Basque Company: so, as the fabulous Tour of the Basque Country plows on--and be honest, is there *anything* more heartbreaking this cycling season than just seeing a nostalgic smattering of orange shirts amidst the formerly insanely sardine-packed Euskaltel fanatics as their old squad goes by in jerseys from random teams?--there seems to be a bit o' controversy over whether Contador clinging to Valverde's wheel as the latter labored up the final climb before shooting around him like--well, a 2009 Alberto--was a punk-!@# wheel-slurpin' cheap-shot, or just an all's-fair-in-love-and-cycling fake-out tactic, or, even more kindly, just a strugglin' guy who got his legs back at just the right moment. Me, I think Valverde was *way* diplomatic, but considering some of the !@#$ Piti's pulled on the peloton, and the freakish success he's been exhibiting lately, he's probably better off keepin' his yap shut! Either way, great ride Alberto--and Froomey, you better *hope* he and Kreuziger are burning themselves out too early ahead of July!
Scheldenfreude: and, it's time for the sprinters to come out and play at the exciting Scheldeprijs, except there's only like two of them left at all in the peloton who aren't at home either hurling their guts out or held together with titanium plates, which means that (1) Marcel Kittel's got a damn good chance; and so (2) he won't get any real credit even if he wins, poor guy. Me, I hope *both* Andre "the Gorilla" and Cav get better really soon--what fun is it crushing someone in a sprint if it's not a bloodbath of the very very best? Well, probably pretty fun, but still!
Tales of the Truly Disgusting (Cheat-Weasel Edition): finally, many thanks to the Secret Pro, who took the cake, and my appetite, this week with his truly gnarly recaps of old-skool doping mishaps, including (1) Vino and Kashechkin getting their blood bags mixed-up, and luckily not killing themselves since they had the same blood type--those wacky kids!--and (2)we-still-love-so-stuff-it Giro bad!@#--uh, somebody who shall not be named--only tested poz for coke not because *he* was using it, but because the cousin whose blood he was transfusing to boost his own--ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!--was secretly on blow. *Damn*, whatsyerface--all the work, all the damage control, and none of the cokey fun--no *wonder* you were pissed! Now, can we just get back to more wholesome pursuits like "training at altitude"--sure beats being some nasty fly-by-night vampire bat!
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