Friday, April 07, 2017

It's Yer Quasi-Literate Guide to Italian Cycling Terms, Part Due!

Ok, so now you know who's doing what where in the gruppo at the fabulous Giro, or any other race you're watching on your smashing Italian pirate feed. But what disastrous mechanical did they just have, what just happened to that poor guy who crashed, and what the *hell* are the tifosi (that's you, cycling fan!) shouting at them from the roadside? This!

Bike parts!

Ruota: Wheel. Example: "I can't believe Carlos Barredo just whanged Rui Costa over the head with his ruota!"

Derailleur (front): Cambio.

Derailleur (wheel): Deragliatore. "Jaysus, you moron, try not to throw your !@#$in musette into my deragliatore!"

Handlebar: Manubrio. As in, "Holy !@#$, Sagan just caught his manubrio in some dipwad's giacca!"

Seat: Sella. "My freakin' *sella* just flew off? My mechanic is *dead*!"

Chain: Catena. !@#dammit, is Contador *cursed* or something, he just dropped his catena at the base of the Fedaia!

Helmet: Casco. Who's got the most hideous casco (well, caschi) in the peloton? Discuss!

Borraccia: Water bottle. I bet that ain't just water that weasel Valverde's takin' in from his borraccia!

Brakes: Freni. Don't touch your freni don't touch your freni don't touch...oh, !@#$, you just took half the gruppo down with you fer crissakes!

Frame: Teliao. Wait, what's that strange little button on your telaio? And how did you just accelerate like that when your face looks like Thomas "the Tongue" Voeckler's out there?

Computer: Computerino. Hey, some !@#$ing tifoso just stole my computerino when I was right here waiting for a wheel change!

Crashes!

Fall: As I mentioned, Caduta.

*Big* !@#$in' fall: Maxicaduta. !@#dammit, *another* maxicaduta for Alberto!

Collarbone: Clavicola. Oh, no, that's like the third time Phinney's busted his clavicola this year!

Leg: Gamba. Contador just finished a Grand Tour stage with a broken gamba again? Che mito!

Wrist: Polso.

Broken: Rotto.

Fracture: Frattura. Jaysus, how many fratture can Mick Rogers get in one career?

Finger: Dito. Hey, is that thing broken, or did Froomey just give the camera the dito?

Scrape: Graffio. No, no, my leg didn't just get ripped off, it's merely un graffio!

Skin: Pelle. Poor Chaves looks like a mummy, he's hardly got any pelle left!

Bandage: Fasciatura. Medico, ho bisogno di piu fasciature!

Syringe: Siringa. That better be decaf espresso in that syringa!

IV: Flebo. What makes Team As--ah, forget it!

Roadside Shout-Outs!

Dai!: No, not a wish for that guy to croak--go!

Forza!: Strength! Basically, go.

Vai!: Come on! Basically, go.

Ale'!: Allez! Basically, go.

As for what *else* they're shouting at those guys--and frankly, what I probably am too--I'm too delicate to use such language, so I'll leave that all to your filthy imaginations, perverts!
Next up--*what* do you want me to tell you how to say to Froome?

Monday, April 03, 2017

It's Yer Quasi-Literate Guide to Italian Cycling Terms, Part Uno!

Yeah, yeah, cobbles. But frankly, I'm so preemptively nauseated at the thought of Tom Boonen not winning his final Paris-Roubaix, and the incredibly anal-retentive obsessing over who caused Sagan's Flanders fall when we all know the important thing is what's the proper term for his current facial-hair configuration that I Just. Can't. Even. So, as we look ahead to the smashing 100th Giro, what do you do when your own country's commentator is a !@#$wit? That's right, scam some virus-laden illegal Italian feed, but for now, you need to know what they're sayin'! Ergo, a crash course in General Bike Racing Stuff:

Squadra: yer team. I.e., "how dare you not respect the fabulous Giro enough to bring your A-squadra, you Tour de France-whoring publicity pigs?"

Testa della corsa: the head of the race. Usage: how the !@#$ can that robot Valverde be alla testa della corsa for the 16th straight stage?

Fuga: the breakaway. Example: look, Amets is in la fuga agai--wait, he's not even *racing* anymore? What the hell is *wrong* with you freaks?

Gruppo: the peloton.

Gruppetto: the autobus (the !@#-end of the peloton, not the team bus).

Gregario: yer domestique. Poor bastard!

Velocista: sprinter. Example: how the !@#$ is that 200-pound velocista suddenly out-climbing Alberto Contador? Ohhhh...

Il doping: doping. No, serious!

Scalatore: climber.

Tappa: the stage.

Cronometro: the time trial. As in, "Are you kidding me? We're allowing a !@#$in' 45k flat cronometro to decide the *Giro*?"

Partenza: the start line.

Arrivo: the finish line.

Podio: the podium.

Ristoro: the feed zone. I think. Such as, "can you *get* through this freakin' ristoro without tossing your musette into my wheel, you !@#clown?"

Discesa: the descent.

Pendenza: the percent gradient of the climb.

Tornante: hairpin turn. Like, "Oh, !@#$, did that guy just fly off that tornante?!"

Vincitore: the winner. Correct usage: "Yay! Mikel Landa e' il vincitore!"

Maglia: yes, the coveted jersey! Leader is maglia rosa; mountains is maglia azzurra; young rider is maglia bianca.

Salita: the climb.

Podio: the podium.

Caduta: a fall. Dottore!

Ammiraglia: the team car. Yeah, this is all *your* fault, you @@#-strategy-spewing nits!

Well, them's the basics. Next up: bike parts, medical crap, and, *what* are they shouting at those guys?

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

My Fantasy Team Sky Press Conference

Dave Brailsford: Good morning. I've called you all here today to address the ongoing controversy surrounding Team Sky, namely, how the !@#$ did we ever think giving Richie Porte his own team bus was gonna help him win the (aide bends, whispers in ear)--oh right, that doping/Jiffy bag/motor !@#$.

First, I'd like to say--well, !@#$, at least we're not as bad as Discovery was under Armstrong, right? (aide bends, whispers in ear) We are? !@#dammit! Uh, second, I'd like to say that there is absolutely nothing suspicious about throwing a black bag over a team employee's head, dragging him into a windowless van with 6 to 8 jack-booted thugs in face-masks, blasting thumping Euro club dance music at top volume for 14 hours so he can't hear where he's going, then dumping him in a filthy London alley with an unmarked package with a note to deliver it an unused Victorian-era mailbox in Bull!@#$-on-Liarsville.

Owain Doull: I just wanna reiterate that we're all 110% behind Dave Brailsford. When Brian Cookson commandeers a tank and !@#$in' squashes him with it, ha ha!

Chris Froome: Uh, I think I met that guy once. Maybe.

Jess Varnish: You know, for months I've been testifying quite credibly regarding British cycling that-- (Brailsford interrupts angrily) Hey, lassie, didn't you see that "He-Man Woman-Haters Club" sign on the door?! We said, no girls allowed!

Dave Brailsford (continuing): Third, I'd like to comment on the entirely spurious allegations that Team Sky uses motors on its bicycles. A, that button Froome keeps pushes on his top tub is just a buzzer to ask his soigneur to kindly bring him a hanky to wipe off the urine that was just thrown on him and to fetch a refreshing gin & tonic. B, that's not a "motor", that's a pile of wires connected to a generator connected to a ring-tailed lemur we've hopped up on 50 ounces of cocaine then crammed in there with one of those hamster wheels to artificially increase the riders' speed going up the climbs. Plus, the blazing orange color showing up on UCI heat-detectors means it's really *cool* and *non-motory* in there, not *hot* from a *motor*.

Finally, I want to affirm Team Sky's unimpeachable commitment to clean sport, including the unrestricted use of tramadol, bogus TUEs, kenacort, cold medicine, malaria remedies, medicinal herbs, stimulants, downers, cough syrup, cortisone, menstrual-cramp tinctures, rhino tranquilizers, very strong tea and crumpets, liver-crushing quantities of wood alcohol, and, of course, giant boner pills. I told you it's all in the training and nutrition! We also use (aide drags him away from microphone, into hallway) gummy bears, like Sagan! And Easter candy! Marginaaal Gaaaaaaiiiiiinnnnssss!

Friday, February 10, 2017

It's Yer Unwritten Rules o' the Peloton, Revisited!

All right, as the recent smackdown between Kittel & Grivko so amply demonstrated, it's !@#damn etiquette chaos in the peloton right now, so before we all devolve into thievery, cannibalism, and chamois-snapping, I say it's about freakin' time to lay down some serious rules. Disagree, especially if yer a pro who's not just talking out of his/her !@# like I am? Have at, Miss Manners!

1. The Golden Rule: Do Not Be a Punk-Ass. If yer own mom'd spit on you and disown you for shaming the family, back off whatever weasel scumbag move yer about to pull. This goes for you too, Valverde!

2. Golden Rule, Part Deux: Do Not Be a Wuss. This, as dear reader(s) have pointed out, is bike racing. If Rui Costa'd rip yer stem off and start beating the crap out of you with it for some simpering passive-aggression, back off!

3. The Leader's Jersey, Part Un: Respect the Jersey. The leader sets the rules, dictates the pace at non-critical junctures, calls nature breaks, and doles out mercy or hellfire. But only within limits, because...

4. The Leader's Jersey, Part Deux: this goes both ways (hear me, Marcel)? Don't call a nature break halfway up Alpe d'Huez just because yer legs are crap and you know some !@#$wit with a motor--uh, Valver--uh, somebody stronger is gonna destroy your GC hopes like Godzilla on Tokyo, don't take undue advantage of someone else's misfortune, and don't, in general, be a !@#$. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, get it?

5. Sucker-Punching (A Fan): sure, you might not like that publicity-slutting asshat running next to you screaming their heads off in a neon banana-hammock, combination baseball hat/Texas longhorns, or a (wholly unjustified) syringe costume and accusatory sign, but if s/he ain't interfering with your line, endangering your wheel with a flag, or imminently tossing a large dog or small child in yer path, save the energy, honey, and let it go. On the other hand, if someone throws urine at you--and you're sure it's not just an ill-aimed, if well-intentioned, attempt to toss you a beer--I say, justice dealt!

6. Sucker-Punching (A Fellow Rider): Don't use it to screw someone over in a sprint. If some reckless selfish dipwad is jacking *your* line in the last 100 meters, though, fair game. And if you're Bernard !@#$ing Hinault, you can punch anyone at any time for any reason. Why, *you* want to tell him he can't?

7. Attacking (Flat Due to Natural Road Debris): look, happens to everyone. If you're just some schmo, no-one's attacking you anyway. If you're ten seconds apart on GC, particularly if it happens on a crucial climb, keep your pace, but no need to be a wanker about it. Caveat: no brownnosing peloton-powerhouse former teammates by staying with 'em for half an hour while the team you're supposed to be riding for gets hosed. And no running up the hill like a jack!@#!

8. Attacking (Flat Due to Pile of Tacks Deliberately Strewn by Some Malevolent Nutwhack): Not only should you not attack if you're the only sod lucky enough to get through it unscathed--which only rewards the scumbag, imho--but this possibly one of those instance where the Sucker-Punch (Fan) protocol applies. You endanger the riders, you takes your chances!

9. Bottles (Giving): Got an extra bottle riding next to someone who's obviously in croaking distress with no team car in sight? Nice to pass it along. Just don't accidentally hand over one with whatever sketchy drug-positive internet "nutritional supplement" you're scamming!

10. Bottles (Throwing): Over the head and/or to the side. Not skittering under somebody's wheel to take 'em down! This goes doubly for musettes: toss it into somebody's wheel and you've probably cost 'em the stage, the podium, or, even worse, some major collarbone surgery when they jackknife into the tarmac. And they'll remember you, pal!

11. Nature Breaks: Don't attack on a real one. It's weak, and the entire peloton will justifiably hate you. About three more water bottles in, you'll likely find that out for yourself! For calls necessarily heeded while on the fly, with perhaps the balancing assistance of a discreet teammate, for god's sake stay to the back and off to the side, so you don't let it rip on the poor bastard behind you!

12. Extreme Weather Protocol: Know you game-changingly suck in the wind/cold/snow/rain/dessicating heat, and your GC rivals don't? Well, it's really nice that UCI's decided no-one should actually have major limbs drop off from frostbite, but don't take advantage of your lack of hardman skills and whine at the organizers til they cancel the stage just so you can gain a leg up. Why? Because you're a *cyclist*, dammit, and Marianne Vos eats blizzards for breakfast and spits 'em back out as snow-cones for the kiddos while you're still cowering in your hotel room in your down bathrobe, you wuss!

13. And Finally, Yer Miscellaneous Post-Race Commandment: If you say you're gonna retire, *retire* fer chrissakes! This applies without exception to Brad Wiggins, but not to, say, Purito, whose glaring absence from the peloton has already left an atom-crushing black whole from which no light or matter can escape. And this includes any stupid !@#$ like reality-show long-jumping/bull-fighting/extreme curling or whatever the !@#$% you're doing lately, Wiggo!

Thursday, January 05, 2017

It's Yer 2017 Year In Preview (Yeah, You Read Right)!

Look, we all know the pro-cycling wreck-o-rama that was the dearly, and just, departed 2016. But what's gonna happen *this* year? Read, dear reader(s), and learn!

January: Team Kits-o-Rama! Glum Contador shows off jersey with huge portrait of Vincenzo Nibali, words "We'd Rather Have Nibs" in neon yellow under it; Astana eschews traditional team kit in favor of full-body tattoos of whatever crazy-!@# !@#$'s gotten into Vinokourov's head that day; Tour of Qatar cancelled, number of fans on roadside remains exactly the same.

February: Time for the hard men! Boonen calmly eats cobblestones as cereal for breakfast at check-in, spits out remnants next to team bus, entire onlooking peloton gives up, packs up, goes home; commentators at loss with entire peloton dressed in black kit, start randomly assigning names like "Willy Wonka" and "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" to winners at line, enraging team bosses;

March: It's the Race to the Sun! Richie Porte blows prestigious Paris-Nice three-peat by domestiquing Chris Froome instead; Cancellara watches Milan-Sanremo from living room couch in underwear, drinking beer, eating nachos, wins by 24 minutes.

April: Paris-Roubaix "extreme weather protocol" invoked on new climb, Boonen, Sagan already frozen, excavated from blocks of ice 10,000 years later by next evolution of hominids; Philippe Gilbert returns to 2011 winning form at Ardennes Classics, takes--!@#$, Valverde, what are you *on*?; revitalized UCI reveals first doping bust of season as 4 year old Emma Smith of Maple Grove Pre-School popped for illegal juice-box use during last 5 yards of schoolyard bike race, banned from UCI competition for life.

May: What else? It's the 100th Giro d'Italia! Superfit Nibali poised to take 100th Giro after Landa, Quintana, Chaves kidnapped, force-fed typical bloated American fast-food diet until race bikes snap under new-gained weight; Landa catches bilharzia when Froome visits hotel to cheer on the guys, resultant energy burst from 24/7 vomiting, gut-wrenching meds gives Mikel the podium in Milan. Forza Mikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!

June: Pre-Tour prep begins! Froome falls off bike on training ride, bike completes circuit of Mallorca at top speed without rider, Froome avers "it's just a little brake lever problem"; Sky courier mistakenly delivers unlabeled package to Cofidis, entire squad promptly loses 40/kg each; women's peloton protests total !@#$ing lack of comparable races, rewarded with opportunity to ride the guys' bikes for them before each Grand Tour stage to work out any mechanical issues.

July: Uh, what else? It's the Giant Golden Clown Show! Bouhanni socks Cav in sprint finish, Cav wins when chews Nacer's wheel off, causing Bouhanni to crash at line; giant inflatable 1k banner collapses, beans dimwit tourist sticking camera right out into barreling peloton, saves 30 riders from career-ending injuries; Contador victor in Paris, Oleg Tinkov drunk-rushes final podium in yellow tutu, feathered headdress, pointe shoes, yelling "DANCE WITH ME ALBERTO, MY PRINCE!"

August: Oh, thank God, the Vuelta begins! Purito unretires at last minute, Chaves, Valverde, Quintana preemptively concede defeat; Dumoulin actually melts into tarmac in Basque mountains, disappears; total disrespectful !@#holes at UCI demand Vuelta be rescheduled til "some !@#ty week in February" to accommodate changed date of some crappy other race, instead.

September: It's the World Championships at last! Sagan blindfolded, spun around like kid playing "Pin the Tail on the Donkey", sent out on course on unicycle with underinflated tire 45 minutes after departure of rest of field, pulls off World Champ double; Vos retakes Worlds over exhausted field while actually still at start line signing autographs; time trial championship called off because "without Fabian, what the !@#$'s the point?"

October: Transfer season begins! Anton, Landa, Txurruka, Izagirres, Zubeldia, Sanchez to new mystery crowd-founded squad "Youskaltel-Youskadi"; 30 of those freaky !@#$in' 3D-printed super-powered robots from "Westworld" to Sky, like anyone can tell the difference; cryogenically preserved Valverde extends with Movistar until 3036, opining "I've still got a good few years left."

November: Transfer season heats up! Recent lottery winner Jonathan Vaughters goes on coke-fueled bender, buys out contracts of Froome, Contador, Nairo, Alejandro, Fabio, Nibs, hands out gladiator armor, weapons, orders them to "FIGHT FOR THE TOUR DE FRANCE LEADERSHIP, YOU SCRAWNY MOTHER!@#$ERS!"; entire Astana squad to "wherever we freakin' have to to get away from Vinokourov"; Sky leadership distracted by testifying at latest scum-weasel doping scandal, forgets to renew World Tour status, put up internet ads for "anyone with a warm body who can scam a UCI license."

December: End-of-year awards show time! DSes vote Chris Froome "Most Bull!@#$ Transformation We've Ever Seen in Our Entire Dope-Supervising Lives"; Valverde voted "Guy Most Likely to Blow the Tour de France in the Final Week"; bored Wiggo announces upcoming appearance on reality-TV "Rhythmic Gymnastics With the Stars," wows judges with ability to catch spiraling crankshaft with pinkie toe while bent into pretzel; team camps begin with Sky--aw, we already *know* what the !@#$ they're doing!

Well, them's yer 2017 preview, so cover yer ears, avert yer eyes--and for heck's sake, don't say I didn't warn you!