Woot Woot Samu!: okay, The Squad Whose Team Kit Shall Not Be Showcased is officially out of the doghouse--as dear tweeps leapt to inform me, BMC's come back to their once-addled senses and re-signed we love Samuel Sanchez for another season. I hope you made them pay for their waffling Samu! Anyway, our ex-Euskaltel Holy Crap He's Still An Olympic Gold Medalist And Did You See That Tour de France King of the Mountains Jersey climber will be back at the Grand Tours where he belongs, and for my money, a guy who can bag a top-ten result when he's theoretically there just to mentor the whippersnappers is a bitchin' grab indeed. Woot woot--now help Cadel get one last stage win and be nice to Philippe Gilbert and you are *really* gonna redeem yourselves, BMC!
The Bone Collector: in the suckier side of pro cycling, the early-season body count's already piling up at the Tour Down Under after a crash near the line yesterday, with sternums, ribs, hands and wrists fractured, considerable road rash incurred, and, for Kenny Dehaes, a nasty mangling finger-catch in his own wheel taking him outta the race. !@#$, first some clown sucker-punches 'im last year, now this misfortune--can't the finish-line gods cut this poor boy some slack already? Get better soon everybody--and remember, the season's just beginning, so I'm sure you'll be back in one piece in plenty of time to enjoy the rest of it!
Landis on LeMond: meanwhile, disgraced ex-Tour winner Floyd Landis has laid into Greg LeMond for supporting Lance's lifetime ban while also palling around with doping-era suspect miscreants like Hinault and Indurain, and, in the early preemptive win for the 2015 Racejunkie Awards Quote o' the Year, blamed such favoritism and hypocrisy (along with, y'know, such fine team doctors as Rabobank's, and briefly Sky's, Geert Leinders) for legit sponsors fleeing the sport so that now it's being bankrolled "primarily by bored wealthy men who need a reason to give their wives about why they spend so much time with young leg-shaving men in tight pants." Really, it wasn't headlines like "PHONAK SPONSORS GIANT DOPE FIENDS" or "DISCOVERY--OUR GUYS HEART PEDs" that did it? Geez, Landis, you already had to keep outta France so they wouldn't prosecute your !@#, now you gotta stay a half-step ahead of easily irritated bored wealthy men like Tinkov talking smack like that too? Yep, takes a brave man to speak out--but it might explain a *little* bit why more discreet gents like, say, Van de Velde are still gettin' some love from the sport!
Yep, Still Rocks: sure, part of the reason we love legendary sprint god Robbie "the Pocket Rocket" McEwen is his pronounced tendency to actually physically rip the face of any unfortunate s.o.b. who !@#$ed with him, but we will take him being back as a commentator instead since we have to, and to all you Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen haters ticked over some minor detail like being a complete perpetual Lance Armstrong apologist and occasionally lately misnaming a rider who surely wasn't really so important anyway, stuff it, 'cause with the dulcet tones of Phil and Paul and Robbie to shout out the Aussies for the Tour Down Under's preview race, the 2015 road season is officially underway! First blood: Marcel Kittel, over Juan Jose "Can You Believe a Sprinter Who Can Come In Second to Kittel Got His Start at Freakin' Euskaltel?!" Lobato, though I note that chief smackdown rival Cav is *not* on hand, so Cavendish loyalists, not to worry just yet! On the women's side: Melissa Hoskins takes the day while Italian teammate Scandolara holds the GC. Forza ragazza--but watch out, Bronzini was already fifth in the sprint!
Boonen's Year Starts Off Right: and, congratulations to casa Boonen, as he and his companion Lore are now proud parents of wee twins Jacqueline and Valentine. Aside from, y'know, the life-changing experience of being a parent and all, what a great psychological boost to the start of the year for Tommeke--if his body doesn't now collapse from the impending total lack of sleep!
Gratuitous Fabian Cancellara FanBoy (and Girl) Swoonfest: meantime, as the heat-loving hardmen get ready for action in Australia, Trek stud-pup Fabian Cancellara, fresh off deciding to bail on his hour record attempt, is training in balmy Mallorca with Frank Schleck and co. Look--sheep--yeah, I figure none of you'd've noticed the background!
All right, on to the Tour Down Under--yeah, yeah, I get that Richie Porte's supposed to win the thing, but here's rooting one last time for retiring former Tour de France champ/ex World Road Champ/general gritty bad-!@# Cadel!
The Diss of Being Nibali: finally, yet another Tour de France GC contender, Nairo Quintana, has weighed in who he expects to be his biggest rival in July--yep, last year's crash-out Alberto Contador. Y'know, it's about the umpteenth interview with these guys, and not *one* of 'em's picked Nibali as the number-one dude to fear. If you were Nibali, wouldn't *you* be getting awfully pissed off by now?
Like a School-room In Summertime--No Class: well, I wasn't planning on an awards show for the Tour de San Luis, but I guess at least one is due for Thugs o' the Race--after one of their boys already sucker-punched the harmless Kenny Dehaes during a sprint, now Team Buenos Aires Provincia's whacked (purely idiotically, but still) poor Tyler Farrar with their team car, leaving Tyler, already screwed for the whole season out of a lead-out by Garmin's new focus on GC, with a pile o' abrasions and some bruised or possibly even busted ribs. Jaysus, guys, you're supposed to win by *out-riding* the competition, not *eliminating* it! What's next, sneakin' in while the mechanics are asleep and slashing the tires? Better not give 'em any ideas, I guess...
San Luis Luis/Whoah-Oh/We Gotta Go!: meantime, as Nairo beats everyone else up the mountain by approximately 6 days 4 hours and 37 minutes, then puts in a bangin' time trial and locks up the GC, our baby superstar is also feeling just a bit beseiged by everyone fighting over whether he's gonna race the Giro or the Tour, which, aside from the relative merits of the arguments and the distinctly unnecessary psychological pressure it must be putting on the boy, at least has the minor benefit of surely driving Grand-Tour-lusting teammate Alejandro Valverde absolutely insane. So leave little Nairo alone everyone--do you *want* him to crack like a walnut before he even decides which leader's jersey he's gonna target? Here, he wraps up the whole show on stage 4:
A Man Down Under: and, despite a very encouraging performance by the Giro-targeting Cadel Evans, congrats to Orica-Greenedge's unbeatable Simon Gerrans for winning his third Tour Down Under, which will henceforth, according to a press release from the riders' association, be known as the "Screw Riding Around In All This Heat For Nothin' Guys, Let's All Go Get a Cold Beer While Simon Takes It Anyway Tour." Way to go Simon--next stop, whoever bothers to race against you at the Sun Tour!
If You Have an Erection Lasting Longer Than Four Hours, Tell Your Team Doctor He !@#$ed You Up: so, thought you'd mercifully heard the last of serial eejit/banned for life ex-cyclist Danilo DiLuca? Nope, he's back honey, and--with the exception of having enough politesse, or at least self-preservation, not to name names--ready to squawk about doping in the peloton. First up: 90% of the peloton is doping, as are all the top 10 finishers in the Giro d'Italia, so quit pickin' on him you meanies! Second, as an EPO aficionado--and an inept one at that--he's completely calling bull!@#$ on the idea that you can ingest that stuff unintentionally, particularly (and he does make sense here) if the best way to take it is to stick a needle in your !@#. As for other designer drugs? Well, Viagra, as a vasodilator, is apparently useful when it's cold out, but *he* sure as hell wouldn't take it--I mean, the guy has standards! Uh, am I the only one feeling exceedingly sorry for the poor bastard asked to check for evidence of Viagra ingestion at the post-race doping control? I swear, they can't pay those guys enough...
And We're Off!: Before we get to actual results, let's all howl at the top of our lungs how a peloton without our dear orange-and-black Euskaltel completely sucks eggs, shall we? There! But still, the season's finally kicked off, and while Saxo boss Oleg Tinkov can pity impoverished Garmin impresario Jonathan Vaughters all he wants, he sure oughta envy his results: approximately ten minutes into the season, Vaughters protege Phil Gaimon has already bagged his first win with the big boys in the Tour de San Luis. Well done, whippersnapper! And has anyone yet explained how Simon Gerrans--brilliant a rider as he is--actually kicked Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel to the curb in a sprint at the Tour Down Under? Here, the San Luis recap, with a great beat to boot: Welcome back peloton--it's been a loooooooong off-season!
Carnage Report!: sadly, with the start of the season comes also the start of the destruction, with poor Tommy "the Grimace" Voeckler crashed out before he even leaves team camp with a crap re-break of his just-healed collarbone, philosophical Movistar good-guy Giovanni Visconti mourning the lonely 5-week road back from a snapped tibia, and both valued Cav lead-out Ale-jet Petacchi and inevitable-future-Tour-winner Nairo Quintana both whacked with stomach ailments at San Luis. Hey, I thought you only got a "stomach ailment" when you were about to test poz for something! Well, better to hear it's just some lousy bug, if it has to be anything, I guess...anyway, get well soon boys, and Alessandro, with Cav's beloved Renshaw back in his train, you sure don't want him getting too used to your absence!
1. Andre Greipel: it ain't just "!@#$ races" anymore.
2. Stuey O'Grady: forget his riding, or his awesomely going all Terminator on his chauffeur--it's the masterful way he reminded everyone how Robbie McEwen once head-butted him in a sprint while praising him as a new teammate and best bud. Give that boy a prize!
3. Breakaway artist Will Clarke: So wiped out by his first ProTour win he couldn't even lift his arm to pimp his sponsor's logo at the line. Here's hoping it's the first of many!
4. Versus (oh wait, now it's NBC Sports) coverage: Thanks. Really. But !@#$, was I the only one completely discombobulated by the truncated coverage and total lack of buildup of suspense? Give Phil and Paul some !@#damn airtime!
5. Jens Voigt: The man could run around stealing candy from babies, stomping on daffodils, and slashing all the tires in the peloton, and he'd *still* be a god. Jens, please--do ride for one more year!
6. Alessandro Petacchi: that was one punk-!@# ricochet across the field there. Salbutamol affecting your balance lately, or what?
7. GreenEdge: maybe if Cadel went there, Thor Hushovd wouldn't be totally screwed at BMC. Irrelevant to the Tour Down Under? Sure, but who cares--free Thor!
8. UCI: Ya can't just say "hold it" for 6 hours. Logistics, people!
9. Simon Gerrans: waaaaaaaaaaay classier to Valverde than he had to be. Alejandro Valverde: waaaaaaaaaaaay smart not to draw more attention to himself with an overall win. Good work Movistar!
10. Mark Cavendish: no, he didn't ride, but man, fatherhood has made him *soft*. Complimenting Greipel on a job well done? What the hell is happening to you, Cav?
Well folks, them's mine--onto Rasmussen's eternal quest to get back his 2007 Tour from that rotten little thief Contador!
"I Just Don't Believe It": yes, after several days of thrilling sprints, heroic breakaways, we love Oscar Freire's smashing face-whack to the ungrateful Rabobank, and some serious argy-bargy, notoriously unapologetic Op Puerto dirt-weasel/Spanish national hero Alejandro Valverde is back in rippin' form at the Santos Tour Down Under after his two-year, um, vacation, and, as even Alejandro verbalizes the same astonishment some of his compatriots must surely be feeling at his near-immediate win, Danny Pate is voicing his disgust on behalf of the peloton, tweeting "if this is the "new age" of cycling your name & superstar shouldn't be used in the same sentence when u r just back from a doping violation." Hey, David Millar's actually been back for quite a while, hasn't he, why pile on him all of a sudden? Anyhoo, here's the nail-bitin' return from exile:
Jens Gets Busted: no, not for that, you horrid monstrous slanderous heathen evil freaks--for, well, being rather in a state of in flagrante near the spectators, because sometimes, when nature calls, one just can't put it on hold. And hey, I get it--the thrilling sight o' Bobby Julich walking not an inch by me at the Giro into an orchard and the dawning understanding o'why was once just a bit too much for my delicate ladylike sensibilities to take. But !@#$, UCI, if you're gonna barbecue these poor bastards in 800 degree heat so they have to suck in a freakin' lake every ten minutes or vaporize into ash, ya can't (1) put up a few discreet roadside curtains or (2)cut 'em a little darn slack? Pat "Dick" McQuaid, get out yer wallet, you cheap bitter jerk, and hand Jens back his dough!
Look Who Else Is Back!: finally, Pat better get out the popcorn while he's at it, as thanks to CAS's relentlessly careful consideration of its verdict, his fave little elf Alberto Contador is ready to hit the tarmac at the Tour de San Luis. Enjoy it while it lasts, Alberto--then again, that might be til 2035 at the rate this shindig's going!
No, Not Armstrong at his Press Conference, the Tour Down Under: yep, it's our first big crashes of the season, as the sprinters hit the deck in two big balls o' spandex, titanium, helmets, and egos, wily Ben Swift gets the stage 2 win, general god Robbie McEwen snags the overall lead, and a tougher'n nails Cav stoutly sticks it out with a blood'n'guts head to finish the stage. Damn, guys, can't you just go back to safely punching each other into the barriers like you usually do? Here's how it unfolds--and feel better Cav!
Yer Doping Excuse o' the Week: and, I see the usually preternaturally-calm Lance Armstrong has gotten noticeably pissed over the Sports Illustrated doping allegations, including the claim that Italian authorities found texts and emails at Yaroslav Popovych's pad linking RadioSkank to notorious Dr. Michele "Ferrari? Oh, you'll race like a Ferrari all right!" Ferrari as recently as 2009. Leaving aside the fact that poor slavish acolyte Popo has had to run screaming for his life from Lance, more problematic, it seems to me, is the latest Ferrari link, which collusion Armstrong has in the past of course excused as being totally unrelated to anything more illicit than simple verbal training tips. Um, am I the only thinkin' this sounds an awful lot like, say, Valverde and Basso claiming they only saw Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes because "I just didn't feel...you know...fresh?" Next week: Alberto Contador announces "it wasn't the steak, it was that crack-whore, clenbuterol-snorting side dish that did it." !@#$in' carrots!
Aussie Aussie Aussie Oy Oy Oy!: yes, cycling fans, after a long winter's layoff of rest, relaxation, and ludicrous doping appeals, it's the moment we've all been waiting for: we're back in business at the fabulous Tour Down Under! Sure, Armstrong's gonna hog all the press coverage for no reason, but for my money, what really matters is, who's taking the big game in the battle between Mark "the Jaw" Cavendish and BFF Andre "!@#$-Race" Greipel? Me, I'm sad to say the winner's clear, though Greipel can always hope that Cav'll get himself relegated by some spectacularly unnecessary act of wankerness and then still mock him for weeks for not even deserving the win. Oh, Cav, so young, so raw--where's the vicious finesse of a Robbie "Head-Butt" McEwen when this sport needs it?
Signed, Sealed, Delivered--I'm Hosed!: well, Contador, good luck with that appeal to CAS, 'cause the righteous protectors of due process over at UCI have already overruled any Spanish attempts to free your doe-eyed cow-doping carcass by declaring you the inevitable winner of a two-year ban. Way to keep the illusion of justice going, UCI! Y'know, if he *didn't* dope, you guys are just pathetic political frauds too cowardly to protect your once-beloved Next Lance Armstrong from an unfair result while you desperately look for another scandal-free pretty-boy to cover you with second-hand glory. And if he *did* dope, you've once again lost all your credibility from the one time you *didn't* act like rider-snuggling sycophants by tainting what should be a just proceeding with your venality. Can't you guys go back to doing something really dignified, like gutting the careers of hard-working third-tier unknowns for taking an illicit Advil for strained groin muscles?
You Suck, Tour de France!: all right, so Tour organizers ASO are indicating that Team Geox--home of 2008 Tour de France winner we love Carlos Sastre, and, much as it galls me to say it, that also-deserving Vuelta-thieving stealth-ferret Tour podium-finisher Denis Menchov--isn't gonna get an invite to the Tour de France this year, not because of anything having to do with Geox's stellar pedigree, or Sastre and Menchov's obvious qualifications to ride the race, but because, basically, French teams, despite some individually noble work by a coupla natives in recent years, blow, and it'd hurt their effete pate-slurping feelings and make the French look lame by not inviting them. What?! This is the Tour de France, not some pansy-!@# Barney the Dinosaur feel-good self-esteem exercise for uncoordinated helicopter-parented toddlers !@#dammit! If you want French teams to get a spot at their own damn Tour, then suck it up, let the French guys who aren't biting teach the squads some lessons, and make 'em earn their place like a big-boy squad. Free dear little Carlos you selfish goons!
You Suck, Schlecks!: meantime, bad enough that I actually like the Schlecks, and frankly would forgive them damn near anything short of puppy-kicking because Jens Voigt deigned to go with 'em, but now they've earned my undying enmity by smack-talking about Carlos Sastre and essentially calling him a complete troll. Wah, wah, he expected you to work for 'im--why didn't you guys settle it on the road if you could have taken him out and bagged the 2008 Tour so easily? Needless to say, I am exceedingly irked that now I have to actually root for Menchov to come up behind you clowns like a Predator drone and take out your Tour-win dreams in a blaze of sizzling sauteed unimaginative-team-kit spandex. Look, Andy--remember that you haven't actually done this yet?
Nut-Kneeing Heartbreak o' the Week: finally, this win's for LL Cool Sanchez, who's already denying to the Spanish press that he had recent, hot'n'heavy contacts with infamous Operacion Puerto and Op Galgo perp Dr. Eufemanio "Gyno to the Male Stars", and indeed never knew the man at all, which, given that if I'm not on crack I seem to recall him and a passel of fellow Liberty Seguros cribmates cheerfully receiving mystery skin patches from close Fuentes pal Manolo Saiz, seems both blindingly stupid and breathtakingly implausible. Fine, so Contatwerp goes down for Clenbuterol--you *have* to go down for a mere dipwad lack of discretion in doping providers? Aiiiggghhhh!
Enjoy it while it lasts, Alberto--then again, that might be til 2035 at the rate this shindig's going!
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