Word: georgetti
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...longer fast, was entered; so was big, blond, popular Charles Winter; Gaetano Belloni's wild mane of crinkly hair pushed out above his handlebars. The crowds, always emphatically Italian in Manhattan, cheered Linari & Binda, billed as an imported road team, but they yelled loudest for their favorites, Franco Georgetti and Paul Brocardo. When the last hour began, Brocardo & Georgetti were riding desperately to keep a one-lap lead over two young Belgians, Adolph Charlier and Roger De Nef. Strong, ambitious, daring, Charlier & De Nef were in every jam, always dangerous, took three times as many points for sprints...
...side, from side to side, all morning, all afternoon, all night, for six days. And round the pale pine dish the riders pedaled, jammed, sprinted, drank beef juice out of paper cups, pasted their burned legs with plaster, until a gun was fired off three times and Franco Georgetti and Gerard Debaets posed for flashlights holding the big bouquets that go to the winners. They had won by a single lap after 2,162 miles of pedaling...
...Beckman were second. Already, the evening before, Belloni had pedaled round the ring with a bundle of flowers sent to him by an admirer. A handsome Italian with two locks of curly hair sticking out over his forehead like horns, Belloni until the final sprint had threatened to beat Georgetti. So had Letourner and Brocardo, two small, nervy French boys. On the fifth night Brocardo fell four times, skidded down the wall of the saucer, strapped to his pedals. The third time he was knocked unconscious. In fifteen minutes he got up and rode again. McNamara, "Iron Man," was booed...
Admirers in the galleries showered their favorite racers with bunches of roses, lillies, Cattleya orchids. Less gallant spectators munched hot frankfurters or stretched themselves at length and snored sottishly till wakened by the shouts that meant a sprint, a jam or a tumble. Georgetti, the Italian, blew out a tire, catapulted to the track. "He is dead," an individual in a plaid suit asserted solemnly. Georgetti was already riding on. Four riders went down on a corner. One did not get up. It was Bobby Walthour. He had broken his collarbone...
...rode on. Not lightly had he won his name-the Iron Man. His legs, his nerves, were as ferrous as the machine under him. If he was to win he must sprint, and he must time his sprint perfectly. He was out in front now, pedaling like a maniac. Georgetti relieved him. Egg was at Georgetti's shoulder. McNamara relieved Georgetti. A pistol cracked-McNamara had won his third successive six-day race (2,109 miles). And the Beckman-Stockholm team was second. Wambst-Lacquehay, Walker-MoBeath, Grimm-Winter-third, fourth and fifth-tumbled into their pits, having done...