My Fantasy Mikel Landa Press Conference

Good morning. As transfer season gets underway, I'd like to address the controversy over my relationship with Chris Froome and Team Sky once and for all.

First, I'd like to thank team management for their incredible support of me as a rider this year. There's nothing like getting B-grade backup at the Giro d'Italia & intentionally destroying my podium shot at the Tour to really improve one's morale. Hey, why allow the team's only chance at an actual *stage win* at no risk to the overall in Paris, just in case Froome needs me right there for his third consecutive bike change in a single climb? I'm also super grateful that since the Tour, they've rewarded my incredible effort and complete bodily exhaustion by working me like a donkey at every subsequent race on the calendar. Get it, a donkey?--kinda what Froome was just before he became a racehorse overnight, amirite?

Second, I want to say that while my legs were stronger than even Froome's mo--uh, motivation, I fully support the idea that the sole purpose for a domestique's existence is to be a selfless lieutenant for his captain, just like Froome was for Brad Wiggins back in his day. That idea, and not Chris hiding biting poisonous fire ants in my chamois as punishment for getting out of line, is why I was so glad to be deliberately chased down by my own teammates and made to schlep back and work for Froome instead. So when I said "I won't play second place to anyone next year," I meant "to anyone but Froomey." Love that guy!

Third, it's important to me that you all understand that I was *not* conspiring with Alberto Contador to bushwhack Froome when we broke away together. Not only does Alberto have too much class for that, we couldn't agree on how to knock that sonofa--how to knock that spectator's flag out of our way. Boy, are those things distracting when you're trying to hang back to help your team leader!

Finally, I'd like to address my plans for next year. Given my wonderful friendship with Froome and Dave Brailsford, I'm sure it's no surprise I'm giving serious consideration to--

[Froome busts in room with Geraint Thomas, shoves Landa off podium] YOU'RE *MINE*, B*ITCH, MINE TIL DECEMBER 31ST SO DON'T YOU FORGET IT YOU LITTLE PIECE OF !@#$! NOW GET BACK TO THE HOTEL AND GET READY TO RIDE FOR ME AT THE VUELTA, I DON'T GIVE A !@#$ HOW MANY GRAND TOURS YOU'VE RIDDEN THIS YEAR! I SAID MOVE IT! [swats over mic, stomps out of room]

My Fantasy Team Sky Press Conference

Dave Brailsford: Good morning. I've called you all here today to address the ongoing controversy surrounding Team Sky, namely, how the !@#$ did we ever think giving Richie Porte his own team bus was gonna help him win the (aide bends, whispers in ear)--oh right, that doping/Jiffy bag/motor !@#$.

First, I'd like to say--well, !@#$, at least we're not as bad as Discovery was under Armstrong, right? (aide bends, whispers in ear) We are? !@#dammit! Uh, second, I'd like to say that there is absolutely nothing suspicious about throwing a black bag over a team employee's head, dragging him into a windowless van with 6 to 8 jack-booted thugs in face-masks, blasting thumping Euro club dance music at top volume for 14 hours so he can't hear where he's going, then dumping him in a filthy London alley with an unmarked package with a note to deliver it an unused Victorian-era mailbox in Bull!@#$-on-Liarsville.

Owain Doull: I just wanna reiterate that we're all 110% behind Dave Brailsford. When Brian Cookson commandeers a tank and !@#$in' squashes him with it, ha ha!

Chris Froome: Uh, I think I met that guy once. Maybe.

Jess Varnish: You know, for months I've been testifying quite credibly regarding British cycling that-- (Brailsford interrupts angrily) Hey, lassie, didn't you see that "He-Man Woman-Haters Club" sign on the door?! We said, no girls allowed!

Dave Brailsford (continuing): Third, I'd like to comment on the entirely spurious allegations that Team Sky uses motors on its bicycles. A, that button Froome keeps pushes on his top tub is just a buzzer to ask his soigneur to kindly bring him a hanky to wipe off the urine that was just thrown on him and to fetch a refreshing gin & tonic. B, that's not a "motor", that's a pile of wires connected to a generator connected to a ring-tailed lemur we've hopped up on 50 ounces of cocaine then crammed in there with one of those hamster wheels to artificially increase the riders' speed going up the climbs. Plus, the blazing orange color showing up on UCI heat-detectors means it's really *cool* and *non-motory* in there, not *hot* from a *motor*.

Finally, I want to affirm Team Sky's unimpeachable commitment to clean sport, including the unrestricted use of tramadol, bogus TUEs, kenacort, cold medicine, malaria remedies, medicinal herbs, stimulants, downers, cough syrup, cortisone, menstrual-cramp tinctures, rhino tranquilizers, very strong tea and crumpets, liver-crushing quantities of wood alcohol, and, of course, giant boner pills. I told you it's all in the training and nutrition! We also use (aide drags him away from microphone, into hallway) gummy bears, like Sagan! And Easter candy! Marginaaal Gaaaaaaiiiiiinnnnssss!

The Sun Is a Mass/ Of Incandescent Gas/ A Gigantic Nuclear Fur-nace! #UCIDoha2016

And You're Riding In It, Sucker: yes, in the presence of truly record-breaking crowds--in the sense that "zero" is a "record", albeit a !@#$ty one--the planet's greatest cyclists have officially convened in the sweltering deserts of Doha to barf, pant, collapse, careen, and faint their way to World Championship glory, and, if there's one thing we know as the men's and women's elite road race is upon us, it's that the UCI's venal, profit-groveling, rider-endangering, cycling-screwing moronity clearly knows no bounds whatsoever beyond a fat, marinating pile of sun-scorched sweat-drenched euros, leading desperate riders to institute measures like "extreme sauna protocol" to accustom themselves to the heat, which apparently involves being locked in a small cedar closet with a steaming pile of hot rocks until you personally physically shrivel into (1) a desiccated, permanently preserved wraith-corpse, or (2), even worse, Chris Froome or 2007 Tour de France-era Michael Rasmussen. Glad no-one's actually *croaked* from the heat yet, you reckless !@#$ing sickos! Jaysus, why not !@#$ing hold the road race championships on a molten !@#$ing lava flow the next time Vesuvius blows and bacon-crisps an entire !@#$ing country, whydontcha?

Corollary Mystery o' Science: whether, as the winner ascends the podium to collect his or prize, s/he will--because as we all learned in school, if our inferior US educations were even correct, heat rises--spontaneously combust into a sad, skinny little pile of ash as the gold medal, with nowhere left to hang, collapses onto it ignominiously and instantly superheats into a gas, disappearing into the netherworld. Isn't science *fun*, kids?

The Postman Always Rings Twice--uh, NEVER EVER LOOKS IN THE !@##$IN' PACKAGE, ALRIGHT?: meantime, as British Cycling begins to cannibalize itself faster'n a Westward-bound pack o' manifest-destiny-seeking wagon-rollin' desperadoes, the latest guy to jump ship is the hapless Team Sky "mystery package" courier who, it seems, "didn't know" what was in the pile of sleazy, rules-evading dru--uh, do--uh, stuff he was delivering, despite the words "FRAGILE--PEDs" stamped all over the box in 200-point type, a frantic call from an unidentified staff person demanding to know its whereabouts, and, upon its arrival, an estimated 56 cyclists running up to the courier, bull!@#$ TUEs in hand, jersey sleeves rolled up, and their upper arms already freshly prepped with alcohol wipes. Yeah, it was a box of cutting-edge, specially aerodynamic band-aids, you doofus--*dang*, ignorance is bliss!

NEWS FLASH!: finally, I bring to you this exclusive breaking news from Doha: we're just now receiving reports that, due to extreme heat-induced dehydration, Tom Dumoulin has literally shrunk into Esteban Chaves. So much for that "breakthrough 2017 *Dutch* Grand Tour win", I guess!

Pre-Tour Head Games! Hour Record Controversies! Doping Wisdom! #cycling

The Intimidation Begins: yep, Tinkoff-Saxo's struck the first big psychological blow of Tour de France 2015: they've unleashed their special Tour team kit, a blue-and-yellow tie-dyeish camo design that virtually declares war on Alberto Contador's pathetic rivals. Not to be outdone, defending champ Vincenzo Nibali's Astana squad has reportedly released its own team kit design, a simple white jersey with "!@#$ YOU TINKOV!" emblazoned across the front in giant red letters. As for Movistar, Alejandro Valverde has allegedly secretly paid millions of euros to an elite military contractor to develop a cloak of invisibility to allow him to bushwhack titular team leader Nairo Quintana without warning. When asked for his comments, Team Sky boss Dave Brailsford dismissed the entire brouhaha, opining, "Nothing can beat our sexy see-thru mesh skinsuits. Except maybe those guys in the neon mankini banana-hammocks who always run alongside the riders on Alpe d'Huez...Hey, Arvesen, get our kit manufacturer on the line!"

Hour of Power: in track news, Sir Brad Wiggins' blazin' immolation of the fabled Hour Record is now totally overwhelmed by two far more important issues: (1) fer God's sake, you *don't* wear long black socks with navy kit; and (2) banned-for-a-decade doping-conspiracy team leader Johan Bruyneel and former UCI prez Pat "Dick" McQuaid were observed at the event having a disturbingly friendly laugh together. !@#$, like no-one thought that they were doing that for the better part of Lance Armstrong's reign anyway? Oh, right, and in inconsequential news, Brad's bike was illegal so his entire hour record was meaningless and Alex Dowsett's gonna come back and beat the crap outta Wiggo's new record anyway. Yeah, but with all this drama, who's gonna be left to watch the attempt itself?

UCI Can't Believe This Is Happening Again: meanwhile, I see two Pro Continental riders have tested "non-negative" for human growth hormone and EPO respectively, which, in addition to the recent scourge of amateur doping in the sport, the uselessness of the biological passport, *and* the fact that hardly any WorldTour riders have tested poz since, well, Contador (sorry, fans!), clearly proves an inverse relationship between doping and success, in that only riders who already suck by comparison to their WorldTour compatriots are dopers, and all of the very top riders in the sport are clean. Cause and effect, honey--whew, I feel so much better about those WorldTour squads now!

Lookin' Good for Tejay!: finally, as the Tour de France GC contenders (minus Alberto and Nairo, of course) face off in the Dauphine, the more interesting question seems to be how much the team time trial is gonna hurt 'em in the quest for the final maillot jaune, because it was a loooong 34 seconds over 24.5k between Dauphine time trial champs BMC and, unfortunately, Chris Froome's Team Sky. Well, everyone gets one bad day--I don't doubt that here or in the Tour, Froomey'll be able to inflict some serious damage on at least a few of his rivals in the mountains!

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!

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

Yes, the beauty, misery, glory, and serious skankdom of 2012 is past, and a brand spankin' New Year is about to begin! So, in the spirit of self-improvement with which we all begin the year, I helpfully offer these New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton:

Mark Cavendish: I am gonna beat that upstart little snot Peter Sagan *down.* *I'm* supposed to be the upstart little snot!

Tom Boonen: holy crap, I *can* win without partying. Honey--I'm running off to become a monk!

Pat "Dick" McQuaid: I'm gonna resign from UCI. *After* I nail every last mother!@#$er who's criticized me.

Brad Wiggins: I resolve to back Froomey at the Tour de France. *Without* fruitlessly knocking myself out at the Giro.

Chris Froome: I'm gonna man up and say it: I think I was better than Wiggo, I think I deserved it more'n Wiggo, and it completely pissed me off to have to bow to Wiggo. Happy New Year, Brad--this year, you're *my* beeyotch!

Alberto Contador: I resolve not to test positive. Not that I have any reason to. Aw, !@#$in' dope-snorting vegetables!

Joaquim Rodriguez: I resolve to sign with Movistar. Try beating me for the podium *now*, Valverde you punk!

Andy Schleck: I'll learn to ride without Frank. Because I'm sure as hell scr$wed if I don't!

The Tifosi: We resolve not to go for a stroll, set up a nice lunch, or let our dog go for a walk just as the peloton is going by at 50 kph. Bonus points if we don't let our clueless little rugrat hold a plastic bag right out next to your handlebars!

Marianne Vos: I resolve to take a few days off during the season, just to give someone else a chance. Considering the wins I've racked up already, they'll barely even be noticed!

Jens Voigt: I will ride in the ProTour through at least 2036. And probably like 100 years after I'm dead. Can I go yet? Can I go yet? Can I go yet?

Alexandre Vinokourov: Resolve? I resolve NOTHING! YOU will resolve to obey ME, you weakling worthless maggot!

Johan Bruyneel: I resolve to apologize. From my uncharted desert island, by untraceable message in a bottle, after I've cleaned out my extensive Swiss bank accounts. Suckers!

USADA: The next bull!@#$ artist who swears they stopped doping "in 2006", we're gonna ban for *life.* *And* thwap 'em upside the head with a copy of the Reasoned Decision. Dang, that's gonna hurt!

Team Sky: After we lose our first 637 races this season, we'll resolve to let ex-dopers who really, really feel bad about it be coaches again. Bobby, you got a new gig yet? We were just kidding, we promise!

Now get to self-improvin', I'll try to catch anyone I missed, and I'll see you when you fall off the wagon!

Sky And Omerta, Sitting In a Tree/K-I-S-S-I-N-G; And, Don't !@#$ With Boonen, Cav!

I Heart Bull!@#$: so Team Sky, which only just recently let its own scumlordly doping-associated doc go because, apparently, they never heard of some obscure outfit called "Rabobank" before he was hired, has now nobly ordered all their current riders'n'staff to sign a pledge swearing they are not now--nor have they ever been--involved with doping, leading to the obvious question: are they (1) that dead set on staffing their whole squad with two freakin' 5-year-olds next year or (2) really telling everyone to completely lie out your !@# about your entire career or you're fired? Of *course* they're gonna !@#$in' lie, you enablers--if you're giving 'em a choice between a meaningless signature about their past practices elsewhere, much less while they've been with you clowns, and their ENTIRE LIVELIHOOD, yes you *are* encouraging the omerta that's wrecked the sport! So much for the teams driving the cleanup of cycling. Oh, well, at least this means Sky has to fire that irritating David Millar I guess...

Cavendish Finds a New Home: speaking of Sky, and now that Lefevere's freed up some serious cash by kicking Levi Leipheimer to the curb, Mark Cavendish has a fine new home at Quick Step, meaning (1) Tom Boonen is gonna remain the squad's Classics god and (2) Mark, you *better* not think o' suckin' away all Tommeke's resources for your own insatiable need for leadouts, you high-maintenance whippersnapper! Oh, come on, like you don't think they'll *ever* want the same race, just once? And jeez, forget the tension everyone swears won't even a tiny weeny bit even exist--how can one team *handle* so much man-candian babeliciousness?

Well I'm Sorry/I Can't Afford a Ferrari/But That Don't Mean I Can't Get You There: and, looks like the peloton's gonna have to go elsewhere for needle-borne "training advice", now that even the Italians are so pissed off at Michele Ferrari they're busting him a new one, which means, if we're all lucky, Ferrari's gonna react like a cornered rabid wolverine rip everyone's face off and take the whole damn group down with 'im. Uh, anyone else besides, y'know, the entire Lampre squad want to 'fess up before the horrorfest begins? And Menchov--I saw your name you sneak--give Heras back his Vuelta dammit, it's not like he made enough dough to do it any better'n you!

Sure, I Can Bull!@#$ A Lie Detector Test; and, No-One Cares if I Did It Anyway!

Lance Just Keeps Getting Classier: yes, as official confirmation of what pretty well everyone except dear Phil Liggett already thought for years continues to sink in to the pure and innocent peloton--the two USPostalDiscovery riders who weren't deemed important enough to be Lance's beeyotch anyway--Lance's defense keeps gettin' more weird and skeezy, with his attack-team now saying (1) Lance'd probably be perfectly willing to take a lie detector test, since if yer garden-variety in-bred criminal sociopath can pass one due to lack of a recognizable moral compass, the far superior Lance could totally do it even better, and (2) nobody in hero-worship-central--y'know, AMERICA, which hates cancer and commies unlike those effete spandex-wearin' wussies over in Europe--even cares that he *did* dope, anyway. Ha-ha! Yep, it just proves that we here in AMERICA do it better'n everybody else--again! It ain't *our* fault those mo-rons in Franceland or Spainville or whatever can't do nothin' right--now pass me some Bud, gimme them nachos, and turn the TV on to a *real* sport, like FOOTBALL!

Your "No !@#$, Sherlock!" Comment o' the Week: and, many thanks to former WADA prez Dick "Dick" Pound for his sage observation that UCI *must've* known something was going on with Lance and Postal for years on end, mainly because, y'know, it's funny how Postal riders in particular were left alone for 18 hours before and after they won a race before they were escorted to doping controls, or, uh, nobody questioned the pack mules carrying large boxes labeled "EPO" to the team bus in the Alps, or, well, it *was* maybe a little odd that "room service" was dressed in lab coats every time they delivered IV bottles full of "champagne" and "condiments" contained in little syringes that apparently got injected into the "hamburgers" with long sharp needles. Jeez, no *wonder* the poor bastids who had some narc lookin' over their shoulder every time they had to get up to pee in the middle o' night their whole careers are so outraged! Man, next thing you'll be saying the anti-doping agencies found nothin' weird about all those bags of medical waste being found in team musettes in the hotel dumpster after every Tour stage...

Oh, Right, We Watch This For the *Racing*: last but not least, many compliments after a hugely crap week for the sport to we love Joaquim Rodriguez, Chris Froome's--uh, Brad Wiggins'--Team Sky, and the fabulous nation of Spain for their officially-awarded (if previously-actually-known) UCI WorldTour wins. Am I the only one just slightly, slightly, slightly rooting for Astana to kick everyone's !@#es next season? Oh, yeah, forza Vinokourov--even if you aren't pulling all that crazy !@#$ on the actual bike any more!

It's the End of an Era, Baby!

Finally!: yep, Lance has really, truly announced his last-ever retirement to focus on his family, his unimpeachably noble anti-cancer work, and desperately evading the vulturous narcs, and while all-American CNN's fan commentary, particularly in response to accurate reminders that yes Lance *has* tested positive no matter what he says, runs along the lines of "DON'T YOU DARE CRITICIZE ARMSTRONG THE HERO YOU !@#DAMN TRAITOR!", my winner for Best Line in an Associated Press Story goes to "He doled out favors, like stage wins..." What?! As I recall, he only doled out *one* stage win in *seven* straight years of making the superstars-at-any-other-squad of US PostalDiscovery his total subservient automaton beeyotches--to the only one who never did betray him with conflicting personal ambitions, the great (and could've been even greater) George Hincapie. Let's not rewrite history like Captain Magnanimous gave a !@#$ about anyone else's wins but his own--dang, even that drug-stoked freak Vinokourov, who'd attack his own grandma on Mont Ventoux if he thought it'd score him a win, never begrudged his boys their own glory! Anyway, here's a tribute to Lance: Oops, it's basically a video about Lance being a sore loser to Contador...oh well, best wishes to a true Tour champion anyhow!

Every Action Causes An Equal and Opposite Reaction: meantime, as Contador proclaims his happiness, relief, and yes, vegetarianism, the rest o' the cycling world's reactions are pouring in, with the Italians predictably enraged that the Spanish dopers are getting off, *again*, when their own cheats always get nailed(and they ain't gonna enjoy that it looks like marvel-o'-the-Vuelta Ezequiel Mosquera's going to get off, too), the Tour de France staying noncommittal on Alberto's return, and Tour 2nd or 1st place winner Andy Schleck, who first defended then slagged Contador, keeping, so far as I can tell, completely mum. But watch out, Alberto, bagging meat may not be enough: looks like some of those dirty fruits'n'vegetables have been on steroids, too!:

Sky's the Limit: over in morally-superior cleanster news, Team Sky's still trying to control the damage from recent admissions by squad leadership that, due to the lack of untainted talent in the recently-graduated peloton ranks, they just can't help but staff up with dopers to supervise their innocent riders. Well, if you want clean, Lance is now available! Oh, wait...

Gilbert On a Tear: finally, watch out chumps at pretty much every race all season on the planet, 'cause the season's barely started and the fearsome Philippe Gilbert is already on the attack at the Volta ao Algarve. Look for Gilbert to take off around 5:15 in to the vid: You go Philippe!

R.I. P. Txema Gonzalez, Team Sky Soigneur

Sad News: Team Sky has unexpectedly lost soigneur Txema Gonzales, who was working at the Vuelta, to a bacterial infection. No, I didn't know his name, and neither did you I would wager, most likely because he did his job exactly as it was supposed to be done. For those of us unfamiliar with the crucial, unheralded, and sometimes downright unpalatable job these folks perform, here's a typical day in the life, and an interview with Saxo Bank's Philippe Jamin. Without them, pro cycling as we know it today simply couldn't exist.

Condolences to family, friends, and the whole Team Sky family.