Peter Sagan vs. Mark Cavendish: Yer Handy Primer

Okay folks, there's been a loooottta flashy ridin' lately and a looooottta fan fightin' over who reigns supreme, upstart young Slovak Peter "Pop-a-Wheelie" Sagan or less upstart but still young Brit Mark "Colgate" Cavendish. And frankly, between the sprinterly arrogance, lightning-fast finishes and whack-job victory salutes, it's sometimes hard to tell who's who. So who are they, and who's the bitchinest of them all? Here, Yer Handy Racejunkie Primer:

Early History: Sagan: junior world mountain bike champ. Cav: gold-medal world madison champ trackie. And yes, they both rode everything else, too. Mountain bike's more beery 'n' fun, but track's just wicked cool. Advantage: Cavendish.

Palmares: Sagan: this year's Gent, possibly Sunday's Flanders, 5 stages and the green jersey at last year's Tour, points classification in basically everything else last year, too. Cav: 2011 world road champ, Milano-Sanremo, a mind-boggling couple dozen stages at the Tour de France, points classifications in the Tour and, miraculously, the fabulous Vuelta. Yes, Sagan's younger, but boy--you've got some more work to do!

Nickname: Sagan: the "Terminator." True, to be sure, but holy crap is that overused, and his sponsor should still be thwapped for that obnoxious green bike last year. Cav: the "Manx Missile." Cav takes it by a landslide!

Victory Salute: Cav: a clean, straightforward, chest-thumping, finger-flippin' "screw you!" Sagan: a masterpiece of arcane movie gestures, crowd-pleasing showmanship, and just plain goofy joy. Sagan, you charmer--sure, your elders are miffed, but then, they're jealous of you, too!

Strengths: Sagan: jack of all trades, master of...well, it's still a little too soon to tell where he's gonna really go, right? Cav: undisputed fastest man on two wheels in a pure sprint. Cav 'til Sagan gets a little more experience!

Weaknesses: Sagan: uh...I dunno...he's too darn big to be a Sastre-esque pure climber? Cav: can't climb for !@#$, but man, does he ever stick it out. Cav, we'll see if he out-chokes you at something!

Team: didja know Sagan's a Quick Step reject? Well, I didn't, you insufferable bike-stat snotwad! Lookin' a little green there, Lefevere? Anyway: Sagan's the better natural Classics rider, but Cav's got the better Classics squad. Sagan wins on the smashing Liquigas (Cannondale, whatever) team kit, which is almost as garish as he is, but Cav's already smacked his new Quick Step minions into a solid lead-out. Me, I love any team that's got Chavanel and Boonen, and Cannondale's still pissing me off for losing Nibali. Toss up!

Team Camp: sure, Liquigas is admirably sadistic, but it was Quick Step that had Cav and everyone else go special-ops Rambo on everyone's !@# this year. Drop and give me 20, Sagan you punk!

Argy-Bargy: there's still some debate about whether Sagan's De Panne win the other day was a bit of a punk-!@# move for changing his line, but did you know Cav once single-handedly flung Tyler Farrar over the border into the Spain by grabbing his bike jersey with his teeth? Yup, they still haven't found 'im! Gotta give Cav management points for delegating half his dirty work to his domestique goons, though. Sagan wins for cleanliness!

Smack-Talk: Sagan is relentlessly, heck, almost freakishly, polite. Cav, on the other hand, will not only blame the weather, the announcer, the race moto, and the other squads failure to support 'im for his loss, but will publicly rip into his own teammates to boot. Wait, do we give this to the diplomat, or the !@#$-you guy?

Eye-Candy Quotient: oh, gimme a break, you smug little purists--you think Mario "the Chest" Cipollini made his career on results alone? On this, I defer to my loyal reader(s). 'Cause it's not like you all hadn't thunk about it anyway!

Well, them's my assessment, and honestly, I'm surprised how Cav's more'n held his own against the Sagan hype machine. So slug it out on the road, boys, and let's see who earns the vulgar victory display at the end of the season!

Don't !@#$ With Liquigas!; and, Don't Do It, Carlos!

Throwin' Gas on the Fire: boy, if you're gonna suggest that--no way, dude!--lots of cyclists dope, and don't even mention a particular team in a particular nation much less any actual names, you sure better hope that the wingnut paranoid conspiracy theorists at Liquigas ain't readin' the newspaper, because the home of ex-attempted doper Ivan Basso (who did rather charm me against my better judgment with this year's please-let-it-be-clean-as-everyone-sez-it-is renaissance Giro d'Italia win so I better *not* be freakin' disappointed *again*) and bio-passport-busted Franco Pellizotti is outraged, outraged dammit! that apparently the whole entire giganto interview was somehow solely and completely directed at them, and are suing the omerta-smashin' Italian narc Ettore Torri for a sweet 5 million euros. Geez, you actually *haven't* had a real doping poz this season, so why the hurt feelings Liquigas? I don't know about you folks, but if *I* were UCI sittin' on a bucket o' Liquigas blood and urine samples from this season, *I* might start suddenly getting interested in what the fuss is all about...

Don't Do It Carlos!: speaking of Italians who never, ever, ever dope, I see Danilo DiLuca is reported to be on the verge of signing with dear little Sastre's new squad, Geox, which makes me rather inclined to remind you, Carlos--totally without the intent of encouraging sabotage or anything similarly illegal or just plain sneaky--that if you can't get out of that contract on a "do I have to ride with this dirtbag" clause, I imagine riders have an awfully hard time riding if, for example, their bikes mysteriously go missing at the start of every race, and eventually they might just quit the team in frustration. Not that I'm suggesting anything--I'm just hypothesizing here!

I'm Lookin' for Pound Notes, Loose Change, Bad Checks, Anything: speaking of euros, (literally) poor speedster Mark Cavendish is horribly oppressed by the Man again this week, as HTC isn't showin' him the love or, more importantly, the humongous additional amounts of money our sweet little victim deserves. I'll give it to him--he's the fastest man on earth, his total lack of self-control makes him a terrific media darling, and goodness knows if anyone in the peloton deserves a first-rate paycheck--besides Jens Voigt of course, who is a god and should be paid in actual diamond mines--it's Cav. But d'ya *think*, dear child, there are more sympathetic poster boys for abject tragic life-wrecking poverty than yours in the world? Nope, didn't think so--but you'll probably still get a healthy raise out of your whi--I mean, noble plea!

Jeannie Longo Rocks, Again: over in racing news, while it was really an incredible Giro di Lombardia--and Belgian bomber Philippe Gilbert's sheer hard-man bad-!@#itude continues to amaze--51-year-old time trial ace Jeannie "Don't I Make Fabian Cancellara Look Like a Wuss-Puppy?" Longo snagged her umpteenth TT masterpiece this weekend against the helpless usual jailbait-in-their-prime at the Chrono des Nations. Oh, and congrats to still-repentant ever-weeper St. David Millar too for his record-breaking win. Hey--stop cryin' there, ya big baby, there's no paparazzi around!

Let's Talk About Saxo: and, in an era of relentlessly simpy sponsor bail-outs, big points and a warm hug to Saxo Bank for announcing they're stickin' with Bjarne Riis no matter how some piddly little Contador matter comes out. The caveat: any clown caught eating Spanish steak or doing any of the !@#$ Bjarne did during *his* career will be summarily whomped upside the head with a lead-filled safe deposit box. Ah, well, you can't get somethin' for nothin' anymore!