For my entire life, I had viewed drivers from the perspective of what they brought to the sport in a functional sense – whether through their success on the scoreboard or whether their character elevated the sport’s popularity.
In experiencing the day Italian rally legend Alex Fiorio’s life – which was tragically cut short by illness aged 61 earlier this year – was commemorated by his eponymous Fiorio Cup, I felt a sense that his loss to rallying is much larger than a list of achievements can possibly explain.
Fiorio Cup was Alex’s brainchild. It was a competition invented with one goal: bring the fun back to rally, whether as a competitor or a fan. Single-venue events tend to get a bit of stick in the world of stage rallying but they also work for good reason: everything contained in one place means no liaisons (and therefore less cost), ease of access and the ability to offer a better fan experience.
It was natural, then, that Kalle Rovanperä came here in 2024, when seeking to lift off the pressures of being a full-time WRC driver. No constant studying of onboards, no fiddling with setups – that’s banned at Fiorio Cup, it’s the same for everyone – and no back-to-back early start/late finish days that reduce rest hours to nothing. Just turn up, drive and enjoy the party afterwards.
Not that the drivers are taking it easy, of course. Roberto Daprà was at the front of this year’s invite list, following Fiorio Cup tradition that the reigning Italian national champion is top billing. Coming round the medium-right that begins the second lap of the 2.5-mile gravel circuit, the PA Racing-run Škoda Fabia RS Rally2 bounced off the ruts that had developed from the first pass, launching Daprà into the air. He was on it. And he ended up winning the event ahead of young hotshot Giovanni Trentin; the 19-year-old back for a second attempt after his first WRC2 season.
It is still competitive. But ask the drivers who knew Alex and it’s not the driving they remember first.
Tamara Molinaro has contested every edition of the Fiorio Cup. Her ties with the Fiorio family run deep: her father Giorgio runs the G. Car Sport preparation firm and his first experience working on a factory rally car was one driven by Alex Fiorio.
Forget the Group N title, the WRC podiums or ERC wins. That’s not what comes to mind at first for Molinaro or, as I discovered talking to those in the service park, anyone else.
“He’s crazy! For sure that’s the first thing you notice about Alex,” said Molinaro. “But also you notice his big heart. He was a really, really good guy, and just funny as hell, honestly.”
When talking about impressions of Alex I expected to get five different answers from five different people. I did not. Almost every time it was the same thing: Alex and his guitar. At the end of a rally, when Alex would pick it up and strum away, voice at full blast, everything else would pause.
“That’s like Alex at his peak, for me,” added Molinaro. “If I close my eyes and picture Alex, it’s himself with the guitar, singing.”
One of the first phrases I learned in Italian (which, much to my shame, I still don’t speak yet) was io non ho paura. No fear. Managing fear is a vital component of being a rally driver. All the successful drivers manage this in the car. Some can be afraid to do the same out of it.
It’s different now, of course – everyone has a camera in their pocket. Drivers have livelihoods to protect. It probably helped that Alex was around long before this reality. He was world class when it came to taking action in his life outside the car as a consequence.
“At the end of the day we’re rally drivers, and we’re all a bit crazy in the head,” said Molinaro. “And Alex was exactly the representation of what a crazy driver is. Really, really good behind the wheel, but then when he closes the door of the rally car, he’s just himself. And that’s the nice part about him.”
The night before the Rally2 engines fired up in Masseria Camarda, the Fiorio family home, everyone – rally cars included – decamped to the main piazza of Ceglie Messapica, the nearest town to the Fiorio home. A tribute to Alex played on the big screen and tears duly flowed from bystanders.
“I like to think that all of us, we all bring a memory of Alex here, and we feel close to him,” said Molinaro. “We feel like he’s here with us. And his family has done an amazing job to do whatever they can to make us feel like he’s here with us.”
The challenge Mariapaola Fiorio – Alex’s daughter and Cesare’s granddaughter – faced was immense. With her father, she’d been central to organizing the Fiorio Cup. When Alex passed away in mid-August, there was a meeting later the same day. The question of what to do next was immediately raised – would it be too difficult to press on in such circumstances?
“I promised my dad,” said Mariapaola, “and so the show went on. Ultimately, that’s what Alex was all about – put on a show that will be remembered. After all, what is the point of living if all you’re doing is chasing trophies?
“I think that he never wanted to be recognized for his titles,” she added. “When you win, you win, there is no doubt. But he knew what he was saying when he was teaching something about this world, because he was backed up by the fact that he had won. That was a backup, though. His way of living life was what got you.”
Alex lived life vicariously through rally, exposing it to the world in ever creative ways. One example? When he drove his kids to school in a muletto – a full rally-specced recce car – for the hell of it. Who needs seats when you’ve got a roll cage to hang onto like it’s a set of monkey bars?
“My sister was hanging on the roll bar, and she was like, ‘Dad, Dad, stop! I’m hanging here! Go slow!’ And my dad went faster,” Mariapaola smiled. “Telling him to ‘go slow’ was like talking to a wall!”
Alex’s social media posts were another case in point. His opinions were brutally unfiltered. When the third stage of this year’s Monte Carlo Rally was red-flagged due to fog, his reaction was to tell the drivers to “go and race on a circuit. To me, it’s a disgrace. We’ve raced in conditions far worse than these!”
The phrase cagasotto di piloti di merda entered rallying lexicon shortly thereafter. It was all part of the theatrics that Alex enjoyed leaning into.
“He used to love to be provoked,” said Mariapaola, “and people loved to provoke him, so it was a never-ending cycle.”
Modern rallying is crying out for characters. They are central to carrying any sport forward. Yes, the most successful athletes of the sport tend to dominate: you think of basketball, it’s hard not to go to Michael Jordan first for his attitude and profile, even if LeBron James has surpassed MJ’s records since and Bill Russell has won more championships.
But the thing that puts MJ above his peers was the attitude he brought: the internet memes of ‘and I took that personally’ derived from paraphrasing his attitude towards a challenge to his dominance. If the drivers are taking risks in the car, why aren’t they doing the same out of it?
Writing this, I was afraid of disrespecting Alex’s career and achievements by focusing on his personality and approach to life. But the impression I was left with is that, actually, that would be his preference. That he would much rather be remembered for belting out tunes on his guitar and captivating a room of less than 100 people than his Sanremo podiums with Jolly Club’s Lancia Delta Integrales in front of thousands of spectators.
Io non ho paura. I have been guilty of missing this attitude in the past. The moment I actually internalized Alex was no longer here was on the Sunday night of the rally. I had a moment alone to think: I am, or perhaps was, his opposite. Cold, calculating, results-driven. Concerned that one misstep, one wrong thing said, would be disastrous to whatever was being targeted. And I was tired of living this way.
There are many talented drivers aboard rally cars, but there are very few drivers as talented at appreciating the moment as Alex was. I’m sure he could teach me plenty about rallying – but I think he was an even stronger expert on ‘no fear’ as a concept to live by.
This, I hope, is the legacy of the Fiorio Cup. No fear to be yourself. As the event’s signature goes: “Motorsport is dangerous. But Fiorio is even more.”
Silverware is good. But memories are golden. Ciao, Alex.
