The 2009 Racejunkie Awards

Yes folks, it's awards season, and as everyone else showers manna on such trivial non-entities as actors, musicians, and planet-saving Nobel Prize winners, it's time for us here at racejunkie to bestow our own rump-kissing accolades on the people who really matter in this world, professional cyclists. Peace, schmeace--does any of that really compare to some pig-raised clown jerking a fair-play compatriot off his bike in the last 100 meters of a sprint? No! Ergo, this year's Incredibly Prestigious Racejunkie Awards:

Punk-!@# Play o' the Year: yep, as noted above, it's damn hard imagining anyone being a nastier troll at the line than Robbie "Head-Butt" McEwen, but Theo Bos, this one's for you. Sure, it's awful unpleasant being crowded over towards the barriers--but tell me again why the wholly uninvolved Daryl Impey deserved a dog-leash yank on his collar two cracked vertebrae and a chipped tooth over it?

I Call Bull!@#$ Award of 2009: as UCI joyfully crowed from every rooftop, no-one, *no-one* tested poz for banned substances at this year's Tour de France. Yet, buckets of these superior athletes apparently suffered from such a crippling surfeit of maladies that they required enough medical equipment to stuff half of Europe's emergency rooms in a single, coincidentally contemporaneous three-week period. And wads of weasels tested poz before and after. Heck, I'm buying it--anyone got a bridge in Brooklyn they want to sell?

Pot Calling the Kettle Black Award: yep, you guessed it! Lance Armstrong, who took 7 years to even reward one of his loyal lieutenants with a single lousy stage win and screamed like a nipple-deprived infant the second any one of 'em dared to have any ambitions whatsoever for themselves anytime anywhere ever, righteously lecturing the now-superior Alberto Contador that "there is no "I" in team." Damn, with Lance, the domestiques were lucky there was an "i" in "You're my b!@#h!" No doubt, Contador's an arrogant selfish punk, but at least he's got time to learn--why'd it take you 15 years?

Shameless Tug o' the Heartstrings Prize: to Tom Boonen, once just another big handsome party-boy sprint jerk-doofus, then charmingly redeemed by his fall and subsequent low-key rise from total disgrace. Aw, look at 'im blush in embarassment as he cowers before the press yet again--*so* cute!

Teflon Don Award o' 2009: you gotta hand it to him, or at least his b-b-bad to the bone legal team--no matter what you throw, nothing' sticks. Yep, Alejandro Valverde's still riding. What's more, he even pulled off a Grand Tour before the Spaniards definitely declared they're protecting his !@#. Unbe!@#damnlievable!

Every Breath You Take/Every Move You Make Prize: now, I don't know how the hell you say "stalker" in Kazakh--but I bet you Vino does. I told you to listen to the lyrics Alberto--that ain't no love song he's singin'!

Don't Stand So/Don't Stand So/Don't Stand So Close to Me Award: ergo, this one's for his far weaker (and certainly less, well, brainiac) quarry, Contador. Y'know those horrid scenes in nature shows where some fluffy helpless bunny is being pursued by some starving snarling wolf, and they pull back the camera just as it closes in on its prey to a blur of kicked-up snow or foliage? Yeah, well, welcome to team camp, Alberto!

The Would Someone Pay Attention to the Fabulous Samuel Sanchez? Award: yes, fellow rocket scientists, this one's for Samu' "Holy Crap He's the Olympic Gold Medalist!" Sanchez, leader of climbing lords Euskaltel and, like anyone noticed, a podium finisher at the smashing damn-near-perfect Vuelta. Am I the only one watching cycling this season?

Crash o' the Year: alas, this one's for Pedro Horrillo's incredible plunge down the Rock-Strewn Valley of Imminent Bone-Crushing Death, which, about an hour and 400 rescue workers later, he miraculously survived. Even better, he apparently doesn't remember a thing except the massive injuries he woke up to--and our brave boy *still* intends to get back on the bike. Ride safe next season Pedro--you've earned it!

Oh, Sweet Mystery of Life/At Last I've Found You Award: Klodi. You've podiumed at the Grand Tours again and again. What's more, you are so clearly physically capable of winning one of these suckers in your own right. So *why* are you *so* happy--I'm talkin' milch-cow-chewing-her-cud-in-a-sun-dappled-field happy--being Lance's, Alberto's, and damn near everyone else's freakin' step-stool? Aiiiggggghhhhhhhh!

Sprinter o' the Year: okay, we all know it's Tyler Farrar next season. But this year--much as I'd rather give this to Thor, Tom, or even that back-from-the-doldrums former preener Petacchi--Mark Cavendish was absolutely unbeatable in the last 100 meters from the line. Flash those pearly whites for the cameras, Cav--you actually earned your ego!

Guilty Pleasure of 2009: He's back. And he's winning. And as my filthy hypocrite heart warms, I am so very, very, very ashamed at how deliciously dirty I feel. Oh yeah, baby--Alexander Vinokourov is in the house. Someone retrieve my lost morality, stat!

The Mario "the Chest" Cipollini Memorial Studpuppy Prize: to Pippo Pozzato for his recent Playboy interview and slinky foto spread, which, while not quite featuring him wearing only a come-hither pout and some hairspray, *does* have him posing in a fedora and tux tearing suggestively into some sort of pastry. What's more, he answers only to God. Che bel ragazzo, indeed!

The Jeez Louise, What's *Next* for This Poor Bastid Award: sure, his neck and back tend to freeze in place for half a season, he crashes in crap races before he even gets to the ones he's training for, and the occasional saddle-sore the size of Lake Ontario threatens to devour his--career, but being shot at the Tour by a freakin' pellet gun? Karma, give this boy a break already!

Know When to Hold 'Em, Know When to Fold 'Em Prize: okay, it still extremely sucks--but retiring road warrior Kristin Armstrong sure knows how to go out on top. Yep, she's the World Champion in the time trial, and frankly, she always, always will be. All hail the Queen!

Climber o' the Year: well, it *should* have been we love Gilberto Simoni (shut up!), or Andy Schleck, or heck even Menchov for his sheer tenacity in the Giro, but I gotta say, that wiry little sonofagun has earned it. Just pay a little more attention next year, Contador!

Discretion is the Better Part of Valor Award: jeez, this kid's racking 'em up left and right, but I got to give it to that annoying twerp Contador, he could've gone off on Lance to the press at any time during the Tour, and he didn't. Of course, two days later he was acting like one of those heinous shrieking alpha-bimbos from "Heathers," but who can blame him?

Reality Bites Prize o' 2009: it took him, oh, 5 years, but you gotta give him a shout-out for honesty: yep, Damiano Cunego finally acknowledged what even his tifosi have know for years, he's a Classics man. Now grovel on your knees for Simoni's forgiveness, you backstabber!

And Last But Not Least, the Class-Act Play o' the Year: like Tiger's mistress complaining to the press about him having other mistresses, but even classier: who else but Lance Armstrong openly snubbing 2009 Tour de France winner (did I mention, Lance, that he was the 2009 Tour de France winner?) Alberto Contador on the podium. Damn, Lance, we all know (and quite respect) that you're the best Tour rider in history and inarguably one of the great cyclists of all time, and you *did* just return from a two-year retirement and ride incredibly well to boot--incapable of good sportsmanship, much?

Well, dear reader(s), them's mine for this year--if there's anything I (1) missed or (2) colossally woofed, I'm sure I'll hear it from the "Lance is a Golden God You Ignorant Tasteless Ungrateful Skank" crowd. But awardees, by my measure you've all earned your prize--enjoy, and Boonen, don't celebrate *too* much, you hear?