Countdown to the Tour, Baby!

HIStory: okay, I admit I'll masochistically take virtually any amount of aural and visual assault I have to in order for US television to finally, in this post-Lance era, give me the Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen I deserve. And I know, because I'm in the US, I have to put up with 24/7 coverage of the Lord of All Creation for the next 4 (ack!) weeks in order to watch Alberto Contador dope-slap his !@# in the mountains if Lance doesn't accidentally shove him off the side of one. And if you must return, for wholly unselfish reasons that have nothing to do with your own undying convictions as to your own earth-shattering perfection, I understand. I mean, nothing publicizes your genuinely noble work to fight cancer more effectively than cutting off all press contact, assily demeaning other riders who actually ride other races besides the Tour during their careers without iron-fisted control of the rest of their teams at their relentless disposal as talentless losers, and crying incessantly on your Twitter feed about how grossly unappreciated you are. But am I the only one who already wants to poke her !@#$ing eyes out with chopsticks from watching this endless hero-worshipping crap?! Calgon, take me away!

Land of the Lost: speaking of which, today's fawning Cyclysm Sunday, featuring we-still-love-and-I-don't-give-a-rat's-!@#-what-that-unctuous-control-freak-Saiz-at-ONCE-and-Liberty Seguros-forced-him-completely-unwillingly-to-take Joseba Beloki's agonizing leg-snap, Iban "Shut Up! He's Still Perfect" Mayo, the ever-erratic-but-lovable Jan Ullrich, and then-young backstabbing wingnut Alexander Vinokorouv, was notable for the sheer number of doping pozes to come out of that peloton, particularly Johan Bruyneel's boys, who only, because Discovery was pure, ever came up dirty afterwards. However, before I start wallowing in nostalgia for the days when I stupidly didn't expect to see an IV port sticking out of everyone's shorts at the sign-in, can we talk about the sheer amount of talent so far left out of this year's Tour, and am I the only one who thinks this seems unprecedented? Horner. Gerrans. Petacchi. Boonen, which is just idiotic. Noval. Valverde, if you think he's no worse, as bitter bettys Jorg Jaksche and Bernhard Kohl suggest, than anyone else near the podium. Heck, even Basso, if you buy that he's still just getting his legs under him. Anyone else up for a "Tour de Rejects"? Ten bucks says they'd still wipe the floor with Silence-Lotto's chosen squad!

Ghosts of Tours de France Past: and, it's a hearty near-welcome back for famous Tour skanks Michael "Feed Me!" Rasmussen and Riccardo "I Am a Simoni-Betraying Scumwad" Ricco', the one for a team still unclear to me because I can't make sense out of a google translation that starts, "Bomb Chicks Comeback," and the other for Ceramica Flaminia next year because, apparently, Diquigiovanni had the sense--or merely opportunistic sense of self-protection--to reject him. Gee, give a certain young rider a team that's not gonna eat itself, and we might have a real mountains race next year!

We Are the Champions: finally, as we congratulate Nicole Cooke (as usual), sneak-attack Ruben Plaza, Tom Boonen (who could use some good news), and the Schlecks for their national championship wins, I cannot help but wonder: am I the only one a little squicked out every time a rider like, oh, say, Alberto Contador wins a time trial title? Ah, I thought so. I'm sure I'm just being paranoid, as usual!