The commissioner, the Lega and cycling, which risks losing its identity (provisional)

The story is straightforward. On 20 July, the Federal Council of Federciclismo decided to place the Professional Cycling League under special administration. Behind that resolution, however, there is one figure who breaks the mould. Marco Toni was the League’s vice-president, appointed by the Federation itself – the man called upon to represent the Federation within the very body that would subsequently be placed under special administration. One would have expected support for the Federation’s line. The opposite happened. “They had painted the League as a sort of Tower of Babel,” he says. “In reality, the figures were significant, robust and, in some respects, even unexpected.”

Toni took over following Giuseppe Saronni’s resignation and was ratified by the general meeting on 26 June. It was a very brief spell. “I was there for a full 24 days,” he points out. But those days, he maintains, were enough to form a different view from the one he’d been given. “I also had the opportunity to speak with the board of auditors of the Professional Cycling League and, frankly, I was very surprised by the situation and how things are going.”

So much so that he has made a prediction that stands in stark contrast to the atmosphere surrounding the appointment of the special administrator: “I believe that in 2026, the Lega will close its accounts with results exceeding even the most optimistic forecasts.” In short, for Toni, the problem is not the accounts.

When asked about the allegations made by the Federation, he describes the case as being built on flimsy grounds. “It all seems a bit specious to me,” he remarks. And on the issue of women’s cycling, television rights and the expansion of the League’s remit, he recalls a precedent which, in his view, changes the perspective: “Even in the three years prior to this, the League had been organising women’s races alongside those of the professionals.” Not a sudden departure, therefore, but an established practice. “There was a sort of knock-on effect that the Federation had always tolerated – never regulated, but nevertheless tolerated and permitted.” Only now, he argues, has that tolerance become one of the grounds for the administration order.

At this point, the argument moves beyond the technical sphere. “This whole affair, as I see it, is a personal issue from which everything stemmed.” Toni does not fail to acknowledge the achievements of Pella’s presidency either. “I believe he deserves credit for this,” he says, referring to the work on women’s cycling, the equalisation of prize money and the greater visibility achieved by the races. In his account, the League simply continued along a path that had already been set out, whilst the Federation’s change in attitude only came later. The harshest criticism, however, concerns the practical effects of the administration order.

“Everything that constituted the Lega’s core business has been taken away from it.” Here, the reasoning becomes almost administrative. Without the agreement, the Lega cannot operate. Without activities, the commissioner has limited scope for action. “There’s a vicious circle,” he summarises. In practice, the commissioner has virtually no powers without the agreement. This is a crucial point, because it shifts the focus from the political battle to the practical consequences. Toni lists radio services, LED displays, award ceremony facilities, membership registration, support for organisers, and event approval. All that work which the public rarely sees, but without which the professional calendar simply does not exist.

“Who guarantees that these obligations and commitments will be met?”, he asks. The concern, he insists, is not just about the balance of power between the Federation and the League. “This does not harm the League or the Federation; it harms the entire movement, whether at grassroots or top-level.”

There is also another, even more political issue. Toni suggests that the ultimate aim may be to dismantle the Lega’s autonomy. “In my view, the intention is to dissolve the League and reclassify it as a sort of commission within the Federation.” An autonomous body transformed into an internal division. Seen in this light, even the case of Roberto Pella would take on a different meaning, linked to the future balance of power within the federal governance structure.

This final observation is perhaps the most interesting, as it avoids any sense of nostalgia. The crisis in Italian cycling has been ongoing for years, to the extent that there is not a single team in the world’s elite ranks: “As things stand, it makes no sense at all,” admits Toni, speaking of a League that represents a movement without a WorldTeam-licensed squad. But he immediately adds that over the last two years, things had started to move again: new resources, a business plan, and the prospect of bringing an Italian team back to the very top of world cycling. “It’s not a process that takes a few weeks or a couple of months. It has its own structure that needs to be in place before it can take off.”

This line of reasoning goes beyond the specific case. Because if the choice is indeed to bring everything back under federal control, the question inevitably arises: what scope remains for an autonomous League? Toni’s answer is less political than it seems. “There is a lack of a sense of responsibility in the exercise of the role of sports manager.” Rather than a controversy, it is a diagnosis. And it suggests that the real problem facing Italian cycling is not merely the fate of the League, but the calibre of its leadership. Because power struggles come and go. Missed opportunities, on the other hand, weigh heavily on the shoulders of riders, organisers and clubs for a long time. It is they, ultimately, who foot the bill for decisions taken far removed from the roads.