You're As Cold As Ice: meantime, our fragile little Contador is back in the saddlestruggling with his cold-weather training in bitter Spain and dreaming of warmer days ahead. First: honey, they're called "snowpants", and I'm sure they're still made in your size--just don't forget the mittens that come with the long string to attach 'em so you don't lose 'em when you go out to play, alright? Second, why don't you just look at the chilly weather as valuable practice for the attitude you're gonna get from Armstrong when you're standing above him on the podium *again* this coming July?
The Stockholm Syndrome: in other Contador news, our hero had a streaming press-conference yesterday in which he lauded his Astana teammates and expressed both confidence and joy in his situation for his upcoming season. Actually, it's kind of sweet watching Alberto speak so pleasantly of his alliance with Astana, particularly since he's spent the last six months actively trying to claw Vinokourov's eyes out with his stumpy little fingernails to get out of it. Oh...I think I'm starting to tear up...our baby's all grown up into a big-boy diplomat!
La Bella Figura: over at better races than the tiresome Tour, I see the 2010 Giro d'Italia has released the new maglia rosa with the help of comely starlets Ivan Basso, Damiano Cunego and Yolanthe Cabau:
Now, which one's the podium babe again?Mother, Jugs and Speed: y'know, much as he tends to irk me, I gotta hand it to Crest Whitestrips spokesman/(almost) unbeatable sprint lord Mark Cavendish: he sure don't hold back when it comes to unrepentant "parasite" Riccardo Ricco', his total lack of need for a sprint lead-out unlike *some* pathetic weakling losers we all know, and his continued obsession with losing the green jersey to Thor Hushovd in 2009 which totally wasn't a big deal to him *at all.* Holy heck, if he keeps insulting Ricco' this big smack-talking lunkhead is gonna start to grow on me--maybe I won't even crow *too* badly when Thor whumps your !@# again this year!
Pigs Fly: in legal news, I see brilliant tactician Alejandro Valverde has offered to pony up his DNA to the narcs in his continued wrangling over his Op Puerto bloodbags, in case claiming that the code name "Valv" is, like, completely unrelated to "Valverde" and his dog "Piti" couldn't have been the source for his other code name, because despite the fact that several witnesses claim to have seen him playing with Piti in 2006 the dog was actually a fetus at the time, don't throw CAS off his trail. Um, Alejandro, not to worry you or nothin', but you realize you can't cover up your DNA with your regular masking agents, right?
An Open Call to Auto-Driving and Pet-Neglecting Assclowns: finally, as one cyclist after another ties up the training season getting whacked by some oblivious moron in a 2,000-lb steel missle o' spindly-cyclist bone-mangling doom or tripped up by some wandering uncontrolled critter--most recently, and seriously, poor Klodi pal Matthias Kessler, now in an induced coma from a collision with some nimrod's cat--may I prevail upon my fellow pet lovers and lazy gas-suckin' smog-spewin' drivers to WATCH THE !@#$ OUT? Yes, I know animals do meander off, and I know it's imperative to Formula 1 race your !@# to the local 7-Eleven for that all-important cup of tar-swill coffee or 87-ounce blue raspberry Slurpee, as well as allow Kitty and Fido their freedom--but ya think ya mightn't try to *kill* anyone over it?
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