Right On, Taylor! Oh !@$, Taylor!

Forget this kid's Secretariat lineage or the fact he's been hyped as the Next Great American Cyclist since he first dropped his diaper-clad butt on a Big Wheel--after a blazing win in the opening time trial, jailbait phenom Taylor Phinney just cemented his fame in his own right for completely keeping his cool (outwardly, anyway) when the Gazzetta commentators started screaming their heads off 8 k from the line and Taylor materialized 38 monstrous seconds behind the rapidly disappearing peloton with a chain-twiddle that seemed to take his poor mechanics forever a subsequent car-window futz with the brakes and, by the end of a chaotic finish that sent bodies flying up the barriers, Cav'd come out of nowhere looking too surprised to even do his normal victory dance and Taylor'd slipped in, cool as a cucumber, right back to the pack and into what seemed like an impossible pink. Now *that* is one collected boy. Complimenti, Taylor--and you're clearly doing something right with 'im, BMC!

Interestingly, Taylor talks about his new pink bike that would soon cause him trouble, just prior to the stage this morning:


Tomorrow: the fateful stage three, and a touching tribute to the late Wouter Weylandt. Go swift and safe, Tyler Farrar--you did it for him at the Tour, so I've no doubt you can do it again for him here!