You got yer course, you got yer maillots jaune, *now* what do you need? That's right, yer climbers, (yawn) sprinters, and yer adorably-doomed breakaway artistes and general stage hunters! So who to look for:
Sprinters: if you ain't here, your mama probably is! Sagan. Kittel. Bouhanni. Cav, if, despite Cav's wholly unwarranted recent-smack talk, will be lucky if Mark Renshaw don't accidentally outshoot his own captain. Best of all, woot woot woot--Gorilla's in the hooooooouse! Dang, isn't it *enough* that Sagan's gonna win the green jersey for more consecutive years than he's actually been alive, he's gotta take like 10 stage victories too? We're running outta goofy stage-win dances for this kid--Andre Greipel, primarily because of your general awesomeness but also just to give Peter time to re-choreograph, I'm *really* rooting for you here!
Climbers: bizarrely, despite the obscene lack of, y'know, MOUNTAIN STAGES at this year's Tour, there's a bunch of 'em, if the poor wee lightweights don't get blown off the course somewhere in Dusseldorf never to be seen again. Anyhoo, aside from the GC, who've we got? Yep, lots of team-captain's superdomestiques who'll have to wait til and only their GC boy cracks before they'll be let off the leash, and a handful who've already been granted their own chances at bat. Landa and Nieve, both hopefully looking to screw over Froome to save their own careers for 2019. Wee darling Esteban Chaves, who'll so enrapture his competitors with his aw-shucks adorability they won't even notice he's beat them til he's 45 k up the mountain. Our smashing ex-Carrot Izagirres, rumored to be riding together again next year. The Yates brothers. Alejandro Valverde, whose loyalty, one suspects, is just one deep breath from Nairo away from ditching his twee boss entirely and leaving him at the !@#-end of the Hautacam before Quintana's even got his chamois straight. Hell, even that much-hyped-but-oft-dismissed Carlos Betancur, who seemed to reach a crucial epiphany when he *just* heard for the *very first time* last week that an all-donut diet and giant tractor-tire of a beer gut *isn't* in fact the winning formula for flyweight climber success. You go Carlos--no, we mean it, now that you can, try *going*!
The Breakaways and Stage Hunters: frankly, who *isn't* her whom we love? Sure, sweetly hopeful newbies and the regular denizens of the (cycling) Atlas Obscura'll all be here, but we've also got such experienced wheelmen as the ageless Sylvain Chavanel--armed, I hear, with a Taser for the next !@#$wit who lets his dog plow into his wheel--Phil-Gil, and Tommy "the Tongue" Voeckler, particularly looking for glory in his last (!) Tour de France, everybody's favorite stoner little buddy Taylor Phinney, Cannondale teammie Andrew Talansky, Greg "!@#$ You I'm Not a Wheelsucker" van Avermaet, and, of course, the mighty Degenstache, who better shut the hell up buckle down get over himself and ride himself ragged for Alberto Contador in the mountains and on every other stage, you hear me?! So go forth and break away, or at least surprise the pack with a 3k-leap to the finish line a la' the wily Gilbert--just don't start !@#$ing around looking at your companions the last 300 meters before the line like you nimrods usually d--they're coming you fools, I tell you!--just stop i--stop it!--aw, *!@#dammit!*
Look, there's a looooooooot of non-GC talent out there, but one of those stages could be yours, boys--so keep your dope at undetectable levels, don't say anything moronic and embarrass the sponsors on the eve of the race, and for !@##'s sake, Nacer, wear a glove if you're gonna sock anybody!
PS Goriiiiillllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Showing posts with label Sylvain Chavanel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sylvain Chavanel. Show all posts
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Thursday, July 17, 2014
How to Fend Off a Gorilla, And Other Valuable Lessons from the Peloton #letour
Sure, today was a twinky little "transitional" stage, but before we hit the high Alps tomorrow, there's a few important lessons so far we ought to take away from Le Tour and around the sport in general, so kids, for the betterment and just plain saving of us all, let's review:
Crouching Cyclist, Hidden Chavanel: so let's say you inadvertently piss off, and take down, Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel within lougie-ing distance of a sprint he didn't even expect to be there for, much less actively contest, since he had to spend 5 miserable hours hauling his monstrous carcass over about 600 Cat 3 and Cat 4 climbs first to get within 3k of the line before you personally destroyed his sudden stage-win dreams. Well, normally, according to the experts, gorillas are quite reserved and shy--until they're provoked by unexpected movements, when they will charge you and let out "horrific" roars. And if that don't work, it attacks. So what do you when he does it? Well, according to experts, it ain't "flee"--he'll take you for a wuss, charge after you, and bite into whatever body part he gloms on first. Instead, you are to crouch "submissively" and keep your eyes on the ground. Words to live by--literally! Here, Sylvain Chavanel instinctively does the right thing after a wee imbroglio with Andre today:
How to Look All Cleanster, But Still Be Loyal to Your Cyclist: string him along! Yes, that's what the fine folks at Team "Incredibly Anti-Doping, Unless We Want You As a Staff Member and You're Not American" Sky did after backing Brit bio-passport miscreant Jonathan Tiernan-Locke, popped ages ago but only now whacked with a two-year ban for not quite provably doing anything wrong, subject of course to appeals--they had his back until UCI handed down the news, at which point, not subject to appeals, they ripped him as a freak-o'-the-peloton "cheat" and terminated his contract. Classy! Aw, and I was *so* hoping we'd get to see the alternate "As we expected the allegations were proven to be baseless and we are delighted to announce his formal return to training with the squad" press release...
How to Piss Off Mark Cavendish: well, if you're we love Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen, announce without any hesitation whatsoever right on the air that Marcel Kittel is the best sprinter in the world today. Oh, really? I can guess someone who might have an issue with *that*! Don't worry, boys--I'm sure the two of you can take that baby Mark Cavendish, at least if Bobke goes all Hinault and lands on 'em like a pro wrestler--and I doubt he was watching some boring bike race from home today anyway!
How to Fake Like Your Head Isn't About to Explode: oh, come on, Oleg. We *know* you ain't happy, and even if poor wee Contador makes it back to form in time for the Vuelta, you ain't gonna be satisfied without him winning the showiest Big Show of them all. Alternate tactic: deflection, by attacking another team for its lame anti-doping response on Twitter this very afternoon. But you sure did psych us out there with that big smile and thumbs-up from the team car this morning, Mr. Tinkov--*how* many stage wins does it take to make up for not getting the maillot jaune in Paris again?
And, How to Win a PR War: oh, Lampre left charming selfie king Pippo Pozzato off its Tour de France squad--but it certainly lost the battle for the hearts and minds of the adoring fan populace, as a suavely offended Pippo responds by not only posting a thousand photos of himself diligently pursuing high-altitude training the last two weeks just to shove it in your face that he's *not* a slacker, but also manages to put up a photo of himself tranquilly contemplating the true meaning of life against a stunning mountain panorama totally coincidentally with his shirt off. Grimy exhausted blue-and-fuchsia guys picking apart the stage results with obscure announcers in immediate post-race interviews--0. Pozzato--1000!
Crouching Cyclist, Hidden Chavanel: so let's say you inadvertently piss off, and take down, Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel within lougie-ing distance of a sprint he didn't even expect to be there for, much less actively contest, since he had to spend 5 miserable hours hauling his monstrous carcass over about 600 Cat 3 and Cat 4 climbs first to get within 3k of the line before you personally destroyed his sudden stage-win dreams. Well, normally, according to the experts, gorillas are quite reserved and shy--until they're provoked by unexpected movements, when they will charge you and let out "horrific" roars. And if that don't work, it attacks. So what do you when he does it? Well, according to experts, it ain't "flee"--he'll take you for a wuss, charge after you, and bite into whatever body part he gloms on first. Instead, you are to crouch "submissively" and keep your eyes on the ground. Words to live by--literally! Here, Sylvain Chavanel instinctively does the right thing after a wee imbroglio with Andre today:
How to Look All Cleanster, But Still Be Loyal to Your Cyclist: string him along! Yes, that's what the fine folks at Team "Incredibly Anti-Doping, Unless We Want You As a Staff Member and You're Not American" Sky did after backing Brit bio-passport miscreant Jonathan Tiernan-Locke, popped ages ago but only now whacked with a two-year ban for not quite provably doing anything wrong, subject of course to appeals--they had his back until UCI handed down the news, at which point, not subject to appeals, they ripped him as a freak-o'-the-peloton "cheat" and terminated his contract. Classy! Aw, and I was *so* hoping we'd get to see the alternate "As we expected the allegations were proven to be baseless and we are delighted to announce his formal return to training with the squad" press release...
How to Piss Off Mark Cavendish: well, if you're we love Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen, announce without any hesitation whatsoever right on the air that Marcel Kittel is the best sprinter in the world today. Oh, really? I can guess someone who might have an issue with *that*! Don't worry, boys--I'm sure the two of you can take that baby Mark Cavendish, at least if Bobke goes all Hinault and lands on 'em like a pro wrestler--and I doubt he was watching some boring bike race from home today anyway!
How to Fake Like Your Head Isn't About to Explode: oh, come on, Oleg. We *know* you ain't happy, and even if poor wee Contador makes it back to form in time for the Vuelta, you ain't gonna be satisfied without him winning the showiest Big Show of them all. Alternate tactic: deflection, by attacking another team for its lame anti-doping response on Twitter this very afternoon. But you sure did psych us out there with that big smile and thumbs-up from the team car this morning, Mr. Tinkov--*how* many stage wins does it take to make up for not getting the maillot jaune in Paris again?
And, How to Win a PR War: oh, Lampre left charming selfie king Pippo Pozzato off its Tour de France squad--but it certainly lost the battle for the hearts and minds of the adoring fan populace, as a suavely offended Pippo responds by not only posting a thousand photos of himself diligently pursuing high-altitude training the last two weeks just to shove it in your face that he's *not* a slacker, but also manages to put up a photo of himself tranquilly contemplating the true meaning of life against a stunning mountain panorama totally coincidentally with his shirt off. Grimy exhausted blue-and-fuchsia guys picking apart the stage results with obscure announcers in immediate post-race interviews--0. Pozzato--1000!
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Shake 'n' Break (Well, Not Really): It's Nibali's Tour to Lose Now, and, Chava-nooooooooooo! #letour
Okay, let's get this out there: even though Contador's down Kreuziger and Hernandez, and Nibali's Astana is now stronger on paper in the mountains, in this first comparatively minor test Nibs was surprisingly isolated surprisingly early, and Tinkoff-Saxo surprisingly held together longer'n they should've. Still, despite all the yelping by the announcers how Contador looked like he was kicking Vincenzo's !@#, that's sure not how it looked on camera, with Contador doubtless holding something in reserve for bigger peaks but still unable to shake Nibs off by more than a couple of seconds, leaving Nibs with plenty of cushion to lose time in the high passes, and another psychological boost today as well. Yes, yes, the first real mountain stages'll tell--but for my money, that wasn't looking so great for Alberto today, even if it did for his squad! Here, our very happy boy Blel, particularly as he gets to cover up that godawful AG2R jersey with those dashing polka dots:
The Blame Game: meantime, I suppose all the recriminations over the Gerrans-Talansky sprint crash the other day are moot, as Talansky, who yesterday bitterly demanded an apology for touching Gerrans' back wheel while looking backwards at the exact moment Gerrans (along with everybody else) slightly shifted his line and an indignant Gerro basically told him to screw off before Andrew modulated his tone this morning, crashed today this time with no help from Simon whatsoever and buried himself over 4 minutes behind on GC. Still, given the likelihood that that canny bastard Valverde will have at least one day's catastrophic meltdown, he can still claw his back to a decent position again!
French Toast: and, in a Tour where the French still can't field a GC contender for damn near going on a third decade, we love savior-of-French-dignity Sylvain Chavanel looked set to take the win even if he had to tic-tic-tic back up to Blel Kadri to do it, but in the end, it was Blel who took the day by a blazing two-odd minutes, and fair enough, because I've rarely seen anyone, out of all the guys achieving the dream of a lifetime every year, so clearly out of his head delighted as wee Kadri. Good work, and Chavanel, the break awaits another day!
Pink Cadillac (Actually, more like a Lamborghini): over in Italy, as usual, Marianne Vos, who seems completely impervious to weather, road conditions, gradient, or frankly even gravity, took the stage in the Giro Rosa, still leaving the great Emma Pooley at the top of the King of the Mountains classification and Mara Abbott a good three minutes down. Forza Mara, forza Emma--hell, forza *anyone* who has the grinta to take on a stage with Vos riding in it!
No News Is...Uh, No News: lastly, big congrats to UCI for taking the next great step in the fight against doping--yep, apparently, the sport's so clean, and the wrongdoers such hidebound aging relics of the Armstrong era, that they're not even gonna *bother* announcing sanctions against doping scumwads unless they're "important" any more, which left just-announced recent ban-ee Denis "Might As Well Give Heras Back His Vuelta" Menchov off the big-boy list. Well, that oughta scare the crap outta the upcoming generation of easily-tempted success-hungry youngsters--now just announce you're gonna stop testing, and I bet that'll finish up cleaning the sport *real* fast!
The Blame Game: meantime, I suppose all the recriminations over the Gerrans-Talansky sprint crash the other day are moot, as Talansky, who yesterday bitterly demanded an apology for touching Gerrans' back wheel while looking backwards at the exact moment Gerrans (along with everybody else) slightly shifted his line and an indignant Gerro basically told him to screw off before Andrew modulated his tone this morning, crashed today this time with no help from Simon whatsoever and buried himself over 4 minutes behind on GC. Still, given the likelihood that that canny bastard Valverde will have at least one day's catastrophic meltdown, he can still claw his back to a decent position again!
French Toast: and, in a Tour where the French still can't field a GC contender for damn near going on a third decade, we love savior-of-French-dignity Sylvain Chavanel looked set to take the win even if he had to tic-tic-tic back up to Blel Kadri to do it, but in the end, it was Blel who took the day by a blazing two-odd minutes, and fair enough, because I've rarely seen anyone, out of all the guys achieving the dream of a lifetime every year, so clearly out of his head delighted as wee Kadri. Good work, and Chavanel, the break awaits another day!
Pink Cadillac (Actually, more like a Lamborghini): over in Italy, as usual, Marianne Vos, who seems completely impervious to weather, road conditions, gradient, or frankly even gravity, took the stage in the Giro Rosa, still leaving the great Emma Pooley at the top of the King of the Mountains classification and Mara Abbott a good three minutes down. Forza Mara, forza Emma--hell, forza *anyone* who has the grinta to take on a stage with Vos riding in it!
No News Is...Uh, No News: lastly, big congrats to UCI for taking the next great step in the fight against doping--yep, apparently, the sport's so clean, and the wrongdoers such hidebound aging relics of the Armstrong era, that they're not even gonna *bother* announcing sanctions against doping scumwads unless they're "important" any more, which left just-announced recent ban-ee Denis "Might As Well Give Heras Back His Vuelta" Menchov off the big-boy list. Well, that oughta scare the crap outta the upcoming generation of easily-tempted success-hungry youngsters--now just announce you're gonna stop testing, and I bet that'll finish up cleaning the sport *real* fast!
Friday, July 04, 2014
It's Yer 2014 Tour de France in Preview: the Climbers, Roleurs, 'n' Everyone Else We Love (Or Don't!) Roundup!
Tic-toc, you can't make it stop, baby, because it's one day left to the Grand Boucle, so time for our final pre-Tour preview! So last but not very least: the mountain goats, and yer everyone else who's in or out who we love, or just love to hate!
Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler: whose face embodies the angst, the glory, the tragedy, the suffering of the Tour de France? That's right, Tommy Voeckler--and that's all before he gets to the day's sign-in! Watch him for the ebb and flow of attack after attack, the surge of triumph and the gutted visage of defeat. We love you Voeckler--you're like the overacting soccer player of cycling!
Jeeeeeeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeens! really, need one say more? He just got to Yorkshire and already completed a geocache! Plus reconned the course, rebuilt his own bicycle, participated in a barn-raising, repaired Big Ben, took the Queen out to a rave, and personally hammered Sir Brad a new suit of armor. See you in the breakaways, Jens!
Purito Rodriguez: yes, I put 'im in with GC, tho' he's basically here because he crashed out of the Giro and needs some miles--but not pounded out too hard--for the Vuelta. Me, I'm putting him in for a stage win. Woot woot!
Rui Costa: he's the world champ, he just bagged the Tour de Suisse after a typical curse-of-the-rainbow-jersey start to the season, and he aims, if not to win, to make a fuss. Plus, if you piss 'im off, he'll whang the crap out of you with the nearest bike wheel. Now *that's* world-class!
Sylvain Chavanel: for years, along with Sandy Casar, pretty much the only reason the French *didn't* suck. He doesn't make a fuss, but he always scares the crap out of his unlucky companions in a breakaway. Class act all 'round!
Christophe Riblon: no, still not a huge name, but he *did* win the Alpe d'Huez last year. Who wouldn't like a double?
Darwin Atapuma: Colombia's latest sensation among a sea of latest Colombian sensation, this boy has a hell of a future--and luckily, at the last minute, a freakin' visa. Good support for his boss at BMC, and a massive threat in the heights if he gets the nod to strike out on his own for a stage!
Andrew Talansky: yeah, I got smacked for leaving him out before, but here he is: the man who outsmarted--and out-rode--Alberto Contador on the highest passes of the Dauphine. He may not get GC, but if he can hang in for three weeks, he can sure place high--and afford to throw in a body-crushing performance on at least one mountain stage. Let Nibs Alberto and Froomey mark each other--Andrew, take full advantage! Along those lines, Michal Kwiatkowski, 11th last year, who should be able to put on a pretty sweet show despite some recent uneven form. Allez allez boys!
Ex-Carrots: look, I'm not apologizing for Alejandro Valverde here--he still creeps me out. But damn, he's got a great squad of mostly ex-Euskies to back him, and you can't fault Valverde for his total generosity to his teammates in the face of personal setback. Benat, Ion, the whole lot of you--be ready to step up after Piti's inevitable meltdown!
Chris Horner: the oldest Grand Tour winner is back, without huge expectations but still having to convince everyone he really deserved his big win last year. But for !@#$'s sake, if he gets another concussion, take him *off* the bike before the stage ends!
Fabian Cancellara: oh, no, I didn't forget your darling, Fabs fans! He's predicting monster GC chaos on the fateful cobbles, and I'm betting (oops! jinxed 'im!) he'll come out on top. Go Fabs!
Finally, the Missing: out: the incredibly annoying unctuous hypocrite David "I Hearted Doping Til Others Got to Do It Without Me" Millar, who took to social media to whine about his rejection for the final Tour de France Jonathan Vaughters apparently owed him. Everytime this guy opens his mouth, no matter what the topic, I swear it makes me nostalgic for omerta. But don't worry, fans, he'll apparently be the mosquito in yer ears over on British commentary! Nairo, of course, as Movistar herds its baby superstar cautiously. And Cadel, and Uran, and Gilbert. Worst of all on the out list: the glamorous Pippo Pozzato, who's reportedly planning in revenge to pop up and take a nekkid selfie right next to the day's stage winners as they cross the finish line. Well, that settles who wins the queen stage, I guess--now get that guy a maillot jaune before he shocks the innocent public!
Ah, Jeez!: I can't believe I nearly missed mentioning we love Ted King, who got completely screwed out of the Tour de France last year by a pack of soulless nit-picker bean-counter judges, who kicked his !@# over a measly 7 seconds after a nasty crash while repeatedly letting more well-known riders (Cav! Cav! 'scuse me, must be a frog in my throat) off the hook. When he's helping Sagan to yet another stage win over a suck French rider, race organizers, remember that!
Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler: whose face embodies the angst, the glory, the tragedy, the suffering of the Tour de France? That's right, Tommy Voeckler--and that's all before he gets to the day's sign-in! Watch him for the ebb and flow of attack after attack, the surge of triumph and the gutted visage of defeat. We love you Voeckler--you're like the overacting soccer player of cycling!
Jeeeeeeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeens! really, need one say more? He just got to Yorkshire and already completed a geocache! Plus reconned the course, rebuilt his own bicycle, participated in a barn-raising, repaired Big Ben, took the Queen out to a rave, and personally hammered Sir Brad a new suit of armor. See you in the breakaways, Jens!
Purito Rodriguez: yes, I put 'im in with GC, tho' he's basically here because he crashed out of the Giro and needs some miles--but not pounded out too hard--for the Vuelta. Me, I'm putting him in for a stage win. Woot woot!
Rui Costa: he's the world champ, he just bagged the Tour de Suisse after a typical curse-of-the-rainbow-jersey start to the season, and he aims, if not to win, to make a fuss. Plus, if you piss 'im off, he'll whang the crap out of you with the nearest bike wheel. Now *that's* world-class!
Sylvain Chavanel: for years, along with Sandy Casar, pretty much the only reason the French *didn't* suck. He doesn't make a fuss, but he always scares the crap out of his unlucky companions in a breakaway. Class act all 'round!
Christophe Riblon: no, still not a huge name, but he *did* win the Alpe d'Huez last year. Who wouldn't like a double?
Darwin Atapuma: Colombia's latest sensation among a sea of latest Colombian sensation, this boy has a hell of a future--and luckily, at the last minute, a freakin' visa. Good support for his boss at BMC, and a massive threat in the heights if he gets the nod to strike out on his own for a stage!
Andrew Talansky: yeah, I got smacked for leaving him out before, but here he is: the man who outsmarted--and out-rode--Alberto Contador on the highest passes of the Dauphine. He may not get GC, but if he can hang in for three weeks, he can sure place high--and afford to throw in a body-crushing performance on at least one mountain stage. Let Nibs Alberto and Froomey mark each other--Andrew, take full advantage! Along those lines, Michal Kwiatkowski, 11th last year, who should be able to put on a pretty sweet show despite some recent uneven form. Allez allez boys!
Ex-Carrots: look, I'm not apologizing for Alejandro Valverde here--he still creeps me out. But damn, he's got a great squad of mostly ex-Euskies to back him, and you can't fault Valverde for his total generosity to his teammates in the face of personal setback. Benat, Ion, the whole lot of you--be ready to step up after Piti's inevitable meltdown!
Chris Horner: the oldest Grand Tour winner is back, without huge expectations but still having to convince everyone he really deserved his big win last year. But for !@#$'s sake, if he gets another concussion, take him *off* the bike before the stage ends!
Fabian Cancellara: oh, no, I didn't forget your darling, Fabs fans! He's predicting monster GC chaos on the fateful cobbles, and I'm betting (oops! jinxed 'im!) he'll come out on top. Go Fabs!
Finally, the Missing: out: the incredibly annoying unctuous hypocrite David "I Hearted Doping Til Others Got to Do It Without Me" Millar, who took to social media to whine about his rejection for the final Tour de France Jonathan Vaughters apparently owed him. Everytime this guy opens his mouth, no matter what the topic, I swear it makes me nostalgic for omerta. But don't worry, fans, he'll apparently be the mosquito in yer ears over on British commentary! Nairo, of course, as Movistar herds its baby superstar cautiously. And Cadel, and Uran, and Gilbert. Worst of all on the out list: the glamorous Pippo Pozzato, who's reportedly planning in revenge to pop up and take a nekkid selfie right next to the day's stage winners as they cross the finish line. Well, that settles who wins the queen stage, I guess--now get that guy a maillot jaune before he shocks the innocent public!
Ah, Jeez!: I can't believe I nearly missed mentioning we love Ted King, who got completely screwed out of the Tour de France last year by a pack of soulless nit-picker bean-counter judges, who kicked his !@# over a measly 7 seconds after a nasty crash while repeatedly letting more well-known riders (Cav! Cav! 'scuse me, must be a frog in my throat) off the hook. When he's helping Sagan to yet another stage win over a suck French rider, race organizers, remember that!
Friday, April 04, 2014
You Down With O.P.P. (Other People's Pave')?: It's Yer Flanders in Preview, Baby!
Oh yeah, we're down to serious business, baby, because there's both the men's and women's Ronde van Vlaanderen are this weekend, and there's already drama by the buckets! The score:
The Gossip: Belgian cops totally coincidentally kick Peter Sagan off the Kwaremont while he's reconning the course today, link here. Nothing personal! Next up: authorities bust into every non-Belgian team and rider's hotel rooms at 3 a.m. on Sunday with battering rams, billy clubs, bullhorns, stun guns, cattle prods, smoke grenades, and those spazzy little hand-buzzers you buy at the joke shop. Oops, wrong room--nighty-night, sorry to disturb you!
The Cobbles: fans love 'em, riders fear 'em, and Tom Boonen picks 'em out from between his teeth after a leisurely lunch. You know it: Molenberg, Kwaremont, Paterberg. Why the !@#$ won't a profile pic load? A close-up view of the pain on the Kwaremont:
And beyond-bangin' preview of the women's race on Velofocus. Yep, it's gonna be just as vicious out there!
The Forecast: lookin' like rain. Oh, man, I can almost *hear* the sound of hitting the stones...
The Contenders: Nairo Quintana. Alberto Contador. Chris Froome. Just kidding! Tho' Alejandro Valverde's already reconned some cobbles ahead of his Tour de France bid. Tom Boonen vs. Fabian Cancellara, both downplaying their chances but ready to rumble. Peter Sagan, under heavy sponsor pressure to giddyap with a major Monument this season. Critic's darling Sep Vanmarcke. One thing's for sure: if you give Cancellara a single bike length ahead of the pack, he's gone for good, and all you're fighting for is a podium place. Eyes open, Tommeke! For the women: geez, can we get a definitive start list? Defending champ is Marianne Vos. Elisa Longo Borghini. Podiums Emma Johansson and Ellen Van Dijk. Last year's women's roundup:
The Dark Horses: who *doesn't* love ponies? We love Sylvain Chavanel. Pippo Pozzato. Luca Paolini. Niki Terpstra and Stijn Devolder. And a host of other Belgian badasses waiting to grit it out and take advantage if the favorites over-mark. Oh, like Pippo wouldn't look just *adorbs* with that trophy!
The Absentees: Nick Nuyens, gobsmacked by flu. Ian Stannard, stuffed into a back brace. There'll be a lot more before Sunday's over though, honey!
The Fans: beer, beer, and beer. And if you can see through the gorgeous Flandrian flags smothering the sidelines, you might even see some bikes go by. Wait, *who* just ran into me when I stumbled into the course?
Well, time to place yer bets--and for you undecideds, look who got it last year!
The Gossip: Belgian cops totally coincidentally kick Peter Sagan off the Kwaremont while he's reconning the course today, link here. Nothing personal! Next up: authorities bust into every non-Belgian team and rider's hotel rooms at 3 a.m. on Sunday with battering rams, billy clubs, bullhorns, stun guns, cattle prods, smoke grenades, and those spazzy little hand-buzzers you buy at the joke shop. Oops, wrong room--nighty-night, sorry to disturb you!
The Cobbles: fans love 'em, riders fear 'em, and Tom Boonen picks 'em out from between his teeth after a leisurely lunch. You know it: Molenberg, Kwaremont, Paterberg. Why the !@#$ won't a profile pic load? A close-up view of the pain on the Kwaremont:
The Forecast: lookin' like rain. Oh, man, I can almost *hear* the sound of hitting the stones...
The Contenders: Nairo Quintana. Alberto Contador. Chris Froome. Just kidding! Tho' Alejandro Valverde's already reconned some cobbles ahead of his Tour de France bid. Tom Boonen vs. Fabian Cancellara, both downplaying their chances but ready to rumble. Peter Sagan, under heavy sponsor pressure to giddyap with a major Monument this season. Critic's darling Sep Vanmarcke. One thing's for sure: if you give Cancellara a single bike length ahead of the pack, he's gone for good, and all you're fighting for is a podium place. Eyes open, Tommeke! For the women: geez, can we get a definitive start list? Defending champ is Marianne Vos. Elisa Longo Borghini. Podiums Emma Johansson and Ellen Van Dijk. Last year's women's roundup:
The Dark Horses: who *doesn't* love ponies? We love Sylvain Chavanel. Pippo Pozzato. Luca Paolini. Niki Terpstra and Stijn Devolder. And a host of other Belgian badasses waiting to grit it out and take advantage if the favorites over-mark. Oh, like Pippo wouldn't look just *adorbs* with that trophy!
The Absentees: Nick Nuyens, gobsmacked by flu. Ian Stannard, stuffed into a back brace. There'll be a lot more before Sunday's over though, honey!
The Fans: beer, beer, and beer. And if you can see through the gorgeous Flandrian flags smothering the sidelines, you might even see some bikes go by. Wait, *who* just ran into me when I stumbled into the course?
Well, time to place yer bets--and for you undecideds, look who got it last year!
Thursday, June 27, 2013
It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Deux!: The Sprinters! The Climbers! The Roleurs! 'Nother Stuff!
Oh yeah, the Grand Boucle starts in just deux days, baby, and as the teams hit their formal presentation in Corsica by boat and bike, it's time to preview the non-GC part o' the race! What's what:
The Sprinters!: 7 flat chances for glory! Okay, really who cares, but I guess we oughta yap fastmen. Mark "the Manx Missile" Cavendish. Peter "the Tourminator" Sagan. Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel. Come to think of it, Robbie "the Pocket Rocket" McEwen and Mario "the Lion King" Cipollini. Why do the sprinters get all the cool nicknames? The missing: BMC's Thor Hushovd (I know, not quite a "sprinter" in recent years), Garmin's Tyler Farrar. Crap, nabit, crap! Look for: Cav and Sagan to come to blows over smart-!@# !@#$-you victory celebrations. Watch out Peter, Cav is pretty scrappy!
The Climbers: 6 mountain stages, 4, count 'em4, mountain top finishes. look, at this point, we're mainly talking GC riders, their top mountain domestiques, pretty much all of Movistar, and of course my beloved Euskaltel (shut up! will too! bite me!). Contador for Alpe d'Huez. Richie Porte for a stage, if Froome can afford him wasting energy. Alejandro Valverde and Joaquim Rodriguez for a mano-a-mano death match in the steeps. Missing: Jose Rujano, whose retirement at the top of his game has nothing to do with his recent entanglement in a doping scandal. Eat Orange dust, beeyotches!
The Roleurs: basically, 5 or so shots for these boys. We got some great stage hunters here, honey, and holy improbable crap some of 'em are even French: Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler, the great Sylvain Chavanel, luckless (so far) curse-o'-the-rainbow-jersey world champ Philippe Gilbert. Jens for anything he damn well wants, so pack it up and bow before the One, you weaklings! And while he's no breakaway artist, can I show mercy enough to suggest baby Schleck for a stage of *some* kind? No, there's descents in them thar hills....
'Nother Stuff!: Bjarne's rumored to be retiring, the Tour is inviting every dope-sucking drug-fiend *except* Lance Armstrong to the big party, the French have put the mute button on the appalling Laurent Jalabert but are letting every other dirty doping DS of the last 10 years yap direct instructions into the ears of their clean innocent riders, Froome's still talking smack, and Contador, as always, is keeping his reserve. So Peter, remember not to pop those wheelies til *after* you cross the line, and Cav, if he paints his bike all smug-!@# maillot vert again before he earns it, you *chomp* that frame to pieces before Paris!
Here, Cav makes it 22 last year: The rest of you, let the excuses begin!
The Sprinters!: 7 flat chances for glory! Okay, really who cares, but I guess we oughta yap fastmen. Mark "the Manx Missile" Cavendish. Peter "the Tourminator" Sagan. Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel. Come to think of it, Robbie "the Pocket Rocket" McEwen and Mario "the Lion King" Cipollini. Why do the sprinters get all the cool nicknames? The missing: BMC's Thor Hushovd (I know, not quite a "sprinter" in recent years), Garmin's Tyler Farrar. Crap, nabit, crap! Look for: Cav and Sagan to come to blows over smart-!@# !@#$-you victory celebrations. Watch out Peter, Cav is pretty scrappy!
The Climbers: 6 mountain stages, 4, count 'em4, mountain top finishes. look, at this point, we're mainly talking GC riders, their top mountain domestiques, pretty much all of Movistar, and of course my beloved Euskaltel (shut up! will too! bite me!). Contador for Alpe d'Huez. Richie Porte for a stage, if Froome can afford him wasting energy. Alejandro Valverde and Joaquim Rodriguez for a mano-a-mano death match in the steeps. Missing: Jose Rujano, whose retirement at the top of his game has nothing to do with his recent entanglement in a doping scandal. Eat Orange dust, beeyotches!
The Roleurs: basically, 5 or so shots for these boys. We got some great stage hunters here, honey, and holy improbable crap some of 'em are even French: Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler, the great Sylvain Chavanel, luckless (so far) curse-o'-the-rainbow-jersey world champ Philippe Gilbert. Jens for anything he damn well wants, so pack it up and bow before the One, you weaklings! And while he's no breakaway artist, can I show mercy enough to suggest baby Schleck for a stage of *some* kind? No, there's descents in them thar hills....
'Nother Stuff!: Bjarne's rumored to be retiring, the Tour is inviting every dope-sucking drug-fiend *except* Lance Armstrong to the big party, the French have put the mute button on the appalling Laurent Jalabert but are letting every other dirty doping DS of the last 10 years yap direct instructions into the ears of their clean innocent riders, Froome's still talking smack, and Contador, as always, is keeping his reserve. So Peter, remember not to pop those wheelies til *after* you cross the line, and Cav, if he paints his bike all smug-!@# maillot vert again before he earns it, you *chomp* that frame to pieces before Paris!
Here, Cav makes it 22 last year: The rest of you, let the excuses begin!
Saturday, April 06, 2013
It's Paris-Roubaix, Baby!; and, What Is This, International Treat Women In Cycling Like !@#$ Week?
Welcome to Hell (of the North)!: What is it: Cobbles, baby! Twenty-seven sections and 52.6 kilometers of treacherous, uneven, spine-rattling, pile-up-inducing, damn near mocking blocks o' agony. And no, they're not as steep as Flanders, and no, they still ain't any more merciful. This ain't no pansy-!@# skip through a daisy-spangled meadow, honey, so enjoy--if you're not ridin' 'em! 
Why You Should Watch It: Pain. Suffering. Grit. Bike handling. Power. Save pure climbing, it epitomizes virtually everything that is magnificent about this sport into a single fateful day. If you win Roubaix, you know you're one of the best cyclists who ever lived. Hell, if you *finish* Roubaix, you know you're one of the best cyclists who ever lived. Hell, if you crash out and break a baker's dozen o' bones at Roubaix, you know you're one of the be...
Who to Watch For: yes, yes, a pissed-off, twice-crashed Cancellara, but also 2011 champ Vansummmeren, ever-dreamer pin-up Pippo Pozzato, and, well, almost anyone else in the race from Belgium. And maybe the race *will* be a giveaway, if no-one's willing to work together to defeat Fabian. But it's Paris-Roubaix, and anything can happen. Your bike could spontaneously splinter. Your legs could freeze up. Your collarbone could explode into a pile o' pulverized bone-bits. You could get face-wrapped by a wind-whipped Flemish flag. Or you could have the best day ever of your life on a bike, and *still* not win. Me, I'd love, love, love for the fabulous, luckless Sylvain "See? The French Don't All Suck!" Chavanel to get it (shut up, I know he's most likely to podium, shut up!). And I actually like that wily s.o.b. Flecha, too, though sure, Vacansoleil's ignoring the whole Op Puerto thing til after the finish line's pretty skeevy. Forza, forza Sylvain--heck, Boonen can't stomp it this year, so it might as well be you!
What the !@#$ Is Wrong With You Freaks?: first, a pointlessly ornamental podium babe gets grabbed by freshman wanker frat-boy Sagan. Now, the women's five-stage Energiewacht Tour gets screwed for an entire day by giant trucks riding the course, race-stopping boat and train passages, and crap directions to the !@#-end of nowhere. Jaysus, can things *get* any worse for women in this sport this week?--now up their pay, fix the problems, and treat 'em with some damn dignity whydontcha! Here, Kirsten Wild *still* manages to pluck a win:
Why You Should Watch It: Pain. Suffering. Grit. Bike handling. Power. Save pure climbing, it epitomizes virtually everything that is magnificent about this sport into a single fateful day. If you win Roubaix, you know you're one of the best cyclists who ever lived. Hell, if you *finish* Roubaix, you know you're one of the best cyclists who ever lived. Hell, if you crash out and break a baker's dozen o' bones at Roubaix, you know you're one of the be...
Who to Watch For: yes, yes, a pissed-off, twice-crashed Cancellara, but also 2011 champ Vansummmeren, ever-dreamer pin-up Pippo Pozzato, and, well, almost anyone else in the race from Belgium. And maybe the race *will* be a giveaway, if no-one's willing to work together to defeat Fabian. But it's Paris-Roubaix, and anything can happen. Your bike could spontaneously splinter. Your legs could freeze up. Your collarbone could explode into a pile o' pulverized bone-bits. You could get face-wrapped by a wind-whipped Flemish flag. Or you could have the best day ever of your life on a bike, and *still* not win. Me, I'd love, love, love for the fabulous, luckless Sylvain "See? The French Don't All Suck!" Chavanel to get it (shut up, I know he's most likely to podium, shut up!). And I actually like that wily s.o.b. Flecha, too, though sure, Vacansoleil's ignoring the whole Op Puerto thing til after the finish line's pretty skeevy. Forza, forza Sylvain--heck, Boonen can't stomp it this year, so it might as well be you!
What the !@#$ Is Wrong With You Freaks?: first, a pointlessly ornamental podium babe gets grabbed by freshman wanker frat-boy Sagan. Now, the women's five-stage Energiewacht Tour gets screwed for an entire day by giant trucks riding the course, race-stopping boat and train passages, and crap directions to the !@#-end of nowhere. Jaysus, can things *get* any worse for women in this sport this week?--now up their pay, fix the problems, and treat 'em with some damn dignity whydontcha! Here, Kirsten Wild *still* manages to pluck a win:
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Boonen Goes Bull!@#$! Sagan Eats Pie! Phinney Phreezes! And, Wiggo Wants Whup-!@#
Uh, Aren't the Belgians Supposed to *Like* This Slop?: well, that was one smashing start for African cycling, as big Maggy Backstedt calls it early for the brand-new MTN-Qhubeka's sprint-stud Gerald Ciolek, powering around nicely as Sagan over-marked Chavanel to lose the top spot, and Chavanel himself provided, for my money, by far the most aggressive and entertaining ride of the race. But of course, the big news of the day--because it sure wasn't the podium--was the near-blizzard conditions that forced the Italians to cut off the race's Turchio climb but still left the peloton, even after their team-bus lay-off warm-up, in a severe state of soaked, miserable, decimated, pissed-off Popsicle. An extremely ticked Tommeke, as he bailed out at the break: "I think my decision says enough.This is partly a precaution, but also a statement to the organization. They knew long enough that there was so much snow on the road. What happens now is the fault of the organization's own fault. Have you ever wanted to bicycle through the snow ridden? There are nicer things than this. I'm completely frozen." Other casualties: Vincenzo Nibali, Matthew Goss, and, well, pretty much everyone from Spain. Stickin' it out: Mark Cavendish for heck's sake, who simply tweeted "Fucking.Freezing." and *still* came in strong in the chase group. Right on Cav! Here, Taylor Phinney coated in ice, and a cheerful Sagan with his pie:
And, the last 3k:
There's Always Tomorrow/For Dreams To Come True: but wait, there's more--it's the fabulous Volta a Catalunya starting tomorrow, baby, and it's really all about the pre-Giro showdown between we love modest Canadian defending champ Ryder Hesjedal, Brad "I Hate Being Famous! Wait, Where's the Paparazzi Going?" Wiggins, and Tour rivals Rodriguez and Valverde. Also in: controversial returning Lance-yappin' Garmin ban-ees Van de Velde, Zabriskie, and Danielson. Me, I'm just gonna be smug as hell when dear Euskaltel finally grabs their first win of the season (go to hell! are too! it's been cold out!). And come on Cadel, you can do this--time to show some form already!
And, the last 3k: There's Always Tomorrow/For Dreams To Come True: but wait, there's more--it's the fabulous Volta a Catalunya starting tomorrow, baby, and it's really all about the pre-Giro showdown between we love modest Canadian defending champ Ryder Hesjedal, Brad "I Hate Being Famous! Wait, Where's the Paparazzi Going?" Wiggins, and Tour rivals Rodriguez and Valverde. Also in: controversial returning Lance-yappin' Garmin ban-ees Van de Velde, Zabriskie, and Danielson. Me, I'm just gonna be smug as hell when dear Euskaltel finally grabs their first win of the season (go to hell! are too! it's been cold out!). And come on Cadel, you can do this--time to show some form already!
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