It's Yer New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton!

 Okay, cycling.  You know what you did.  And you oughta be ashamed of yourselves! But even if you're not, what better way to start off the New Year by making a buncha impossible-to-live-up-to resolutions whose failure to complete will cause you relentless guilt and self-loathing the entire next season?  So if you don't know what's good for you, *we* sure do, so riders and assorted other cycling folks, listen up!

1. Julian Alaphilippe: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I outsmarted the lot of you at the World Championships for the second year in a row while you all !@#$ed around fighting for the podium behind rather'n work together to actually reel me in so you could go for the top spot.  So I'm good!

2. Mikel Landa.  I know what I have to do, and I am gonna do it.  That's right, I'm gonna wrap myself up in 50 miles of bubble wrap every time I leave the house, and I am gonna *stay* upright in one piece!

3. Bahrain Merida: in a related resolution, we are going to freakin' cattle prod anyone who gets within 100 meters of Mikel, and any piece of road furniture that dares to exist in his presence we are gonna blast outta the way with a !@#damn cannon.  We'll try to warn the rest of you first though!

4. Toms Skujins: I am going to start an all-potato food truck to follow me around for sustenance--and also serve my fans--all season.  Frites, baked, smashed, mashed, roasted, au gratin, skins, hashed, gnocchi, and latkes.  Someone else can take care of the beer truck!

5. Giro Donne.  I am gonna air *every* stage, *live*, for its *full length*, this year and every year thereafter, including to the US.  We'll take up the issue of adding another 11 stages next year!   

6. Elisa Longo Borghini.  Given the above, isn't it obvious?

7. Euskaltel.  We've conquered the breakaways, we've earned our spots back in the Grand Tours which we never should've had to do anyway, and in 2022, as befits the best climbers on earth, we're bringing home and sealing the deal with the impossibly high mountain finishes we're known for.  Giro, Tour and Vuelta--watch out!

8. Mark Cavendish: I'm going to win the green jersey at the Tour de France, just to stick it to Pat Lefevere.  And no, you don't get a podium pic with me after the way you b*tched about me all year!

9. Any and All World Tour Teams.  What the !@#$ is this travesty? We're gonna #HireSimonClarkeDammit! Hell, even Ineos--that's how desperate the fans are to have him back another season!

10. Remco Evenepoel: I'll shut my yap complaining about my teammates.  I can just take the Worlds without slagging 'em anyway!

11. Anna Kiesenhofer: all right, so you're all gonna be on the lookout for me now.  I'm going to hide discreetly amongst the Belgians, then take half the races I enter next season anyway!

12. Alexander Vinokourov: I don't need to resolve *anything* after my intra-squad coup last year.  Bow, peons!

13. Movistar: we'll ride *for* our GC guy this year, and *not* do everything we can to shepherd some other schmuck's team to victory.  And while we're at it--we get that that trident !@#$ *never works!

14. Last but Not Least, the Fans: We will restrain our signs, leash our dogs, retract our selfie sticks, extinguish our flares, refrain from throwing disgusting bodily emissions on the riders, and for FFS, cover up that hideous TMI neon banana-hammock when we're charging alongside the leader on Mont Ventoux so we don't burn the GC's, or the home viewers', retinas out.  We're serious--that last part of the resolution is non-negotiable!

Well, I guess the rest of you get off the hook easy this year.  But don't think you're out of the running for 2023! 

It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2021 racejunkie Awards!

 Well, cycling fans, it's been another glorious, weird, and frankly intermittently shameful year in our beloved peloton, and with the end of 2021 drawing nigh, it's time to reflect seriously upon the year just past with the sort of somber reflection, skilled analysis, obsequious groveling, and low-rent treachery you've both come to expect from we here at racejunkie.  And heck knows, riders and management alike have been up to enough hijinks in even another truncated cycling season to deserve a party.  So what better to celebrate than the good, the bad, and whoa moly, the ugly of our dear cycling with our Incredibly Prestigious 2021 racejunkie Awards?  Prizes--I swear on Euskaltel--for anyone so desperate or craven to claim 'em: (1) a smashing custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap (NOT a !@#damn baseball cap, you freaks); (2) a 100% genuine sports-related trophy with your name and award etched right on it, or, depending on budget, written right on the plaque in exceedingly neat Sharpie; (3) a passel o' racejunkie stickers to stick on stuff, hand out, or throw away (NOT responsible here for any humungous UCI fines incurred for reckless or reckful littering); and (4) eternal adulation or infamy, because unlike us elders whose youthful dumb*ssery mercifully faded into the sunset, the internet forgets nothing.  Anywho, we're grateful for the lot of you, so let's get this embarrassing party started!

Domestique o' the Year: before we get to the big stars--and let's be honest, most of these folks *ought* to be and *should* be big stars in their own right, if they aren't already--let's pause a moment to bow before the true workhorses of any team and every race, the humble domestique.  Shielding their team captain from those bone-snapping moments of inattention within the peloton, setting a blistering pace up a vicious climb to spit out any remotely tired competitors from their spot in GC, blazing a safe path and a perfectly-placed wheel for their sprinter amidst the chaotic argy-bargy of the charge to the line, or even just sacrificing a badly-needed gel or water-bottle, these riders gut themselves into literal post-race vomiting to get their job done.  But of all the amazing work done this year, the most notably heartwarming was Dani Martinez dropping back to scream encouragement to a weaving, exhausted, dangerously-close-to-blowing it Egan Bernal on Sega di Ala at the Giro.  There, I've been nice to Ineos--do I get a pass for what I'm gonna say about 'em in 2022?   

Fan !@#$wit Award: oh my goodness.  Even in a hotly-contested field jam-packed full of flares on oxygen-deprived mountain-top finishes, airborne umbrellas on sketchy descents, and the usual plethora of runaway animal intrusions, this year's award takes the cake.  Allez Opi-Omi for the cameras all you will--but please, please, please stay far enough the hell away from the course that you don't take out half the peloton and 3/4 of their season's goals for it!

Scrawny Little Slap-Fight o' 2021 (Metaphorical Rider Edition): normally, of course, this would go to Gianni Moscon for actually physically sucker-punching some innocent bystander, but this year, we've got the smashing Miguel Angel Lopez-Enric Mas Vuelta a Espana debacle, in which a feeling-pretty-darn-good Lopez was unjustly ordered by his team boss Unzue to play leaden-legs and crush his own chances for glory while coddled teammate Mas pounded blissfully away towards a podium spot.  I mean, I sympathize and all--but Landa put up with ten times this much !@#$ at Movistar, and you don't see him bailing on the side of the road in a huff!

Scrawny Little Slap-Fight o' 2021 (Metaphorical Team Boss Edition): which is worse--what the famously uncouth Quick Step head Patrick Lefevere said about Mark Cavendish when Cav was winning 8,000 stages and the green jersey for him at the Tour, or his disgusting, misogynist, and generally toolish comments about Sam Bennett, whose great betrayal was winning a buncha races then reasonably deciding to head to less verbally-abusive pastures?  Hard to say, because the man is a veritable treasure trove of !@#hattery.  Congratulations Pat--you've just bagged *two* statues today!

Comeback of the Year: if you weren't bawling the first, then every, time that Fabio Jakobsen blasted back from catastrophic injury and painstaking recovery to the front of the field for a triumphant and mercifully safe sprint finish, you are a lying lying liar.  Oh crap, I'm bawling right now--somebody pass the Kleenex !@#dammit!

Unsung Bad!@# Award: Odd Christian Eiking.  Did you *see* that incredible entire week in the red leader's jersey coming by the very fine but quite unheralded Odd Christian Eiking?  No, Nostradumb!@#, you did not--heck, I don't even think *he* did, either.  Love, love, loved every minute!

Class Move o' the Year: sure, cycling, to its great credit, is rife with gracious concessions to well-earned or even sorta punk-!@# victories.  But for an even-dicey legend like multiple everything-winner Alejandro Valverde to 

Mud 'n' Guts Prize:  It's the men's (how cool is it that now we have to specify which one?!) Paris-Roubaix, an edition worthy of the tired designation of "epic"--wet, cold, slippery, muddy, miserable.  And who won the (genuinely) Hell of the North this year?  Not the various Wout vans ostentatiously crowned before the race even began--it was Sonny freakin' Colbrelli in a three-up sprint right in the velodrome that no one could've predicted, collapsing to the ground screaming in joyous disbelief.  So were we at home--chapeau, Sonny!  

Heartbreak o' 2021: Yes, I *know* Lizzie Deignan earned it, I *know* her competitors blew it, but still, none of it makes up for GOAT Marianne Vos not taking the women's inaugural Paris-Roubaix.  That's okay, she's probably got another Valverdean 30 or so seasons left--but let's take it next year, just in case!

Suckface Retirement o' 2021: look, leaving aside the many stellar riders from squads like Qhubeka that have yet to land a contract through no fault of their own--#HireSimonClarkeDammit!--there've been a lot of bummin' retirements this year that are entirely chosen by the parties involved. And while sure, the *riders* are happy, for the rest of us, it just plain sucks.  We love big lug Andre Greipel, there's still time to reconsider!

House (Well, Country) of Pain Award: The women's world championship road race.  The Dutch are the strongest team ever seen on paper *or* on the road and have approximately a squat chance of *someone* in their ranks not taking the gold medal.  So who does it? Yeah, baby, 23 year old Italy's Elisa Balsamo, after a flaming trebuchet of a leadout by the squadra azzurra and a perfect finishing kick by Balsamo.  Let the post-race celebrations--and waaaaaaaay more recriminations--begin!

The Entire Universe is Conspiring Against Him and the Entire Universe Can Just Go Suck It Award: ugh, who else?  Mikel Landa, on the form of his life in a fantastic Giro course, sent skidding by fate, a crappily-marked metal pole, and an entirely faultless Joe Dombrowski across the tarmac and utterly wrecking not only his perfect Grand Tour, but most of the rest of the season.  Yes, it's nice he won the overall at the Vuelta a Burgos.  No, it's not *nearly* enough.  Giro 2022 Mikel--and the rest of you, stay the !@#$ away from him, you hear?    

And Last But Not Least, Punk-!@# Move o' the Year: Matej Mohoric.  Yer Tour de France squad's *just* gotten a once-over by the narcs, and honestly, it's probably a !@#damn miracle you all escaped unscathed.  So what do you discreetly decide to do when you grab Stage 19 of the race with plenty of time to preen before the line?  That's right, you make a total !@#$-you "zip your lips" omerta' gesture directly to UCI, the cameras, and a whoooooole lot of annoyed officials.  Idiot.  Cripes, I miss the innocent if deeply annoying ol' "pistolero" days!

All right road cycling, this concludes the best and the worst you had to offer in 2021--though with two days left to go, who knows what monstrosities you'll come up with? So crack that Champagne, raise that glass, and slink on up to get yer prizes--and let's all try to do a bit better (or worse works too) in 2022!

It's Yer Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!

Chesnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at yer--*what*, we're *still* in this Dystopian Lockdown Craphole Planet for *another* year?! Well, yes, we are, but we needn't let it get us down, because even another holiday season of hammered mulled-wine ugly-sweater Zoom revelry can't stop us from sharing a little laughter, a little cheer, and !@#dammit, a boatload of crap we don't need because there's nothing left in our lives but Doritos, 40-year-old-TV-series binging, and late-night Amazon surfing!  And what's *more* in that persistent holiday spirit, fellow cycling fans, than rewarding our favorite--or infavorite, if that's a word, but it is now--cyclists than with the gifts they truly deserve this year?  Nada! Ergo, it's Yer Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton:

1. Mikel Landa: the Giro.  The GIRO. Not the "Jaysus How Many TT Kms Does It Have to Include Every Year To Convince You the Route is Always Absolute Complete !@#$ For You" Tour, the *Giro*, whose course is *perfect* for you this year.  And I mean as your primary goal and smashing GC win for 2022, not as some lousy, doomed training ride for the TdF.  And I know it's pointless and I know you don't want it, but I hereby unilaterally tuck the Vuelta into yer stocking to boot.  Aupa Mikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel--landismo, beeyotches!

2. Alejandro Valverde: oh, c'mon, you want that intermittently disgraced, ever-wily ol' dog to take one more round of Ardennes Classics and a coupla Grand Tour stages--hell, why not a podium spot?-- for a send-off, assuming he *doesn't* tack yet another year on, which at the sprightly age of 847 I'm *still* not counting out.  A guilty-pleasure gift for all of us of which Santa can be heartily ashamed.  I'm at peace with it!

3. Alexander Vinokourov: You thing he needs anything from some freak in a red velvet suit, you mewling weaklings?  He crushed up and spit out his entire well-heeled team management structure single-handedly in approximately a two-day period this autumn and got Astana, its riders, its staff, and its gigantic pile of dough and influence *right* back where it belongs--under his thumb, baby!  Seriously, you think a Marshmallow Santa's gonna hold up to *that*?

4. Remco Evenepoel: An Edit function.  Sure, he's no worse than say, a baby Cav or frankly any junior sprinter in his incredible ability to convey gratitude by way of relentless arrogant insults to others, but for all his powerful riding he's still just a wee thing who needs only a little help to learn the ropes and rein it in it with the desperate-for-entertainment cycling press.  Ok Remco, take a deep breath, count slowly backwards from three--*now* see what comes outta your brain and into the microphone!

5. Marianne Vos.  Road, cross, mountain--damn, is there anything the GOAT *doesn't* already own?  Just one thing, folks: Paris-Roubaix.  And if she doesn't win this before she retires for the sole sexist !@#$ty reason that it didn't exist for her to pound into submission until the very last years of her road career, it will be a crime against her and against all sport that will echo through time and space for eternity or til the beer 'n' frites run out.  Now cycling gods, get the hell outta her way! 

6. Patrick Lefevere: A zipper. For his mouth, of course.  Is there any rider bringing you gigantic accolades who you *won''t* smack down into a quivering nub to stroke your massive ego?  Thought not--but I guess the poor boys of Wolfpack will find out next year.  Oh right, and I support women's cycling.  Not that you don't all still suck, but my publicist sure says not to say so!

7. Mark Cavendish: I hate to say it, because he's not my favorite rider by a long shot, but I truly wish this guy another Tour de France sprint win.  Just to stick it to Lefevere, but still, it's a nice present, right?

8. Bernard Hinault--YOU CAN TAKE MY STAGE-WIN RECORD AND SHOVE IT UP YER--um, stocking, I meant stocking! A genuine pat on the back for a legend who dialed it back and ultimately gave Cav the sporting good wishes he earned.  That, *and* he can still kick your ass!      

9. Anna Keisenhofer: Sure, she's already had a pretty good year and all; I mean, what more does she need than her stunningly unpredicted women's Olympic road race gold medal against one of the most formidable fields in history?  Well, this being the women's peloton, I'm just gonna go straight to a humungous bucket o' cash.  And while you're at it, get this woman *another* truckload--you can start your own damn World Tour team if you want!

10. Miguel Angel Lopez: An athletic cup.  Because he's gonna need that protection when he pulls that crap on his new teammates and his DS tries to kick him in the nuts!

11. Andre Greipel: One more year and one more win.  Okay, I know *he's* done--but yeah, I'm that lousy old aunt who's gonna give you itchy wool socks for Christmas whether you like it or not!

12. The Peloton: *One*, just *one* season in which some execrable !@#wit doesn't take half of 'em down into a bone-busted road-rashed pile o' agony with a stupid sign, promotional tchotchke, selfie stick, wandering dog, garden flood, or, for god's sake, even an inadvertent car blundering into the course.  Stay safe, everybody--because we *really* don't want to see Tony Martin that pissed off ever again!

13. Last But Not Least, My Faithful Reader(s): May the mud smear your cobblestones, the rain pour upon your cross races, the sun shine upon those treacherous descents, and, above all, may every race in 2022 be free to be packed to the gills with all the riotous, drunken, joyful roadside fans the besieged host town can  handle.  Merry Festivus to all--now let's go get us some eggnog!  

It's Yer 10 Things I'm Thankful for This Thanksgiving (And a Few I'm Damn Well Not)!

 Yes, it's almost Thanksgiving in America, that deeply troubling holiday whose contradictory ideas of gratitude and shameful atrocity we can only assuage by watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, gorging ourselves into an overprivileged, pants-unbuttoning stupor, watching giant overpaid padded jocks crash into each other for our perverse enterntainment and their almost certainly latent future permanent injury, and trying not to nut-punch Uncle Paranoid Conspiracy Theorist when he belatedly informs all 30 people he's just infected that he's refused to be vaccinated because of something some !@#$wit former MTV host pulled out of his !@#, all before a frenzied next-day internet spending spree buying crap we don't want or need but can't get anyway due to problems with the supply chain.  Ah, the holidays!  Anyway, we've nonetheless got a lot to be thankful for here at racejunkie--at least in our happy little bubble of pro cycling fandom--and of course a few we're not, so let's get crackin' dear reader(s)!

Things We're Thankful For:

1. The Giro d'Italia 2022 Course.  With several intimidating mountain stages, about 4 smashing mountaintop finishes, and a puny less than 30k of time trialing--and some of that even hilly!--there's even *more* to love than usual about this year's Corsa Rosa.  Frankly, it's almost Froome-ishly tailor-made for we-dearly-love-so-you-faithless-haters-can-just-!@#$-right off Mikel Landa.  Now Bahrain, you encase that fragile boy in a mile of bubble wrap and cocoon 'im with teammates so no-one can take him out in some stupid crash next May, you hear?  And play him some happy music and keep any stupid demoralizing comments outta the press, while you're at it!  And buy him a teddy bear! And...

2. Holy crap Elisa Balsamo is the new road World Champ!

3. Holy crap Alapanache is the new road World Champ! 

4. Euskaltel. Didja see what a nice season they had this year, didja? And with an annual budget of Peter Sagan's one-night benders, no less!  My little orange heart near bursts with excitement when these wee things take a flyer on the steeps.  Aupaaaaaaaaaaa grandes and let's make our case for the World Tour in 2022!

5. Movistar. Yeah, you read right! Why? Because their inevitably !!@#ed-up Grand Tour tactics--no matter who they have as riders in any given year--are a flat-out gift even to teams that don't nearly look so strong for GC on paper.  That, and Mikel escaped Team Craphole, so why should I care what happens?  Keep it up, kids--but do let that wily ol' guilty-pleasure battle-ax Valverde bushwhack his team leader in peace for at least one more Vuelta stage!

6. Patrick Lefevere.  Down on your luck?  He's got your back--albeit with a knife in it.  Surging with a career-capping, record-tying, press-thrilling string of prestigious victories absolutely no-one thought you might be capable of anymore?  He's first in line to remind you that you *still* suck!  And don't even get me started on the utterly reprehensible analogies he'll make when you bail out for your old squad after he's humiliated you in the press all season.  Stub your toe, poor baby?  Well, put a !@#$in' ice cube on it, give me back all my contract money, and just be grateful I'm not dropping a Paris-Roubaix cobblestone on yer head, you ungrateful piece of !@#$!  Here, let me pose with that trophy of yours...

7. Women's Paris Roubaix.  It may have taken over a century, and they may have cut out the legendary Arenberg--alarmed by all the uteruses that scattered the roadside after the delicate ladies tried it out on a recon ride, apparently--but still, it's great to have one at last!  Only other gripe: yes, I *desperately*, *desperately* wanted GOAT Marianne Vos to take it, because if she doesn't ever get to because of a stupid twist of fate and bad timing, it'll be a horrid, horrid shame.  But now, there's always next year--you got this Marianne!

8. The Giro Donne. It's in the World Tour, it's outta the World Tour.  It's broadcast, it's not broadcast.  But the closest thing we've got to a real women's Grand Tour is one of the most beautiful races on the planet, and is indeed back in the highest ranks for 2022 where it belongs.  Minor issue: it's scheduled the very same *month* as the Women's Tour de France.  Giro-Tour double, anyone?

9. Peter Sagan's Publicity Team.  Drunk off his !@# and socked a cop in April, and it didn't even become public until November?  Damn, that's some nice work.  Bet Tom Boonen wouldn't have minded that kind of help a few years back!

10. And Last But Not Least: My dear reader(s).  Over a decade--geez, like 15 years!--of dreck and obnoxious tweets, my relentless apologism for randomly favored riders, and miraculously, and generously, you--whether singular or plural--have somehow, somewhy stuck with me.  Thank you ever so much, and here's to a smashing 2022!

And A Few Things I'm Damn Well Not: 

1. What?! Mikel Nieve honest-to-God doesn't yet have a contract yet?  He's an ex-and-ever-Carrot!  He's a phenomenal mentor to whippernapper riders!  He's only 37--that's like 6 in Alejandro Valverde years!  He won a humungous mountain stage in the 2018 Giro for chrissakes! #HireMikelDammit you clowns!

2. We love Andre Greipel retired this year. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

3. We love Anna Van der Breggen retired this year. Waaaaaaaaaaaah!

4. The Women's Tour de France.  Yap, I'm grateful, yap.  But it's not like they can't handle 21 stages--there's an entire group of van-supported women who've been racing the *entire damn course* *every damn year* ahead of the men, without a billionth of the adulation that Lachlan Morton gets.  Can we just concede they all aren't witches or whatever stupid sexist medieval crap is holding this up, and get this *entire* show on the road?  Y'know, !@#$ it--let's just expand the Giro Donne first, and get a women's Vuelta underway! 

5. What?! Mikel Nieve honest-to-God doesn't have a contract yet for next year? Yes, I *know* I'm repeating myself--but this !@#$ing *sucks*.  #HireMikelDammit or burn in hell--or have to listen to Evenepoel whine about how oppressed he is, whatever--for all eternity!

Well folks, them's mine.  Whatever you celebrate, or don't, this fine holiday season, let's skip the stupid American football, crank up some 'cross, and wait for Sagan to dish up more sleazy gossip this year!

My Fantasy Patrick Lefevere-Quick Step Press Conference

Patrick Lefevere: Good morning.  I've called you all here today to address totally unfounded rumors of bad morale, erratic management, and my riders' TOTAL INEXCUSABLE !@#$WITTERY here at Destillcantspellit-Quick Step.  And I understand that most of the team is joining us today.  Great! Let's get started!

First, I'd like to say how very pleased I am that one of our top sprinters, Sam Bennett, is looking in such fine form ahead of the Worlds.  (Bennett walks in) What are you doing walking, you bastard? I'm stuck paying you your whole !@#$ing salary now that you meandered for 7 kilometers in some stupid race, so get on your !@#damn bike right now and earn it! Ride, you lazy git! Ride!

Julian Alaphilippe (pleasantly): hi, boss!

PL: And *you*, pretty boy, don't think those fancy rainbow stripes mean jack !@#$ ! Two more weeks and they'll belong to someone else and then you're just one more scrawny chump raising his arms before the line like an idiot!  Hey, can we get a photo of us together over here for tomorrow's L'Equipe?  C'mere, pal o' mine!

Next, I want to address my recent comments about the legendary Mark Cavendish, who completely out of nowhere grabbed 4 stages, the green jersey, made everyone fall in love with him all over again, and also earned us a boatload of money and fantastic publicity at the Tour de France this year.  You'll ride the Tour next year or not at my irrational whim, you overhyped has-been!  Hinault was the only one with the balls to call you out before he backtracked like a !@#damn coward!  And oh Cav--you mind giving me a signed green jersey to waive at the press ahead of every sign-in next year?

Moving back to our team's phenomenal achievements which are entirely due to me, I'd also like to congratulate our peerless lead-out man, Florian Senechal, on his accidental stage-win victory at the Vuelta.  Of course if you'd !@#$ing *listened* to me and plucked your inflated head out of your !@# for ten seconds, you'd've known Jakobsen'd lost your wheel, you hopelessly incompetent amateur!  By the way, you're a key part of the team, so I'm re-signing you for two more years and also cutting your pay by 50 percent.  And you'll shut up and *like* it!

Also, in case you hadn't noticed, *two* of our riders formed entirely under my personal guidance, Jannik Steimle and Mattia Cattaneo won *two* races for our team in the last 24 hours alone.  You feeling confident you're gonna take that World Champion jersey that I'm gonna tattoo on your !@#damn face so everyone knows I'm the reason you won it this year, Bennett? HEY YOU, STYBAR--QUIT PLAYING WITH MY BALLS! (Zdenek drops croissant he's eating, raises hands in the air)

In conclusion, I'd like to ask you all to give a round of applause to our incredible "Wolfpack," which has done such an excellent job and whom I value so very highly with all of my heart.  Hah, "Wolfpack" my !@#--it oughta be "WUSSPACK," you pathetic hacks! And you too, all you scandal-mongering gossip-whore so-called 'journalists'! I'll smack you all down on Twitter! I'll congratulate you all on a job well done! I'll slag you to your mothers! I'll...(Davide Cassani drags Lefevere from room, still screaming)  

It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2021 Vuelta a Espana Racejunkie Awards!

Feeling a burning desire to sit out on a scorching barren mountainside all day waiting for 2 minutes of GC action to come by? Wondering what to do with your days now that you don't have 6 hours of nothin' going but the scenery during a sprint stage?  Staring glumly at the carrots in your salad because they remind you of the Euskaltel kit you should be watching on TV right now? Well then you're in Vuelta withdrawal, honey, and we've got the cure--it's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2021 Vuelta a Espana racejunkie Awards!  Prizes, for those so desperately needy or just plain shameless enough to claim them--and I swear this on my Holy Once-Eroski Cap o' Destiny, so you know I mean business--(1) a dashing custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap; (2) a shining handful of handsome racejunkie stickers to deface yer bike, yer team bus, or the DS you just pissed off; (3) eternal internet embarrassment (or glory); and (4) a genuine golden-hued high-school-sports trophy with yer name *and* yer prestigious award either engraved or extremely neatly written upon it in black Sharpie, whichever you prefer (but honestly, my handwriting *cannot* be beat).  So change outta that stinking time trial kit, put on yer best sponsor-logo polo, and let's get this party started!

Crash o' the Race (Totally Random Edition): look, a lotta skin got shed and a lotta bones got busted this Vuelta, and we wish them all speedy, safe, and full recoveries.  But sometimes, a crash happens that is just plain weird, and fortunately doesn't cause anybody any actual harm.  This year's champ: Astana's we love Ion Izagirre, who for no apparent reason whatsoever veered right across the road and bam! straight into his soigneur.  Hey, at least he didn't knock 'im into a pile of barbed wire--well done, amiright?

Dumb-@#$ Tactics o' the Vuelta: normally, this goes to Movistar for its perpetual-idiot endless-fail "trident" GC strategy--which, of course, *was* in fact its usual prize-winning disaster.  But *this* time, Movistar shares the glory with none other than Team Ineos, who successfully shepherded Jumbo-Visma's Primoz Roglic to the top of every mountain, blasted apart the weaker GC contenders with unsustainable attacks, and were crucial factors in 3 of his 4 nut-kicking stage wins.  Accordingly, these master tacticians also bag the Domestique o' the Vuelta (Individual Division) Award.  Good job, gentlemen--and just maybe, you'll actually ride for *your* guys next year!

The Odd Couple (Well, Actually Just One Guy) Award:  Y'know, from inaugural Grand Tour stage wins to unexpected breakaway successes to just plain guys *not* crashing on treacherous wet descents, there were actually a lot of sweet, heartwarming moments in this Vuelta.  But for my money, the most truly adorable was watching hardworking but not overwhelmingly coddled Odd Christian Eiking realize he'd snagged the red jersey, and then defend it, successfully, for a giant portion of the whole race.  Class work, young man!  

Domestique o' the Vuelta (Individual Edition): y'know, after a sorta rocky first week, Sepp Kuss stepped up and did massive yeoman's work for Primoz Roglic, again.  But for sheer beauty, for absolute perfection, nothing, nothing can beat the textbook job that Lawson Craddock did for Magnus Cort in the last 5k of Stage 19.  Beautiful pacing, perfect tactics, flawless lead-out--a true masterclass in domestiqueicity.  Hell, race organizers, get Craddock up on that podium too, whydontcha? 

Energizer Bunny Award: Alejandro Valverde.  He attacked from the second he was let out of the team bus, and didn't stop until his cringe-inducing but mercifully not too damaging race-ending crash into a ravine. And then, he almost immediately posted video of him back on the bike trainer.  Not to humblebrag, but we called him coming back for 2022.  And most likely, he'll be back in 2023.  And 2024. And...

Weeper Moment of the Race: All right, admit it--you were bawling like a baby when Fabio Jakobsen took his first (and his second, and his third) stage win at his first Grand Tour since his horrific and damn nearly deadly accident last year.  And admit it--you were bawling like a baby when Alejandro Valverde finally conceded bodily defeat after his scary pothole-fueled wipeout and collapsed in tears into the sympathetic arms of his team. Oh, for cripes' sake, I'm outta tissues--from now on I'm just keeping an extra box right next to my Euskaltel cap!

If At First You Don't Succeed Award: Egan Bernal.  You can complain he wasn't up to winning form all you want--and to be fair, he's not only had ages of back problems, but blames his post-COVID weight gain and lack of training time to boot-- but what you *can't* do is complain he didn't honor the race, which he rode, at every opportunity in which his legs had an ounce of power, with the same grinta that won that man a Giro.  Not the hugest fan of his team to say the least, but he did them proud!

Balance Is Restored to the Universe Award: oh, Euskaltel.  After years of threatened and actual collapse, perpetual money problems, and just plain disrespect for your stellar legacy, our dear Carrots were finally awarded the Grand Tour spot they deserved.  And while they didn't actually take a stage, they *did* light almost every one up by leaping into the day's break and attacking therefrom.  Welcome back, beloved Carrots--and you better be watching and handing out your wildcards accordingly, Giro and Tour de France!

It's Not Easy Being Green Award: Fabio Jakobsen, dos!  Yep, our resurgent champ finally showed his true sprinter colors by going ape!@#$ on his teammates when he lost their wheel and one of his lead-outs inadvertently took the win.  Considering all he's been through, it was sorta endearing, actually--though I might not have thought that if I were Florian Senechal at that moment!

Big Blue Marble...In Spaaaace! Prize: Gino Mader, who promised to donate 1 euro to an environmental organization for every rider he finished ahead of at this year's Vuelta.  And as befits the winner of the Young Rider's Jersey, Gino ended up donating a smashing 4,529 euros to save the planet.  Chapeau Gino--we and Mother Earth all thank you!

Hard Man o' the Race: Mikel Nieve, who busted significant chunks off his face and body right out the start gate, and was still stitched and bandaged til he crossed the line at the final time trial.  All that, while being (1) a once and eternal Carrot, of course; (2) a formidably indefatigable worker on the course; and (3) a fearsome road captain to boot.  BikeExchange, *please* don't let this guy ever retire--hell, he's still like 50 years younger than Valverde!

!@#$ All Y'All Prize: well, it's not exactly a prize, but all you faithless Landa haters polluting the internet with your heretic filth can just go straight to hell.  The man just won the Vuelta a Burgos, he's still hurt and exhausted from his stupid Giro crash which he did not even remotely cause, he stuck it out as long as he could until a brief attack proved he couldn't, and he was gracious upon exit to his squad.  Landismo, beeyotches--just wait 'til next year!

Auxiliary When Life Gives You Lemons Award: no, you !@#$ers, Mikel's not the lemon--his crappy Giro crash and subsequent exhaustion from his bangin' overall win at Burgo is the !@#damn lemon.  But nonetheless, with Mikel fading and ultimately retiring, Bahrain Merida above and beyond stepped up to the plate, with Damiano Caruso taking a huge stage win, Jack Haig--who was strong every damn day, and earned it--securing third overall after Lopez' ill-considered exit, and Gino Mader taking the young rider's jersey from Grand Tour champ and no small potatoes Egan Bernal.  This, after they'd tired themselves for multiple stages helping Mikel along fair and square.  Not a bad set of results even *without* losing your intended GC contender!

I'm Over *Here*, !@#holes! Prize: winning a Grand Tour stage is the pride and highlight of any young rider's career, and typically comes with all the hype, glory, and accolades that the feat merits.  But spare a thought for young Clement Champoussin, who had the extraordinarily bad luck to fight off a surging GC and take a spectacular victory on the very same stage that near-lock-on-the-podium Miguel Angel Lopez missed a crucial split, went bull!@#$ after apparent orders not to chase back, and just plain climbed off his bike and quit the race in disgust after a screaming match with his DS.  In return, poor Champoussin was left out high and dry in both social media *and* in the news reports.  Can we just give the kid a podium-ceremony do-over? 

I Guess I Gotta Give Him Something Award: oh Primoz.  Three Vueltas in a row, 4 stage wins, two crashes and even balancing on that stupid railing on the rest day without injury--what more does one man really need?  Still, he oughta get *something* here for his relentless stomping of his rivals, and his hilariously minimalist post-race interviews.  Oh right, the red jersey--but even better, this!

And Last But Not Least, Punk-!@# Move o' the Race: yes, what happened with Superman Lopez--but not necessarily the way that you think.  Fine, Lopez missed the split after knocking himself senseless winning the queen stage, and while that's just how it rolls sometimes, and barring physical or mental ailment was a total jack!@# to dismount in a hissy fit and bail outta the race virtually within sight of the finish line for the whole show upon realizing he'd lost his podium, Unzue apparently ordering him *not* to try to chase back to protect Mas I guess *and* screaming at him for being understandably pissed about it was jerkfacery on a whole 'nother level.  Adding insult to injury, internal rival Mas was left to peacefully concentrate on the task at hand and was blissfully uninformed about what occurred until after he'd stuck with Rogla til almost the end and handily preserved his second place.  C'mon, you would've paid to be at Movistar's team dinner that night--though I suppose it was probably lucky we all stayed out of the way of any flying cutlery!

Well dear Vuelta fans, that's this year's race done and dusted, so let's hand out the prizes, raise a glass to our noble winners, and...wait, get ready for Paris-Roubaix FFS?!

It's Yer Vuelta a Espana Rest Day Dos Roundup!

 Okay, we're more'n halfway through, Mikel Landa is still saving it for the last week so you can all just !@#$ off, and, rather predictably, Rogla is still--if not by much at the moment--in control.  So what've we learned, and what're we gonna?  This!

1. Richard Carapaz has left the race.  Wait, he was *in* it?

2. Roglic's DS must've been completely bull!@#$ when he posted that pic of himself balancing on a slanted railing today.  I can hear it now (and frankly, you can probably hear it all over Spain): "You crashed on the !@#$ing rest day doing *what*?!?!"

3. I stand by my position that long time trials deciding the overall victory in a Grand Tour is bull!@#$.  Leave that !@#$ for Cancellara and Ganna and let the Giro, Tour, and Vuelta be determined by the climbers.  Yap, all-rounder, yap.  Half these !@#$ers wouldn't *be* all-rounders if they didn't have to be on the juice just to cling on to the final podium!

4. Speaking of climbers, unless Mas and Lopez get a good 15 minutes on Roglic in the next coupla mountain stages, they're !@#$ed.  Then again, Rogla *does* have a way of toppling over--though I hope of course he doesn't!

5. Sepp Kuss.  He looked a little shaky to me the first few days, but now, it's clear he's got his mojo back. Movistar and Ineos, I *don't* think Roglic needs your help being pulled up the mountains any more!

6. It's very sweet seeing Aru attack in his last race--he hasn't looked this happy in years.  But his bitchin' "That's All Folks!" cartoon farewell shoes are even better.

7. Odd Christian Eiking.  No, you weren't seeing that one coming either, liar!

8. As long as we're eliminating those !@#$ty footy barriers that keep taking out the sprinters, can we put a moratorium on Giant Rolls of Barbed Wire Right By the Side of the Road?  I mean, the cows can stand 10 feet back from the course ffs!

9. Alejandro Valverde.  2022 Vuelta.  Who's with me? 

10. Fabio Jakobsen.  It was actually kinda wonderful seeing Fabio going all Cav on his teammates' !@#ses for losing him in the sprint the other day.  Now *that's* the obnoxious prima donna fast-men we all know and love back in action!

All right, on to another sprint stage tomorrow.  Rogla, *try* to stay upright--and if you do, *try* not to humiliate Mas and Lopez *too* badly on the final day! 

It's Yer Vuelta a Espana Rest Day Uno Roundup!

 All right, Vuelta fans, we love and still have total faith Mikel Landa...*rested* for a day and is now thinking hard about a stage win in week 3, Carapaz and his golden helmet straight-out cracked like a rotten walnut and is completely out of GC as well, and Rogla...well, we'll get to him right off!  So what've we learned so far?  This!

1. Roglic.  Let's face it, the man's a freak of nature.  I mean, hopefully "of nature," or at least as natural as any of these guys can be expected to be!  Anyhow, while he's only 28 seconds up on Mas and less than two minutes ahead of Bernal and Lopez, a lot can happen in the next 10 days, and it probably still won't matter a damn because, according to my highly sophisticated mathematical models, he's gonna obliterate all these guys by approximately two and half hours on the final day 33k race-deciding time trial.  Wild card: he *has* been known to tire a bit, and key lieutenant Sepp Kuss, who in prior Grand Tours has had plenty of time to sit up, crack open a cold beer, and enjoy a massage waiting for Rogla to catch up to him on a climb, has been on certainly very fine but also to my eyes rather yo-yo-ing form, which could present a problem for Rogla if he's caught on a very bad day.  Yeah, so he slaughters the competition by 30 seconds less in the end!  Oh, Rogla, if only you weren't *so* darn likeable...

2. Alejandro Valverde.  You can say a lot about Bala--and heck knows, I have and will--but you can't deny that at age 216, he still injects a whole buncha power and a whole buncha liveliness into any given race, not least when he's bushwhacking his own teammates, so by any measure it's just total !@#$ that our one-man Fountain of Youth crashed out on a miniscule pothole and pitched, miraculously, halfway-but-at-least-not-all-the-way off a cliff. And if you weren't moved when he was sobbing into the arms of his swanny as he realized his dream had vaporized, you're just a lollipop-stealing puppy-ignoring heartless monster.  Get well soon Alejandro--but seriously, is there anyone who *doesn't* think he's gonna redeem his final Vuelta this year by stomping his final Vuelta again next year?

3. Mas and Lopez.  What is Movistar to do when a third of its omnidestructive 'trident' strategy is gone?  Yeah, apparently *still* carry Roglic up to the summit of every mountain stage, but aside from that, to their credit, at least they're *trying* to attack.  Fatal weakness: yep, time trial.  Oh well, at least it's sort of a crapshoot who'll end up where on the final podium!

4. Ineos.  You gotta give 'em credit--despite Carapaz' total meltdown, for which he at least has a pretty good excuse, if any team is most likely to succeed Movistar as the Team Most Likely to Win the Race for Another Team's Rider, it's these guys.  And while Yates put up quite a brave attack yesterday, and Bernal, well, managed to hang in there, that's not to say that they won't redeem themselves with a stage win, at least if Bernal's back holds up.  With even him sounding dispirited though, the signs for more aren't good. Don't feel *too* bad though--I'm sure Jumbo-Visma will be glad to hand 'em a few water bottles along the road!

5. Mikel Landa.  Normally, I'd lead with or last-but-not-least our beloved Carrot, but frankly, I didn't want you all to see me cry.  I will, however, scream in agony.  Aaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggggggghhhhhh! Okay, I'm cool, I'm cool--but Mikel, don't you even *think* about that "Tour de France" bull!@#$ for next year, the Giro d'Italia is in !@#damn *May* and you're not gonna let what happened this year psych you out, you hear?!

6. Fabio Jakobsen.  Sure, you can't help but like Jasper Philipsen, and I'd be way happy for Bling Matthews to take a win, but holy crap is it delightful to see Fabio back from his catastrophic injury, back in the peloton, and, most thrillingly, back to his winning ways.  Can you imagine what this kid is gonna do in 2022 when he's had a solid season of racing behind him?  Now shut up and hand me the Kleenex, you saps!

7. Euskaltel.  Sure, I'm not exactly appreciating it when the race commentators discount our dear baby Carrots for the win in *every* *single* *breakaway*, but not only are they making their sponsors and the Basque fans wildly happy, they're also, by the law of averages, bound to pull one of these stages off.  And if not, there's always next year--with luck and justice, in *every* Grand Tour this time!

8. Bahrain-Victorious and EF.  I'm beyond gutted about the Gut-Wrenching Nut-Punch That Shall Not be Named, and awful sad that the very fine Hugh Carthy had to bail this year, but you can't fault these two teams--with their leaders out, they've pivoted on a dime and taken a coupla smashing stage wins, with, it looks likely, more to come.  Aw, come on--like *you* weren't hyperventilating right up til the last kilometer yesterday for Caruso to pull off the win!

9. Mikel Nieve.  I have been disapproving this "hard-man" crap of late, particularly as it relates to riding with actual bone breaks and head bonks, but damn, our dear ever-Carrot Nieve just *never* gives up.  *That's* a team captain, baby!

Well, while we can only *wish* we had the power to eavesdrop on Ineos' strategy meeting today, we'll at least get to see its twisted outcome on the road the week to come--so get out yer Euskaltel gear, cross your fingers we'll end up with a real battle out there, and let's get back on the tarmac!

It's the Vuelta It's the Vuelta It's the Vuelta! It's Yer Vuelta a Espana in Preview, Part Dos: The Contenders!

 Holy crap, it's *one* day left til the glorious Vuelta, and before they all melt into the tarmac only to be rediscovered perfectly preserved10 million years from now like those dinosaurs trapped in the La Brea Tar Pits, let's talk about who's in contention, shall we?  And no, Pogacar's *not* riding, so he *doesn't* already have this race all locked up (though he's still arguably a threat)!  Anyhow, your contenders:

1. General Classification:

Mikel Landa (Bahrain-Victorious): *that's* !@#damn right, haters, despite the fact that it took him months to recover from his !@#$ crash in the Giro caused by another rider entirely whanging head-on into a miserably-tagged piece of gigantic road furniture, and though he's currently limiting his aspirations to maybe a stage win and possibly theoretically but no guarantees potential run at the !@#-end of the podium, our humble boy is fresh off an overall win (yes, though not a stage win, stuff it!) at the mountainous Vuelta a Burgos and eager to save his Grand Tour season.  More, he's surrounded by a smashingly strong team, including Giro high-passes revelation Jan Tratnik, who's shown he will stick it out on the most vicious gradients if it means actually physically vomiting out his entire internal organ stockpile to get there, and scrappy fellow Burgos podium finisher and mountains-classifications champ Mark Padun.  Ever-carrot, helluva climber, no longer being openly slagged by some scumwadly former team manager--what more could anyone want?

Primoz Roglic: he's the defending Vuelta champion, he's hot off a ripping Olympics, looked great at the Tour before his premature take-out-by-whole-body-road-rash and bone-busting, and, somehow, the Jumbo murder hornets have managed to convince Sepp Kuss--who managed to take a two-week holiday by the seaside while simultaneously waiting for Roglic up the road during their last Grand Tour outing together--to once again superdomestique him instead of going off on his own for good.  And, frankly, that jailbait human rocket-motor Pogacar isn't here to smoke him.  On the other hand, he won't have that jailbait human rocket-motor Pogacar to pace himself against, so with this brutal a Vuelta, even he'll have to take care.  Best of all--or worst, if you're rooting for Mikel--anything he loses in the mountains, which I can't anticipate would be really all that much, our new Olympic time trial champ stands to gain back and more against the munchkin specialist climbers in the final day's 30k+ crono.  Don't get smug though Rogla--Mikel says he's been hitting the time trial bike, hopefully not literally with a hammer!

Egan Bernal/Richard Carapaz/Adam Yates: sure, Carapaz podiumed at the Tour and won the Olympic gold medal, but he did accidentally spray-paint his new rig a coppery orange.  And Bernal was the surprise winner of the Giro, but really, who the hell knows how his twitchy back'll hold up?  As for Yates, with his Valverde-esque tendencies towards spectacular one-day meltdowns, I think he's more likely to be a redemption story than a truly consistent threat for the top step.  Besides, who knows better how to eat their own young than Skineos, who have lately bizarrely begun to channel the peloton's traditional self-destructo champs over at Movistar?

Hugh Carthy: First, how boss is it that EF just signed Chavito?  Anyhow, he was third last year, and no matter how !@#$ed up 2020 was in every way, in *any* year that takes some serious intestinal fortitude.  We'll see if he can pull it off again!

Alejandro Valverde/Enric Mas/Miguel Angel Lopez: yes, he's just recently begun to ride like an aging rider of, say, 28.  But still, I can't count out Bala for a podium, if only because he had a coupla pretty impressive rides at the Tour de France, I don't think Mas and Lopez can fend him off for the long haul and, just as important, Alejandro is one wily s.o.b. who won't hesitate to kneecap his own teammates if he has to.  The guiltiest pleasure in the peloton.  Come on old man, just one more stage win to put the fear of God into the GC, and to drive everyone else bat!@#$ insane!   

2. Sprinters: seriously, it's the Vuelta, who gives a !@#$?  But there the sprinty stages are, as I suppose even in the Vuelta they have to be, and for my money--or at least my fruitless hopes--we're lookin' at a whoooooooole lot of ex-and-ever-Carrot Aranburu.  And dear Euskaltel's got Juanjo. Oh right, and Fabio Jakobsen has made a happily bangin' recovery from his terrible crash and already taken a win right off the bat on his recent return.  Matthews and Demare--you're dandy, but one can't help but root for Fabio this round!    

3. Stage Hunters: last but not least, what's a non-overall contender, but helluva climber or daring breakaway artist, to do while the GC boys are marking each other every millimeter up every climb with their eye on the final podium?  Yep, they're going for stage wins, and by golly have we got some strong boys in this group. Luis Leon Sanchez, who at least is always up there putting on a show.  Both Izagirres.  Romain Bardet (I *know*, but he *just* cracked after a stage win at Burgos last week, an ill omen for the overall). Rafa Majka.  Last but not least, with Fabio Aru having just declared he's retiring from the peloton after the Vuelta, if he can't actually take a stage, he's certainly gonna at least flame out trying.  Aupa Ion and Gorka!

4. Teams: EUSKALTEL IS HERE EUSKALTEL IS HERE EUSKALTEL IS HERE! Sure, Movistar'll take the stupid team classification, but what does that matter against the glory, tenacity, and overall bitchinness of our beloved Euskaltel-Euskadi (or whatever they're calling it now like QuickStep)? And everyone worthwhile from Nieve to Landa to Aranburu who isn't technically on the team, was and is here anyway with someone else.  And oh! those impassioned Basque fans!  Aupa grande Carroooooooooooooooooots!

Well folks, let's get this final Grand Tour party of 2021 started.  So bring out your Euskaltel duds, get ready for an absolute orange mob scene on the climbs, and for heck's sake, in this bonkers heat between all the beer don't forget to hydrate! 

It's the Vuelta! It's the Vuelta! It's the Vuelta! Yer 2021 Vuelta a Espana in Preview: the Course!

 Yap, Tour, yap, Sagan, yap, Olympics, yap: we all know what's *really* important--it's almost time for the fabulous 2021 Vuelta a Espana! First order of business: *40 kilometers* of individual time trials?  What the !@#$ is *wrong* with you people?  If I wanted to see the !@#$in' Tour de France again, I'd garb myself in a neon Borat mankini and a stupid !@#$in' Viking hat, pound back a !@#$load of cheap Champagne, and run screaming by the side of the road at Filippo Ganna fer chrissakes!  Okay, deep breath, because other'n that, it's actually a very fine course.  So what've we got, besides (but also including) serious pain?  This!

Week One(ish): we start off in Burgos by only minimally (we hope) screwing over Mikel Landa with a 7.1 k, hill-in-the-first-third course.  Just stay upright just stay upright just stay upright!  Having handed out the first leader's jersey, stage 2 is a 166k really darn flat stage to appease the sprinters before they run crying home to mama.  But not for long--the Vuelta brings on the hurt early with the race's first mountaintop finish on Stage 3, quite mild beforehand til you hit the Cat 1 finale up the nippy 17% gradients of Picon Blanco.  Free Landa!  Stage 4: flat again.  Ok, that's enough, we done coddling the sprinters already?  Sadly, no--but the pan-flat Stage 5 *does* bring the prospect of catastrophic, GC-hosing crosswinds.  Don't !@#$ this up, Bahrain-Victorious!  Stage 6:  oh thank heavens! We hit the hills, if not the high mountains, on a weird 158k breakaway (?) fest with an unruly start, an utterly flat middle, then a 1.5k climb to the end to confound the climbers, nut-kick the sprinters, and favor the puncheurs with a solid final kick.  With that having messed with everyone's heads, a 152k Stage 7 sandwiches a quartet of Cat 2 and Cat 3 climbs between a Cat 1 opener to immediately !@#$ up yer cold legs and, because this is the Vuelta, a Cat 1 finish up Balcon de Alicante with nonetheless a mostly single-digit gradient except that little section at 14% halfway up.  Wait, *when's* the last time I can grab a bidon?  Stage 8: we haven't forgotten you, sprinters, though I hope we do soon--here's a chill 173k to enjoy with a perfectly flat finale. But don't get complacent: for Stage 9, you got 4,500 meters o' suffering crammed mostly into the second half,  including the 29 kilometer, Cat 1 Alto Collado Venta Luisa, and ending with another mountaintop finale--we love you so, dear Vuelta!--on the HC Alto de Velifique with pitches up to 13+ percent.  Kuss, you're here for Roglic, right? Anyway, time for a nap!

Week Two(ish): Stage 10--another tactically problematic stage, dead flat til 160k, then a 10k-long Cat 2 with a 15k plunge to Rincon de la Victoria.  Breakaway or GC, if you can't descend, get the hell outta the way so you don't kill anybody!  On Stage 11: for anyone not covered in bandages we have a theoretically mild day with a Cat 2 climb near the end--at least til you hit the final kilometer, when you ease into your evening with a gradient of 20%. Whose lovely, twisted, sick idea was that? Stage 12 to Cordoba doesn't give you much of a rest by non-Vuelta standards, unfortunately, with a Cat 2 and Cat 3 preceding a presumptively sprint finale.  This is what you freaks call 'flat'? Stage 13: Ha ha, just kidding--if you've got any legs left, and haven't already left the country in a sobbing jelly-legged mess, here's an *actual* flat stage--but you'll have to schlep 200k to get the victory, sucker! Stage 14: back to the mountain goats, with a mellow start, a Cat 3 midway to wake the GC teams outta their stupor, then down to business with the short sharp 2.8k Cat 1 Alto Collado Ballesteros and its midpoint *and* ending of 20%, and, because you haven't built up enough lactic acid, a 15k but much gentler grind up to Pico Villuercas.  But no rest for the weary: Stage 15 gives you 197k with a rather stomach-churning Cat 1, Cat 2, Cat 1, *then* Cat 3 rollercoaster, *then* a descent and a sprint for the line, with a slight chance of total carnage on GC.  All right, *now* you can rest--if there were ever a time for that marginal gains fluffy-pillow bull!@#$, today is *it*!  

Week 3ish: But if you're still in pain, never fear: Stage 16 is for the two remaining sprinters, with a midway Cat-3 teaser then just a few little lumps til the flat final k to Santa Cruz de Bezana.  Cav, you *sure* you didn't want to be here for this?  I thought not!  Stage 17: a *circuit* with *mountains* in it? What new fresh hell is *this*?  Well quit cryin', cause after you hit the 14% max gradients Cat 1 Collada de Llomena twice, you *still* get the thrill of the iconic climb of the vicious and potentially podium-making Lagos de Covadonga.  Bahrain, *now* is the time to start setting the pace and spitting out the weaklings for the jackals to handle!  Which brings us to the 150k of downright agony--and the last chance before the stupid time trial to cement your place on GC, so Mikel, you better drop Rogla and heck even Carapaz--on Stage 18, including a coupla snoozy little Cat 1s, a smooth 35k or so to lull you into complaceny, a Cat 2 to snap you outta it, and then, a thrilling new Holy Crap climb to Altu d'el Gamonitieuru, 14.6 k of steady 10% then a 17% absolute crawl to the finish.  For those of you on the juice, *this* is where you pretend to collapse on the tarmac in pain.  Bonus points for hurling on the cameras!  Stage 19: last chance for the breakaway, as we go from a bumpy start in Tapia to a heavenly flattish final 10k to Monforte de Lemos.  Didjer domestiques get a chance to shake the ol' calves out?  Good, because the race organizers thought it'd be a great idea to insert a Classics stage for #20, with nary a rest after the first half and not a single cobble to blame your crap performance on.  Belgians, are there any of you left? Finally, no ceremonial Champagne-swilling photo-op bull!@#$ to meander to the end in *this* Grand Tour--yep, we absolutely blast apart the hard-won climber's GC with a Rogla-friendly 33k final time trial, with nice big hills and dips to screw their rhythm and enough technical terrain to--oh, I can't even think it, *please* say you've been training on that idiot aero machine Mikel!  Anyhoo--race organizers, despite the overall bitchin'ness of this course, I hope *not* to see this last-day ridiculousness again next year!

Oh, and did I mention there's no more "Vuelta in November" bull!@#$, and you're gonna be boiling like lobsters (but without even the benefit of water) this year? Astana, get those cooling vests ready--and everyone else, just try not to dehydrate into a pile of ashes!  Next up: the Contenders!   

It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2021 Tour de France racejunkie Awards!

 All right, cycling fans: the Champagne's been quaffed, the adorable moppets have been lofted in their dads' arms on the podium, and the lively debate over whether this year's Tour sucked or rocked has devolved from semi-polite Twitter debate into mild fisticuffs and now into cars on fire, Molotov cocktails, and people sticking blazing flares up their butts.  Oh wait, that's *soccer* fans!  Anyway, for those of you still in deep doldrums from your post-Tour hangover, and the absolute decimation of your fantasy team due to that monstrous all-peloton crash the first week, it's time to reflect and celebrate the good, the bad, and god knows, the ugly with your annual Incredibly Prestigious 2021 Tour de France racejunkie Awards!  Prizes--I swear on Andre Greipel's diplomacy towards Mark Cavendish over that snitty 2013 "shit race" comment I'm still pissed off about--(1) a passel o' handsome racejunkie stickers to deface yer rivals' team bus, teammates, or face; (2) a custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap so you need never get on a podium with a disgraceful baseball cap again; (3) a genuine promotional sportsy statue with yer name and awarded written nicely upon it in impermeable Sharpie if I can't afford the engraving; and (4) best of all, eternal glory, or shame, because the internet never forgets, baby!  So bust out yer berets, hang on tight, and let's get on with the show!

Fan !@#$wit Award: y'know, normally, that eejit who let a renegade umbrella rip right in front of the wheel of the maillot jaune on a sketchy, rainy descent--which, thankfully, the rider was able to dodge--would win this no problem.  But this year, of course, none can be the recipient but the insanely reckless, stupid, and attention-whoring lady in yellow with the ALLEZ OPI-OMI sign that, either that day or in the days thereafter, sent about 20% of the peloton home with gruesome injuries and foreordained the final GC almost right from the get-go. FFS, people--*how* many times can I run that !@#dammed etiquette post from like 2006 before you *listen*?!

Hissy Fit o' the Race: usually, you can count on some sprinter who lost entirely fair and square to unjustly attack the winner, or a little inadvertent argy-bargy to result in a full-on slap-fight and truly vicious post-race-interview slagging. But this year, our peloton was impressively well-behaved.  So, even though it's not quite *in* the race, I'll give it this to Green Jersey champ/Merckx's Impossible Record-Tie-r Mark Cavendish, notoriously dropping the humble-pie bull!@#$ he seemed to have developed just for the Tour and going back to his career-long pissy prima-donna self by going absolutely off on his unlucky mechanic for some minor offense.  I mean, sorry for the mechanic and all (and to his credit, Mark did promptly issue a lengthy apology)--but damn, I was starting to worry our Cav had been replaced by a pod-person there for a minute!

Superdomestique Prize: sure, he's by kilometers (literally!) the best lead out man in the business, and he even had to sit up and brake *twice* to let his charge come around him and actually take the win. So Quick Step's Michael Morkov, this is *almost* for you.  But even better than Morkov's fine work, tragically, was the truly superlative job done collectively by Team Ineos.  Trouble was, it was for deadly rival and final maillot jaune in Paris, UAE's Tadej Pogacar, not their own !@#$ed-up four, then, three, then two, then one-headed hydra.  You're supposed to riding for the fast one in *blue*, kids!

Grumpy Old Man Yells At Clouds Award: at first, he wasn't even remotely concerned.  Then, he was mildly amused. But finally, after Cavendish began to come dangerously close to tying--or heaven forbid, even almost *beating*--his hitherto-breakable Tour de France stage-win record, even the legendary, and truly still untouchable, Eddy Merckx had had enough.  BECAUSE UNLIKE THAT !@#$IN' LOSER ONE-TRICK PONY CAV I'VE WON ALL KINDS OF STAGES NOT JUST SPRINTS AND I'VE WORN THE YELLOW JERSEY MORE DAYS THAN THAT PUNK HAS BEEN ALIVE PLUS I'VE WON THE WHOLE !@#DAMN SHOW 5 TIMES, CAN YOU SAY THAT YOU !@#$IN' AMATEUR?!  In the end, Eddy relented--because he's the Cannibal, and he can--warmly embraced Cav, and ended the race with his stage-win record (if now shared) still intact.  NOW WASH MY FEET YOU WORM!

Shake, Rattle and Roll Award: now, normally it's the armchair peloton jumping all the hell over a wheel suspiciously rotating at high speed several untoward minutes after the bike's actual rider has detached himself from the thing in a crash.  But this year, it was the riders themselves who purportedly claimed to be hearing "unusual" sounds from their rivals' back wheels in the pack--rivals whose performance seemed uncharacteristically strong.  And at least one gent apparently defended any untoward noises by claiming it may perfectly well have been someone's discarded rice-cake wrapper caught in the spokes making all the clatter.  I mean, sure, a rice cake wrapper with wires, magnets, computer chips, and gasoline--but who the heck can reasonably quarrel with that?   

Class Move o' the Race: honestly, even if you're Wout van Aert, you can't ask for much more than to beat the ageless Alejandro Valverde in a mountain stage and have him stagger in after you and graciously congratulate you on your win.  But for my money, this is actually for the three-pack of Slovenians, including winner Tadej Pogacar, parading to Paris with crashed-out countryman and serious maillot jaune contender Primoz Roglic's race number held up between them for the cameras.  Nice move, boys--but enjoy the symbolic thumbs-up, because next year, if all goes well, you'll be fighting the real thing right down to the wire!

Revelation of the Tour: yeah, Pogacar already *did* all that stuff in 2020, so while our tot wonder may still be quite impressive in bagging his second straight overall win and two stages to boot, anyone who expected Jonas Vingegaard--respected and formidable whippersnapper though he is--to step up after Rogla crashed out, stick with the tireless Pogacar for stage upon stage, blast fellow wee climber Carapaz by minutes in the final time trial, and lock in second on the podium by that kind of a margin is just a lying lying liar.  Or just smarter than me--not all that hard, I concede! 

Nice Guys Finish First (Sometimes) Award: he's in damn near every breakaway that ever broke.  He works hard, does his fair share, and rides with class. And this time, he took an early flyer from the breakaway, storming steadily to a smashing win.  Bauke Mollema on Stage 14.  Chapeau!

Optics, People! Prize (Lucky He's Untouchable Edition): now, it's not at all uncommon for a rider to, after a herculean effort, collapse off his bike onto the tarmac, heaving for breath and dangerously close to projectile vomiting on the cameras.  What *is* perhaps a little more uncommon is for said rider to collapse onto the tarmac and appear to be as unbothered and relaxed as if he'd just come off an hour-long massage and a nice mani-pedi at the spa.  And the, um, bug-bite-shaped tiny red dots someone pictured on the back of knee at the start of the final time trial didn't help. Tadej Pogacar on stage 18.  Kid, you may well *be* that incredible, but you oughta at least *look* like you're working for it!

Optics, People! Prize (Now *You* Ain't Untouchable Edition): Your entire squad's hotel has just been raided, and stripped of potentially incriminating evidence, by the narcs.  So what better showing of certain innocence and humble submission to antidoping standards than by immediately taking a gigantic stage win and making the same classic "zip it" omerta gesture as you cross the line that Armstrong used to shut the !@#$ up Simeoni? Damn, Bahrain-Victorious, if you can't keep your boys off the juice, can you at least knock a little *sense* into their heads?

Last But Not Least, Our Punk-!@# Move o' the Race: look, I suppose you can hardly fault the guy--Lance Armstrong pulled the same trick way back in 2001, gasping ostentatiously for the cameras and helplessly struggling up two full mountain passes, only to give Jan Ullrich the infamous "Look" and blow poor Jan away on Mont Ventoux with barely a sweat droplet.  But Richard Carapaz not only mugged for the motos to fake out his rivals, he actually sucked Vingegaard and Pogacar's wheels up the entirety of the Col du Portet, before wankerly blasting around them to take the wi--uh, screwing it up anyway as Pogacar came around him with a smirk and Vingegaard charged back from a near-crack to take second place. With all due respect, Carapaz, Armstrong you ain't--and next time, try at least taking a turn or two before you start pulling that crap! 

Well folks, that about wraps up our golden freakshow. So winners, collect yer prizes, and let's hope more of you manage to stay upright and uninjured, and that we have a *real* battle for GC, in 2022!  

It's Yer 2021 Tour de France in Preview, Part Deux: the Contenders!

All right, though the outlook to this Tour may look foreordained, even this reliable circus can throw out (or throw up) a few surprises, and I can predict with 100% accuracy that if you're looking for inspiration for and guarantees success in a Tour de France online betting game, every single thing I say in here will be wrong.  So having helped you win your millions (or an off-brand bidon, whatever), who've we got on tap?  These guys!

The General Classification Contenders: yes, they're the stars, and from the field, and their own bangin' form this season, it looks damn near inevitable that one of these two will win: defending jailbait champion Tadej Pogacar, who rampaged on the penultimate day's time trial to take 2020, and so-close-but-no-Champagne Slovenian compatriot Primoz Roglic, who handled the whole catastrophe with grace and class.  But life, and the Tour, is more than the endless random "Didja know Rogla was a ski jumper/Didja know Pogacar was a wombat?" exclamations every time the camera catches one of 'em on a nature break.  Indeed, high among this year's list is self-proclaimed bottle-carrier/4-time TdF champion/all-time champion donkey-to-racehorse Chris Froo--all right, he's out of it, but it seems somebody oughta herald the cheating sonofa!@#$% before--whew, glad that's outta my system! There *are* other contenders though who may at least have a shot at the podium, if only because they gotta fill that third step with *somebody*: Richie Porte, who everyone is complimenting now but will inexplicably slag as the three-week stage race failure for a format he's never even pretended is his best the second he lags behind the lead group on Ventoux;  Rigoberto Uran, whose shocking recent time trial win is gonna red-flag UCI like--well, honestly, nothing really red-flags those schmucks anymore unless some renegade scumlord overstretches his socks by 2 millimeters, does it?; and best of all, the spectacularly self-destructive four-pronged !@#%-it-up-on-the-road Ineos attack formation, which is theoretically united behind veteran Tour winner Geraint Thomas but is primed for treachery of truly Caesar-and-Brutus--or even more horrifying, Carapaz-and-Landa--proportions the second Thomas foolishly pauses to fiddle with his shoe at the neutral start. Geez, it's hard to know *who* to root for in that scenario!  Oh, right, and Gaudu to crush the perennial (if fruitless) French hopes, new dad Alaphillippe to utterly exhaust himself and delight the entire race with his truly endless panache as he decides to focus on stage wins, and maybe Mas or Lopez to give Movistar a reason to say they're going for GC when what they're really looking for is the older'n-Moses Alejandro Valverde not to flip off the narcs too ostentatiously.  Anyway, as underdog as this group gets, I'm rooting for Rogla, who came sooooooooooo, sooooooooo close last year!  

The Stage Hunters: Between yer traditional puncheurs like van Avermonster to storm the breakaway stages, van der Poel to take whatever the !@#$ he wants and he's got the stylin' tribute jersey to prove it you hopeless weakling, former Great Tour de France Hopes like Nairo Quintana looking to justify their paychecks and recapture their prior glory, and canny young climbers looking to make their mark while the GC pragmatically eye each other like falcon on squirrel on the prestigious high passes, there should actually be a fairly good shot for a reasonably diversity of stage wins.  With vets like PhilGil looking for a late-career pickup, how-can-you-not-adore-Chavito looking sprightly again, and Vincenzo Nibali likely to attack the more helpless descenders from behind on the multiple downhill finishes, I'm also looking forward to a veritable parade of geriatric-guys-way-younger-than-I flying the flag. And of course, if Pogacar and/or Rogla cracks, they've got some truly incredible lieutenants to take up the slack and bring their team back some accolades.  Just don't help that process along by, say, shoving a bottle in someone's wheel, you hear? 

The Sprinters: unlike the Giro, guys come here to actually try to sprint throughout the entire three weeks, instead of running home screaming to mama the second the word "Dolomite" gets whispered into their sleeping ears, because the Tour's just that kind of a showplace.  And while there are many fine fast men in the race, none is taking up so inordinate a share of hype-to-likelihood-of-winning ratio than legendary Mark Cavendish, who, having charmed and thrilled the cycling world by recently winning two of the sort of "&*!@ races" he used to degrade the far nicer and still hugely prolific we love Andre Greipel for taking, and armed with a stellar lead-out, he really will manage to grab at least one I think.  Of course, the Champs belongs to Andre.  Oh right, and there's the fabulous Caleb Ewan--though I firmly maintain that the "Pocket Rocket" nickname belongs to the great Robbie McEwen alone--Demare, recent surprise speedster Merlier, spankin' new Italian road race champ Sonny Colbrelli, and that fast-but-not-a-pure-sprinter famous green jersey guy.  With that burgeoning 'stache and the relentless joyful press-n-fan fawning, how can Sagan possibly lose?

The Teams: oh Movistar.  It's so sweet, your relentless pursuit of this one!  So what if those arrogant wankers at Jumbo-Visma are gonna take the whole thing?  Other anticipated pleasures on my list--what the !@#$ is Vino gonna to do screw over Astana after his ill-timed termination, and how long before nice Tao Geoghan Hart has to break up a slap-fight between the other team leaders at Ineos?  Porte, stay outta there--that Carapaz looks innocent, but he'll !@#$ you up!

Well, there's a few key players, all of whom will almost certainly be upended, if recent age trends are any indication, by some kid more recently accustomed to wearing diapers than an actual grownup chamois.  Fans, good luck with your fantasy Tour team, and Ion Izagirre, go on and grab a coupla stages for Gorka's sake! 

It's Yer 2021 Tour de France in Preview, Part Un: the Course!

Okay, let's face it: with just three mountaintop finishes, this year's TdF course--particularly compared to that of the superior Giro or Vuelta--just bites.  Still, it *is* the Grand Boucle, we're starting off with some spectacular intra-team implosions, and there *are* a few places for lively entertainment and even where the GC battle might get hot.  So besides drunken naked freaks running beside them to mug for the cameras, excited dogs wandering unimpeded into would-be podium-contenders' wheels, and the inevitable smoke flares, what've the riders--and even the fans--got to look forward to?  Let's check it out!

Week One: Mon dieu! Instead of some boring prologue or 160k slog for a foregone sprint, we're actually starting off with one for the puncheurs this year, with a windy parcours and a 3 kilometers hill at 5.7% at the end, which'll hopefully lead to someone totally unexpected donning the race's first maillot jaune.  Allez--well, whoever's jonesing for a bigger contract next year!  Stage 2: in another surprise, a hilly 183k with a double hike up the Mur de Bretagne and a 6.9% kick.  Weakness may start to show here, gentlemen!  Stage 3: ah, back to the *real* Tour--it's one for the sprinters, and Sam Bennett is--aw, crap!  Anyway, good luck Andre, don't listen to all this stupid Cavendish hype, you hear?  Stage 4: a 150k joyride for the sprinters again, with a chance of winds giving a mild hope for the breakaway that's sure to be frustrated.  Dag nabit!  Stage 5: a 27.2 kilometer individual time trial, not enough to cause serious damage at this point but definitely enough to scare the crap outta Roglic if Pogacar slaughters him again this early.  Bon chance, suckeur! Next up, another one for the fast men to Val de Loire, a bit higher at the end than at the start, but hopefully nothing these guys can't haul their carcasses over.  Painfully, we wind up the week with the longest stage in 210 years, a flat start to the 249k of pain then headed for the hills, with a 3,000m, Cat 2 finish up Signal d'Uchon.  And no, you don't get a rest day yet!

Week 2: finally, some *mountains*!  Stage 8 brings us a Cat 3, a Cat 4, the Cat 1 Mont-Saxonnex, the Cat 1 Cote de Romme, and a usually iconic ride up the Colombiere, whose otherwise GC-shattering potential will be utterly !@#$ed by the fact that the riders end by riding off it downhill.  Well, you can always hope your rival can't descend for !@#$, I suppose! Stage 9: *now* we've got a mountain finish, baby, as the peloton gets back to Tignes after being shut out in 2019, covering the Cat 1 Col de Saises, the Holy Crap 12.6 kilometer Col du Pre', and, after a brief interlude to screw with your head, the 21k, Cat 1 Montee' de Tignes.  Carapaz, if you're gonna bushwhack Geraint Thomas--and you know you are--now would be a good time to put him in his place.  Next day's a rest day--or a good time to hide from your pissed-off teammate, depending!  Stage 10 hands it back over to the sprinters, so Andre Greipel, now's a nice chill day to make your move, if you aren't already going to surprise and delight us on the Champs-Elysees (which he can so too either, so stuff it you haters!).  Stage 11: a bit sadistically, it's a 198k stroll interrupted by a twofer hike up the iconic Mont Ventoux, yet another game-changing finish hosed by the final descent.  What the !@#$ *is* this stupidity, already?  Anyhoo, we're all set up for a Stage 12 bunch sprint in Nimes, with the possible problem of GC-cracking echelons, which probably means that spiky windmill Froome is gonna attack from the end of the neutral start and take 57 minutes on Rogla to grab the podium.  C'est la vie, kid!  Stage 13: though technically a flat stage, apparently it's unlikely to end in a big-bunch sprint in Carcassone, and with 219 k to play with, maybe a break'll make it stick.  Well, stick it to Cav at least! We end the week with a hilly stage 14 for the power puncheurs, warming up for the Pyrenees with 3 Cat 2 and 2 Cat 3 climbs with a final descent off the Col du Saint-Louis.  Alright, *now* would be a nice time for another rest...

Week 3: but you ain't getting one yet, as Stage 15 takes us back to the mountains, successful stomping grounds of Thomas "the Tongue" Voeckler, ending with the leg-nippy 6.4k, 8.5% Col de Beixalis--downhill, of course.  Jaysus, enough already!  After a rest day, the GC can recover yet again as the breakaway artistes take another turn--I started to say 'crack', but then I didn't want to curse anybody--with the Cat 1 Col de la Core just a bit more'n halfway, but a flat finish.  Ouch! Stage 17: yep, another chance for the GC, as we amble up the Peyresourde--well, *we're* ambling, *their* legs are screeching--before a (yay!) mountaintop finish up the HC Col du Portet.  Don't worry G, you've got another shot tomorrow--or if you've already blown it, now's yer opportunity for stage glory! Stage 18: last chance to finish uphill, as GC takes its almost-last gasp over the forbidding Tourmalet before the Climb o' Truth up to Luz Ardiden.  !@#$in' hell, Kuss, you're supposed to *wait* for Rogla, not ditch 'im!  Next, we got the second-to-last chance for the fast men, though not *quite* flat, on Stage 19.  Stage 20: Almost home and *so* close to the top step in Paris--yep, it's yer potentially race-deciding final 30k ITT. Don't !@#$ this up Roglic!  Finally, for whoever's not too ashamed to show his face after yesterday's soul-crushing debacle, it's the triumphant, champagne-swilling parade into Paris, where we love Andre Greipel will grab his last win on the legendary Champs-Elysees before retirement.  Screw off, he can so either!

Welp, for better or worse, there's your 2021 Tour de France course.  Best wishes to everybody, and Thomas, don't say I didn't warn you about yer teammates!

It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2021 Giro d'Italia racejunkie Awards!

Yes, the Prosecco's been popped, the confetti's been showered, and Lefevere's discreetly slunk on home to make excuses for Quick Step, so what's left, after three excruciating, glorious, unpredictable weeks through most of Italy?  Well wash that chamois and step on up, because that's right, it's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2021 Giro d'Italia racejunkie Awards!  The prizes--I swear on Gilberto Simoni--for anyone so egomaniacal, so craven, or so desperate as to claim them: (1) a dashing, custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap for yer head; (2) a passel of handsome racejunkie stickers to adorn yer bike, yer helmet, or yer rival's face; (3) eternal shame; and (4) a genuine sports-related trophy tchotchke with your name and award either engraved, or, budget not permitting, written with exceedingly neat handwriting in genuine Sharpie right on it to proudly display next to your Trofeo Senza Fine, Tour de France honorary plate, or Paris-Roubaix cobblestone.  So fold down that middle finger, own the low-down things you've done the last three weeks, and let's get this Giro-pink party started!

The Entire Universe Completely !@#$in' Sucks Gut-Punch of 2021: look you bitter, cynical haters, I don't even want to *hear* a buncha crap about how he can never hold it together for three weeks or he courts disaster like Casanova courts chicks or whatever heretical anti-Carrot !@#$ you're spewing--Mikel Landa was happy, on the form of his life, and, may I repeat to you still suck Movistar, *happy* when he was taken out by the race's second-unluckiest man, the innocent previous-day's stage winner birthday-boy Joe Dombrowski, when the latter nearly plowed into some barely-marked road furniture, and, after several minutes of staying terrifyingly still, was loaded into an ambulance and whisked away with a thrice-broken collarbone, a nearly collapsed lung, and a pile of broken ribs, the perfect race and his perfect GC chances shot to hell.  !@#*dammit*, UCI,  can you either remove this !@#$ from the roadway or mark it with more than an invisible flag-bearer so nobody else has their triumphant win and maiden Grand Tour victory ruined already? 

Class Act o' the Race: yap, he's washed up, yap, he should be home tottering around his garden in Sicily, yap.  He's won the entire show twice while you were still figuring out where you were supposed to apply yer chamois cream, Bucko, he started the Giro with a broken wrist and zippo for training, and, through rain, snow, sleet, and idiot barreling team car, he still honored the race by getting out there and busting what was left of him to thank the tifosi, the race organizers, and the entire damn country as best he could.  More, after he crashed hard and hurt himself even worse, he stuck it out when no-one could've blamed him for climbing off his bike and heading off into the sunset.  But he's Vincenzo !@#$in' Nibali, and that's why the rest of the universe cowers before him.  Take a bow, Squalo, even if yer armchair critics haven't the grace to do it in front of you!

Fan !@#$wit Award: sure, it's gotta be both weird and unpleasant being pursued by wingnuts with growling chain saws, screeched at by an attention-whore in a mankini, or smothered by some dimwit with smoke flares, but what's *really* beyond the pale of ordinary bike-fan enthusiasm? Yep, thrusting yer maskless pestilence-ridden gob at and highly indecently mauling poor helpless Lorenzo Fortunato, about to take his first-ever pro win for his legendary bosses Alberto Contador and Ivan Basso after a miserable slog and incredible triumph on the iconic Zoncolan.  But a kid couldn't ask for a more ardent defender than two-time Giro campione Gilberto Simoni, who, not taking disrespect of his home stomping grounds lightly, piled on the interloper with the help of his wife and cousin and dragged him off.  Sempre grande Giboooooooooooo!  

Dumb-!@# Crash o' the Giro: look, I don't appreciate lurid crash porn, but occasionally, something so unutterably stupid and mercifully not life-changing happens that *someone's* gotta call it out.  This year, it was UCI's unbearably boneheaded anal-retentive rule-making that wouldn't let a rider dispose safely and sensibly of his rain jacket, leading the clueless BikeExchange team car, whose DS was distracted by coordinating the jacket's return with a passing neutral support vehicle, to plow right into the back of faultless and frankly perfectly visible rider Peter Thierry.  What the !@#$ is *wrong* with you, UCI? Now quit dodging that phone call from his lawyers, nut up, and take the (hopefully expensive) consequences!

Small Slice o' Marginally-Less-Pointless-Stupidity Thumbs-Up Emoji: and, to be fair--and believe me, that pains me--those idiots *are* to be somewhat commended, or at least, minimally less vilified, for bowing to near-universal outrage that they've taken all the fun outta cycling by not allowing the almost-always-super-generous riders to reward charming moppets, and the parents who just spent 7 hours freezing on a mountain top listening to their whining, with a prized, if slightly spit-covered, mobile souvenir, and permitted an approximately two-meter window for that to happen without incurring a huge penalty and lifetime imprisonment in some decrepit dungeon.  Well done UCI--Jaysus, would you *please* not DQ Bernal for his sock height til he's collected the trophy in Milan?

Brad Wiggins Memorial Bike Throw Hissy Fit Prize: yes, I spent the greater part of the race defending the kid from the ridiculous pressure and ludicrous weight of expectation dumped upon him, but still, you can't deny that jailbait needs to learn how to keep his cool--mm-hmm, a thoroughly distanced Remco Evenepoel angrily jerking out his radio--and thus the helpful, encouraging voice of his DS--as Egan Bernal blasted the time away on the strade sterrate of a legitimately epic stage 10.  You are, in fact, a humungous talent--but you ain't Contador yet, princess, so listen up when you're told to or else! Corollary Resentful Domestique Award: Joao Almeida, tersely acknowledging he was "disappointed" at having to schlep back to help the undeserving little twerp, despite being 4 minutes back on *him* on GC already on the first place.  That must've been one awkward dinner table that night--anyone got video?

Smack-Talk o' the Race: Stage 12. A rare opportunity (for second and third place, but whatever), as Andrea Vendrame capitalizes on some tactical dithering between George Bennett and Gianluca Brambilla to surge ahead unchallenged for the win. And after dangerously swerving to cut off Bennett to punish him for (arguably reasonably) not working in the chase, leading to relegation for jerkfacery, it was Brambilla lamming into Bennett to the cameras, sniping "just ask George Bennett how to lose the race. Sometimes it's better to watch some racing on TV so you know how to do it."  Still, Bennett does deserve kudos for managing to haul his musette for 60 kilometers to the line like he was about to ditch the corsa rosa for a leisurely stop at a farmer's market a few stages later.  Punk he may be, but litterbug he ain't!

Holy Cow That Could've Been Uncomfortable Mechanical of All Eternity: y'know, sometimes someone just drops a chain or gets caught on the wrong wheel to derail their sprint, and sometimes, you're about to be impaled with a giant titanium rod up your !@#.  This time, it was the latter, and monster points--and a fine save o' the delicate nether regions--by Fernando Gaviria on stage 13 for having the quick reflexes and mad bike-handling skills to stay airborne, upright, and miraculously uninjured after being startled by the snap of his seat post and subsequent unwanted ejection of his saddle with less than one kilometer to the line in a hotly-contested sprint.  Get that man a beer--and get his mechanic the hell outta Italy!

Shut-Yer-Eyes Save o' the Giro: sure, Astana's made a specialty out of attacking downhill under the slipperiest most treacherous conditions, usually, like Movistar's fruitless tactics, to no avail whatsoever.  But you gotta admire we love ex-and-ever-Euskaltel rider Gorka Izagirre, who came within a gnat's whisker of a painful face-plant into a roadside van skidding out on a Stage 6 descent in the Dolomiti before he pulled his foot outta the pedal and the rest of him fortunately outta harm's way.  Oh, give it up, you were too so either covering your eyes the whole time, there's no shame seeing that just in replays! 

Liar Liar Pants on Fire Statuette: yes, their team leader got knocked out early, so Bahrain-Victorious was honor-bound to do something special for him and salvage the race.  But an early stage win by Gino Mader, a second on Monte Zoncolan by Jan Tratnik, and a solo stage win and second on the overall podium by unsung worker-bee Damiano Caruso?  *That* was one bitchin' tribute, and no, you can't rewrite history and pretend you saw any of that coming.  Well done boys--now get a nice rest before you all humbly propel Landa to victory in the Vuelta!

Punk-!@# Move o' the Race: normally, this goes to Alejandro Valverde for ostentatiously undercutting his own team captain by attacking during a nature break, 'not seeing' his leader'd lost his wheel despite high-volume in-ear screaming from his outraged team car, or slipping a coupla doses of Ex-Lax into his bidon, but with Bala saving up for the Tour de France, this one goes to glamour-boy fan favorite and resurgent creaky old guy Peter Sagan, who, having the power and authority within the peloton to do so, relentlessly cut off and squelched any lowly peon with breakaway ambitions who could even remotely be a threat to his maglia ciclamino with such obnoxious efficiency that even UCI had to take notice and fine 'im.  Aw, he batted his eyelashes--wait, was that the Cutest Rider Ever Award we were giving him?

Like a Virgin Prize(s): Fortunato. Taco van der Hoorn. Alberto Bettiol.  Vendrame. Lafay. Mader. Schmid. Dan Martin.  Nizzolo, after 11--count 'em, 11!--second places at his home Grand Tour.  About 5 other guys you never get to hear of (I *know*, everyone's heard of Martin, I *know*).  This year's Giro, just about everyone who's never won a professional race, much less a Grand Tour stage,  and in particular a bunch of riders who spend 99% of their lives busting their rumps in obscurity for other, more heralded superstars, managed to take a Giro d'Italia victory, and even the occasional maglia rosa, from the expected usual suspects.  Love it, love it, love it--gentlemen, collect yer prizes!

Moral Outrage of the Giro: Sure, even Mario Cipollini was known to bail on the Giro rather'n 'honor the race' by facing the fruitless agony of his home-race mountains.  But when wee sprinter Caleb Ewan cuts his losses after a doppio of stage wins? Heresy! Aw, c'mon, he *said* he was only here to take a stage in every Grand Tour this season, and there pretty much *were* no other sprint stages left--*you* wanna be the teammate dragging his resentful carcass to the finish line within the time cut every day?

Last But Not Least, Domestique o' the Race: y'know, I was all set to hand this one to the fearsome Filippo Ganna, who has every reason to act like a complete snot of a prima donna and whose selfless unstoppable pounding of the terrified tarmac led the way for the most trouble-free fight for GC since the Armstrong PostalDiscovery train was--and I'm 100% sure this is a total coincidence--at the height of its, um, natural powers.  And Dani Martinez' inspiring yell and fist-shake into a lightly-cracking Egan Bernal's face at a desperate moment is the photograph that dreams are made of. But watching Bahrain-Merida's presumptive successor-captain we love Pello Bilbao grind to a near-halt on the final climb of the penultimate day to help ensure outta-nowhere Damiano Caruso's stunning second on the overall podium--and a gorgeous solo stage win to boot--it's pretty impossible to pick anyone else.  Well done ever-Carrot Pello--now let this guy off the leash for a stage win next year!

Well, time to dismantle the multilayered Giro shrine in my living room, mourn what wasn't (oh Mikel!), and celebrate what was til the Vuelta, or I guess that golden hype-fest in July's on too.  Anyway, thanks to all for sticking it out for a fabulous race, and congrats to all our worthy honorees--whether you should be proud of what you won for, or not!

It's Yer Giro d'Italia Rest Day Due Roundup!

 1. Welp, there's your final maglia rosa.  Barring Egan Bernal's back locking up or a major crash that is, both of which we dearly hope won't happen.  Even better, the kid's win was assisted when he had to outrun two !@#$in' nutwhacks chasing him with chainsaws. Sure, your team's an Evil Empire of doping cheating RadioSkank-train scumweasels, but you honor the race and speak fluent Italian, so we love you anyway Egan!

2. On a related note, Bernal may still be a whippersnapper, but that was extremely respectful and canny--as well as a smashing dope-smack to your competitors--to ditch the rain jacket without crashing to show off the maglia rosa when he won coming off Passo Giau.  *That* visual's gotta hurt Yates!

3. Speaking of fan bull!@#$, who was that who grabbed that screaming shoving germ-vector !@#$wit who damn near knocked Fortunato off his bike, and almost out of the Giro, a little over 1k out on his agonizing win on the Zoncolan? *That*'s right, mother!@#$ers, it was two time Giro d'Italia campione and personal Zoncolan victor we love smack-talking Gilberto !@#$in' Simoni, who together with his wife went all Bernard Hinault on his !@# and dragged him away from Fortunato to take the win.  Don't !@#$ with a guy whose grandmother sends him coke-tainted candies to enjoy, you hear?

4. Bahrain-Victorious sure hasn't let Mikel Landa's forced retirement (waaaaaaaaaaaah!) get them down.  A stage win, a second place on Zoncolan, *and* the utterly unexpected Damiano Caruso in second overall.  !@#$, well done guys--I hope they bring you all back to support Mikel in the Vuelta! 

5. And yes, I know Bernal's skipping the Tour so will take on the Vuelta, so stuff it Landa haters.  All that !@#$ Ineos is on has gotta wear off eventually, amirite?

6. What the !@#$ was that stupid crash 3k out on Stage 14? Poor Buchmann!

7. So after the preemptive cancellation, and resulting gutting of the decisive Queen stage, of the vicious Fedaia and grinding Pordoi climbs due to the invocation of the otherwise-useless UCI's Extreme Weather Protocol, RAI cheerfully broadcasted pics of the perfectly tranquillo, if mildly damp, top of both passes.  As a result, the riders' union, race organizers, governing bodies, and teams, who earlier in the day were all over each other grabbing credit for thoughtfully protecting the riders from hypothermic skating-rink total destruction, immediately began eating their own young blaming each other for the dumb!@#$ decision in the first place, with a few joyless holdouts among the tifosi forgivingly protesting that, after all, riders shouldn't be putting their frozen extremities and personal safety on the line simply to appease the sadism of a buncha sick freaks watching the spectacle from the warmth and comfort of their armchairs.  Crybabies!  Anyway, let the recriminations, half-truths, and history rewrites as to whose fault that was begin! 

8. Lay off Evenepoel, willya? He's not even old enough to drown his freakin' sorrows in Prosecco, and heck knows that erratic jackwagon Lefevere could drop that supportive bull!@#$ on a dime and feed his carcass to an actual pack of ravening wolves.  Evenepoel made no excuses, he's got the grinta to offer to stagger on, and he's still got one or two Grand Tours left in 'im before he ages out at the new geriatric standard of 23.  You go, boy!

9. There is absolutely nothing, *nothing* unusual about every climbing record ever set at the Giro during the height of the mindbogglingly uncontrolled EPO era being smashed by guys who are completely and virtuously clean.  Nothing.  But my, that's some powerful freakin' Muesli they're all eating at breakfast!

10. !@#$in' hell, cycling gods, *please* let Bauke Mollema win a stage.  What else does he have to do, barge into the time trial course and cattle-prod Filippo Ganna out of the way for a breakaway to stick? 

11. Heck knows I've had my issues with Basso and Contador over the years, but Alberto's howling 5-minute video reaction to Fortunato's win on top of the Zoncolan was both adorable and priceless.  But look, just because Eolo-Kometa earned its keep on its first Grand Tour outing doesn't mean you race organizers are excused from inviting Euskaltel back next year, RCS you punks!

Well fans, technically, it ain't over yet.  We've still got an anything-goes battle for second and third, the terrifyingly-named Splugenpass on the penultimate day, *and* the final individual time trial, in which wee Bernal needs a cushion of approximately 14 months to guarantee the final Trofeo Senza Fine in Milan. And it's the Giro, so heck knows anything could still happen.  No, not Evenpoel for Chr*st's sake--I told you all, lay off the kid!

It's Yer Giro d'Italia Rest Day Uno Roundup!

 All right, the riders've been cleared, the confetti's gone off, and, after Stage 9's fireworks, the fight for the maglia rosa is officially on.  So what've we learned, and what the hell's going on, and will?  This!

1. G$%mother!#$%ing b#$%^ c!@#theentire^&*!inplanetisouttogethimDAMMIT, right when he's on the form and in the spirits of his !@#$ing LIFE since he left Euskaltel, we love Mikel Landa is taken completely and bone-breakingly out a in Stage 4 crash in which he was just utterly pointless race-wrecking collateral damage. Also, it wasn't Dombrowski's fault. Still, you SUCK universe--*!@#$* !

2. On a related note, UCI, if you !@#$wits keeps focusing on stupid !@#$ like sock length and souvenir bidon-tosses and don't get this !@#$ing road furniture bull!@#$ in order I am going to lose my mind.  These guys are eyeball-locked on each others' wheels in a dead-on rush to the finish line and you can't be bothered to flash a !@#$ing flag at 'em til they're literally impaled on some steel pole?  When I issued my "revised UCI protocols" I didn't mean for you clowns to take 'em seriously. @#dammit!

3. On another related note, I am now all-in for we love fellow ex-Euskaltel rider Pello Bilbao on GC. Shut up, can so! Or Mikel Nieve or Gorka and every other ex-Carrot.  Please, just *one* for the orange army, boys!  Or several, that's cool too. Aupaaaaaaaaaaaa!

3. Considering that even a prominent Italian sprinter or two has been known to bail out at the first sight of high mountains in the Giro road book, it's kind of unfair to single out Caleb Ewan for monster tweet-slagging when a Grand Tour stage-win triple crown has been his stated aim all season.  Sure, it's blasphemy and he oughta honor the race by suffering through every last millimeter to Milan, but all this fuss at the Giro over a *sprinter*? 

4. On the other hand, Vincenzo Nibali of course is suffering even more miserably than expected from his crap broken wrist, but is *he* running home crying to mamma?  No, because he's Vincenzo !@#$ing Nibali, and everyone else is worthless and weak.  We love you Squalo!

5.  With his palmares, no one could really blame Filippo Ganna if he were a total princess prima donna who sat around the team bus whining between time trial victories, but you gotta hand it to him, he'll gut himself for his team any day.  Class!

6. Speaking of Skineos, it's nice to see Egan Bernal bouncing back from his endless excruciating back pain, despite the horrid team he rides for.  Okay, so the final podium is maybe a formality--with Landa out, who gives?

7. Sagan, man.  Hope Lefevere didn't already sign that check, you might be able to squeeze a few more euros outta him after today!  And anyone else think those taps of apology and congratulations after the argy-bargy to the finish line maybe weren't so friendly on some riders' ends as it seemed?

8. Viviani, man.  *Something's* gotta turn that ship around!

9. Nibali's right, that intermediate sprint today won't mean squat.  Sure was entertaining though--and I'd hate to be the rider whose estimate for the final time trial is three seconds off!

10. Contador and Basso's boys are making a very fine showing so far for their first Grand Tour outing.  So are they forgiven now, or is it still open season on the steak jokes?

11. If you're not happy that a guy named Taco, a totally unheralded kid from Cofidis, and a man who literally kisses his maglia rosa farewell won stages, I honestly don't even know what species you are.  Is there ever a more gorgeous setting for a first-ever-or-even-just-infrequent stage win than the Corsa Rosa?

12. Bauke Mollema.  Like you don't want him to take a stage after all that work he's put in?

13. Extreme Weather Protocols.  Watching these guys skid over the tarmac like drunken Ice Capades rejects, is anyone else convinced that they're pretty much bull!@#$ ?

14. Finally, UCI, while we're thinking about stupid !@#$ you do, what the !@#$ is these stupid new rules where it's better to have a support vehicle and a DS dispose of a freakin' rainjacket properly than to *avoid running over an actual human cyclist*?  If they can't do this stupid crap without turning the riders into bowling pins, back the !@#$ off so they don't have to fear being whacked at 30 miles an hour! 

Anyway, I know I've missed out on buckets, but them's mine.  Good luck in the Dolomites suckers, and vai vai vai Pellooooooooooooooo!