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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   

It's Yer Vuelta a Espana What the !#$! Just Happened Out There Rest Day Uno Roundup!

Look, so far this Vuelta's begun in chaos, and it's probably gonna !@#damn well *end* in chaos.  But there's a whole lot to keep in mind as we head into what's sure to be a mind-boggling Week 2, so to set us up right, what'd we learn--and what were we forced to unlearn--so far?  This!

1. Movistar is One Completely !@#$ed Up Squad.  Carapaz crashes out on an easy-money crit before the race even begins. Quintana wins on a sprint stage.  Valverde spends the next few stages attacking him.  Nairo's the team leader. Valverde's the team leader. They're both the team leader. Soler makes one freakin' move on his own behalf looks set to win the stage Unzue dope-smacks him over the radio and everyone's pissed at Soler for being pissed when Nairo drags another team's guy up to him to screw him then takes second place and the red jersey.  Nairo celebrates Unzue anointing him King of the Vuelta by formally announcing his three-year deal with Arkea-Samsic taking half the squad with him.  They've got an entire full-time paid soigneur solely dedicated to make sure Nairo Alejandro and Soler don't (1) spike each other's drinks with easy-to-catch doping substances (2) pulverize each other's primary and backup bike frames with a sledgehammer when nobody's looking or (3) inflict the mother of all nut-crunching race-ending wedgies by swapping the other guy's bib shorts out with a toddler's extra-small diaper chamois. And somehow, this pack of infighting freaks is *still* atop the Best Team rankings.  Kumbaya--now !@#$ you! No, !@#$ *you*! No...

2. EF Needs Divine Intervention. I dearly love EF for many reasons, not least because their team kit gives me all the happy Lampre Barbie Sparkle Rainbow Dream Unicorn Princess feels.  Nonetheless, even I didn't, it'd take a stone cold killer not to feel any sympathy for these guys after they first almost lost Rigoberto Uran to a crash, then lost not just him but everybody else to an entirely different gigantic crash, *then* took poor remaining GC-savior Tejay Van Garderen out with a busted finger, and now, apparently, their team bus has been commandeered by Satan and is careening around Spain without even a visible driver at the wheel.  So I'm not a religious person, but I implore me, you, and all people, plants, meme-friendly piano-playing housecats, and weird single-cell indeterminate life forms on this planet to invoke whatever gods, goddesses, spirits, ghosts, tree fairies, mermaids, selkies, gargoyles and garden gnomes you may worship to just *please*, *please* help the few remaining guys left upright on this squad to (1) make it outta here in one piece and (2) for just mercy's sake, somehow end up with a nice bonus stage win.  By Grabthar's Hammer, by the suns of Worvan, you shall be avenged!

3. In the Annals of Fan !@#$wittery, This Guy's Got the Guinness World Record. Smoke bombs? Cry me a river. Flags in my face? Wah, wah. Knock my actual head off my body with a selfie stick? Yap, yap. But deciding that "hey, *right* as the team trial is going by on incredibly unstable bikes with incredibly nervous riders on an incredibly twisty course is the *exact* right time to flood my garden *and* the course dicking around filling some kiddie pool" is a *whole* 'nother level of assclown.  Honesty, do you any of you dimwits even *know* there's a race on in your town?

4. By Comparison, a Race Moto Crashing Seems Pretty Tame, Right? Forget the riders staying upright: now we got the ground-level camera guys spinning out like some drunken dumb!@# inbred teenager with a rustbucket '67 Mustang doing donuts in a 7-11 parking lot.  Or hey, why not decide to outright drive into the line of a GC contender on a tricky descent?  Um, you do *know* it's not the *motos* trying to win the Vuelta a Espana, don't you?

5. Weather Protocol My !@#!: Sure, you can't *see* the race because a freakin' Sharknado has descended on the Basque Country and Jaws has taken out the race helicopter, but trust me, it's windy out there.  And rainy.  And would you enjoy the ride any *more* than you are if there's an entire Biblical plague's worth of hailstones dropped on six square meters of the course? Oh, hail no!

6. Geez, We've Barely Gotten Into the GC Discussion Yet! Yeah, that's because there isn't any, at least not any that makes any sense because half of them were wiped out in off-camera pileups, and the rest of 'em are so damn confused by what's going on we're lucky they're not riding the entire Vuelta course backwards at this point. Dumoulin Froomey whichever Yates that was and Carapaz are out before the start line.  Rogla gets nicked by a moto.  Lopez goes down on a gravel section.  Roche gone. Uran--well, which mishap do you want me to start with? Chaves is forced to switch to a big-boy bike, *twice*, right as he's wrangling a massive climb, gets promptly sucked up into Grmay's humongous seatpost, and they *still* haven't been able to pry him out of it.  Quintana's about to be crushed by his own ego, Valverde's still waiting for the key moment to implode, and hell, once the race organizers realize Pogacar's only six months old and can't even qualify for the Junior circuit, even the Vuelta honchos'll be honor-bound to take him outta the race. I'm telling you Landa sneak in here, they're so busy trying to figure out who's still on the start list they won't even question you when you try to sign in tomorrow!

7. I Can't Wait Until the Queen Stage on Day Twent--uh, on Day Nine!  Y'know, it's entirely possible this entire Vuelta has already been decided, but to be absolutely sure, the race organizers are gonna make you sit through approximately 18 more sprints and 39 breakaway stages o' suffering before they let these body-bandaged, rain-soaked, sun-baked, road-rashed wraiths climb off the saddle for a much-deserved rest. What the--what fresh hell is *this*?!  !@#dammit, I *told* you I wanted to ride the freakin' Tour de France!

8. The Gesticulating On This Vuelta Is Out of Control.  Between Gilbert nearly taking Henao's eyeball out with his elbow for resisting taking a turn in the breakaway, to Soler's extravagant screw-you to the cameras when ordered to sit up for Quintana, to Nacer Bouhanni punching a spectator in the face when he's not even in the country, it's clear that a looooooong season has taken its emotional toll on our beloved peloton.  Next thing you know, they'll be rolling on the floor like a pack of drama-queen cry-baby footballers because their shoelace has been air-swiped by a dung beetle.   Boys in the break, do your share--or don't complain I didn't warn you!

Well, that's your Rest Day Part Uno in Review.  Tomorrow, it's the ITT, which given how the race has played out so far, pretty much guarantees that Tony Martin's gonna be wearing the red jersey in Madrid.  Congratulations Tony!--or is it still too soon to pop the champagne?