Try Not to Kill the Riders: Fan Etiquette 101; and, an Update

Look, fellow fans. I understand. I've been there shoving a camera two inches from Ivan Basso's game face among a frantic horde of 6-foot Germans. Hell, I've even been far-too-close-to-there when we still love Bobby Julich unexpectedly let it rip in a roadside orchard. So I fully get how desperate one can be to press right up to the best, and most beloved, athletes on Earth. But as the rider body count seems to increase every year by the reckless actions of over-impassioned spectators, I hereby offer this handy Guide to Fan Etiquette in the hopes that some lucky rider will remain alive to claim the maillot jaune in Paris:

1. Leash the dog, you dimwit!


2. Come to think of it, leash the kid. Both tend to wander. Alternately, try duct tape.

3. The camera goes adjacent to, not into the actual nose of, the rider.

4. The razor-edged, plastic or cardboard promotional tchotchke, at 50 meters to the line in a bunch sprint, belongs *inside* the barrier.


5. Grocery-bag handles go over the shoulder or wrist, *not* into the course.


6. Flags, while admirably patriotic, can be inconvenient when shoved into one's face on a narrow climb with a 6,000-foot drop to certain, rocky death.

7. Riders only appreciate a quick push on the back up the mountain occasionally. Hint: the presence of a race-moto or camera with the power to time-penalize them, an angry torrent of probable curses in an indecipherable foreign language, or an actual slap to your face or body generally mean "no."

8. If, by contrast, you should inadvertently trip up a nearly-naked runner in a thong and neon clown wig, it's not exactly polite, but it's not like anyone (the trippee perhaps excepted)'ll fault you. If you trip up the Devil, however, whom I love, you are personally bound for the Searing Lake o' Burning Fire in the next world.

All spectators intentionally violating said restrictions will be summarily whacked upside the head with 900 pounds of Rabobank's most formidable blood-doping setup. All spectators merely accidentally violating said restrictions shall be forced to watch a two-hour continuous tape loop of Alberto Contador making that assy "pistol-shot" salute when he crosses the line. Well, that oughta about do it, tho' if I've missed anything, by all means let me know. So let's let the boys ride their race in peace (and in one piece), and do go ahead and yell, Allez Allez!

And remember: enter my contest, and Win Free Stuff Part Deux!

Update: Holy crap Levi Leipheimer's out with a broken wrist! Poor Klodi. It's all on you now. And not to be a total !@#$%^%$, but Carlos--here's your chance.

My Fantasy Team Astana Press Conference

Johan Bruyneel: Good morning. As all you lurid media vultures are demanding, we're meeting today to discuss the situation here at Team Astana honestly, openly, and with love in our hearts. I hope this is not only informative, but enough to get you !@#@#$%s off my back for ten minutes so I can DS this !@#$^%$ race. I'll first turn it over to Lance Armstrong and Alberto Contador to discuss their relationship.

LA: Well, when I first heard I'd be Alberto's teammate, I couldn't've been more excited. I mean, certain guys--and I'm not naming names here--I know are just gonna bow down to me like a god, but a rider like Contador? Sweet. So what's with this "I want the Tour this" and "I wanna be Captain that" crap I'm hearing now? Wash my feet, you worthless dirtbag!
AC: It's a good thing I can't speak English, or I'd tell that arrogant entitled cowboy !@#hole where to stick it in explicit detail. I don't give a crap what you think I snarfed at Liberty Seguros or why you think I've improved like a freak in the time trial since last spring, I'm the best stage racer in the world, I'm only 26, I've already won the Tour the Giro and the Vuelta which is more than Lord One Trick Pony can say, and I have to beg to be allowed to go off the front like some zero neo-pro water-bottle-carrier who's barely won a nursery-school summer-camp tricycle race? Are you kidding me? I AM ALBERTO !@#$ING CONTADOR !@#DAMMIT!

JB: As you can see, they're great friends. And they only care about the well-being of the team. Now let's move on to the mood among the domestiques.

Levi Leipheimer: Me, I'm happy to work for anyone. Thank you, Johan, may I have another?
Andreas Kloden: With all the dope I took at T-Mobile, I'm just glad I'm not in prison.
Haimar Zubeldia: I should've stayed with Euskaltel. At least Samu' Sanchez is mentally stable...
Sergio Paulinho: That kid better take me with him when he bails next year or I'm gonna shove his scrawny butt off the side of Ventoux.
Yaroslav Popovych: Lance, dear, you look a little peaked. Can I get you a nice cold lemonade? Here, let me fan you with this palm leaf!
Chris Horner: I can't believe I got stiffed out of the Tour for some !@#$^%$ Kazakh nobody!

JB: Let's turn to team strategy. Guys?
LA: I haven't decided yet.
JB: Um, I guess I haven't decided yet.
AC: Whatever it is, I'm hosed.
YP: After what I did to Cadel Evans last year, my only strategy is to stay the heck out of his way.
LL: If one of these clowns cracks, it's no more Mr. Nice Guy. Aw, yes it is. Rats!
AK: I don't see why I have to hand-scrub Lance's bike shorts every night. It says "machine wash cold, delicate cycle" right here on the label.

JB: Finally, let's look at our plans for next year. As for me, if they think I'm gonna blow my legacy coddling that psychopath Vinokorouv and his yes-man acolyte Kashechkin, they're freakin' nuts. Besides, the Livestrong team kit's already on its way back from the manufacturer.
LA: I'm not worried. Johan'll do whatever I tell him to. Especially after I beat him down for not putting the lid on that twerp Contador this year.
LL: I don't know, but after multiple Grand Tour podium finishes and about a hundred stage wins, I don't see why I would deserve team leadership anywhere. That's what Lance and Alberto tell me, anyway!
AK: How much does a soigneur make again?
AC: I will spend the rest of my professional life making Johan Bruyneel pay for what he has done to me. Plus, who the hell else does this 'new Spanish team' think is gonna win the Grand Tours for them, Valverde? Adios, suckers!

JB: Well, this concludes our Team Astana press conference. Remember, if you don't like Lance, yer an America-hatin' commie-socialist pro-cancer sissified wine-drinkin' Brie-eatin' Euro-weenie--no yellow bracelets for you!

We've Got Ourselves A Contest Winner--and, Win Free Stuff This Week, Too!

Yes, folks, it's been an exciting seven days, but having randomly drawn from among the correct entries from the Holy ONCE-Eroski Cycling Cap O' Destiny, we've got us a winner from this week's contest!
The correct answer: the first rider to be pulled out of the Tour for doping this week will be from...Nowhere! I gotta say, I'm shocked as you are. Frankly, even shockeder. I mean, not one single Spaniard went down?
The winner is: RossCo--congratulations Rossco!
The insult moratorium for the next two weeks is on this rider: Tom Boonen!

Thanks to all for participating--and starting now, join your fellow reader(s) for Win Free Stuff Part Deux!

Lance Armstrong: "The Team Won't Be the Problem"

Yeah, and you should've expected that when you came back acting as if Alberto was just gonna drop to his knees before you like every other rider who's ever worked for you.

Wank.

It's All About the Pyrenees

The Thorpedo Strikes!: yes folks, if you root for him in every stage, our big Norwegian lug will eventually come through, this time pipping we also love Oscar Freire at the line. Woo-hoo Thor!--but can poor Tom "Sniffy" Boonen's luck this Tour get any lousier? Just have a nice cup of tea and a massage tonight Tommeke, and you'll bounce back all right--but that's *all* you get to have to soothe your wounds, understand?

It's the Mountains, Baby!: and, it's on to Arcalis tomorrow in the first of a trio of days in the Pyrenees, and while I don't want Alberto Contador to unduly wipe himself out ahead of the third week, I *do* want him to kick the crap out of Armstrong in the stage, no matter where in the stage standings he has to do it. Then again, I'd be even happier seeing Klodi (didja see where he is on GC?) kick the crap out of Contador, but one can't have *every* dear wish one hopes for come true, right? Meantime, Cadel has to freakin' do *something*, Menchov's glum DS sez he just hopes Denis can make it through the first mountain stage without actively !@#$ing up, and Carlos Sastre, of course, can do no wrong so if you don't think he can come back from 2-odd minutes back you all just colossaly bite me. And forza, forza big and baby Schlecks--you're just in 25th Frank, don't let it become all about your little brother just yet!

My Eat Crow Moment: finally, a monster shout-out to Shameless St. Millar Defender, and all our beloved Brits, for their boy David's incredibly close, and incredibly brave, breakaway effort today. There, that feels good. Can I go back to abusing him for being a weepy whiny camera-whoring twit now?

Questions from Newbies; and, The Heat Is On, Baby!

Today, I take a moment to address a few burning questions posed to me this morning by a dear TdF newbie, intrigued, but befoozled by, a sport not involving three strikes, peanuts and Cracker Jacks. Reasonable people may certainly disagree, but then, I'm not one of 'em anyway. So here we go:

Q. What the hell is all this I keep hearing about problems on Armstrong's team?
A. Here’s the scoop. The opening day was a time trial and Alberto Contador beat his teammate Lance Armstrong, which made it look like Armstrong might ultimately have to concede team leadership over to Contador. Monday should have been a routine sprint, but it was very windy, which split the peloton into two groups. 20-odd riders, including Lance but not including Contador or GC contenders the Schleck brothers, Cadel Evans (2nd last year), or Denis Menchov (winner of this year’s Giro and 2 Vuelta a Espanas) made the front of the split. The controversy: Astana, Lance and Alberto’s team, should’ve just chosen a damn team leader before the start of the race and backed him 100%. Instead, Lance and Alberto are infighting for team leadership, and the whole team is in disarray as a result with some domestiques backing Contador and others Lance. So when Lance made the split, Johan Bruyneel, the team manager in charge of picking the team leader, told two other Astana riders who also made the split to pick up the pace for Lance, therefore hurting Alberto who was in the second group, so that Lance ultimately gained about 40 seconds on Contador (though in the overall Contador is only 19 seconds back, which he can probably pick up in the mountains in the third week). The upshot: Armstrong was smug, Contador (who should have quit this team the second Lance announced his comeback) is ticked, and the whole team is a demoralized angry trainwreck. Fun!

Q. Why do the French hate Lance so much? Who would the French like to see win instead?
A. The French press hates Lance’s guts because they all think he’s a doper; of course, so are their own riders, but that's perfectly fine with them. The fans are a little nicer to Lance since he learned to speak French the last couple years. Mostly though they all just hate him because the French riders have, for several years running, pretty well sucked. Can you say "displacement," boys and girls? They are looking to French riders like Sylvain Chavanel and Christophe Moreau for stage wins and a decent finish overall. Barring that, they will probably root for Contador—he’s very handsome and has a really flashy style in the mountains—tres chic!

Q. What is this "domestique" thing? Do they *do* anything?
A. Domestiques are the “worker bee” riders on a team whose job is to support the team leader. For example, on a flat stage, they will surround the team leader like a cocoon to keep him from being jostled by other riders so he won’t crash, and will keep him towards the front of the peloton, as most crashes happen in the middle of the group where it’s most crowded; in the mountains, they will go to the front of the race to set a very fast pace to try to exhaust and distance the team leader’s rivals, and will also ride right in front of the team leader, taking the brunt of the wind resistance for him, so the leader can ride in their slipstream and conserve his own energy so he is strong enough to attack later. If the team leader crashes, and the team support car is too far away to bring him a new bike right away, they’ll even give the team leader their own bike so he doesn’t lose time waiting. If you're really low on the totem pole, or if later in this year's race, you're, oh, say, Alberto Contador, you have to schlep back to the team car to get water bottles for everyone, which you shove down your shirt like a spandex-covered camel. Your only consolation: covered in your sweat and skank from hours of riding, that's what your boss gets to drink from. Sweet!

Q. So who is going to win the Tour? Who do you want to win?
A. If I were betting, I would bet on Alberto Contador—-he is absolutely the best Grand Tour racer in the world right now, and he is not only a great climber with amazing acceleration, but he has learned to time trial, which you need to be able to do to win. He is still very young and needs some better tactical sense but he is learning. He deserves to win but if Armstrong bushwhacks him the rest of the race he may not. However, I would like to see Carlos Sastre, the defending Tour de France champ, win again. He likely won’t though-—he is a “pure climber”, and the best he can do in the time trials is try to limit his losses. He also has worked quite humbly for other guys his whole career, like Ivan Basso who got busted for doping, without any complaint despite his own capabilities and deserving leadership before that himself, so, in keeping with my neverending backing of losing causes, I am dreaming of a karmic victory here. Allez allez little Carlos!

The Hosed and the Beautiful: meantime, as the Astana boys and team management trade barbs, backtracks, and damage control, the team time trial today made certain things clear: namely, Cadel Evans is unequivocally jacked. I mean, when a pack of mountaineer munchkins like Euskaltel-Euskadi kick your squad's !@# in the time trial, you *know* you might as well go home. Poor baby--was anyone else just heartbroken watching Cadel drive his own team to the line? Nor do things look much better for Denis Menchov, or even the aforementioned we love Carlos Sastre for that matter. Not to worry folks--at least my boy can actually attack in the mountains!

Finally, don't forget: join my contest, and Win Free Stuff !

Contador, You Spindly Nit!

You Picked the *Wrong* Time to Play Space Cadet, Kid: all right, Alberto. You're a great champion (however you got that way, and however much the dope-fueled playground that was your day-care center at Liberty Seguros still irks me). But you're still very young, and one thing you don't want to do is zone out enjoying the view on a windy day when someone with a creakier body but far more experience who has made no secret of the fact that he is here to win the Tour and is clearly ready to roll over your bony carcass to do it pays attention to the crosswind and comes in 40 seconds ahead of you on the line. Aaaiiggghhh! Of course, I'd be quite happy if, say, Klodi pounds you into the tarmac, but if you want to claim the leadership from the unbearable Armstrong once and for all you cannot let your current athletic superiority lull you into milch-cow-like complacency. Fine, you're only 19 seconds back of him in GC now, and you've got your spectacular acceleration in the mountains to unleash on the old dog ahead of you. But in the meantime, all your domestiques are in limbo waiting--and wasting energy--to see who's their true master. Just keep those pretty long-lashed eyes of yours open from now on, for heck's sake!

Silenced is Right: meantime, poor hosed Cadel Evans, already hamstrung by the weakest team a repeat podium finisher and clear GC contender's ever been stuck with, also didn't make the key move today in the crosswind, and if he or Denis "I Heart Doping Investigations" Menchov think it's gonna be enough to just wheelsuck from here on out, or even that no-one'll notice if they actually attack anyway, they're on more drugs than I thought Rabobank was already taking. So solid, so admirable, so frequently yawn-inducing--oh Cadel, if Andreas Kloden weren't so much *more* downtrodden, I might have had to pour all my fruitless ever-stomped hopes into you instead!

Money, It's a Gas: in general stupidity news, I see Contador, Armstrong & co. were fined a day's worth of milk money for failing to meet the sign-in deadline this morning, reputedly because, claims the team, they were so busy signing autographs and communing with the fans they lost track of time. Less known: whether Lance's taking coffee with the Hollywood glitterati caused the problem. Could we *please* take this sport out of the People Magazine hell Lance's cult of personality is dragging it into, and perhaps get to watch some bike racing?

(Time) Trial of the Century: and, it's onwards and upwards to the must-see team trial tomorrow, and given that Contador's going to have to prove to Armstrong that he can still put the hurt on him despite his colossal choke today, I'm putting my money on Astana, tho' I'd rather see Garmin, after Cavendish's whiny mocking wimpy wanking after the team time trial at the Giro, take out both Astana and the estimable, and clearly incredibly unified, Columbia. Come to think of it, since it took like 7 straight years of relentless subservience and stunning quality service by the great George Hincapie to the bottomless well of Lance Armstrong's ego before the latter even let our boy take a stage win at the Tour, I'd like to see Columbia stomp 'em as well. Go Garmin, even if we'll have to see Astana on the podium instead!