Race o' the 2018: La Course. Annemiek van Vleuten beating Anna van der Breggen *just* on the line, on the sole scrap of a women's day at the men's Tour de France. The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat in one soulcrushing screenshot!
Punk o' the Year: Racist slurs. Sucker-punching cheap shots, including a bad-optics DQ from the Tour de France after smacking Fortuneo's harmless nice-guy Elie Gesbert in the face on Stage 15 for no discernible reason nary a kilometer into the day. And a general attitude of assholery unequaled even among the most classless of jackwagons in the peloton. Congrats, Gianni Moscon-- if you can call it that!
Existential Crisis of Award: 10 years after his ban from Operacion Puerto expired, and at the approximate age of when our planet's supercontinent Gaia broke apart into the 7 big wunks we enjoy today, Alejandro Valverde's scream of triumph at the World Road Championships this year was outshouted only by cycling's collective shrieks of disbelief, admiration, joy, disgust, and horror. Yep, this one's for all of us, since it took (no disrespect to Bala's power and perseverance) the collective cringing denial of the cycling authorities, press hounds, and enabler tifosi to get us here. Congrats--now get that look off your face every time you see those World Champion stripes!
Karmic Justice o' the Year: perpetual Armstrong stinging pest Floyd Landis, who turned around years of fan ire over his bogus "Floyd Fairness Fund" and total peloton ostracism for breaking omerta' to start an instantly successful cannabis biz and, even better, stick it massively to lifetime-banned Lance by taking his $250k whistleblower windfall and starting a freakin' cycling squad. Toke that, Armstrong!
Fuckwit Tactics o' 2018: FFS, Movistar--this triple-team-captaincy crap with Nairo, Alejandro, and Mikel is *never*, *ever* gonna work. And sure, for 2019, you've sagely apparently decided to knock that down to the slightly less idiotic two-equal-captain strategy. But why the !@#$ did it take you so long to learn your lesson?! Mikel, I'm telling you, these clowns have wasted your potential--but there's still time for you to get the hell out!
The Empire Strikes Back Award: sure, it's already been an embarrassing generation or so for the poor French. But to have the Brits bag not just their beloved Tour de France, but the other two Grand Tours as well, has gotta be a special kind o' nut-kick for not just them but for other historic cycling powerhouses like Italy and Spain. All hail the Queen--and you might as well all start learning how to sing the national anthem now!
It's (No Good) To Be the King Statuette: look, in any normal year, Geraint Thomas would be here for
"Superdomestique o' the Year"or some admirable endeavor. But this is still 2018, and the guy was actually able to ride out of Giro-tired Froomey's shadow and take his maiden Grand Tour victory. Not that it matters to Chris this year when he kicks your !@# back into second tier status--now get off yer bike and pump my tires, you lowly minion!
Carrot Rising Prize: Bring one baby carrot into the smashing Vuelta a Espana amidst an all-star gaggle of gasping climbers, and what do you get? That's right baby, one debutant Euskadi-Murias boy to rule them all! Oscar Rodriguez' beyond-bangin' stage 13 win on the fierce gradients of La Camperona. Aupaaaaaaaaaa--and watch out Sky and Movistar, they're coming for you next year too!
Total Weeper of 2018: yes, John Degenstache's tearful redemption win, after years of recovery from near career-tanking injury, on the cobbled streets of the Tour de France. But for me, this is hands-down a heartbreaking but beautiful tribute by Canadian nice guy and first-time Grand Tour stage winner EF-Drapac's Michael Woods, gasping with exhaustion at the end of an epic Stage 17 victory at the Vuelta a Espana and dedicating his win to his and his wife's late son Hunter. Yeah, I'm still crying--but you know you are too!
Marginal Bull!@#$ Award: Holy Jiffy Bags, Batman, Sky's out! Which raises the question, who's gonna pay the civil damages when they get sued for allowing Geraint Thomas and Froome to engage in a cage-fight-to-the-death for team leadership ahead of this year's Tour de France?
Worth His Weight in Gold Award: yeah, Nairo weighs about as much as butterfly's breath, so this one seems about right. Honestly, whatever funk he's been in, his beautiful win at the perfect Giro d'Italia years back *was* worthy, so hopefully, somehow, he'll get his mojo back--*after* Landa gets a real crack at team leadership, of course!
Entertainer o' the Year: Toms Skujins. Even more than Peter Sagan, Trek-Segafredo's resident potato-lovin' Latvian--and wearer of the polka-dot jersey at the Tour de France in truly a breakout year--swept the cynical cycling press *and* the tifosi off their feet with a blizzard of roadly panache, lively tweets, and simple joie de vivre. From hot chocolate to Christmas onesies, cyclocross coverage to of course the glories of spuds, there's nothing Toms won't weigh in on, to our collective delight. Keep it up, kid--and no, we won't forget your achievements on the bike that got you here!
Enabler Prize o' 2018: nothing says "shape up or else!" about your rider's ignorant, racist, crybaby behavior like punishing him by--uh, by not imposing any material consequences whatsoever for two straight seasons' worth of total jackassery. Sky, I don't care what races he wins or how much !@#$ty "any publicity is good publicity" he sends your way--get a grip on Moscon's twitface behavior, and get your house in order!
Suck Retirement o' 2018: yes, Pippo Pozzato's last-minute retirement announcement blows, not least because our dashing Pippo, off to nurture young cycling talent and, bizarrely, take up a career in roller hockey, is single-handedly destroying cycling's single greatest source of semi-porno selfies since Cipollini. But for me, the greatest if most unheralded sucktastic retirement is Italy's sprinter extraordinaire grande Giorgia Bronzini. After a precocious beginning (and equally strong finish!) in track, Giorgia racked up *2* UCI World Road Championships, a pile of victories in the fabulous Giro Rosa, and emphatic wins in races from China to the Basque Country. Now, it's off to impart her wisdom--if unfortunately not her intimidating speed--to the whippersnappers. Grazie Giorgia, I know the sport will continue to benefit from all you do!
Doping Scandal of 2018: after years of explaining away buckets o' testosterone patches, boxes of unattributable vials, and performances that make DiscoveryPostal look like a post-bender New Year's Day beginner club ride, Team S--I mean, 3 Masters racers from the Vuelta a Miami were popped for EPO and similar antediluvian substances by crack cycling police force UCI. Ya gotta give UCI credit for catching 'em at this level--it's the only way to ensure the pro peloton remains the sparkling-clean bastion of purity it is today!
And Last But Not Least, the Golden Hanky Award: what happens when you're unconditionally swooned over by the press, mobbed by smokin' hot fans of every persuasion, showered with lucrative sponsorship gigs, finally the winner of the legendary Paris-Roubaix (in World Champ stripes, no less), and generally granted more deference than God? *That*'s right, if you're bike handler perfecto Peter Sagan, you complain to the press about how unappreciated you are and threaten to ride your mountain bike off into the obscure sunset. Cry me a river, honey--just turn off the waterworks *before* you pop another wheelie for the cameras!
Well folks, them's pretty much mine--so step up winners, and own your victories if you dare!
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