will give a car to those who buy a bicycle".

I fear nostalgic visitors, those for whom time is the sacred plural of temple and not the common one of time. Those who are in a personal crisis if they don't cloak themselves in a collective crisis, and then pronounce a general cycling crisis when in fact cycling is the most practised sport in the world, five continents, twelve months out of twelve full of races in the sun of the two hemispheres, and assorted specialities in constant evolution, and races on new roads, soon even above and perhaps below water. And many, many women in the saddle. And bipedal cyclists of all races and ages, all priests of defensive and offensive ecology. I'm sure Fausto Coppi would agree with me, and I'm even ready for a mediumistic session to confirm it. GPO Ormezzano

AcdB Museo participates in the pain of the family and of all the Italian athletes for the death of Claudio.

THE AUDIO CONTRIBUTION IS PART OF THE CONTENTS OF THE DIGITAL ARCHIVE OF THE ACDB MUSEUMS AND MUSEUM OF GHISALLO DI MAGREGLIO FROM AN EVENT WITH DARIO CECCARELLI OF RADIO24 - REPRODUCTION MUST BE AUTHORIZED