I'm giving everything I have and don't have
Na história do ciclismo português, há momentos que transcendem o desporto e tocam algo mais profundo — a ideia de que um jovem de Figueira da Foz pode, de repente, carregar o peso de uma camisola cor-de-rosa e de toda uma nação. Afonso Eulálio, 24 anos, tornou-se esta semana apenas o terceiro português a liderar o Giro d'Italia, seguindo as pegadas de Acácio da Silva em 1989 e João Almeida em 2020, numa corrida onde os grandes favoritos ainda estão a mais de seis minutos. O que está em jogo não é apenas uma classificação, mas a pergunta silenciosa que toda a liderança inesperada coloca: até onde pode ir quem ainda está a descobrir o que é capaz de fazer?
- O telemóvel de Eulálio não parava de tocar — a Portugal inteira parecia querer falar com ele ao mesmo tempo, e ele teve de escolher deliberadamente a quem responder.
- A etapa de sexta-feira, 244 quilómetros com chegada ao Blockhaus numa subida de 13,6 km a 8,4% de inclinação média, representa o primeiro teste verdadeiro da liderança do jovem ciclista.
- Eulálio não fala em vencer — fala em sobreviver até à segunda-feira, o dia de descanso, como se cada hora de rosa fosse uma vitória em si mesma.
- Os grandes favoritos, incluindo Jonas Vingegaard a mais de seis minutos, ainda não mostraram as suas cartas, o que torna a posição de Eulálio simultaneamente promissora e frágil.
- A renovação de contrato com a Bahrain Victorious até 2028 sugere que a equipa vê nele algo mais do que um líder acidental — mas o Giro ainda tem semanas pela frente.
Afonso Eulálio passou a quinta-feira a tentar compreender o que lhe tinha acontecido. O jovem de 24 anos de Figueira da Foz completou a sexta etapa do Giro d'Italia — de Paestum a Nápoles, 142 quilómetros — com a maglia rosa nos ombros, tornando-se o primeiro corredor da Bahrain Victorious a liderar a corrida e apenas o terceiro português a fazê-lo, depois de Acácio da Silva em 1989 e João Almeida em 2020.
O que mais o surpreendeu não foi a corrida em si, mas o que veio depois. O telemóvel explodia com mensagens. Eulálio tomou uma decisão consciente: ligar à família e à namorada, e tentar ignorar o resto. Havia tempo para processar a magnitude do momento — mas primeiro era preciso focar no que estava a seguir.
E o que estava a seguir era exigente: 244 quilómetros de Formia até ao Blockhaus, com uma chegada em montanha de primeira categoria, 13,6 km a uma inclinação média de 8,4%. O seu objetivo declarado era simples e honesto — chegar ao dia de descanso de segunda-feira ainda de rosa. Não ganhar. Não atacar. Apenas resistir.
A sua liderança era sólida mas não confortável. Igor Arrieta seguia a 2 minutos e 51 segundos, Christian Scaroni a 3 minutos e 34. Os verdadeiros favoritos à vitória final, como Jonas Vingegaard, estavam a mais de seis minutos — uma distância que tornava tudo possível, mas que as montanhas podiam rapidamente reescrever. O Giro tinha apenas começado, e Eulálio estava a aprender, em tempo real, o que significa liderar.
Afonso Eulálio spent Thursday living what he kept calling an incredible day—his first in the pink jersey of the Giro d'Italia, the symbol of race leadership that only three Portuguese cyclists have ever worn. The 24-year-old from Figueira da Foz completed the 142-kilometer sixth stage from Paestum to Naples with that weight on his shoulders, and by evening he was still processing what had happened.
Becoming the leader of Italy's grand tour was one thing. Staying there was another. Eulálio had arrived at the race as a promising young rider for Bahrain Victorious, a team that had never before put anyone in the maglia rosa. Now he was the first. He was also only the third Portuguese cyclist to lead the Giro—after Acácio da Silva in 1989 and João Almeida in 2020—a fact that seemed to be sinking in slowly, if at all.
What hit him hardest was not the racing itself but what came after. His phone, he said, was completely exploding with messages. The attention from home was overwhelming enough that he made a deliberate choice: call the people closest to him—his family, his girlfriend—and then try to tune out everything else. There would be time to process the magnitude of it later. For now, he needed to focus on the next stage.
That next stage was waiting on Friday: 244 kilometers from Formia to the Blockhaus, a first-category mountain finish that would climb for 13.6 kilometers at an average gradient of 8.4 percent. It was, by any measure, his first real test in the jersey. Eulálio knew it. He spoke about it with a kind of clear-eyed honesty, saying he would give everything he had and didn't have, and that his realistic target was simply to reach Monday's rest day still wearing pink. Not to win the stage. Not to extend his lead dramatically. Just to survive.
His current position was solid but not commanding. Igor Arrieta of UAE Emirates sat in second place, 2 minutes 51 seconds back. Christian Scaroni of XDS Astana was third, 3 minutes 34 seconds down. More significantly, the actual favorites for the overall victory—the riders everyone had come to Italy expecting to fight for the win—were all more than six minutes behind. Jonas Vingegaard, the two-time Tour de France champion, was 15th, 6 minutes 22 seconds adrift. That gap suggested something remarkable might be possible, if Eulálio could hold on.
But holding on in a grand tour is never simple, especially for a young rider in his first leadership role. The mountains would test him in ways the flatter stages had not. His team believed in him—he had just signed a contract extension through 2028, a sign of their confidence. Still, the Giro was a three-week race, and he was only days into it. Thursday had been incredible. Friday would tell him something truer about what he was capable of.
Citas Notables
My phone was completely exploding with messages. I tried to call the people closest to me and then tune out the rest.— Afonso Eulálio
I'll give everything I have and don't have, and try to reach at least the rest day as leader.— Afonso Eulálio
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When you say your phone was exploding, what were people actually saying to you?
Mostly family and close friends, I think. The noise was just the volume of it all—notifications, calls, messages stacking up faster than I could read them. It's not that any single message was overwhelming. It was the collective weight of suddenly mattering to people back home in a way I hadn't before.
You've been racing professionally for years. Why did this moment feel different?
Because the pink jersey isn't just about being fast on a given day. It's about being the best rider in the entire race, right now, at this moment. Three Portuguese cyclists have ever done it. That's not a long list. You carry that with you.
Your team has never had someone in the maglia rosa before. Does that change how they support you?
It changes everything, actually. There's a different energy. They're invested in keeping me there, not just in helping me win stages. But I also know I can't stay there forever. The mountains will decide a lot.
You mentioned wanting to reach the rest day in the jersey. Is that realistic, or are you being cautious?
I'm being honest. The Blockhaus stage is brutal—244 kilometers with a climb that doesn't forgive weakness. I don't know yet what I'm capable of at that level. So I'm setting a goal I can control: be there on Monday. Everything after that is a bonus.
Vingegaard is six minutes back. Does that feel like a comfortable cushion?
In a three-week race? No. Six minutes can disappear in a single bad day. But it does mean I'm not racing against the absolute favorites right now. That's an advantage I need to use wisely.