It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2020 Giro d'Italia racejunkie Awards!

 Strangely saddened in late October for heck's sake by the sudden cessation of Giro d'Italia coverage? Still mourning the magnificent vistas of the legendary Stelvio but not the fact you weren't the poor bastard who had to climb it?  Do you find yourself inexplicably screaming "Vai! Vai!" at the TV during Barca matches? Yep, !#$%ed up as this year has been, it's *still* been a year which included the bangin' Giro, which means it's time for Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2020 Giro d'Italia racejunkie Awards!  Prizes--I swear on my Marea Naranja history-of-Euskaltel book, so you know I'm dead-on serious--for any awardee so unlikely as to know about, much less read, this crap or so desperate as to claim 'em: (1) a dashing custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap; (2) a passel o' handsome racejunkie stickers to deface that !@#$er-who-made-you- crash's bike, helmet, or face; (3) eternal, or at least til blogger shuts down this farce, infamy; and (4) a genuine actual sportsy trophy either (a) crudely engraved with your name and the award you won with a nail scrounged outta the basement if I don't impale myself with it first then have to rush to the hospital to get myself a tetanus shot or (b) carefully written upon by Sharpie with your name and the award you won in very satisfactory penmanship.  So without further ado, let's get this show on the road--so at least you have something to read if the Vuelta gets cancelled tomorrow!

I Call Bull!@#$ Prize: fine, numerous people, a lot less blockheaded than I, knew all about baby talent Jai Hindley and his amazing powers of domestiquecity for surging leader teammate Wilco Kelderman (not to mention I'm a !@#$wit for not taking Wilco more seriously for GC in the first place, despite being ever-dazzled by the sheer coolness of his name). But if you started out this race--or hell, got to about Stage 16 of it--thinking that this quality young cyclist was about to dang near win the !@#damn Giro d'Italia in his very first ever Grand Tour, you are a bigger liar even than that assclown testifying in the British doping inquiry that he totally accidentally destroyed 14 individual laptops with incriminating information by totally accidentally assaulting 'em with a screwdriver, a *really* sticky spilled soda, a Sherman tank, a cap gun, and a flamethrower. Chapeau to the incredible Jai Hindley on an incredible achievement!

Wonder of Wonder, Miracle of Miracles Prize: c'mon, between the weird October start, the threat of bike-blocking blizzard conditions in the mountains, the relentless increase of positives as the route went along, *you* weren't convinced this show was gonna make it to Milan either.  And I still don't know how it did--and I hope it wasn't by taking unnecessary risks with the staff and riders just to get the job done--but it did.  To everyone who couldn't safely stick it out, we're all glad you did what was best.  To everyone else who managed to make it over the finish line--just wow!

Baby Shark, Baby Shark, Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo Statuette: honestly, I don't know *what* his nickname is, but the totally unexpected, and totally deserving, Joao Almeida in pink for one, much less for 13, stages was just one of the dearest surprises this unpredictable race had to offer.  And, he fought for it every day with grinta and let it go with dignity and class.  Beautiful work Joao and team!

Sharp Dressed (Well, Almost) Man Award: as anyone who's ever limped about in the blistering toe-crunching misery of high heels, or, I hear from still-grimacing sources, inadvertently zipped themselves up in the fly of their jeans, can tell you, fashion is *pain*, honey, and it damn well nearly was for newb Jai Hindley, who almost ran himself off the Stelvio and into the far valley below in a vicious fistfight with his own rainjacket trying to get the damn thing on before he froze to death. Hell, Kelderman had to give up entirely, tossing his aside right when he could've used the comfort most.  Um, maybe that new sponsor gear was just a little *too* aero, Sunweb?

I Love You, Spartacu--Um, Pippo! Prize: *Who* blazed outta the start gate to take all 3, alternating pan-flat and nasty-hilly alike, time trials *and* some time well spent in the maglia rosa as well?  That's right, Terror o' the Tarmac Fabian Cance--oops, that's newly-crowned reigning World Time Trial Champ, hometown hero, bearer of endless name puns, and owner of the bitchinest-painted bike this side of an orange Euskatel Orbea classic, Filippo Ganna. *And* he took kind effort in his post-stage interview to aver that he far treasured his teammate's unexpected GC triumph over any of his own. Nice work on all counts, Ganna!     

Smack Talk o' the Race: perhaps it was the pressures of team leadership makin' him feisty, but it wasn't enough for Jakob Fuglsang to slag glorious Italia itself in his purportedly lighthearted news commentary, but he went after adored two-time Giro vinctore Lo Squalo himself, bashing Nibali for, y'know, not waiting by the roadside to hand him a damn lemonade after Fuglsang flatted, had to wait for his team car, and Nibali obnoxiously continued on down a tricky descent without him.   Well clutch my pearls and dirty my white gloves--Nibs, you've got nothing to answer for there!

*I'm* Not Crying, *You're* Crying Stage Win o' the Giro: c'mon.  You're *still* slobbering into your Kleenex over Alex Dowsett's delightful Stage 8 breakaway-from-the-breakaway victory and tearfully happy post-race interview.  Now quit cryin' and hand me the tissue box, !@#dammit!  

Oh !@#$ Oh !@#$ Oh !@#$ News o' the Race: Simon Yates' dreaded COVID positive, upending the expected GC of the race and scaring the hell out of a peloton already spooked by willy-nilly mingling with tourists over the salad bars at the hotels, increasing positive tests in nearly every European country, and overenthusiastic fans who apparently still couldn't correlate "yelling an inch from his face" and "plague-spewing." Most crucially, of course, was the news that Yates' symptoms, as well as those of the other riders and staff who came up positive, appeared to be mercifully relatively mild.  Wishing a speedy, safe recovery, and a tranquil, healthy off-season, to all!

Crap Crash o' the Race: y'know, I'm *not* a giant fan, particularly because he announced his impending participation in the Giro with all the enthusiasm of a kid being forced to eat limp week-old boiled-to-death ice-cold broccoli, but what a suck thing to happen to poor Geraint Thomas, who was taken out early in the race by a ridiculous--and ridiculously heavy--race-ending crash in the start zone.  Worse, he reported he could barely stand to watch the Giro at all after that, even with his own teammate shockingly taking the overall win.  Get well soon Thomas, and next time, remember to be *enthusiastic* about being sent here!  

The Tao of...Well, Tao Award: he came in expecting to be a worker bee for a surprisingly vulnerable Grand Tour powerhouse, he knocked himself completely out for whoever on the squad ever needed it the whole three weeks, *and*, after a gorgeous time trial in the final few minutes of the race, he came out lofting the Trofeo Senza Fine over his brilliant, winning head.  It's not like me to root for a Skybot, but dang, Mr. Geoghegan Hart, that was pretty fine indeed! 

Back In the High Life Again Prize: after a miserable Tour in which even his near-inevitable green jersey ultimately eluded him, and a pretty major bummer of a Giro that saw the maglia ciclamino meet the same fate and his sprints come ever-second, a disconsolate fan- and sponsor- favorite Peter Sagan shocked and delighted everyone (and didn't shock, but did delight, himself) with a swashbucklingly redemptive performance on an utterly un-Saganlike loooong solo breakaway to Stage 10 victory.  Take that, Demare you whippersnapper--and watch out for me again next year!

Controversy o' Giro 2020: sure, it started off with shock and horror over EF's special acid-trip rave-gear team kit, proceeded with concern and confusion over their terrifying bug-eyed-cartoon-duck time trial helmets, escalated to Jakob Fuglsang's cheerfully insulting assessment of the host country and its residents, and hit a fever pitch over entire squads having to bail out due to rider and staff COVID positives and the concurrent expressed terror of every rider left as to whether they should all be even continuing to race.  But *nothing* beat the absolute hoo-ha of a bunch of tired, wet, cold, potentially-immuno-compromised riders starting a night-time revolution by Telegram then unilaterally refusing to start the 2000-k Stage 19 until a good half of it had been chopped off a day ahead of the decisive day to Sestriere. Too bad some of the riders didn't know about it until after everyone else had clambered into their nice warm team buses! Naturally, reaction swung wildly from smugly retired hard-man pros and fleece-swaddled Prosecco-swigging couchpeloton denizens screeching for the spindly crybabies to nut up and literally make themselves sick over a nothing stage, to current riders and less sadistic fans who conceded that *some* mercy might be in order after the stress, chaos, and bone-deep exhaustion of a surprise autumn Grand Tour.  Aw, Demare'd just've gotten it again anyway, let it go people!   

Corollary Empty Threat Award: Giro head honcho Mauro Vegni, who apopleptically swore that the riders were gonna *pay* when they made it to Milan after their outrageous stage 19 kilometer-slashing strike.  Apparently, that meant everyone was gonna "pay" with a series of adoring photographs and glowing social media media posts straight from the race itself.  Ouch!

Class Act o' the Race: Vincenzo Nibali, who reacted to Jakob Fuglsang's public slagging with polite disinterest, the controversial Stage 19 rider strike with a mildly disconsolate shrug, and, most importantly, his sturdy-but-undazzling riding and GC spot by calmly analyzing his training and in-race power data, finding it to his satisfaction, then figuring he just couldn't keep up with the speedier youngsters this time.  Still, I think there's something to be said for a nuts-to-the wall total lack of self-control in an unfiltered post-race-interview smackdown. Something rude, but something!

Moto !@#$wit Award: surprisingly, because you'd think a few catastrophic takedowns of potential stage winners and their post-stage bat-wielding DSes would be all it would take for this to sink in to the race motos, this is becoming a thing.  To the guy who completely ruined Elia Viviani's dearest dream of truncated-season redemption by a joyous sprint victory in front of his countrypeople, I don't know where you are now, but if Elia's mood is any indication, buddy, keep runnin'!

Fan !@#$wit Award: last, but never least, this coveted prize, which usually comes from some butt-nekkid eejit in a clown wig screaming into a rider's face, dipwad with a murderous selfie stick, or doofus who thinks a charging GC-frantic peloton is the ideal place to let his dog off the leash to teach how to play fetch, is an aggregate award for every clueless tifoso who never learned from playing recorder in second grade that the holes in any given object also correlate to *air being able to come out of them* unless you're in a freakin' vacuum for chrissakes, so, ergo, the mask you're using to protect the terrified riders from your pestilence-laden exhalations goes OVER YOUR DAMN NOSE, YOU CARELESS FREAKS!  Please, can we just get back to the space cadets who always decide to hop the barriers 250 meters from the line in a raging sprint finish next time?

All right, them's my awards, and congratulations--and sincerest apologies--to all the worthy winners.  Now grab yer prizes, pull on yer jackets in peace, and let's hope this unparalleled show goes forward in *May* of next year!

It's Yer Vuelta a Espana in Previe--Am I on Acid or Something?

 Not only is the Race of Attrition through the Scorching Mountains of Dehydration Death rescheduled from late August to tomorrow, it also starts on a Tuesday, so frankly, it's a miracle I've had the presence of mind to unearth my Euskaltel gear and practice yelling a few Basque words of encouragement at the TV, although, as I've just realized, *they're not freaking riding it*.  But it is indeed the Vuelta, baby--so in this year's super-abbreviated (by my standards) preview, let's check it out!

The Course: First, forget 21 stages--it's been pared back to just 18, and boy, will these guys be glad to make it to Madrid a little earlier!  Second, this ain't no endless-time-trial Tour de France crap--it's the Vuelta, and they're starting you right off the bat with mountains (literally) o' pain!  We start out with these freaks' idea of a merely 'hilly' stage, in fact three: Stage One, a just-over-the-top finish of the Cat 1, 5.3k Alto de Arrate; Stage 2, a peaceful start, a coupla Cat 3s, then the Cat 1 Alto de San Miguel de Aralar, with a dizzying 17k plunge to the finish line; and Stage 3, an apparently easy Cat 1 climb to the end at Laguna Negra and a mellow day for the breakaway. Awake yet? Well, no need, because they're throwin' you a bone on a flat (I mean, Vuelta flat) 191k sprint to Ejea de los Caballeros, after which the two sprinters who dared to show up here can go crying home to mama.  Stage 5: actually just hilly, though no joke, with two Cat 3s and a Cat 2 in the last 60k then a little upward finishing nip to the line. Stage 6: Abandon all hope, ye who sign in here: it's an absolute trident nutwhack of the Cat 1 Alto de Portalet, *then* the Holy Crap Col d'Aubisque, and finally--if you haven't crawled into the back of the team car and aren't huddled up whimpering on your soigneur's feet--the Hors Category, legendary Tourmalet.  Congrats on your win--and the rest of you, hopefully you make it in before the end of tomorrow's rest day!

Week 2 starts us off with another weak, 2 Cat-1s 'hilly' stage (two trips up the Puerto d' Ortuna), with a slightly uphill final k because *this is just the Vuelta*; Stage 8 takes us back to the mountains, honey! with a smooth start in Logrono, a Cat 2 climb at 113k to shake you out of your stupor, and a brutal Cat 1 finish to Alto de Moncalvillo, which starts you off at an easy 8-9% gradient then smirks as you conquer the 13-14% gradient final 3k.  Team car! Stage 9--relax, the only sprinter left at this point's got this one in the bag! Stage 10 is also flat, which means one Cat 3 climb and a 5% welcome to the finish line.  They don't pull this !@#$ at the Tour, no sirree! Stage 11, though, kills the flat-lovers' romance with an almost sadistically easy Cat 3 start, then 4--count 'em 4, or better yet come to think of it, don't--Cat 1 hikes finishing atop the Alto de la Farrapona!  Gee, I'm ready for a rest, aren't you? Well, too bad sucker--Stage 12 yanks you right up (you wish!) the fearsome Angliru, with two Cat 3s and a coupla Cat 1s to screw you out of GC before that. On the plus side, tomorrow's a rest day, if you can sleep with your legs screaming.  Pleeeeeeease let the Vuelta make it at least this far--though I can't imagine the riders would agree!

On to the final most-o-the-week! Stage 3 is just flat-out mocking you, an easy 31k time trial til it reminds you that you aren't in France, honey, and its 2k straight uphill to the finish line.  Gannaaaaa--yeah, he's glad he's not here for that!  Having now jacked yourself out of contention on the flat sections yesterday, Stage 14 brings you a lumpy tour of the Galician hills to take a breather on.  Stage 15: another lumper for the breakaway, with about 30 Cat 3 climbs. Stage 16: we're getting close! Another day of middling Vuelta climbs, with just one Cat 2 and 1 Cat 1 climb up Puerto El Robledo before one more hill and a reasonably doable final kilometer.  Are there *any* more sprints in this thing? Uh, not yet, as your last chance for GC redemption lies on the slopes of the HC Alto de la Covatilla.  Did you enjoy the spankin' new Cat 2 Alto de la Garganta before that?  Hey, quit hitting me! Last, and barring catastrophe, pretty much least, you schlep mercifully into Madrid with the leader's jersey and probably some hulking Classics monster the only one left to contest a sprint.  Didn't think you'd miss those last 3 stages!

The GC: Right, Froome is riding, which tells you how great Ineos thinks his form is, not that he deserves to besmirch this beautiful race anyway, but all eyes (and efforts) on Carapaz!  Movistar's got not a trident this year, but a two-pronged assault by Enric Mas (on the podium) and Alejandro Valverde (on both the podium, and on Mas), and former Giro champ and gigantic climber extraordinaire Dumo is hopefully rested up enough from the Tour not to be too pissed he's gonna be made to help Roglic.  Also in the hunt: Israel Start-up Nation's Dan Martin, and, in case you just haven't been getting your daily dose of adorable goat memes, Thibaut Pinot.  Now get that race camera outta his face before he rips yours off, you vulturous jerk!  

Geez Louise.  Anyway, without the perfect climbers of Euskaltel to scream for--I mean, no offense, but NTT?--good luck to all you lesser squads!  Now, is it the Tour of Oman that's still left after this, or is the next UCI race the Superbowl?

It's Yer Giro d'Italia Rest Day Due/Seriously? It's Still the Spring Classics? Roundup!

 Yes, the catastrophic cluster!@#$ that is 2020 continues, but now, with even more cycling, so there's that! So what happened in that venerable October staple, the Giro d'Italia, and elsewhere in cycling since the riders last collapsed into their beds, and what's possibly maybe sorta to come?  This!

1. Nope, it sure wasn't just Yates--yep, the remaining peloton was decimated on a dime when both the Murder Hornets and Michelton-Scott bailed outta the race in their entireties the very next day, taking Jumbo's reigning 8th place GC contender Steven Kruijswijk with them, along with other corona positives like Michael Matthews and a pile o' staff for Skineos and AG2r.   Meantime, Jonathan Vaughters at EF, apparently still under the hallucinogenic effect of whatever crap they were taking when they came up with that team kit, wrote a letter to race honcho Mauro Vegni begging him to cut off the race, threatening to preemptively pull the team, then 'clarifying' they were staying in and he still hoped the race would make it to Milan. Not if you keeping pissing of Vegni it won't, for you anyway!

2. Peter Sagan redeemed himself after a loooooong year's losing streak with a splashy, smashing solo breakaway stage win, and, in lieu of his traditional crowd-pleasing celebratory "wheelie," celebrated by rolling over Arnaud Demare's head instead.  Ouch--but hey, you're adorable, everyone but Arnaud forgives you Peto!

3. Jakob Fuglsang, in hot competition for Most Hated Man in All Italy, and having apparently stuffed Astana's publicist into the luggage compartment of the team bus before opening his yap, proceeded to graciously thank his hosts in a daily write-up, commenting how pretty the South was despite the inbred barbarian residents, throwing in a gratuitous mafia reference for good (well, bad) measure, only to follow up with a sincere apology, after receiving considerable backlash, to "the inferior people who were somehow offended and the backwards crapholes they live in."  *Much* better, Jakob!

4. Elia Viviani.  *Just* when you thought the race could hold it together this year, and Elia was looking in improving body and spirits after a bummer year, a race moto seemingly missed the part of the training where they tell you "FOR !@#$'S SAKE DON'T HIT THE RIDERS" and, yes, ran him down.  Luckily, he wasn't as hurt as you might expect, though his hopes for the stage win were dashed.  You know, Elia's not a big guy, but I still wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of 'im--maybe reassign that moto driver to a safer job, say, buzzing through an angry hungry lion pack?

5. Speaking of packs, it's beyond me why the hell Deceuninck-Quick Step inexplicably changed its name to "Elegant" ahead of the down-and-dirty hunting grounds of Flanders, which they promptly lost, of course, after missing sign-in entirely because they were running late after being measured for waistcoats and spats.  Damn, maybe the whole annoying "Wolfpack" mentality really *does* serve us better, after all!

6. Alaphilippe. Yes, the Van Aert/Van der Poel showdown was fun, but cripes, this guy is either blazing in his new World Championships jersey or *completely* !@#$ed up in it.  So relieved he wasn't hurt worse in that moto crash than his still-horridly-sucks two broken fingers--wishing you a speedy recovery, Julian, and perhaps a little equilibrium in the off-season!

7. And as for the groundbreaking *women's* Flanders, they--what, we can't even see it live?  *That'll* increase awareness of these amazing athletes and their incredible sport, you weasels! Marianne Vos, now that you've a whole squad of Murder Hornets at your command for next season, I imagine that's going to be fixed but quick!

8. JAYSUS H. FECKIN' CHRIST, MASKS GO *OVER* YOUR FECKIN' NOSES WHEN YOU'RE RUNNING SCREAMING ALONGSIDE THE RIDERS, WHAT DO YOU THINK THOSE HOLES IN YOUR FACE ARE FOR, SPOUTING PYROTECHNICS AT A METAL SHOW YOU !@#$WITS?

9. I can't believe this bears repeating, but next nimrod lighting a green smoke flare for the gasping riders to suck in on an excruciating climb gets it rammed down their nimrod throat.  Do you *get* it now?

10.You did *not* see baby Giro debutant Joao Almeida in pink for the second rest day.  Liar!  And my, if he stuck his tongue out any farther yesterday he'd've been a frog catching flies with it. Grinta!

11. So far, the weather is holding, which bodes well for the Vuelta a Espana. That, and Yukon Cornelius and the Abominable Snowman have reportedly been called in to clear the climbs in the Basque Country.  Now don't forget the winter gear--those twee little climbers will turn into tiny icepicks!

12. Whaddya *mean* Mikel Landa's off happily riding his mountain bike while he's too injured to ride the Vuelta?!

13. Lest you think the Giro's letting the riders off easy this year, so far they've popped a *ton* of riders for--uh, grievous offenses like littering, drafting, and public urination.  Glad the sport's taken on its problems head-on!

14. Tao Geoghegan Hart.  Can people just cut him a little slack now?     

15. Hmm...maybe I *didn't* give Kelderman enough credit.  With a domestique like Jai Hindley performing like he did yesterday, it's honestly hard to see how this guy can lose!

16. Please don't hurt me for saying that, Nibali--we're still rooting for a major shark attack in the coming week!

All right folks, on to the truly decisive mountain stages and, of course, tomorrow's start of the Vuelta a Espana.  Wait, what the !@#$ ?!

It's Yer Giro d'Italia Rest Day Uno/Spring Classics/Isn't it Time for Hockey Already? Roundup!

 Okay, it's been an action-packed first week 'n' more of the Giro and start to the Classics seasons, about to be run concurrently with the Vuelta, because, well, it's 2020, and the entire cycling world's just been *turned* *on* *its* *head.* So what've we learned, and what's to come? So far, this!

1. Simon Yates. There's no *way* he's gonna be the only positive at this Giro.  He's certainly not the only one in cycling, as former racer-now-commentator Jan Bakelandts tests positive for coronavirus, Tiejs Benoot has to quarantine, whole teams have to drop out of the women's races, and hell, three race moto guys just came up positive yesterday. God, does anyone else long for the days when some weird ailment and a subsequent positive test meant something else in cycling entirely?

2. The edit function is *off*, people.  I don't know whether it's the !@#$ed up schedule, what would normally be post-season burnout, or a side effect of these super-tight covid team bubbles is just bitchiness, but damn, are riders all-in for the smack talk this year!  A frustrated Sagan--who's frustrated he hasn't *won* yet, so projecting, but whatever--invites Demare, who's kicking his !@#, to veer back and forth in the sprint like a drunken sailor, since he's already screwing Sagan anyway. Then, Fuglsang, who had a flat pretty early in a stage, bitterly slags Nibali for, basically, violating the unwritten and only-as-needed peloton etiquette rule of NOT SUCKING AT DESCENDING SO !@#$ YOU JAKOB EXACTLY WHAT SHOULD HE HAVE DONE, pulled over at the hotel at the top of the climb for a mid-stage espresso til you hauled your !@# back up?  *Then*, over in Classics land, Wout Van Aert goes off on Van der Poel for being a sabotaging wheel-sucking coward-tactic remora, when, y'know, Mads EARNED HIS WIN. Lest we fail to hear from those who've been there before, Tom Boonen's got a nice big editorial in the newspaper today telling Van Aert to nut up and quit being such a cry-baby.  I thought I deeply missed the Simoni smack-talk days, and I do, but it turns out I particularly just miss riders who don't whiningly blow at this invaluable skill.  Cripes, who *knows* what they'll start saying when there's one measly sprint left up for grabs and the GC *really* starts shaping up? 

3. HOLY CRAP IT'S FINALLY THE FIRST-EVER WOMEN'S PARIS-ROUBAIX, WE NEVER THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD C--oh, !@#$ !

4. Who *wasn't* freaking out along with Alex Dowsett when he time-trialed himself to an uphill stage win?  *And* he had the presence of mind to plug (rightly) for a new contract, to boot!

5. Anna van der Breggen. She's now won 86 consecutive Fleche-Wallones, 14 world championships, the Giro, and 3 contests for Homecoming Queen in extremely competitive Texas high schools this year alone. Not bad for a 4-day season, amirite?

6. What the !@#$ do you mean Mikel Landa can't ride the Vuelta because he's still hurt from the freakin' Dauphine? This is all your fault, Movi--I mean, Bahrain-Maclaren!

7. EF's new flaming psychedelic cartoon duck kit, while a garish insult to innocent eyeballs everywhere, sure seems to be working this Giro.  Haven't they already got about 3 stages so far? Maybe trying to ride away from those graphics does the trick! More, you can have your own piece of vicious sartorial warfare for a mere 600 euros a pop on eBay. That's what they'll give you to buy that, right?

8. New World Champ Alaphilippe's premature celebrations.  Almost twice in one week, no less!  Oh, he's still punch-drunk from the rainbow stripes, tough to fault the boy *too* much...

9. Cav. Never a huge fan, primarily because he had that whole arrogant sprinter ass-face thing down for years, and no, I've never forgiven him for dismissing we love Andre Greipel as just winning "shit races," but can we forgive the guy a few tears already and admire his career before we start harping on how much he sucks as he naturally ages out of full power?  Let 'im at least see if he can score a gig for one more year!

10. Ineos.  First, ew.  Second, is *anyone* surprised at this sordid !@#$show, except for maybe how much testosterone you need to buy to perk up one set of nuts--because *that's* what your DS would be concerned about, if *their* livelihood depended on some cyclist's ability to win?

11. Sure, there's snow, but lookin' relatively good for the Stelvio, kids--assuming the race still manages to make it that far!

All right, aside from some additional verbal attacks between Nibs and Fuglsang this morning, I think I've covered the basics.  On to Stage 10 and its occasional, leg-lovin' 24% gradients--and Sagan, you can't blame Demare a *fourth* time! 

It's Yer 2020 Giro d'Italia in Previe--Wait, What the !#$% ?

 Look, this time last year I'd have been desperately posting some boring transfer news or weird cyclist rap video to tide us over til some nimrod tested positive for dope ahead of the holidays, and this time last *May*, I'd be posting about 4 different incredibly detailed guaranteed-to-be-unread previews by stage, overall course, GC contenders, puncheurs, sprinteurs, and every iota of sleazy gossip I could get ahold of.  But this is *2020* folks, the world is a bizarre, unfathomable hellscape, and frankly, between getting my head around the fact that nice Mads Pedersen barely got a chance to show off his world championship jersey and yesterday's racist sexist !@#$wit vomitous cyclist twitter explosion, it's a miracle I even realized it's time to preview even our adored Giro d'Italia at all.  So without further ado--and please, cycling, let me get this typed before things get even *more* screwed up--here's Yer Incredibly Abbreviated 2020 Giro d'Italia in Preview!

The Course: Who the !@#$ knows?  Half the guys are mistakenly gonna turn up at the Lombardia start, and for the rest of 'em, let's just say they're a liiiiiiiiittle up in the air, because all the roads that were meticulously paved in April have already crumbled into pave', and the Stelvio, to put it optimistically, already looks like Christmas, so the odds of it being actually passable are roughly the same as *not* finding Miguel Angel Lopez still frozen like a Popsicle to the inside of a snowplow in a deserted Alpine heavy-equipment parking lot sometime around next August.  Still, here's the plan, for now:

Week 1: We start off with a 15.1k individual time trial through Palermo with quite a dip after the first k or so then a pan-flat 2.7k finish. Stage 2: a 149k light roller with a 5%ish to 9%ish uphill finish the last few k.  Stage 3: screw you sprinters, we're in the mountains already--welcome to the always-thrilling Cat-1 Mount Etna finish! This should provide us the first check of whose Giro is already in spectacular disarray, subject, of course, to riding into form, wheel entanglements, ill-timed mechanicals, and unanticipated Earth-bound asteroids.  Stage 4: yep, it's mercifully flat, with the exception of a looooong if mild drag in the middle, and a rider-pleasing 800 meter straight finish.  Stage 5: We're rolling!  Bring your legs, and yer Dramamine, folks, as the unsung breakaway artists have a reasonable chance if they can make it past the occasionally 18% slopes of Valico di Montescuro without getting eaten alive by, hell, the 250-pound 6-foot natural climbers of Jumbo Visma.  Stage 6: less punchy, but a false-flat finish. Stage 7: Sure, the Giro itself cites "roundabouts, traffic dividers, pedestrian islands, stone pavers and speed bumps" as possible obstacles, but we know *those* never cause any problems--so get yer game on, Elia, we have faith!

Week 2:  Stage 8: snooze away til 90k, when Monte Sant'Angelo wakes you  up, then up-down til the final 2k.  This year, who the hell knows who'll take it? Stage 9: Snap out of it, climbers, we got 4,000 meters of climbing on our queen stage in the Apennines, including Passo Lanciano, Passo San Leonardo, and the final gasp up to Roccaraso with a 12% nipper of a last kilometer! Stage 10: Relax, GC, it's a rolling profile with a flat, fast 10k to the finish. Next up: a happy day on Stage 11 for the pure sprinters.  Enjoy! Stage 12: Get ready to cry again!  With the exception of the start and finish, it's constant climbing and descending, with some pretty sharp inclines to boot.  Oh, and two helpful speed bumps on the finishing straight. Are we there yet? Stage 13: 155k o' absolutely nothing, then two little climbs before flat again for the finale.  Isn't that a nice way to end the week?

Week 3: Welcome to the second time trial!  Not for the purists, this includes a lumpy 34.1k with gradients up to 19%, so bike selection will be key.  In the final k, you got three sharp turns, then 300 meters to steady yerself for the finish.  Bonne chance, suckers! Stage 15: back in the mountains, baby!  If you're choking on GC, now's a nice time to start making amends, particularly the last 15k uphill to Piancavallo.  Stage 16: Ciao, beautiful Udine! All the enjoyment of up and down circuits with a 20% gradient just before the final kilometer.  Ouch!  Stage 17: We are done screwing around, people: assuming they're not snowed in, we got Balbona, *then* Monte Bondone, *then* wee (ish) Passo Durone, and finally, the Climb of Truth up the Madonna di Campiglio.  Lookin' good for the final maglia rosa Nibs--at least we hope! Stage 18: cracked yesterday? Well, you ain't gonna like today: it's the mitico Stelvio stage, and yes, you're just *praying* that mother's snowed in and UCI, in a rare act of mercy, calls in the Extreme Weather Protocols to save you.  As if!  Stage 19: oh thank goodness: any sprinters left--and frankly, it's highly questionable Sagan made it past yesterday--have one final chance at glory.  Stage 20: it's last chance for the GC, assuming you haven't had any idiotic crashes, contracted any bizarre stomach ailments, or frozen off any useful appendages, and it is gonna *hurt*--the Colle dell'Agnello, the Col d'Izoard, a schelp to Montgenevre, and, if you weren't cursing the organizers hard enough, the gorgeous, lofty, and probably pretty darn icy hike to Sestriere.  Congrats, you just won the whole entire Giro!  Finally, we end the most beautiful race in the world with a third (!) ITT.  Now, ragazzi, you can rest! 

The GC: Who the !@#$ knows?  First, there's *three* ITTs, which, if history is any guide but the lumpy profile of the second is not, is !@#$ news for the climbers.  Plus, everyone, *everyone*, brought their absolute A-game to the Tour de France instead in the likely event it was gonna be the only Grand Tour to the start, much less finish, this year.  And aside from Nibali, who has been laser-targeting the Italian races this weird, abbreviated year and looks, honestly, as sharp as he's ever been, everyone's form is completely unpredictable as a result.  Defending champ Carapaz is no-show.  So in theory, and still at this moment, besides Lo Squalo: Miguel Angel Lopez. Fuglsang, except half of Astana's already been sent home--due to the pandemic, you cynics! Zakarin. Majka. Kruijswik, though particularly deep down, I don't really see it. Geraint Thomas--still pissed off being here at all, so he might as well stick it to his team boss for screwing him outta the Tour--and, last but not least, Simon Yates.  Aupa Mikeeee--what the !@#$ do mean he isn't here?!

The Other Stages: Sprints: still devastated by Peter Sagan's losses at the Tour?  Have no fear, he's out for vengeance, and redemption, at the Giro!  Unfortunately for him, so's Elia Viviani, with his impeccable home-race palmares.  Also on the hunt: Bling Matthews, Gaviria, who is looking awful fit, and Demare.  For stage hunters, we got a wide net, with guys like Warbasse to De Gendt to Ciccone to Craddock to ever-Carrot Pello Bilbao and, to everyone's joy, Giovanni Visconti. For the time trials--considering the terrain differentials, your guess is way, way better than mine!

Alright folks, in the off chance cycling's still actually on in *any* country after this week, I'm gonna call it here.  So let's pull out our fuzzy mascots, pink t-shirts, masks that go *over your nose while you're screaming at the riders !@#dammit*, and backwoods winter survivalist gear, pop the Prosecco for that late-season Spritz, and get this springtime show on the road!