‘Yeah, yeah,’ Luca said, leaning forward so Ben could listen to his chest.

‘Don’t rush your career,’ Ben mused. ‘If you went to Mercatone Uno or Saeco, you’d be a much smaller fish. You can really shine at Megapac – you already have. A Stage win in your first Giro – bloody marvellous. Now, let me listen to your heart,’ Ben said, stethoscope at the ready.

‘My heart,’ Luca proclaimed, with his right hand clasped at it for emphasis, ‘belongs to Megapac. God Bless America.’

Ben and he laughed heartily and then fell silent while Luca’s impressive organ was analysed.

‘Good,’ said Ben, ‘you’re really in good nick. Just take care, young man. Recuperation is the key to success.’

Luca sat up on the side of the examination table and took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Drink tonight?’

‘You can have a beer,’ Ben cautions, ‘and no women. Or vice versa.’

‘Yeah,’ Luca laughed, ‘something like that.’ He sprang down from the bench, slipped into his tracksuit, gave Ben a high five and arranged to meet him later.

Ben smiled as he prepared for the next rider.

For me, Luca personifies the point of the Tour de France – the international flavour and colour that epitomizes the peloton. He’s going to hit his peak during the Tour and do great things for the team. It’s going to be his first Tour de France, coming only a month after his first Giro where he won a Stage in fine style. He’ll go far. With my help. Ambition is in his soul but his body is in my hands. That’s the kick for me.

Ben is sharing beer and banter with Hunter and Travis, the two American stars of Megapac. Hunter Dean and Travis Stanton are as focused and earnest as Luca is cavalier and spirited. Both are all-American boys: Hollywood handsome, open demeanour, and awesomely fit, for whom Commitment is their creed, Dedication their dogma and very much with capital letters. They’re ambassadors – representing Megapac and the United States in general, cycling in particular, their families, their colleges, their home towns specifically. They love their bikes and their moms and dads and kid siblings, their buddies in the teams and their fiancées with dreamy daft names to whom they dedicate race wins, Stage wins, tough days or good rides.

‘Cycling is lucky to have been chosen by you,’ Ben says, eating peanuts, ‘because I suspect you could have turned to any sport you wished and excelled.’

They know more about vitamin supplements than I do. They love sports massage; they love citing their VO₂ Max and how many kilometres they ride a year. They love knowing what their ideal body fat percentage is and they love training hard and eating the right things to ensure that they maintain it. They love quoting their power output in terms of watts, and mantras which they chant and believe in. They believe in themselves. Belief is both the ultimate and minimum requirement for any cyclist who wishes to survive the Tour de France, let alone do well.