Introducing the Tom Boonen Image Rehabilitation Project!

Let's face it: our brilliant, babelicious sprint king has hit the skids. In just the last half-season, Tommeke has gone from a lovable, rakish party-boy scalawag with an amazing power in the Classics and in the sprints to a sickly, dipsomaniacal washout bawling to the Belgian press about his girlfriend who is one ugly YouTube clip away from becoming a complete drooling incoherent David-Hasselhoffian sad-sack trainwreck. But his mastery of the bike is still there, my friends, and his decaying image can, I am absolutely certain, be fixed. And who better to do it for him than his loyal tifosi and sleazeball-restoration experts here at racejunkie? Ergo, the Plan:

1. The Talk: Look, Tom, it doesn't matter that you were legitimately projectile-spewing every ten minutes from a genuine energy-draining stomach virus at the Tour or any other race this season. If you don't start to win again, and pronto, Patrick Lefevere is not only not gonna go to the mat for you ever again, he's gonna slash your Lamborghini contract to a Hyundai or, worse, cut you loose entirely faster'n you can say "How the !@#$ did I end up on a Continental squad?" You are going to schedule a meeting with Lefevere, your lawyer, your manager, and your new coach you are hiring, for bright and early in the morning. You are going to forswear intoxicating substances the evening prior, you are going to get a good night's sleep, you are going to swear in no uncertain terms on your actual, then-present grandmother that you are done with doltish frat-boy antics, and you are going to prove it. Starting then and there, and continuing at least through your next, fully signed and executed contract extension, no more late-night carousing, no more dimwit Star Magazine escapades, and for heck's sake no more nose candy--that's right, no more fun. No, it's not fair--welcome to earth, you overcoddled spandex party princess. Get over it. You get paid a sick amount of dough to ride a bike, however beautifully. You really gonna cry about it to your fans stuck working some unbearable monotonous desk-monkey cubicle gig? No, you're not. Now hit the showers!

2. The Press Conference: You've now behaved well for a full week straight. Congratulations, you've earned yourself a press conference! You are tanned and handsome. You are sitting up straight. You are pleased to announce that, having undergone a painful reckoning with your weak and foolish self, you have put aside your childish ways once and for all, you have sought and received the help you so clearly needed, and you are back on peak physical and mental form. You are so grateful for the strength, faith, and invaluable support of your sponsors, your team, your family, your friends, your fans, your soigneur, your shoe-shine boy, and the entire world community. You may now choke up veeerrrry briefly, but you may not break down entirely--you don't want to look like some David Millaresque crybaby wuss-weenie. Now you will announce your races for the rest of the season, and you will not !@#$ them up. Thank you all so much for coming. You cannot take questions because it is time for a training ride. Now wave cheerfully as you leave, and take it. Make sure there are cameras there too. Gee, are you working hard!

3. The Charity Work: you are starting the Tom Boonen Bikes Not Booze Foundation for Starry-Eyed Easily-Manipulated Waifs. Off-season, you will go to every elementary school in Belgium in your new TBBNBFSEEMW jersey, you will hand out wholesome juice and snacks to the kiddies and let them sit on your bike, and you will pose with every single teacher who asks you for a cell-phone snapshot of you warmly kissing his or her cheek. Move it!

4. The Vuelta: you will ride it and take out Oscar Freire in at least one uphill sprint and Robbie McEwen in at least one flat sprint, complimenting each heartily thereafter. Great to see you back on top, Tom!

5. The Fail-Safe: for every screwup you make--and you better not make any, boy--you must pose with all your clothes actually on for one full photo shoot. But you do look so dashing in your Quick Step team kit! Furthermore, all clubs in Europe will, any time you cross over their nation's border, be forced to play 24/7 country-western ballads as perky elderly couples in matching gingham outfits and cowboy boots prance by until you have left the country. Tough love, honey, tough but necessary!

Okay, Tom, we've got you back on the road to redemption, and because we all love you anyway, it surely won't take long. Next up: The Cadel Evans Find Me a Team That Won't Jack Me Over Project. We love you too, Cadel!