It's the 2015 Giro d'Italia Racejunkie Awards! #giro

Yes, the champagne's been popped, the statue's been kissed, and Oleg Tinkov's already flown in a crack team of Russian hairstylists to consult on dyeing his 'do the exact shade of Tour de France maillot jaune in July, but in the meantime, as we all sleep off our post-Giro hangovers and general mourning lethargy, it's time for the incredibly prestigious and like-2-dear-readers'-renowned 2015 Giro d'Italia Racejunkie Awards! Prizes: eternal glory, a lifetime of notoriety and/or humiliation on the Internets, and hell, I'll throw in a spiffy free embroidered racejunkie cap to the first fool who claims his prize! Ergo, without further ado:

Marginal Gains Award: So Team Sky, in an orgy of anal-retentive overanalysis, sticks its pressure-cookered GC contender Richie Porte into a slick new one-man team bus, replete with the latest appliances, heated massage table, custom mattress, and a veritable fleet of minions inquiring anxiously after his every petty need. Given how well *that* worked out, Sky is now reportedly going to give this rolling Ritz-Carlton to their slowest, crappiest rider, who will, if logic follows, win the upcoming Tour de France. Don't worry Richie--I'm sure they'll let you snarf down whatever dregs are left in the coffee maker for one last breakfast!

Punk-!@# Move of the Race (Riders): Astana's stage 16 attack on Contador after his flat tire on Aprica. Response: all in the legs, as a distinctly-ticked Alberto ran down every last one of those bastards except stage winner Landa like a twee scrawny tank. You've been *schooled*, beeyotches!

Punk-@!# Move of the Race (Race Organizers): penalizing Richie Porte 2 freakin' minutes for unthinkingly accepting a friendly wheel exchange from fellow Aussie good-guy/Orica-Greenedge rival squad rider Simon Clarke. Sure, the way he imploded, it was the least of the poor guy's problems anyway, but still--psych Porte out *completely* whydontcha?

Don't Mess With the Contador Award: right right, all that attacky crap on the Aprica and Mortirolo. No, this is to the eejit who, stages after some numbnut with a camera crashed an innocent rider outta the race and crushed his entire season's work with it, thought it was a great !@#$in' idea to shove a selfie stick right into Contador's line on a climb. His cool response? WHAMMO--problem solved!

Poltergeist Prize: holy !@#$, what *was* that thing? No no, it was only in my visual range for a split second, must've been an illusion. Team Tinkoff-Saxo. Yeah, yeah, tactics. Where the hell *were* those guys when Contador was isolated in a sea of turquoise blue from 3 meters into every climb?

Crash o' the Race (Numbnut Spectator Edition): I get it. You want the shot. But the !@#$in' riders want to stay in one piece, dumb!@#, and sticking a really long camera lens out into the peloton on Stage 6 in the mad rush to the finish line isn't going to help them do that. Worse, it jacked the entirely innocent Daniele Colli with an excruciating injury and nearly took Alberto Contador outta the race. Go to hell, idiot, and next year, back the !@#$ off!

Crash o' the Race (!@#$wad Spectator Edition): ever wanted to experience the adrenaline, the pain, the sheer exhilaration of driving along with the speeding peloton, fulfilling a lifelong dream of ineffable joy? Well *don't*, assclown, because you're completely unqualified to do it! Yep, the astonishingly selfish and stupid fixie-riding poser who actually leapt into the race--and promptly brought half of it down, including unfortunate abandon Pieter Serry. And you *wonder* why everyone hates these guys?

Crash o' the Race (GC Disaster Edition): y'know, for a normal rider--even assuming the freakish masochism level perversely enjoyed by yer average pro--snapping yer shoulder out of its socket twice would tend to have somewhat negative consequences on one's ability to continue to ride, much less win, the race. For Alberto Contador, it means a piece o' tape and certain victory. Damn, can you imagine the gap to 2nd place if this little robot had been *healthy*?

Crash o' the Race (Pass-Out Gnarliness Edition): yes, it's a grim two-fer: I am no student of anatomy, but I am pretty sure that no human arm is supposed to turn like this. JAYSUS, Daniele Colli--please, please get well soon!

Garish Publicity Slut Statuette: is this even a contest? Prosecco-swilling podium-hogging maglia-rosa-upstaging Oleg Tinkoff, this embarassing win's for you!

Froome-Wiggins Memorial Bushwhacking Award: oh, dear little ex-Carrot Mikel Landa. Without you, Fabio Aru would've been toast--but with you, even Italy's new Grand Tour darling was in serious danger of being outshone. You better *hope* whatever team you're looking for that giant contract next year doesn't already have a GC contender who's gonna preemptively slash your tires every morning at the start line!

Total Outrage of the Giro: look, Alberto Contador's interesting and all, but let's face it--a Giro without Pippo Pozzato is like a prosciutto without di Parma. So *what* if he wouldn't've won a stage, or hell, be all that useful to Lampre? He'd definitely make it both way prettier and suave-ier--Free Pippo 2016!

Imminent Midnight Drug-Bust Swat Team Prize: You know I love you, Vino. But *5* stage wins? *2* podium places? A leg-locked pack of futuristic sci-fi skinsuited androids pulling a USPostal slaughterfest at the front for 6 hours a day, while you just clutched onto your license to ride by the skin of your teeth? I don't care if you're feeding these nice honest boys Pixy Stix for energy, you are *asking* for 24/7 surveillance and constant medically-intrusive doping controls! Oh, just let *one* of your guys get spit out the back *one* day each Grand Tour, at least the UCI'll be able to save some face...

Unsung Victory o' the Race: Remember brilliant Colombian climber/Tour de France King of the Mountains Mauricio Soler, who suffered a horrific crash and career-ending traumatic brain injury in a crash at the 2011 Tour de Suisse? Well here he is with maglia rosa Contador. Forza campione, sei un grande!

Sissy-Team-Boss Slap-Fight Award: so whose fault *are* all those crashes in the peloton? Well, if you're blowhard BMC king Jim Ochowicz, it's the uncoordinated nimrod second-rate crap-squad Pro Continental riders, the whole lot of whom should be kept out of the races with the *real* riders. If you're Pro Conti Androni-Sidermec team leader Gianni Savio, it's a moot point, because you're an !@#hole. Now apologize to your little friend, Ochowicz, and go play nice together from now on!

Now *That's* A Fine Worth Getting Award: you think the *winner* of the Giro d'Italia is a good rider? Well, the *last* rider on GC in the Giro d'Italia--who finished an impressive 6 hours 40 minutes and 13 seconds down on Contador--can *still* kick yer mere-mortal club-rider gel-suckin' wannabe !@#. TrekFactory Racing's Marco Coledan, chillin' on the roadside on the peak of the Sestriere the penultimate day 'til his maglia nera is assured and proudly eating the 500 euro fine. No smug little jerk's gonna not beat *me* this Giro!

Well, them's my ratings-busting award show--congratulations--or shame on you!--to the honorees, and don't try these disgusting shenanigans again next year!

Team Tactics! Wuss-Outs! Narc Bait!: It's Yer Giro d'Italia Rest Day Due Roundup! #giro

Porte Hole: look, I don't doubt that Richie Porte is a dedicated, hardworking guy. I also don't doubt that somewhere, Chris Froome is dancing an absolute polka at the realization that, despite Richie's early-race brag-fest, Porte now has no standing whatsoever to try to bushwhack Froomey, as Chris did so indelicately with his own team leader Wiggo a few years back, come July. But when your own DS is blasting your half-hearted excuse about a sore knee by saying that no, in fact it's yer head, and your own loyal domestiques are equivocating that they're not sure what the problem is and you'd better ask the race-whacked boy himself--added to Rigoberto Uran's shrugging off his own start-line bronchitis and nasty fall and deciding to battle on while the hugely-ahead maglia rosa sucked up a twice-separated shoulder and bashed legs and a smacked knee for !@#$'s sake--what *is* clear is that no matter how much pain you're certainly genuinely in or what incredibly disgusting virus you're now going to be diagnosed with, you're gonna look like a colossal whining, well, soccer player if you don't suck it up and honor the damn race you proclaimed your own obvious supremacy in by at least battling back as best you can til the final day you can slink back into whatever crap fuel-leaking rustbucket they're gonna let you ride in once they've taken your one-man rolling palace away. *Geez*, Porte, don't you owe it to your teammates to stay in and support your GC replacement Konig--if you're lucky, they won't even stuff you in the luggage compartment!

Tag Teams: meanwhile, though I normally hold Oleg Tinkov and Alexander Vinokourov about equal in the total raging nutjob department, I gotta say, while Oleg clearly can't shut the !@#$ up and quit openly smirking at whatever remains of Contador's competition--and anything can still happen, especially in this crazy race--at least he's being a hell of a lot more discreet than Vinokourov, having the sense to let Alberto's go-to guys visibly crack for the cameras while Vino's entire crew tick-tick-ticks away at the front of every monster climb as relentlessly as the worst days of Armstrong's motorized Stepford-domestique autobots. What the *hell*, Vino, of course ex-Euskie Mikel is completely pure, but you *did* just get threatened with the loss of your WorldTour license by the cowering impotent cycling authorities, don't you think it'd look a *little* bit less suspect now if you just ran 10 kilometers of plastic tubing directly from a cooler in backseat of the team car into the !@#es of their bib shorts? Still, to Aru's credit, he remains ever the gentleman, letting Landa off the leash when it was clear he could at least manage to glom onto Contador's wheel, pointing out Contador's relative weakness to his own teammate, and fully backing Mikel's taking off to grab the win. You could take serious deportment lessons from this kid, Oleg--if anything else should unexpectedly go wrong with *his* Giro, at least he won't have looked like a jerkface! Here, after a race moto totally jacks poor Atapuma, and despite an agonizingly brave surge by a then-heartbroken Trofimov, another darling former Carrot nails the Giro stage: PS Holy crap nice run there Hesjedal!

Next Up: an utterly sadistic post-rest-day crushfest, with the Passos Tonale and Mortirolo, and *two* climbs to Aprica. Enjoy, wee climbing glory-hunters and GC contenders--if even *you* guys don't run home crying by the end of the day!

My Fantasy Team Astana/UCI Press Conference

Alexandre Vinokourov: Good afternoon. We're here today to discuss UCI's controversial decision not to strip Team Astana of our WorldTour license, despite a string of doping busts that make the entire US Postal squad look like they were just poppin' a few Tic-Tacs for some extra race-day pep. First, I'd like to say, NEENER NEENER NEENER! Further--(aide taps him on shoulder, hands him phone)--dammit, I *told* you only to call me on that untraceable disposable cell phone! No, not *that* !@#$, the *other* !@#$! (hands back phone)--I'd like to point out that I've been firmly assured by UCI that this decision had absolutely nothing to do with my omnipresent screaming threat to rat every other team out and bring the entire !@#$ing hypocrite WorldTour down with me if I have to spend one more !@#$ing minute listening to this total hypocrite scapegoat bull!@#$ about *my* squad. Right, Brian?

Brian Cookson (smiles brightly): That's right, Vino! This decision had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that this entire sport would collapse, *again*, if you actually followed through with your threat!

AV: Additionally, the UCI's decision had nothing whatsoever to do with the incredibly powerful Tour de France organizers looking like a pack of complete incompetent !@#holes if the TV coverage every day had to run embarrassing Landis-esque recaps of why the 2014 Tour champ Vincenzo Nibali of Team Astana wasn't there to defend his title. Right, Brian?

BC (smiles brightly): That's right, Vino! This decision had nothing whatsoever to do with the Tour de France looking like a pack of incompetent !@#holes when the TV coverage runs an endless series of reminders why the defending Tour de France champion isn't there!

AV: Well, at least we never injected baby formula into our veins or whatever weird quack-doctor !@#$ Van Avermaet or whoever was accused of doing, ha ha! Finally, I wish to address UCI's warning that they will, instead of actually *doing* anything, be "watching us carefully" from now on. Hey, UCI, watch this! (pulls pants down, moons audience)

Yeah I'm Sorry/I Can't Afford a Ferrari/But That Don't Mean I Can't Get You There #cycling

I Guess He's Xbox/And I'm More Atari/But the Way You Play Your Game Ain't Fair: yes, just as Team Astana's still reeling from--what is it, 50?--of their assorted losers testing poz this year for banned substances, Gazzetta dello Sport reported that the narcs personally saw nefarious life-banned dop--uh, "training"--doc Michele Ferrari meeting with a pile of Astana's riders right outside their team hotel. *Jaysus*, Vino, you reckless cheapskate, you couldn'a' reserved 'em a freakin' conference room with a *door* on it for !@#$'s sake? The good news--press-beloved starlet/reigning Tour de France champ Vincenzo Nibali wasn't one of 'em. Well, great, so maybe he won't have any *domestiques* left for this year's race, but you don't actually need *them* to win the Tour, right? Dr. Ferrari, meanwhile, denounced the report as all-caps "MEDIA BULL!@#$" (but not being a delicate lady like myself, he actually spelled it out), saying (1) he was only in that town once in 1994 to try the famous waffles, and (2) by "to try the waffles," he does *not* mean "to try the product before I feed it to my clients." Thanks for the clarification, Michele! Oh, like it's gonna affect their prospects anyway--but *Jaysus*, Vino! Though if we love dear Purito says Astana oughta be able to ride, who are any of us to complain...

In Which My Entire Conception of the Universe Goes to Hell: meantime, we love Samuel "Holy Crap He's Always Gonna Be An Olympic Gold Medalist!" Sanchez sez he's open to the possibility of the Grand Tours being cut a bit, because it's "inhuman" to expect anyone to be able to ride all three at a high level. Well I don't !@#dammit, so guys can skip the stupid Tour if they want to ride the superior Giro or Vuelta! Oh, Samu, next you're gonna say they should take the cobbles outta Paris-Roubaix...okay, I'm clearly wrong about everything on the planet, now can someone give Samu a freakin' contract already?!

Lawsuit Alert!: finally, in the latest legal wrangling between Lance Armstrong and the US narcs, the---aiiiiigggggghhhhhhhh! Make it stop, I can't take it anymore! Aaaaaaaiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhhhhh!

My Fantasy Alexander Vinokourov/Team Astana Press Conference #cycling

ALEXANDER VINOKOUROV: Good morning, !@#holes. I've called you here today because you crybaby weaklings keep bitching about the four recent doping positives on Team Astana. First, I'd like to say that I'm deeply shocked and angered that these !@#$ing morons didn't do exactly what they were told to do exactly the way they were told to do it. Which is not to dope. Second, I'd like to say !@#$ you, you !@#$ing hypocrites, I'll !@#$ing bring you all down with me if you don't get off my back!

Next, I want to discuss the plans Astana has to address this problem, even if it isn't quite really a "problem" unless they get busted, if you catch my drift. First, we're gonna give a huge pile of dough to MPCC and make sure we're right on time to every board meeting to prove we're really, really sincere. Then, every athlete on Astana is not only going to be forced to sign a completely meaningless sheet of paper saying taking drugs is really, really bad, but they're gonna have to pinkie-swear not to do it, too. And, they're all gonna start wearing those silicone "DOPERS SUCK" bracelets. *That* oughta fix the problem!

Now, let's talk about defending Tour de France champion Vincenzo Nibali. As you all know, there's no way in hell UCI's gonna yank our World Tour license as long as we've got this guy in the bag. Therefore, I am proud to announce that he recently totally voluntarily signed a 15 year contract at gunpoint with a coupla extremely large hired goons with crowbars beside me for good measure. Thanks, Vincenzo, and UCI, yank *that*, suckers!

VINCENZO NIBALI: I just want to add, I am outraged by these cretins. Don't drag me into this--I don't even know what any of them even look like! How could I? I was looking at Iglinsky's !@# while he was protecting me the entire Tour de France!

AV: Finally, I'd like to remind you guys, again, that if you dare !@#$ with me, you will pay. And we here at Team Astana take doping accusations very, very seriously. Now get out of my sight, you worms!

Jaysus, Vino, Get (Back) With the Program!

Reality Check: look, let's be pragmatic here. Dopers gonna dope. But frankly, I expect a *lot* more efficacy and a *lot* less careless stupidity from a guy with as much d--uh, management experience as the great Alexander Vinokourov. Okay, you're no Lance Armstrong (or any then-Discovery rider, for that matter)--you did got popped once, at the end of a long and illustrious career--but *jeez*, Vino, at least you had *standards*! Your jailbait proteges getting nailed for half-wit amateur-hour bull!@#$ like steroids or EPO--it's inexcusable! Forget that you've got a !@#damn defending Tour de France champion to protect--it is just downright *embarrassing* for someone of your stature to have so many people in your crew get busted. Either show these punks how to plumb or shut off the faucet, pal! Oh Vino, my beloved Vino, have you no *pride* anymore?

Playing Doctor! Hide and Seek! Hikes to the Death! Yer Assorted Off-Season Hijinks Roundup

The House of Doctor PleaseDon'tBustMe: so, almost alone among the current crop of Grand Tour champions, you've got a sparkling reputation as a clean rider for the ages--despite working for, of all bosses, the notoriously practical Alexander "Shut the !@#$ Up Or I'll Rat Out the Whole Lot of You!" Vinokourov--and what do you think is a great thing to do to preserve it? That's right, rehire your close friend and previous associate, Marco Pantani's freakin' doctor. Jaysus, I love Vinenzo Nibali, and admire his personal loyalty, but where is his *head*? I mean, by his tweet today, apparently even former Armstrong teammie/confessed but reformed dopester team boos Jonathan Vaughters thought this guy was too sketchy! Oh, I guess it's silly to worry, we'll all be too distracted to worry about this soon enough when another one of Vino's proteges gets popped...

No, Samu, No!: and, we love Samuel Sanchez continues to frustrate with assurances he's got buckets of offers but is merely chillin' at home with a nice cold beer considering whether he feels like just retiring or not, and all I can do is--BEG! BEG! BEG! CAN WE ALL START SOME KIND OF HUGE PLANETARY PETITION TO GET HIM TO KEEP RIDING? ANYONE ELSE WILLING TO CHIP IN for, y'know, not like a bribe or anything but a really, really expensive pile of encouragement? How crappy is BMC's rumored offer if he's not even taking it?! !@#dammit Fernando Alonso can you at least get your WorldTour act together and give this guy a DS job nurturing jailbait Basque talent? Aiiigggghhhhhhh!

What Was That Sylvester Stallone Movie Where Jon Lithgow Went All Nutwhack and Started Pitching People Off the Mountainside?: well, whatever it is, it oughta be retitled "Tinkoff Saxo Team Camp," because megalomaniac sadist-adventurer Oleg Tinkov has decided to make his twee toothpick GC contenders and everyone else on the squad conquer Mount Kilimanjaro, which Oleg'll've already personally done butt-naked in flip-flops sixteen times before base-camp breakfast and for which they'll be a special prize--first one to whinge about blisters, vomitous altitude sickness, losing limbs to frostbite or any other crybaby crap gets to singlehandedly pull Peter Sagan's lumpen carcass up the entire 19,341 feet of the thing. Just like they'll have to do during the regular season, ba-dum-bum! Oleg, you *do* realize most of these guys don't have enough body fat to keep 'em halfway warm at noon in the Sahara Desert, dontcha? Oh, well, some team-kit armwarmers and a coupla newspapers stuffed in their jerseys for the trek downhill and they'll all be juuuuuust fine, I'm sure....Look, there's Oleg at the top celebrating right now!

Holy Crap Astana's In Trouble! An Alternate Career Plan for Vincenzo Nibali #cycling

Calm Down, Everybody!: okay, so yet *another* numbnut Vinokourov protege--a stagiare, but still--has gotten popped for drugs, and boy, is UCI mad how bad it makes them look: they're micro-examining every tiny detail of Team Astana, and, worse, threatening to take away their World Tour license. And while they're realistically not gonna put down the team containing the reigning Tour de France champion--who has a rep as a raging anti-doper, no less--still, more freakish things can happen, and with damn near *everybody's* budget too blown to accommodate as expensive a rider as Nibali, if the boy wants to be entirely safe, he's gotta start thinkin' backup. My proposal: Nibali to Tinkoff-Saxo! And cool it, Contador fans, I've got good reason here: Oleg Tinkoff sheds Nibali's annual salary in euros when he blows his nose, and the Contador-Nibali matchup is headline city. Can you imagine that in combination with Oleg's ability to force both riders to take on all 3 Grand Tours ('cause no matter who's exhausted by September, Oleg's highly likely to take at least one of 'em), he gets to stroke his raging ego by having Alberto and Vincenzo cage-fight it out on the roads for Oleg's favor all season? Will Contador count on Nibali's hometown pride to drive him to the win and total exhaustion at the Giro, thereby allowing Alberto to prove himself the indisputably stronger captain for Alberto's lost Tour de France? Will Nibs leave the Vuelta entirely to Contador, or take advantage of Alberto's now-frazzled legs to smack Alberto right in front of the boy's own hometown crowds? Will Chris Froome take advantage of the internal team discord he used so effectively to screw Brad Wiggins the last couple years to grab Grand Tour glory while Nibs and Alberto mark and attack each other? I hope Astana holds on, if for nothing else because Vino's such a crazy vindictive fabulous bastard--but Vincenzo, there's hope for you just in case!

See No Evil, Rat on No Evil: meantime, Thor Hushovd's still stirring up controversy with his new autobio, getting viciously slagged for maintaining his friendship and omerta with his pal Lance Armstrong even after the latter casually admitted to Hushovd that he was a giant doping peloton-screwing scumbag. Oh sure, maybe his tacit complicity contributed to the wholesale public-relations destruction of the sport we love, but jeez, cut the big lug some slack, I say--I mean, if we apply that sort of good-sportsmanship narc-on-your-pals rule equally, there'd probably be like two guys left in Mo--uh, Montana, and *then* who would be left for us to watch? More, big Thor has also dissed Armstrong destructo-campaign victims such as Bassons for trying--and being wrecked for--calling bull!@#$ on Lance back in the day, on the theory that if Thor could win when *he* wasn't doping, Bassons and those other whiny clowns just plain sucked anyway. Thor, Thor, just because the Thunder God could take on some of the most stoked-up sprinters in the peloton on the flats doesn't mean that single individual climbers could reasonably be expected to compete in the Alps against not only Armstrong but his entire damn needle-stuffed pace-setting robot army! Oh, Thor, can't we just talk about your green jersey or something--you're not *helping* yourself here!

P.S. !@#dammit, why does we love Samuel Sanchez still not have a contract yet? Another ex-Euskie already retired this season! !@#$in' 800-year-old Alessandro Petacchi's got like three offers to choose from! I mean for !@#$'s sake Valverde's still riding! You *suck*, BMC!

Schleck! Nibali! Tinkov! Astana! Nairo! Tyler! Just Buckets o' Roundup #cycling

A Sigh Is But a Sigh: okay, now that everyone's had a day or two to simmer down from the mourning, adulation, and general freakout over the sad injury-driven retirement of former CSC shooting star/next Great Grand Tour Hope/one-time Liege-Bastogne-Liege winner Andy Schleck, let's talk straight--poor baby Schleck's heart seemed out of the game even *before* he got so badly and repeatedly hurt, particularly under the beastly ministrations of a frustrated Lance-less Johan Bruyneel, whose constant public motivational speeches like "ride, you lazy weakling b!tch!" failed to help the sensitive Andy get his mojo risin'. Indeed, one of Schleck's most notable results of his post-CSC career was convincing everyone Alberto Contador was an unbearable lowlife punk-!@# and Andy was a saint over the ostensibly Tour-deciding "Chaingate," when Andy's own brother Frank had similarly attacked Alberto like a wank when *he* had a mechanical in the very same race. Still, to be fair to the boy's prowess, it was rather astonishing at Andy's peak to watch such a gangly kid scale the heights so tenaciously, it's a pretty rare thing that a guy who repeatedly podiumed at the Tour and technically won the thing in 2010 is considered a disappointment, and while it is probably correct that he lacked some of the freakish mental impermeability so necessary to sustain a dominating Grand Tour career, if he can't compete I sure hope he and his knee are up to getting a bike ride in now and then for the pleasure of it. In bocca al lupo Andy, hope the real world is kind to you!

Nibali v. Tinkov: meantime, reigning Tour champ Vincenzo "Don't What-If Me, You !@#holes!" Nibali has slugged back at Oleg Tinkov's million-euro triple-Grand Challenge, pointing out that not only does he hardly need the money, but *he* cares about spending time with his family you narcissistic megalomaniac *and* he'd put the money if he had it towards starting a youth-development cycling program anyway. Take *that*, Daddy Warbucks! Still, the team directors--always a cash-hungry sponsor-whoring bunch by necessity--seem less concerned with the personal toll on their riders but at least rather concerned about the public-relations and sponsor-angering implications of injuring one of their prized racehorses like Nairo Quintana before their actual main Grand Tour goal of the season. Aw, we already know that Alberto Contador can slaughter the Vuelta on a fractured tibia--let the rest of those wussies stick on a band-aid and quit their whinin'!

Alexander Vinokourov, Anti-Doping Champion: and, the fallout from the Iglinskiy brothers' mutual pops for EPO over at Astana continues, with vigilant team bosses launching a heart-felt internal investigation into how these guys !@#$ed up so badl--uh, strayed from the team's gleaming golden path of righteousness, 'encouraging" the two to meet with the narcs to (carefully!) spill their guts out, and offering their sincerest hopes that UCI will take up the team's offer to meet so they can promise any bul!@#$ it takes to hold on to their World Tour licen--uh, immediately address any concerns these unfortunate and wholly isolated incidents may have raised. I love you Vino--but I still love you better when you just tell anyone who questions you to !@#$ off or you'll start naming names!

Just Breathe (As Long As You Use a Gas Mask): finally, as class-act Tyler Farrar vows to give it his all as farewell thanks to Team "No Lead Out for You!" Garmin as he heads to MTN-Qhubeka next season, complimenti to the organizers of the dying Tour of Beijing, forced to cut a stage short due to crappy polluted air quality. Damn, between the riders getting busted after noshing from the contaminated food supply and the inconvenience of these stupid athletes needing some dumb!@# "oxygen" in order to ride 200 miles a day, it's a wonder this race is continuing next year at all! Oh, wait...

It's the Race of the Falling Leaves (And Carcasses! And World Tour Rankings!): the Road Season Almost Wraps Up #cycling

Puritoooooooooooooooo!: no, I *don't* give a crap he didn't win Lombardia today, Rodriguez *still* gets an adoring shout-out, as well as the Vuelta title next year (will too either! bite me!), but is this an early Halloween frightfest, or is Alejandro Valverde really coming so terrifyingly close on some terrifyingly prestigious races lately? I mean !@#$, is that guy a zombie from the bottom down?--his legs just *never* *!@#$in'* *die*! Anyway, *just* lovely to see Dan Martin escape for the win, woo-hoo Samu for pulling off a fabulous 5th!, and crap luck for Alberto Contador (and even worse for him now that Oleg's given 'im two seconds to heal up before he threatens to break his legs himself)--a nasty knee-whanger fall right in the last 250 meters or so. With Valverde now in the World Tour lead, Alberto, you got about two days to get better before the Tour o' Beijing and your last chance to avoid Tinkov wrath! Here, the last 4k: Complimenti Martin--damn great tactics!

Cyclist, Heal Thyself: and, a rather nice contract result there for Italy's former Next Great Hope Damiano "Il Piccolo Principe" Cunego, as he drops down discreetly to the Pro Continental level after years of diminishing results with Lampre and, wisely, starts prepping for his post-race career as a physiotherapist. Hey, even with years of lingering rage over his beastly backstabbing of we love Gilberto Simoni I can't help but think that's quite sweet! Lucky for eternal pin-up (if only occasional podium-finisher) Pippo Pozzato, he's still got another year left with Lampre on his contract, which I believe definitively makes him not only one of Lampre's elder statesmen but also the most rakish little devil on the squad. Forza Pippo--you've got all next season to earn your keep!

Astana Heads Home (And Vino's Head's Gonna Explode): meanwhile, a storm's a-brewin' in Kazakhstan, as Vincenzo Nibali publicly blames some sponsor publicity-ho-ing for his sorta-off late-season form, *and* Astana gets booted from the World Tour races the rest of the season for the Iglinsky brothers' getting popped for EPO. Leaving aside that damn, kids, it's not like you don't know anyone who doesn't know how to do that !@#$ correctly, I say cut Maxim and Valentin a little slack--they're a two-fer, like the Schlecks, just treat it like one single doping poz and you'll feel all kindsa better!

Welcome Back, Briefcase: finally, as Fernando Alonso misses the deadline for forming a new World Tour squad for next year (tho' a Pro Conti is still a possibility), great news for Basque cycling as its young developing talent rises again (and here's the bad news) under the nurturing bloodb--uh, hand--of notorious Operacion Puerto/early Contador mentor Manolo "Briefcase" Saiz for this coming season, but considering some of the odious clowns running actual World Tour squads, I suppose the worst thing about 'im is his unfortunate propensity for getting busted. "Don't* screw over the next generation of Basque riders, Manolo--PLEASE, can't Samu just be put in charge of, say, reconstituting dear departed Euskaltel when he retires, and we can bring some unabashed glory--and even better, legitimacy--to this smashing sport?

Boom! It's Transfer Season!; Not Enough Cookes in the Kitchen; and, Oleg Freaks Out (Again)

Oleg, You Tease!: oh no, not the plebeian August 1 announcement date for crazed Tinkoff-Saxo oligarch Oleg Tinkov: (1) he'll only sign with Peter Sagan if he gets 1000 re-twits; and (2) he's gonna make "big" announcements when he darn well feels like it, thank you, so all youse waiting for Alberto Peter & Ivan's new gig's can just wait you peasants! Meantime, Oleg also went off on two other fronts: yes, having never had a problem with accused bio-passport violator/key Alberto lieutenant Roman Kreuziger from the announcement til now, he's apparently decided there *is* a problem with his backup star (particularly with Rafal Majka and Mick Rogers having shown 'im up), 'cause now outta nowhere he tweeted UCI he's gonna sue their !@# for not having warned 'im of Roman's little bust before he went & signed a contract with the sleazebag. Oh, and he says ignorant American cycling journalists can spew their !@#$ and screw. !@#$, UCI, you didn't send over a bottle of champagne when Tinkoff won their stages or something? WELL NOW YOU'LL PAY FOR IT YOU INSOLENT SCUM! Oh, c'mon Oleg, what's a little haematocrit between friends?

B is for Bloodbath: meantime, after Cadel woofed at the Giro, Hushovd retired and they had a good but not astonishing Tour, BMC's now decided to gut its roster, cutting out a good dozen poor saps and, especially with Alonso's new gig still up in the air (and likely to Hindenburg), leaving guys like we love Samuel Sanchez completely adrift for next season. BMC, you better let Samu' have his way at the Vuelta--aupa Samuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! As for Astana, Vino's loading up on talent like Nib's sorta-Tour-de-France-rival Lars Boom, and, unless Sky gets their act together over the winter, we can likely expect another giant smackdown of the shaky Froome team next year. Go Vino, you dirty wily s.o.b.!

C is For Cooke, That's Good Enough For Me: over in scandalous-autobio news, former world champ Nicole Cooke's laying it down, not only excoriating the loss of the crappy opportunities for women even she had when she was still riding, but also busting out fellow competitors who shall remain nameless who she came in second to who she *knew* were doping. Wait a minute--the piddly dough they paid these women, and they *still* managed to come up with good enough !@#$ to beat the tests--what the hell could they even afford to be popping, gummy bears?

Retirements That Suck: meantime, a fond if bummed farewell to Brit speed goddess (and former Giro Donne mountains classification too!) Emma Pooley, hanging up her bike shoes with a bangin' palmares including a farewell Commonwealth Games silver medal and apparently heading off to do tri, which despite the roadies' snob thing over it I think she deserves to be cut some slack for. Allez Emma whatever you do--but road racing'll be a little less smashing without you in it!

It's Yer Tour de France Rest Day Deux Roundup! #letour

Okay, it's technically not the rest day yet, but it will be after the guys get a good night's sleep, so let's get up to speed:

Mortal Kombat: total bull!@#$ giving Martin Elmiger--for whom I was even rooting, so for once in the 8 years of this blog-rag I'm actually being fair--the Most Combative prize over Jack Bauer. He at least was able to put a whack into Elmiger in the end--can we at least give this poor sobbing guy a nice embroidered hanky or something?

Adventures in Interviews: yep, it's been pretty dramatic on the road out there, but for once it's also been equally entertaining in the pre- and post-race rider interviews, particularly the best one so far held yesterday: the journo asking Andre Greipel if he'd talked to Sylvain Chavanel since the "incident", and a murderous-looking (or perhaps he was happy, hard to tell the difference) Greipel just going "NO." Brevity is the soul of...well, deciding *not* to go back a few days later and rip the other guy's legs off! Meantime, in "Things Not to Say to the Press," let's give the weird stuffed animal thingy to race leader Vincenzo Nibali, who when asked about any connection to notorious doping doc Michele Ferrari, said he'd never met him "personally." What, so your soigneur personally met 'im a dark alley behind a shady internet pharmacy or some !@#$?--just say "no" and leave it, do you *want* the narcs to stick you full of more spikes than a hedgehog you eejit?!

Mime is Money (or Not): look, Sagan, you've got a bangin' palmares, and you are still very young. But damn, will you *never* learn any tactical sense? You can't rely on wheelies and batted eyelashes forever, boy!

Meditations on the Maillot Jaune: I'm pretty sure I've never seen Vincenzo Nibali actually breathe, at least on a freakin' mountain climb. He must have gills somewhere. Oh, that's right, he *is* nicknamed the Shark after all!

Kind Gesture o' the Alps: Tinkoff-Saxo's Rafal Majka dedicating his very first pro win ever to departed team leader Alberto Contador--not just because it was so self-effacing, but because it would look *really* bad for Tinkov to have Alberto whacked right now!

The Resurgence of Frank Schleck: yeah, just *tell* me you're not equal parts heartened and freaked out by how well big bro Frank is riding lately. Liar! Note to Papa Schleck: even so, and particularly considering poor Andy's season, you might not want to yap to everyone that the boys are better off retiring than riding for a Pro Continental squad next year. Unless you *want* 'em working for an elite team in exchange for laundry duty and an occasional euro for the soda machine!

Cough Drops: in addition to the usual disgusting intestinal bugs that seem to going around--or at least grabbing serious discussion and screen time when some sorry afflicted s.o.b. has to commandeer an innocent bystander's camper trailer to handle it--half the rest of the GC contenders, specifically Tejay Van Garderen and Sky backup-plan Richie Porte, were stuck gacking their way through the high Alps with chest infections. May the rest day give you a chance to recover, if nothing else so you can pound Valverde (but not dear Purito) in the Pyrenees!

Karmic Justice: so Alejandro Valverde sits there suckin' off a suprised and disappointed young Thibaut Pinot's wheel and faking an inability to help, then whips around him like a total wanker--and the next day, Valverde accuses Pinot of touching his wheel and screwing up his gears so badly that he loses precious time on GC. I think this sweet kid is learning already, Alejandro--might want to stay outta his way from now on!

Clap Along If You Feel Like a Room Without a Roof: holy crap, I don't care if he *does* have the likely winner of the TdF to his credit, in all his triumphant erratic nutjob years in professional cyclist outwitting (and outbloodbagging) the best of the most amoral, I swear I have never seen Alexander Vinkourov so outright smiley. Am I the only thinking he needs a specialized sports physiologist/trainer to help him there so the muscles of his face don't explode? We still love you Vino you bastid!

Oh, the Carnage, the Humiliation--No, Not the Brazil/Germany Match, It's the Stage 5 Cobbles! #letour

Oh yeah, baby, it's time for the Paris-Roubaix of the Tour de France, the day the GC contenders all dread, and it's already bloody devastation out there--and the stage isn't even til tomorrow! The course: a granite minefield of punctures mechanicals crashes slowdowns and dashed dreams, with the added pleasure of a pile o' rain in the forecast that'll have guys careening over the road like a coupla doofus teenage joy-riders tryin' to evade the chasing cops. Worse, the only guys who *can* ride the cobbles--except Fabian Cancellara--are gonna be too busy nursemaiding their own GC bosses to have half a chance for themselves. As for Chris "!@#$, I Need *Another* TUE!" Froome, he gets to pamper his new-hurt wrist by bashing it FOUR HUNDRED JILLION TIMES over a jouncing quarry o' hell. Don't worry honey, I'm sure a *little* opium won't run afoul of the CAS rules! Not much better off--Nibali, Contador, or the wholly luckless Valverde, who while not quite as disastrous as the flailing Froomey on the pave, are still pretty well jacked at the slightest misfortune--after all, they can't *all* fit out on the front to stay out of trouble at once! Not a concern, as if he was anyway--sad-sack ol' Andy Schleck, doomed this time by a well-whanged knee. Well, at least *one* guy's gonna have a good day out there--oh, why not just give the stage and the maillot jaune to Fabs right now, and save all the other poor shmoes the pain? Here, what they're in for (and let's face it, these kids are doing better than half the peloton will tomorrow): Allez al--!@#DAMMIT MY TIRE! 12 MONTHS OF TRAINING DOWN THE TOILET! OLEG'S GONNA BREAK MY KNEECAPS!

P.S. Speaking of team bosses, was I the only one absolutely *howling* when the US commentator asked Alexander Vinokourov about the "emotions" he was feeling watching Nibs race the Tour de France on the same road he won his Olympic gold medal on, and a completely puzzled Vino was like "Emotions? Uh, my family felt emotions..." We love you Vino--even though it's oh so wrong!

In Which Contador Lowers the Bar, Valverde Continues to Creep Us Out, and VeloNews Cheers Up All the Guys Who Can't Dope Anymore

Well, I Might Annoy You, Anyway: yep, he's come a long way from those pre-ban days when with a bat of those pretty eyelashes he could conquer a Grand Tour when he'd barely even clipped into his pedals and smoke the time trials he now all but concedes are unwinnable, but Alberto Contador hasn't quite given up yet, sort of: even though Froomey's pretty well unbeatable for the Tour de France, our boy vows he's at least gonna bug the hell outta him while he's getting there. Now *that's* the ol' fighting spirit, Alberto! Aw, come on, tell me this is one of your long-ago canny stealth moves where you sigh your legs are feeling "okay" then you leave the whole field crying in the valley while you're already up Mount Ventoux....

The Green Bullet Returns!: and, in a disconcerting nod to our final news bite below, former naughty-boy Alejandro Valverde is already skeeving us out this season, grabbing two stages, including the opening time trial, in the Ruta del Sol and threatening, as always, to post even more disturbingly successful results in the bigger, later races of 2014. I'm sure it's just that bangin' new diet you've been on, Alejandro! Or your change in training methods. Or that aero new Movistar kit. Or--well, I better stop while I'm ahead, I guess!

Like Still Being High Years After You Embarrassed Yourself Gacking On That Joint in High School, But More Lucrative: Dead sorry you stopped doping in 2006, like everyone else totally coincidentally did? Still pissed you're now forced to compete clean against the chumps you were beating the chamois off before? Well rest easy, (ex) scumbag, because Velonews has learned that the benefits of doping last looooong after that handy masking agent has left you with the apparent testosterone levels of a My Little Pony doll! Oh, come *back* dear darling Vino, come *back*--according to this, it's not like your performance will have dropped since you left the peloton anyway!

2012: The Year In Preview (Yeah, You Heard Me)

Yap, the days of auld lang syne, yap, that Baby New Year animated show that's not nearly so great as the one with Heat Miser, yap--another fabulous, shameful year of cycling is almost upon us, baby, and it's time for our annual Year In Preview!

January: the verdict is in! Contador and Riis go on three-week liver-crunching rotgut bender, black out and forget if they're mourning or celebrating til too late to train for Tour anyway; RadioSkank goes to week-long training-camp "barbecue" at Michele Ferrari's, Andy Schleck beats world time trial record in training exercise;
Cadel, Thor, Philippe, starving lions to Colisseum for BMC leadership-supremacy deathmatch. Thooooooor!

February: soulless pig Pat "Dick" McQuaid reschedules Giro di Lombardia *again,* runs it as "the Race of the Where the !@#$ Are the !@#$ing Leaves!"; Boonen grabs Tour of Qatar, demands Leipheimer be rolled up for him on team bus for rest of season and used as footrest.

March: time for the Classics! Vino wins Paris-Nice, Tony Martin seen at afterparty with diamond grill, 14 feet of gold chains around neck, keys to platinum-plated Ferrari, entire world's supply of Kristal; Hushovd takes Ghent-Wevelgem, kicked in nuts and fired by BMC management.

April: it's the Hell o' the North, baby! Boonen back on top, orders Leipheimer shaped into carafe and used to pour him coffee every morning; Gilbert sweeps Ardennes classics while actually at home tucking in baby for afternoon nap.

May: it's Il Grande Giro, honey! Petacchi beats Cav in 7 consecutive sprint finishes, attributes to "damn good local espresso"; Contador takes queen stage three days, 11 hours and 23 minutes before it actually starts; Vinokourov buys overall victory from Ivan Basso in exchange for dictatorship of future Kazakhstan satellite states despite fact Vino doesn't even race it.

June: time for pre-Tour doping controls! UCI preemptively declares no doping positives at 2012 Tour de France, entire peloton heads to Spain for "a little R&R"; Vinokourov discovered to have paid Kazakh 8th-grader 2 million euros for three weeks' worth of urine, awarded National Medal of Honor; Ullrich tell-all autobiography out, Lance Armstrong corners Jan at local butcher's, clubs him with wienerschnitzel.

July: what else? Hoogerland winged into fence made of glass shards, sewing needles, razorblades, and thumbtacks, finishes Tour held together by 465 miles of scotch tape; Andy Schleck DQ'd for tiptoeing down Galibier holding Frank's hand for speed, stability; Cadel mistakenly tears Contador to pieces when Alberto attempts to give new baby cuddly binkie toy; holy crap Thor Hushovd is the polka dot jersey!

August: It's the start o' the Vuelta, baby! Juan Jose Cobo takes start line for Movistar after whacking Alejandro Valverde unconscious with wine bottle, fooling squad by explaining he's wearing mask over his face "to keep the dust off"; dull sprint stages livened up by making riders do them blindfolded; still-irked Spanish cow gores unsuspecting spectator Contador.

September: the Vuelta continues! Entire peloton swallowed by tar pits when roads melt after 21 consecutive 114 degree days; Igor Anton floats to GC win in Madrid as water-weight loss from sweating renders him lighter than air; Italian men's team spotted at Worlds course practicing losing *again*.

October: It's the World Championships! Giorgia Bronzini makes it three, runs over Pat "Dick" McQuaid with Army tank when refuses to guarantee women minimum salary of indentured third-world child laborers; Cav keeps World Champion stripes after British lead-out sets up "Indiana Jones" obstacle course, squashes entire pro sprint contingent with giant rolling spherical rock.

November: last-minute contracts! Bjarne Riis signs up top-flight nursery-school playground tricyclists as backup for Contador at 2013 Tour; Jens' legs won't shut up, convince him to keep riding through 2036; Vino appears at Astana press conference with 18 perfect clones. Like he was *ever* gonna really leave, suckers!

December: team camps again! Garmin tires of playing with facial hair, emerges with matching full-body tats instead; GreenEdge goes surfing off Aussie coast, nearly devoured by sharks 'til McEwen raises eyebrow in their general direction, scares off; Sky to Buckingham Palace for crumpets, Cav accidentally chews up priceless 15th-century royal tea set.

Well folks, them's my predictions for next year--I'm sure they're half wrong, but it oughta scare ya even more if they're half freakin' right!

Yer Racejunkie Hall o' Shame

Okay, aside from ex-cycling gadfly/newbie car racer Floyd Landis saying Alberto Contador's former coach is a "drug trafficker," Gilbert still deciding whether to screw over Boonen at Quick Step or tag-team Cadel doing it to Thor Hushovd at BMC, Horner recovering well (thank goodness) from a blood clot and Levi Leipheimer taking the Tour of Utah while new Sky signing Henao climbs like a monster, there's really not that much goin' on today, so that said, except for maybe Jens and Cav, it occurs to me lately that there's a certain "je ne sais quoi"--French for "total lack of entertainment value," of course--missing of late from the peloton. Oh, and before I get any crap, yes, although a *few* of these selections *may* have had issues with doping in the past, I'm against it. Extremely against it. So against it, in fact, that I'd rather listen to Andy Schleck wh--well, maybe not quite *that* against it, but trust me, *really* darn against it. Therefore, without further ado, Guys I Really Miss From the Peloton But Probably Shouldn't:

1. Jan Ullrich. say what you will about his strict fidelity to omerta' and the fact that he was a frustrated constant second fiddle to Lance Armstrong for the better part of a decade--and we all know why *that* was--but god love 'im, that man was a glorious mess. His power, undeniable; his performances, gorgeously erratic; his weight-piling off-season schnitzel binges, just plain lovable. At his best, as he chomped his way up a mountain in some ridiculous gear, he was simply a marvel to watch. And lest we forget, the man *did* take a Tour de France. Glad to see you back in action on the charity circuit, Jan!

2. Roberto Heras. like most climbers, Heras never yapped on much--no small part of why I tend to like them--but what you could count on, no matter what *he* was on, was his impeccable form on a climb, and drugs just can't buy that !@#$. And with no glory left in sight, the man's still riding his bike. Oh stuff it, like you don't think noone else at the time was any cleaner!

3. Alexander Vinokourov. Damn, it's barely been a month, and already the roads seem almost sane. And with Vino, you always knew to expect *some* race-course freak-show, whether it was a wholly pointless acceleration 70k from the finish line or his impish tendency to inflict sudden pain on an exhausted-but-inevitably-winning GC contender just because he could. Vino, please do get a handle on Iglinsky so he doesn't hurt anyone--but if you could imbue yer little Astana acolytes with your random torment, we'll all owe you big time!

4. Mario "the Chest" Cipollini. Look, it's no secret that I normally can't stand sprinters--their arrogance, their braggadocio, their squicky tendency to be caught making out with their own reflections in the men's-room mirror--but I gotta say, Cav excepted, the politesse of these guys lately is really getting on my nerves. But not only is Super Mario fielding a personal squad of exceedingly formidable female cyclists, you could always rely on him for, if not a sparkling quote or a brilliant finish (and he dished out plenty of those), a buck-nekkid photo of him around a bicycle. Damn, don't people think their mammas look at the internet?

5. Gilberto Simoni. Y'know, there's nothing I love more than to hear Cav go off on a teamful of guys who've just helped him take a win, Cadel snap on a posse of friendly press corps, or McEwen threaten to personally dissect anyone, on any basis, who !##$s with him. But these guys are frankly Amateur Hour next to the great two-time Giro d'Italia champ Gilberto Simoni, whose enormous capacity for vindictiveness and utter lack of self-editing led to some of the nastiest smack-talk of the last decade. Best of all, the man *can* back it up in the heights. Come back, Gibo--maybe your ol' pal Basso could use another DS to help him out over at Liquigas?

6. Erik Zabel. Don't tell me the sight of a hot-pink Telekom jersey didn't whack 14 or so years o' fear into the sprint kings! Oddly, there's rather a dearth of Zabel greatest-hits compilations on the web, though, in a disturbing harbinger of this past year's cow-carnage, I did find this interesting clip of poor Erik being clobbered by a pony. This isn't why I miss you Erik--but Phil and Paul's commentary *is* priceless!

Yes, I've left out many deserving greats, and you and they all know who they are. And no, Lance isn't one of 'em, 'cause frankly, we *still* hear too much about that !@#$. So back to the countdown to the Vuelta, and good luck Contador with your Landis response!

Yer Rest-Day Roundup, Part Deux; and, the Guilty Pleasure of Alexandre Vinokourov

Want Some Cheese With That Whine?: wah, Cadel won't work, wah, no-one's attacking, wah, no-one's helping me win, wah, wah, wah. Look, Schlecks: no-one owes you *anything.* First, you've got nearly two minutes on Contador who was limping up the Pyrenees with a bashed-in knee and a Giro-decimated lack of energy, and the best you can--or are willing to--get on 'im is 2 more seconds on the Plateau de Beille? With *your* abilities, why the hell didn't you dispatch him once and for all right then? It's not like you have moral problems hosing him like you did last year! And honey, if Contatwerp *remotely* feels better later this week, you've got a lot worse to worry about than guys on other squads freakishly not riding for *you*. Second, let's reiterate: no-one else owes you *anything.* Cadel doesn't--yes, it's a wheel-sucking snoozefest of a way to win the Tour, but *you're* the one who's gonna get obliterated in the time trial, why *should* he knock himself out? And Basso's got his own Tour redemption to sort out--remember when Frank was (allegedly!) associated with Fuentes, but only Basso went down? More, Ivan excepted, Liquigas simply doesn't have the high-altitude firepower to win the Tour, and at least Ivan's got the nuts to keep attacking alone. Andy, you or Frank could well win anyway--it was all decided on the first-stage pileups where Twerp lost time and you, thanks to mere timing, didn't. Win or lose, whatever, but quit the cryin' already!

White Punk on Dope: so UCI prez Pat "Dick" McQuaid sez it wouldn't be a "bad thing" if there were a doping positive or two at the Tour de France this year, on the grounds that it'd suggest that anti-doping efforts were working. Now, two years *without* a poz, *that'd* suck, as it'd tend to show there's "something going wrong here." Leaving aside the fact that, uh, there *has* been a positive dope, or masking agent, test at this year's Tour, and there hasn't even been *one* year, much less two, without a doping poz recently (as I seem to recall Contador got into some small imbroglio in 2010)--Pat, given the disgusting raft o' nailage that's been been going on since a reliable test for EPO, then CERA, then the bio passport, and also since certain members of the peloton have been shocked with a cattle prod every time they reach into the cooler on the team bus, I think it's safe to say that a load of these clowns are still getting away with it. I gotta give it to you, though, Andy's account of being forced to walk through a restaurant's worth of innocent diners with a cup of wiz in his hand both showcases your genuine diligence in the matter *and* provides a nauseating visual sure to be seared into my cerebral cortex for years to come. Thanks so much for all you do!

The Dark Horse Rides On: and, in "French Riders Who Don't Suck" news (and I was really rooting for Sandy "The Dog Ate My Bicycle" Casar, btw), Thomas Voeckler's doing a smashing job hanging on to the maillot jaune, and tho' he's assuring the French fans he can't win it, we love Samuel "Holy Crap He's the Olympic Road Race Champion And He Rocked the Pyrenees!" Sanchez, for one, is not buying it. I say let's make a deal with the French tifosi: if one of their own finally hits the podium, will *you* stop hissing and abusing everyone who kicks your !@# whether or not they're stoked on illicit substances? Hell, even that crap only helped, say, Virenque so much!

The Guilty Pleasure of Alexandre Vinokourov: all right, I'm a class-A hypocrite on this one. I can't stand doping, and I especially can't stand guys who take (allegedly!) half their wins with an IV in their butt and a direct sterile line to their team cars. But I loooooooove watching Alexandre Vinokourov, and I'm sorry to see him retire. I love the way he attacks seemingly at random, with no particular sense or strategy to the timing. I love how he lights up a pack of wheel-slurping lame-os out of their stupor with his inexplicable aggression. I love him for his endless work in keeping his fallen friend Andrei Kivilev's memory alive, for always rewarding his domestiques with their own victories before they hit retirement age (hear that, um...someone?), I loved watching him stick it to the bitter booing fans at Liege-Bastogne-Liege whose own guy couldn't've won it anyway. And I particularly love him for calling bull!@#$ on the teams, peloton, and entire cycling world for their ridiculous hypocrisy in criticizing him. Trust me, I appeal to the purity and goodness that is Lance Armstrong every night to make me a better person, to no avail. And yes, it makes me feel soooooooooo dirty. Disgusting as you may be, Vino, you'll be sorely missed--and I'll chomp down my racejunkie hat like a Dorito if I'm the only one!

Yer Rest-Day Roundup, Or, What the Hell Did JJ Flecha Ever Do To *You*?

Road Rage is Right: okay, we'll get to the rest of the carnage in a moment--but what the hell was that with that media car suddenly swerving at top speed right into the entirely non-threatening JJ Flecha and, by extension, poor bloody barbed-wired (and far more gracious than these freaks deserved) Hoogerland? Jeez, why don't we just stick the camera guys on the back of a !@#damn Zamboni so they can flatten the riders right into the road surface next time? That oughta work, you reckless !@#$s! Just look at this:

Ouch Report: in other disasters, Contatwerp went flying head-first into a spectator--Bjarne, can you order *some* of your extra boys to surround this little menace to society so no-one else gets hurt?--our beloved Dave Z is gone with a reported broken wrist, luckless nice-guy Van de Velde fell over, green jersey/class act Gilbert swore post-stage to keep on fighting for the shoulder-snapped van den Broeck's sake, and, worst of all, the gloriously destructive Alexander Vinokourov was forced to withdraw from his last Tour de France with, not a sarcastic tirade against the press and peloton and a leg-crushing stage win or two, but a broken femur and a host of other excruciating injuries after a hideous flyer into a woodsy ditch. Y'know, winning the Tour de France merely by attrition is *not* the way to take this great race. I mean, do we *really* want to see Cav and Greipel as the only two guys left slugging it out for GC in the Pyrenees?

Well, Excuuuuuuuuuse Me: oh, yeah, here it comes, Contador's respectable bailout: quite legitimately, no doubt, Alberto's suffering from some pretty bad-!@# knee pain from his series of crashes and his entanglement with Vladimir Karpets today. Still, the boy is pretty tenacious, plus outwardly optimistic about the restorative effects of a day off, and I won't be surprised if he sticks it out if he has to handstand his way across the finish line in Paris. Heck, he's more likely to stay upright that way lately than on two wheels, it seems...anyway, Alberto, get well by Tuesday, 'cause if baby Schleck's gonna beat you, I want him to have to beat you at your best!

A Gentle Plea for Reform: finally, I don't know what the hell's causing the gorefest at this year's Tour--whether the riders are still twitchy and terrified from the tragic events of the season, the routes chosen are narrow crap, the roads are just too damn crowded as Marco Pinotti suggests, or the pressure for spectacle from us clueless tifosi has driven all common sense from the race organizers--but can better minds than mine (come on, they can't be *that* hard to find) please get on the problem and try to keep these riders out of the ER for 10 minutes? Whatever it takes, we swear it's good by us! Big pillows tied onto their hips? Closing off the streets of NYC for 3 weeks so the boys can ride on a nice clean straight grid? Tricycles, what? Figure it out, ASO, so you've still got some undented kids to ride this thing--I beg you!

Let the Games Begin!

Who Iiiiiiiiiis It?: yes, days before the Tour, the road-rage hypocrite enablers at UCI have announced that certain "top riders" are in their sights and are imminently going down. Who? None of your damn beeswax, suckers--until your DS tells you you've contracted an enormously disgusting "stomach ailment" and you have to drop out the night before the Tour! Um, anyone wanna chip in for a $500,000 piece of lab equipment for our friends? Thought so! Start passing the hat, A--yeah, maybe I just better stop right there!

He's Baaaaaaaaa-aaaaaack!: and, continuing the season's highly disconcerting trend of guys older than those 4,000-year-old redwoods in the Guinness Book of World Records pounding the crap out of their younger compatriots in every single race on earth, no less a wingnut-emeritus than comic-book villain Alexander Vinokourov is gunning for a spot on the Tour de France podium, which, if he doesn't get abducted by a black van full of masked goons dragged off to UCI headquarters and subjected to "enhanced interrogation" til he coughs up the details of his, uh, training regimen, is distinctly not impossible if half his immediate top-five rivals decide, y'know, they'd much much much rather chill out at home doing club rides for three weeks in July instead. Oh, come on, like you don't secretly *love* to watch him while your guts just roil in self-loathing for it!

Thooooooooor!: okay, let's be honest, compared to Garmin, Europcar right now is somewhere at the butt-end of squat. But we love Thor Hushovd has not been feeling appreciated lately, so if they can genuinely pony up for some hard-core Classics backing--and of course an obscene amount of dough for you personally--honey, I'm all for the move. Vaughters, don't tell me you can't find the cash to counter-offer--now make our big sensitive World Champion lug feel *loved*!

And Now, A Gratuitous Tom Boonen Shot: finally, in honor of Tom Boonen's return to form and promised return to leg-crushing stage wins, and certain faithful fans and dear reader, I include this reminder that our darling clean-livin' boy's still got it: Geez, Tommeke, nice pic--but doesn't your *mom* see this stuff?!

Cat. 2s, Cavendish, and Carnage

Vino's Back! (Again, and Again, And Again): yes, one can almost feel the excitement of the cycling narcs (for no reason! no reason whatsoever!), and the thrill o' the crowd, as completely reformed Alexander Vinokourov takes off on a hilly Vuelta a Pais Vasco stage for the win and, to the Schleck brothers' and Contador's likely interest, Ivan Basso withdraws to head home for some serious medical tests on what the hell has gone wrong with him this month. Dang, Ivan--forget that saint and fair-play !@#$, it *clearly* ain't payin' to ride clean!

Oh, the Agony!: all right, *now* what the hell do I do--while indisputable god Jens Voigt sez race radios are a must, and I must defer to his total stompin' perfection in all things even though I actually think otherwise, no less than Lord o' the Commentary Phil Liggett has weighed in with a slightly conflicting (and for me, a preferable) view: if safety's the issue, and the riders are to ever think for themselves, then that's all--all--they can be. Well, great--*now* who the !@#$ are we supposed to bow to? There can only be one sovereign at once, dag nabit--perhaps a jousting match between 'em is called for to settle the whole thing?

More Things That Make You Go Hmmmmmm: y'know, it's great to see Benna-jet back in the game after a truly crap 2010. But I don't care *what* the hell kind of course it is, or how great his form's just become--Daniele Bennati beating Dave Zabriskie in a time trial just plain makes me nervous. Please don't say it's the steak, please don't say it's the steak...anyhoo, congrats, I'm sure, Daniele!

(Un)Pretty Prijs: and, it was a nasty end, but a great win for the lately beleaguered Mark Cavendish, at the Scheldeprijs today. Down like a brick: US sprint king Tyler Farrar. Aw, heck! Still, it looked darned unlikely anyone else would've taken it, and it's awful nice to see you get your legs back under you, Cav--now all you have to do is kick in with your vicious tirades of verbal abuse aimed at innocent compatriots, and you're 100% on for the season! Here's the carnage: Get well soon, everybody!

It's A Bike Porn Contest!: finally, it's with great regret that I report that, due to "work" and "I have no particular desire to be mistaken for a bigger freak than I actually am", I recently missed my local bike porn film festival, but, in honor thereof, and because I love you all, we here at racejunkie are officially taking up a contest for, and a collection o' euros to hire, the Cyclist You'd Most Like To See In A Bike Porn Flick. Me, I don't know if the laws of physics allow Tom Boonen to bare his butt for the cameras for more gigabytes than are already currently available on the internet, but depending on who you vote for, I'm willing to ask. Reader(s), name yer poison, and yer contribution to the pot!