Talk Dirty To Me

Meet the Press: so, the cycling world's all ahoo about Alberto Contador and Johan Bruyneel's no-questions press conference tomorrow, and speculation's running wild that the boy and his latest handler are smugly hyping a mere cash-happy endorsement deal or contract extension, joining forces to announce Disco's new sponsor, or, most enticingly and least likely, holding hands tightly as Alberto 'fesses up in disgusting detail to his dastardly dirty doping deeds under the malevolent guidance of Spanish mastermind Manolo Saiz while a powerless vulnerable newcomer over at ONCE and Liberty Seguros in a beautifully scripted weeping wah-wah to the world. Of course, having no morals, I'm rooting for the latter, but banking on the former. Oh, come on Alberto, cycling desperately needs a new cycling hero of your generation--of course we'll all pull a collective UCI ostrich head-in-the-sand and forgive and adore you anyway, what's the harm?

Even Dopier Than I Thought: of course, right as Astana gets word from the Kazakh prez that their future is secure and the boys--Paolo Savoldelli and Andreas Kloden included--get ready to be whisked off to a rah-rah training camp in Switzerland to keep 'em occupied and away from the possibility they'll start shopping for other teams, comes Vino's little helpmate Andrei Kashechkin with a homologous blood doping poz of his own in a surprise control at the start of August, made even more outrageous because he apparently had the gross lack of perspective to dope after the damn Tour and when he was at least a month away from active competition. Well there goes your own Vuelta, Kloden--without his help and everyone else still zonked and crushed from the Tour debacle, even if you were riding it, I think you're hosed. And just when Alejandro Valverde confirmed his bailout, too! Speaking of Vino, DS Marc Biver, who has had some questionable contacts in the netherworld of sporting supplements himself, has glumly expressed his shock and surprise at the latest news, noting that Vino was clearly heading down the path to hell anyway as he started wearing sunglasses, surrounding himself with a no-good leechlike entourage including the boy's ne'er-do-well Dad, and generally behaving like, well, a rock star. Um, don't cyclists actually do more drugs than rock stars?

Out, Damned Spot!: meantime, Jorg Jaksche apparently hit the jackpot when he accused Bjarne Riis of being well aware of doping on CSC during Jorg's tenure, as the team decides not to go forward with their blustering immediate lawsuit on the completely lame grounds that "the lawyers" obviously wrote the article he made the allegation in "just within the limits." Of what, accuracy? Nice work, Jorg (and your counsel lackeys)!

There Was No Joy in Leadville/Mighty Armstrong Has Bailed Out: but far better, Floyd Landis *will* be riding, and I must confess to mad jealousy of anyone who has the good luck and close proximity to see him back in action on a bike where he belongs. While we're at it, can the arbitrators please cough up a decision soon, so long as it excoriates the horrid incompetent lab monkeys and repugnant pitchfork-wielding leak-freaks at UCI and WADA and, if nothing better, at least lets him off the hook on technical grounds? On the other hand, if they're just going to fry you anyway out of sheer embarrassment at having to admit the depth of this farce, they can wait. Either way, Allez Floyd!