Snort in Haste, Repent at Leisure

Unless You're Leonardo Piepoli: yep, looks like right after Petacchi went "on vacation," he was actually sacked, I mean "mutually separated", just like Johan Bruyneel "mutally separated" pouty-lipped poster boy Ivan Basso's tainted dirty !@# off the team bus at 200 miles an hour after exhaustively whoring him for the cameras at the Tour of California last year til the boy finally had to concede the obvious. Still, I can't help but feel some ambivalence here. Sure, the pro peloton's got a truly freakish staggering proportion, relative to non-moneybag-cyclists, of chronic asthmatics and other stricken delicates whose sufferings can only be totally coincidentally alleviated by the sledgehammer use of performance-enhancing drugs during critical moments in stages in races they want to win, which may render the more cynical among us (not me, of course) somewhat suspicious, but on the other hand, it seems like complete and total bull!@#$ that Petacchi's (who after all took some of his drugs *after* the stage ended) now mutually separated his rump miserably on the couch in a mortifyingly ignominious end to his astonishing career while that same salbutamol-OD'ing perp from last year's Giro Leonardo Piepoli is, for no other apparent reason than that he has the sense to race with a license from no-standards Monaco, ostentatiously pulling that arrogant whining little twerp Ricco' up the hill for a stage win this very week. Fine, purge the peloton of every dirty cheating dope-snorting pig (and CAS didn't even think Petacchi was cheating), the sport'll be better off if utterly empty with the two sap-but-honest riders that are left--but do it consistently people, or this entire effort's a grotesque hypocritical half-@#$#@ (cough! McQuaid! cough!) farce! Still, as the Milram sponsors affirm their pride in their strict but just anti-doping policy, no word yet from the poor (well, not poor--I'm pretty sure that satin-draped pin-up calendar he did last year'll get him a nice-paying gig on the Milan runways, if he can't get a new one in cycling) jobless boy as to whether he'll keep his promise to retire if banned. I *told* you, Thor--get the lead out and lunge for that better lead-out train already! Look, they make some nice dip--everyone likes dip right, you can work for these guys!

Armstrong, Flirt Hollywoodiano: oh sure, he's won a bunch of dull old Tour de Frances, campaigned for cancer research and opened a dandy new bike shop--but what's the front-page news on gazzetta dello sport about Lance Armstrong, now that his rock-star romance is over and he's apparently done slurping on that little Olsen twin? Yes, he's snuggling up with inhumanly cheerful actress Kate Hudson. Um, not to distract the primary sponsors of the Giro d'Italia from what's clearly far more important, but isn't there some little local race meandering about that you might want to report on?

Piti on Parade: speaking reluctantly about the comparatively lame Tour de France, I see Alejandro "Man, Am I Lucky I'm Spanish" Valverde was scoping out some key passes in the Pyrennees today, joined by least-respected-second-place-finisher-in-Tour-history-ever-to-be-given-the-maillot-jaune Oscar Pereiro. Apropos of nothing I swear, is anyone else concerned that, despite Christian Prudhomme's most fervent hopes and ridiculous exclusion of posturing, the Tour might not be as Stain-Stick spotless as our pure and noble peloton cleansters would have us believe? And on a related subject, nice work by Riccardo Ricco' implying that Alberto Contador must've been taking something stronger'n sunscreen to whip him into such immediately smashing shape for the Giro after being interrupted lounging beachside (though now the boy's chances may be hamstrung by an arm injury right where he rests on his time-trial bars, though I doubt it--who cares, go Klodi!)--forget climbing skills, he's clearly learned *something* from his year's tutelage under the peerless Gilberto Simoni! Stuff like this keeps the reactionary among my loathed profession in business (not me, alas--but I'm still open to making copies and other humiliating drudge work for Ivan Basso's lawyer!)--Saunier Duval, expect a little phone call from Astana's pinstriped goon squad!

No Surprises: and, I see baby prodigy Marianne Vos has made every other phenomenal cyclist on earth look like a helpless crawling talentless wussbag yet again as she takes it in El Salvador--like a wee Mark Cavendish but without the smug disregard for her (barely) elders. Right on Marianne--though I'm still hoping Marta Bastianelli whups you in the Worlds for a two-fer this year!

Forza!: Finally, just a small note to you Simoni-hatas that, while the boy could certainly be looking better so far as he gacks along going backwards while Di Luca and Ricco attack every six seconds, Gibo's total lack of legs eight days into the corsa rosa is clearly just a wily stalling tactic so he can hoard his energy under the radar until it's time to stealth-brutalize those egomaniacal weaklings on the deadly Passo Fedaia. It'll happen dammit--eat his dust and weep for your pathetic monstrous time loss in the Dolomites, Il Killer!