It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2021 Tour de France racejunkie Awards!

 All right, cycling fans: the Champagne's been quaffed, the adorable moppets have been lofted in their dads' arms on the podium, and the lively debate over whether this year's Tour sucked or rocked has devolved from semi-polite Twitter debate into mild fisticuffs and now into cars on fire, Molotov cocktails, and people sticking blazing flares up their butts.  Oh wait, that's *soccer* fans!  Anyway, for those of you still in deep doldrums from your post-Tour hangover, and the absolute decimation of your fantasy team due to that monstrous all-peloton crash the first week, it's time to reflect and celebrate the good, the bad, and god knows, the ugly with your annual Incredibly Prestigious 2021 Tour de France racejunkie Awards!  Prizes--I swear on Andre Greipel's diplomacy towards Mark Cavendish over that snitty 2013 "shit race" comment I'm still pissed off about--(1) a passel o' handsome racejunkie stickers to deface yer rivals' team bus, teammates, or face; (2) a custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap so you need never get on a podium with a disgraceful baseball cap again; (3) a genuine promotional sportsy statue with yer name and awarded written nicely upon it in impermeable Sharpie if I can't afford the engraving; and (4) best of all, eternal glory, or shame, because the internet never forgets, baby!  So bust out yer berets, hang on tight, and let's get on with the show!

Fan !@#$wit Award: y'know, normally, that eejit who let a renegade umbrella rip right in front of the wheel of the maillot jaune on a sketchy, rainy descent--which, thankfully, the rider was able to dodge--would win this no problem.  But this year, of course, none can be the recipient but the insanely reckless, stupid, and attention-whoring lady in yellow with the ALLEZ OPI-OMI sign that, either that day or in the days thereafter, sent about 20% of the peloton home with gruesome injuries and foreordained the final GC almost right from the get-go. FFS, people--*how* many times can I run that !@#dammed etiquette post from like 2006 before you *listen*?!

Hissy Fit o' the Race: usually, you can count on some sprinter who lost entirely fair and square to unjustly attack the winner, or a little inadvertent argy-bargy to result in a full-on slap-fight and truly vicious post-race-interview slagging. But this year, our peloton was impressively well-behaved.  So, even though it's not quite *in* the race, I'll give it this to Green Jersey champ/Merckx's Impossible Record-Tie-r Mark Cavendish, notoriously dropping the humble-pie bull!@#$ he seemed to have developed just for the Tour and going back to his career-long pissy prima-donna self by going absolutely off on his unlucky mechanic for some minor offense.  I mean, sorry for the mechanic and all (and to his credit, Mark did promptly issue a lengthy apology)--but damn, I was starting to worry our Cav had been replaced by a pod-person there for a minute!

Superdomestique Prize: sure, he's by kilometers (literally!) the best lead out man in the business, and he even had to sit up and brake *twice* to let his charge come around him and actually take the win. So Quick Step's Michael Morkov, this is *almost* for you.  But even better than Morkov's fine work, tragically, was the truly superlative job done collectively by Team Ineos.  Trouble was, it was for deadly rival and final maillot jaune in Paris, UAE's Tadej Pogacar, not their own !@#$ed-up four, then, three, then two, then one-headed hydra.  You're supposed to riding for the fast one in *blue*, kids!

Grumpy Old Man Yells At Clouds Award: at first, he wasn't even remotely concerned.  Then, he was mildly amused. But finally, after Cavendish began to come dangerously close to tying--or heaven forbid, even almost *beating*--his hitherto-breakable Tour de France stage-win record, even the legendary, and truly still untouchable, Eddy Merckx had had enough.  BECAUSE UNLIKE THAT !@#$IN' LOSER ONE-TRICK PONY CAV I'VE WON ALL KINDS OF STAGES NOT JUST SPRINTS AND I'VE WORN THE YELLOW JERSEY MORE DAYS THAN THAT PUNK HAS BEEN ALIVE PLUS I'VE WON THE WHOLE !@#DAMN SHOW 5 TIMES, CAN YOU SAY THAT YOU !@#$IN' AMATEUR?!  In the end, Eddy relented--because he's the Cannibal, and he can--warmly embraced Cav, and ended the race with his stage-win record (if now shared) still intact.  NOW WASH MY FEET YOU WORM!

Shake, Rattle and Roll Award: now, normally it's the armchair peloton jumping all the hell over a wheel suspiciously rotating at high speed several untoward minutes after the bike's actual rider has detached himself from the thing in a crash.  But this year, it was the riders themselves who purportedly claimed to be hearing "unusual" sounds from their rivals' back wheels in the pack--rivals whose performance seemed uncharacteristically strong.  And at least one gent apparently defended any untoward noises by claiming it may perfectly well have been someone's discarded rice-cake wrapper caught in the spokes making all the clatter.  I mean, sure, a rice cake wrapper with wires, magnets, computer chips, and gasoline--but who the heck can reasonably quarrel with that?   

Class Move o' the Race: honestly, even if you're Wout van Aert, you can't ask for much more than to beat the ageless Alejandro Valverde in a mountain stage and have him stagger in after you and graciously congratulate you on your win.  But for my money, this is actually for the three-pack of Slovenians, including winner Tadej Pogacar, parading to Paris with crashed-out countryman and serious maillot jaune contender Primoz Roglic's race number held up between them for the cameras.  Nice move, boys--but enjoy the symbolic thumbs-up, because next year, if all goes well, you'll be fighting the real thing right down to the wire!

Revelation of the Tour: yeah, Pogacar already *did* all that stuff in 2020, so while our tot wonder may still be quite impressive in bagging his second straight overall win and two stages to boot, anyone who expected Jonas Vingegaard--respected and formidable whippersnapper though he is--to step up after Rogla crashed out, stick with the tireless Pogacar for stage upon stage, blast fellow wee climber Carapaz by minutes in the final time trial, and lock in second on the podium by that kind of a margin is just a lying lying liar.  Or just smarter than me--not all that hard, I concede! 

Nice Guys Finish First (Sometimes) Award: he's in damn near every breakaway that ever broke.  He works hard, does his fair share, and rides with class. And this time, he took an early flyer from the breakaway, storming steadily to a smashing win.  Bauke Mollema on Stage 14.  Chapeau!

Optics, People! Prize (Lucky He's Untouchable Edition): now, it's not at all uncommon for a rider to, after a herculean effort, collapse off his bike onto the tarmac, heaving for breath and dangerously close to projectile vomiting on the cameras.  What *is* perhaps a little more uncommon is for said rider to collapse onto the tarmac and appear to be as unbothered and relaxed as if he'd just come off an hour-long massage and a nice mani-pedi at the spa.  And the, um, bug-bite-shaped tiny red dots someone pictured on the back of knee at the start of the final time trial didn't help. Tadej Pogacar on stage 18.  Kid, you may well *be* that incredible, but you oughta at least *look* like you're working for it!

Optics, People! Prize (Now *You* Ain't Untouchable Edition): Your entire squad's hotel has just been raided, and stripped of potentially incriminating evidence, by the narcs.  So what better showing of certain innocence and humble submission to antidoping standards than by immediately taking a gigantic stage win and making the same classic "zip it" omerta gesture as you cross the line that Armstrong used to shut the !@#$ up Simeoni? Damn, Bahrain-Victorious, if you can't keep your boys off the juice, can you at least knock a little *sense* into their heads?

Last But Not Least, Our Punk-!@# Move o' the Race: look, I suppose you can hardly fault the guy--Lance Armstrong pulled the same trick way back in 2001, gasping ostentatiously for the cameras and helplessly struggling up two full mountain passes, only to give Jan Ullrich the infamous "Look" and blow poor Jan away on Mont Ventoux with barely a sweat droplet.  But Richard Carapaz not only mugged for the motos to fake out his rivals, he actually sucked Vingegaard and Pogacar's wheels up the entirety of the Col du Portet, before wankerly blasting around them to take the wi--uh, screwing it up anyway as Pogacar came around him with a smirk and Vingegaard charged back from a near-crack to take second place. With all due respect, Carapaz, Armstrong you ain't--and next time, try at least taking a turn or two before you start pulling that crap! 

Well folks, that about wraps up our golden freakshow. So winners, collect yer prizes, and let's hope more of you manage to stay upright and uninjured, and that we have a *real* battle for GC, in 2022!  

It's Yer 2021 Tour de France in Preview, Part Un: the Course!

Okay, let's face it: with just three mountaintop finishes, this year's TdF course--particularly compared to that of the superior Giro or Vuelta--just bites.  Still, it *is* the Grand Boucle, we're starting off with some spectacular intra-team implosions, and there *are* a few places for lively entertainment and even where the GC battle might get hot.  So besides drunken naked freaks running beside them to mug for the cameras, excited dogs wandering unimpeded into would-be podium-contenders' wheels, and the inevitable smoke flares, what've the riders--and even the fans--got to look forward to?  Let's check it out!

Week One: Mon dieu! Instead of some boring prologue or 160k slog for a foregone sprint, we're actually starting off with one for the puncheurs this year, with a windy parcours and a 3 kilometers hill at 5.7% at the end, which'll hopefully lead to someone totally unexpected donning the race's first maillot jaune.  Allez--well, whoever's jonesing for a bigger contract next year!  Stage 2: in another surprise, a hilly 183k with a double hike up the Mur de Bretagne and a 6.9% kick.  Weakness may start to show here, gentlemen!  Stage 3: ah, back to the *real* Tour--it's one for the sprinters, and Sam Bennett is--aw, crap!  Anyway, good luck Andre, don't listen to all this stupid Cavendish hype, you hear?  Stage 4: a 150k joyride for the sprinters again, with a chance of winds giving a mild hope for the breakaway that's sure to be frustrated.  Dag nabit!  Stage 5: a 27.2 kilometer individual time trial, not enough to cause serious damage at this point but definitely enough to scare the crap outta Roglic if Pogacar slaughters him again this early.  Bon chance, suckeur! Next up, another one for the fast men to Val de Loire, a bit higher at the end than at the start, but hopefully nothing these guys can't haul their carcasses over.  Painfully, we wind up the week with the longest stage in 210 years, a flat start to the 249k of pain then headed for the hills, with a 3,000m, Cat 2 finish up Signal d'Uchon.  And no, you don't get a rest day yet!

Week 2: finally, some *mountains*!  Stage 8 brings us a Cat 3, a Cat 4, the Cat 1 Mont-Saxonnex, the Cat 1 Cote de Romme, and a usually iconic ride up the Colombiere, whose otherwise GC-shattering potential will be utterly !@#$ed by the fact that the riders end by riding off it downhill.  Well, you can always hope your rival can't descend for !@#$, I suppose! Stage 9: *now* we've got a mountain finish, baby, as the peloton gets back to Tignes after being shut out in 2019, covering the Cat 1 Col de Saises, the Holy Crap 12.6 kilometer Col du Pre', and, after a brief interlude to screw with your head, the 21k, Cat 1 Montee' de Tignes.  Carapaz, if you're gonna bushwhack Geraint Thomas--and you know you are--now would be a good time to put him in his place.  Next day's a rest day--or a good time to hide from your pissed-off teammate, depending!  Stage 10 hands it back over to the sprinters, so Andre Greipel, now's a nice chill day to make your move, if you aren't already going to surprise and delight us on the Champs-Elysees (which he can so too either, so stuff it you haters!).  Stage 11: a bit sadistically, it's a 198k stroll interrupted by a twofer hike up the iconic Mont Ventoux, yet another game-changing finish hosed by the final descent.  What the !@#$ *is* this stupidity, already?  Anyhoo, we're all set up for a Stage 12 bunch sprint in Nimes, with the possible problem of GC-cracking echelons, which probably means that spiky windmill Froome is gonna attack from the end of the neutral start and take 57 minutes on Rogla to grab the podium.  C'est la vie, kid!  Stage 13: though technically a flat stage, apparently it's unlikely to end in a big-bunch sprint in Carcassone, and with 219 k to play with, maybe a break'll make it stick.  Well, stick it to Cav at least! We end the week with a hilly stage 14 for the power puncheurs, warming up for the Pyrenees with 3 Cat 2 and 2 Cat 3 climbs with a final descent off the Col du Saint-Louis.  Alright, *now* would be a nice time for another rest...

Week 3: but you ain't getting one yet, as Stage 15 takes us back to the mountains, successful stomping grounds of Thomas "the Tongue" Voeckler, ending with the leg-nippy 6.4k, 8.5% Col de Beixalis--downhill, of course.  Jaysus, enough already!  After a rest day, the GC can recover yet again as the breakaway artistes take another turn--I started to say 'crack', but then I didn't want to curse anybody--with the Cat 1 Col de la Core just a bit more'n halfway, but a flat finish.  Ouch! Stage 17: yep, another chance for the GC, as we amble up the Peyresourde--well, *we're* ambling, *their* legs are screeching--before a (yay!) mountaintop finish up the HC Col du Portet.  Don't worry G, you've got another shot tomorrow--or if you've already blown it, now's yer opportunity for stage glory! Stage 18: last chance to finish uphill, as GC takes its almost-last gasp over the forbidding Tourmalet before the Climb o' Truth up to Luz Ardiden.  !@#$in' hell, Kuss, you're supposed to *wait* for Rogla, not ditch 'im!  Next, we got the second-to-last chance for the fast men, though not *quite* flat, on Stage 19.  Stage 20: Almost home and *so* close to the top step in Paris--yep, it's yer potentially race-deciding final 30k ITT. Don't !@#$ this up Roglic!  Finally, for whoever's not too ashamed to show his face after yesterday's soul-crushing debacle, it's the triumphant, champagne-swilling parade into Paris, where we love Andre Greipel will grab his last win on the legendary Champs-Elysees before retirement.  Screw off, he can so either!

Welp, for better or worse, there's your 2021 Tour de France course.  Best wishes to everybody, and Thomas, don't say I didn't warn you about yer teammates!

It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2020 Tour de France racejunkie Awards!

Still waking up in the middle of the night scaring the crap out of your partner yelling "Allez! Allez!"? Bereft at the thought of a day without the maillot jaune? Obsessively checking French real estate listings for decaying medieval chateaux-for-sale? Yeah, well normally I'd say me neither, because it's freakin' *September*, but because this is also 2020, the Biggest Cycling %^&*show On Record, here we are.  Still, messed up as this year is, we haven't yet devolved into *total* animals, so tilt yer beret, wave yer croissant, and raise a Champagne toast to Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2020 Tour de France racejunkie Awards!  Prizes--I swear--for anyone desperate and/or craven enough to claim them: (1) a dashing custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap; (2) a passel o' handsome racejunkie stickers to defile yer laptop, yer refrigerator, or yer face; and (3) a custom-ordered random statuary tchotchke because frankly, it's still not safe enough here for me to spend hours rummaging through discarded boy-band action figures and 1000-piece puzzles with 2 pieces missing to find you something inappropriate at a local thrift store.  Oh right, and eternal infamy. So without further ado, let's get moving on our annual Tour de France adieu!

I'm Not Crying, You're Crying Award of 2020 (Oh Hell, I Am Too Crying): Sam Bennett's charmingly halting, weepy post-race inaugural Tour de France stage-win interview, Stage 10. Not only did he grab the sprint, but he took--and never gave back--the coveted Peter Sagan Green Jersey as well.  Close second, except I didn't want to pile on the poor guy any more: Rogla's stunned collapse at the end of the penultimate-day time trial, with his loyal teammates folding consolingly around him like scrawny-but-spiritually-fluffy fleece blankets. Waaaaaaaaaaah! 

Disaster Stage of 2020: of course, as a loyal Landa fan, it's when he lost 1:21 in a !@#$in' crosswind that everyone on Bahrain should've seen coming from a thousand kilometers away !@#dammit. But we officially reached peak 2020 right on Stage 1, where the wet roads turned into skating rinks and half the freakin' field crashed out, including key Landa assist Rafa Valls, reliable stage winner Degenstache, and ever-fighting Philippe Gilbert.  Add poor visibility, a bubble-spewing soap sponsor, and the white lines on the road apparently painted with axle grease, and it just doesn't get any better (or worse) than that.  2021, get a move on already, we're *done* with this !@#$ !

The Fast and The Furious Award: okay, let's get down to brass tacks (but, y'know, hopefully not the kind that assclown threw down on the actual road in front of poor Cadel Evans).   *Every* #$%damn climb, Pogacar or some schmuck is shattering mountain speed records previously achieved only by a team director personally hanging out the car helpfully holding up a drug-stuffed IV running right into some weasel's !@# 6 hours straight for the cameras.  I mean, when you've just smacked down 2003 Alexander Vinokourov, you *know* some !@#$'s going down.  Let's just hope it's merely, well, a nice hearty dinner and a relaxing massage every night!

Fan !@#%wit Award: in an ordinary year, I'd be awarding this to the guardians of a meandering dog or careening toddler, a selfie-stick wielder, or some urine-tossing psychopath.  And I was about to award this collectively to the maskless (or even more incomprehensibly, masked but only *under their mouths and noses*) eejits running screaming alongside terrified riders in the middle of a freakin' *pandemic.* But we actually had to wait til nearly the end this time, when some reckless nutwhack leapt out into the middle of the course past the barriers just meters from the line and seconds away from a charging peloton. Luckily, thanks to some dude who went all Bernard Hinault on his !@#, the eejit was safely dispatched and, miraculously, no spindly rider bodies were broken.  FFS, can we just go back to the eye-blinding camera-whores in their indiscreet neon speedos next year?

Not-A-Crash o' the Tour: fabulously impressive emerging breakaway artist/Tour de France newb EF's Neilson Powless, who, like countless others before him, slightly misjudged a corner on a switchback descent, but, instead of wiping out to near-certain catastrophic bodily injury, smoothly rolled over the grass into a roadside fan's tailgate party, kicked back with a beer and some charcuterie, and continued, unruffled, on his way. Panache!

Where's Peto? Award: c'mon--when he wasn't tattooed into the green jersey this year, and with his front wheel stuck disconsolately to the ground, *you* couldn't pick Sagan outta the peloton in his mere-mortal Bora kit either.  Nine years of total dominance quietly down the sink.  There's always 2021, Peto--if you can get by Bennett first!  Corollary Old Man of the Mountain Prize: the usually hyper-active Alejandro Valverde, adrift without a teammate to bushwhack this year, stealthily ticking his way into 12th place.  But guess who won the Team Classification *again*, beeyotches? 

Class Act o' the Tour: Yep, 2019 Vuelta champ (and did you know he used to be a ski jumper?) Primoz Roglic, unreservedly expressing both his personal devastation and complete happiness for his jailbait last-minute Tour de France-winning countryman, Tadej Pogacar, both immediately after the gut-wrenching decisive individual time trial, and warmly right in front of the cameras on the highest-profile stage in cycling, the Champs-Elysees.  Waaaaaaaaaah!

*That's* Who They !@#damn Busted? Award: So a pack of raging giant Murder Hornets the size of linebackers stomps up the climbs for 21 straight stages in hammering superhuman lockstep at a pace not remotely seen since the relentless Armstrong-era Discovery train, a 21-year old kid who was ordered off the bike for a week because he was training so well shatters the penultimate day's time trial by like a minute and takes the overall win on his first-ever Tour, and who do the crack UCI narcs finally bust?  That's right, this year's equivalent of popping a Master's rider for buying 1st-gen EPO off the internet, Nairo !#$%in' Quintana, who, by Grand Tour winner standards, *sucked* this year.  Yap, doping's bad, yap--but couldn't you have left the wee thing a *little* dignity?

Unsung Sea Change o' 2020: Sure, it was a little harder to tell behind the masks, but didja notice that podium babes now come in *two* genders, albeit one a little more scantily-clad than the other?  Equal opportunity T&A--now *that's* progress!

Nice Try But No Cigar Award: Bahrain's much-derided, if undeniably gutsy, tactics on Stage 17.  Sure, they maybe took off a col too early, and our brave Mikel Landa was left alone and nearly broken at day's end.  But he's an ex- (and ever-) Carrot, dammit, so if you've got a problem with it, even if you're actually correct, you can just !@#$ right off into the sunset.  Aupa (in 2021) Mikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel! 

Stop! In the Name of Love! (Before You Break Your Face) Prize: Tony Martin's brave, if unsuccessful, arms-wide attempt to slow down the peloton on a dangerous descent, just before Astana went ahead anyway, and, in a related Karma's a !@#$, !@#$ ! Prize, skidding (which was NOT the dear Izagirres' fault) great GC hope Miguel Angel Lopez face-first into a road sign on Stage 1.  Luckily, naught was damaged but his dignity, and the race proceeded just as cautiously as Martin's ill-fated gesture had intended.  Oh Cancellara, where *are* you where the etiquette-disgracing peloton needs you?

Break-Out Star of 2020: look, Powless was amazing. But damned if Marc Hirschi didn't stick it out after a string of heroic near-misses til he finally bagged his win in dramatic solo-break fashion on stage 12.  Keep your eyes on this kid--there's sure to be more where that came from!  

Domestique o' the Race: by any other measure, team Skineos' Tour was a disaster.  With defending champ Egan Bernal going gently into that good night, and all that desperate work for nothing, Michal Kwiatkowski, who spent the entire Tour and then in particular all day Stage 18 diligently hauling backup-GC Richard Carapaz up mountains and down, was justly awarded a well-deserved, arm in arm stage win for his efforts.  Is it me, or is everyone who ever did a hard day's work for Lance Armstrong for barely a thank-you feeling pretty pissed off right now?

Punk-!@# Move o' the Race:  Last but not least: c'mon, a little argy-bargy in the sprints--hell, sometimes all-out fisticuffs--is to be expected. But with those damn barriers with the iron spikes sticking out of the basis increasingly the cause of massive bodily injury, what you *don't* need is some jackwagon veering way off his line at the last possible second, jamming his shoulder into yer bod, and nearly taking you down in a jumble of shattered bikes, bones, and dreams.  Peter Sagan, we *know* you were getting desperate by Stage 11--but for heck's sake, leave Wout van Aert out of it!   

Well fans, them's my picks for this year. Now riders, slap on your masks, start looking ahead to the...Giro?!, and try not to win again next year!

It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious Tour de France Racejunkie Awards!

Feeling glum this morning from your annual post-Tour de France hangover? Hoarse from proudly singing "La Marseillaise" for 3 straight weeks when, it just now occurs to you, you are not even French? Suddenly horrified by the cold realization that even though it was the first halfway interesting Tour in ages, SkyIneos *still* bagged the top two spots on GC?  Well weep no more, honey, because if you've got the fever, yeah, we've got the cure--It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious Tour de France racejunkie Awards!  Prizes--honest, if anyone legit should be so bold, so desperate, or so oddly masochistic as to claim them--(1) a dashing custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap; (2) a passel of handsome racejunkie stickers to vandalize the belongings of that jack!@# you thought really *should* have been awarded your embarrassing prize; and (3) a genuine metal/plastic hybrid promotional statuette thingy reclaimed from the junk shop for some Millennial snowflake's childhood "participation" prize in the TinyTown Elementary School's Annual "Red Rover, Red Rover" Invitational Tournament.  So let's take a deep breath, get ourselves a nice comforting croissant to celebrate our achievements, and get down to the awards show!

Class Act o' the Tour: Stage 18.  Julian Alaphilippe, seeing a wee wet boy shivering in the cold as he panted across the line after yet another successful defense of his leader's jersey, doffs his maillot jaune without a thought and wraps the munchkin up in it to warm him.  Do you realize what kind of apocalyptic world catastrophe it'd take for Armstrong to give up that thing?  Yeah, I don't really think he would either.  So there's that, and even--perhaps especially--in defeat, Alaphilippe carried the yellow jersey with humility, profound appreciation, and grace.  Chapeau Julian--and get that guy some compensatory arm-warmers before his muscles lock up!

Punk-!@# Move o' the Race: Usually, this one goes to Valverde in any race he's in, and frankly, he came close when, on the penultimate day of the Tour, he attacked and outsprinted Mikel Landa in his desperate charge for second place after Vincenzo Nibali, though in relative terms, for Bala, the rainbow stripes seem to have given him inner peace.   But this time, we've got a dual celebration in the Ineos/Jumbo Visma matchup of Luke Rowe and Tony Martin.  Tragically, even a post-disqualification joint apology video didn't convince the race organizers to undo their decision to ignominiously eject them from the race.  And honestly, with a closely watching Peter Sagan highly likely to pop a wheelie on their skulls after he was tossed outta the race for way less hostility two years ago, who can blame 'em? While what happened is a little unclear from the video, Ineos' (reason enough to condemn him) Luke Rowe grabs Jumbo Visma's Kruijswijk. Jumbo's Tony Martin nudges Rowe.  Rowe punches Martin. Martin *really* nudges Rowe. It's like a mobile game of rock-paper-scissors, except everyone punches each other and no-one wins!

Wait, *Which* Ewan Again? Award: no, not legendary master of sprint-finish argy-bargy Robbie McEwen--he's commentating!  But while I normally don't take undue interest in sprinters, I gotta give this one to Caleb Ewan, who snuck outta nowhere to not only take 2, but *three* sprints in a race traditionally chock full o' the best in the business, including the iconic finale on the Champs-Elysees.  Nicely done--but everyone's sure gonna be on guard against you next year, so enjoy this triumph while you can!

There's a Fine Line Between Clever and Stupid Award: speaking of commentators, love 'im or hate 'im--it was a baffling, disgusting, and on reflection wily move for NBCSN to bring in none other than beyond-disgraced 7-time not-winner of the Tour de France Lance Armstrong for some cheerful analysis with, even more surprisingly, not even an ounce of apparent second thoughts by the NBC desk, which, to be fair, *was* disproportionately stocked with his former teammates.  Needless to say, the couch peloton went nuts with moral indignation, and Armstrong, well, probably just garnered another 8 million listeners for his podcast and a fifteenth home in Tahoe.  That's some chutzpah, NBC--but as long as you're all about redemption, why not give Floyd Landis a chance next year?  We *know* it'll be a lot more chill, after all!

Slow and Steady Wins the Ra--No, It *Doesn't*! It !@#$s Up the GC *Every* Time! Prize: !@#dammit Movistar, I know your roster full of two-ounce climbers is completely helpless against the vicious blast of a headwind, a tailwind, a cross-wind, or even an emphatic snort of disapproval. But team time trials are no longer a specialty discipline or an irrelevant luxury, and unless they are actually  mere handfuls of centimeters, you guys are absolutely screwed on GC *forever* unless you get everyone in the windtunnel and, I don't know, replace them with Quick Step altogether.  I'm tired of seeing Mikel hosed on GC on the first day--get your house in order this winter dammit!

Crash o' the Race (Ah Jaysus! Edition): Wout van Aert's leg-slicing collision with one of those known-hazard sticky-outy footed barriers, which went *right* down to the bone and freaked even cross-tough van Aert out to look at it.  Hey, those chef's-knife disc brakes aren't starting to look half so bad by comparison, amirite?

Crash o' the Race (Not Really GC-Deciding But Still Really Upsetting and We're So Glad He's Okay Edition): and, this one's for Astana's poor Dauphine champ Jakob Fuglsang, who really *was* doing quite well when he endured an excruciating fly over his handlebars in a Stage 16 tangle and, in severe pain but fortunately no fractures, obliged to withdraw from the race. Get well soon Jakob--perhaps this will inspire you to even greater vengeance on the road next year!

Crash o' the Race (Just Plain Weird Edition): Geraint Thomas's umpteenth crash this Tour, which is weird enough--but this time, a random and seemingly wholly unnecessary wipeout on a harmless corner where allegedly his "gears jammed up."  Um, reviewing the footage with the eagle eye of an armchair jurist, isn't it rather more likely he just, well, messed up? Man, was that a spectacular--if thankfully harmless--pratfall!  At least he wasn't on Moscon's bike when it completely disintegrated....

Smile Like You Mean It Prize: meantime, bless the hopelessly overwhelmed PR folks over at Movistar, who spent the greater part of their days at the Tour de France this year not touting the GC and stage performances of their riders, but forcing Nairo Quintana, Mikel Landa, and Alejandro Valverde together into a thousand awkward photo shots and videos with agonized grins on their faces like a show full of freezing bikini beauty-pageant contestants killing their feet in 5 inch stilettos.  Fine, Movistar, make 'em smile--but did you *really* need to make Landa get a tattoo of Nairo's face on his !@# after that stage win?  Cold!

Mr. Clean Award: to the Tour de France organizers for hiring two actual full-time employees to cover up (1) penises and (2) let's face it, they mainly care about penises, painted on the roadway for the delectation of the riders, motos, race helicopters, and fans watching intently at home.  Damn, there goes my plan to pay thousands of dollars to fly thousands of miles across the Atlantic to visit the TdF specifically to paint a florid, anatomically-accurate vajayjay smack on the finish line of the Galibier next year--killjoys!

(Swat Me On the) Moon/And Let Me Play Among the Stars Award: and, in the annals of fan !@#$wittery, it would be almost rude not to mention Stage 10, when one enterprising fan (actually, one among several) mooned the peloton *and* the cameras right on the edge of the tarmac, only to be surprised by a distinctly unimpressed (and lucky for him, unidentified) Bahrain-Merida rider, who smacked the offending spectator on the !@#  so hard in return it left an actual visible palm-print on the perp.  Wow, that's even a better souvenir than a water bottle--just be careful what you bare to the peloton *next* year or you might *really* get hurt!

That's So Money! Award: Think you know how to handle a bike?  Well get over yourself, you poseur--the Saganator can sign an autograph in his own book for a fan running beside him *while he was pedaling uphill.*  Wheelie my !@#--Sagan, you're gonna have a tough time outdoing yourself here!

You Suck ASO Prize o' 2019: La Course? La f!@# !

Don't Forget the Alamo (Waterloo, Whatever) Prize: Alaphilippe's valiant defense of the maillot jaune.  How many press conferences can you have with some asshat asking what it's like to be about to lose the leader's jersey way before you actually do it?  About 12, apparently--suck it, haters, this guy really rose to the occasion in style!

Fan !@!#wit Award: Running alongside the lead group in a day-glo mankini?  Yawn. Lighting a smoke flare right into the lungs of some poor sucker who's already gasping at 12000 feet?  Amateur hour!  Jumping over the peloton on a mountain bike, *again*? An inevitable disaster, but not this year.  Kudos to the fan who, just edging out the trou-dropping butt-slapped guy, didn't even need a selfie stick to clock Niccolo Bonifazio upside the head smack in the middle of the final sprint with her cellphone camera and send it--but, miraculously, not him--flying.  Lucky Bernard Hinault wasn't there to tackle her--do we have to go over the fan etiquette rules *again*, people?

Paranoid Conspiracy Theory o' the Race: first, there weren't photos or film of Chris Froome's alleged "catastrophic injury".  Then, there were--but stop right there, buddy, they weren't gory *enough.* Finally, he was shown pedaling with one leg, with knee scrapes that appeared to match up to earlier pics but WITHOUT AN ACTUAL LEG BONE STICKING OUT OF HIS BUSTED CLAVICLE SO CLEARLY IT'S ALL A FARCE SHEEPLE! But that's nothing compared to the epic race-deciding !@#$-up that was Stage 19, where pro-Ineos James Bond villians with humungous weather machines conspired to set up both a pounding hailstorm *and* a viscous mountain-melting mudslide and knock the crucial climb up the Cat 1 Montee de Tignes outta the Tour, render completely meaningless the thoughtful long-range stage tactics of the favored maillot jaune, and catapult the lucky Colombian (and let's be honest, the strongest overall climber in this year's race, despite the lack of a stage win) Egan Bernal to certain victory in Paris on top of a two-man Ineos podium, all to exalt the most notorious pack of oily dirtbags since DiscoveryPostal and be the sole reason the French haven't been able to pull their !@#$ together to win their own Grand Tour in two decades.  Damn you Dr. No--uh, Blofeld--um, Goldfinger--that's right, Brailsford you wily bastard!

Snit Fit o' 2019: Rohan Dennis is in the breakaway one day ahead of his wholly expected triumph in the next-day's prestigious time trial.  Suddenly, he pulls off to the side of the course--his Tour de France is over.  Is it a mechanical? A bee sting? A stomach ailment of Dumoulinesque proportions?  No, in the end it sounded less like some kind of physical or mental condition in need of sympathy,  help, and treatment, and more like "garden-variety prima-donna !@#hole." On the other hand, Bahrain, you got buckets o' money, and some of the best industry sponsors on the planet.  You couldn't get your !@#$ together to pony up a time trial bike and skinsuit he liked *before* the start line? How !@#$ing hard is *that* when this stage has been a primary goal all season?  Gentility points, though, for "allowing" him to break his contract by August 1 penalty-free, rather'n simply firing his !@# for violating  the standard cycling "don't be a d*ckhead* clause.  Well, at least we know one of these two will continue to race next year!

Joie de Vivre Award: Look, emotions run high at the Tour.  And when you're a French team with a French rider taking an iconic French mountaintop victory, things *really* get happy.  Marc Madiot's  (and let's face it, the whole entire team car to boot's) reaction to Thibaut Pinot's Stage 15 triumph on the Tourmalet. Someone grab that guy before he bounces off into space he's jumping so high!

Totally Irrelevant Oh My Word Did You Even See This News? Award: there's a baby Pippo Pozzato! there's a baby Pippo Pozzato! You may now return to your regularly scheduled big-deal race that's going on this month that I can't even remember what it is.  There's a baby Pippo Pozzato!

Screw You ASO You Retrograde Neanderthals! Prize: In the face of repeated assurances that women can't handle racing a real Tour de France, there's not a cent to be put towards its realization, and that even if the delicate pile of scary woman-parts *could* do it, no-one would watch it anyway, desellesauvelo rode the entire Tour de France route one day ahead of the men's race, with hardly any support, no whirlwind Tour de France circus-atmosphere glory, in full traffic, and with ginormous crowds wherever they went.  And not only did they ride the men's Tour de France--they actually rode *more* than theirs, because the women made it through before the stage 19 and 20s course-shortening landslides truncated the men's race by considerable kilometers and a coupla truly monstrous climbs.  Can we cut the Victorian wilting-flower crap and give them--and us--the race they deserve already?!

I'm Not Crying You're Crying! Award:  Oh, there's been so many.  Guilio Ciccone--the first Italian to wear the maillot jaune in ages--clutching his fuzzy lion mascot *so* very tenderly.  The utter exhaustion of Alaphillipe hurling for the cameras in his herculean effort to keep, and honor, his maillot jaune, which *nobody* expected him to keep this long.  But *this* was enough to crack even the most hard-hearted cynic to the core.  Stage 19.  Pinot in tears as rumors fly he's got a wasp sting, later determined to be a handlebar-bashed deep muscle bruise, as he loses minutes desperately seeking help at the medical car, then sobbing as teammate puts his arms around him and holds his bike as he climbs off & gets into the team car.  Those aren't tears, you sentimental simp--it's just water running outta my eyes like a dike just broke!

Domestique o' the Race: last but not least, in an impressive turn of events at SkyIneos, defending Tour de France champ Geraint Thomas, apparently seeing the writing on the road after Dave Brailsford wrote him off with the press as a real contender for his own title for a solid month before the race even began, and completely chucked him out the window as even a bidon carrier after the first mountain stage--and after he was easily outclimbed by his wee lieutenant at every opportunity-- sucked it up, played nice, and, after briefly bitching at the spectators for not being respectful enough, turned his attention to Egan Bernal and, to his credit, buckled down and genuinely supported him like a champ.  Oh G, glory is so fleeting--glad you handled your ejection from leadership with grace!

Well folks, that wraps up another Tour de France.  Now finish that Champagne, claim your prizes, and let's all get ready for the Vuelta!

It's Yer Tour de France Rest Day Deux Roundup!

We made it past the time trial (except, basically, Movistar).  We made it through the first rest day.  And now, we've made it through the Pyrenees.  So before we hit the (now) race-deciding Alps, it's time to take a deep breath and, in order to better understand where we're going, reflect on where we've been.  So what the hell's been going on on one of the least-boring Tours de France in recent memory?  This!

1. WHY THE !@#$ ARE WE STILL USING THOSE !@#$ING BARRIERS WITH THE METAL FEET STICKING OUT!  Fer chrissakes, guys are getting cut up like deli meat out there!

2. Julian Alaphilippe.  He's earned--and honored--the maillot jaune.  Can we stop with the doping insinuations, and outright accusations, since he sorta cracked and definitely almost hurled up a lung clinging on to it today?  At least let's give the French ten minutes to enjoy their relief from two decades of total humiliation at their own Grand Tour, why don't we!

3. Romain Bardet and Warren Barguil.  Yeah, we *know.* But at least one of 'em's had at least one good day, so dang, cut 'em a little slack for once! Of course, the other irks me for all time for making Mikel Landa crash and get caught behind the split, even though he did apologize very nicely for it.  And right on Thibaut Pinot!

4. I will unconditionally love Phil Liggett always.  And I know, beloved cycling TV honchos around the world, if you didn't have a giant pile of dopers commentating for the sport, let's face it, coverage from damn near everywhere important would be completely silent.  But FFS, NBC, putting on some unrepentant assclown who allegedly once cornered Tyler Hamilton outside a toilet to shut him down goes beyond a mere acknowledgement of reality to a complete dope-smack (oops!) of everyone--like, say, the justly legendary Greg Lemond--this guy has deliberately !@#$ed over.  Next year, leave Lance out!

5. Rohan Dennis, man.  Bailing out of the Tour de France mid-stage--in the freakin' breakaway, no less--the day before a stage he was widely expected to win, with nary a word of explanation to his shocked team, and no precipitating no apparent illness or imminent doping bust, just a disagreement, if evidently a massive one, over his time-trial setup and skinsuit.  If it's a symptom of a broader problem, and he needs help, I genuinely hope he (and anyone else who needs it, in this pressure-cooker sport) gets it, and that the team, his compatriots, and the entire cycling world support him in every way they possibly can.  But if it was just a truly epic snit by a gigantically privileged overgrown toddler--well, good luck getting a new contract next year!

6. One of those Yates is doing pretty good this Tour, amirite? Or maybe it's both of them.  Whatever!

7. Jeeeeeeeeeeez, Nairo Quintana's boring to watch.  What *happened* to the guy who once blazingly won the fabulous Giro?

8. The fan who got her phone knocked outta her hand by Niccolo Bonifazio's head during the stage 11 sprint.  Do I *have* to repost "What Not to Do for Dimwitted Fans" every ten minutes?

9. Time trials should not decide a freakin' Grand Tour.  I'm trying to help you here, Mikel!

10. Oh, La Course this year even exists?  I mean, you guys *should* be embarrassed you're basically putting on a half-day crit for a pile of the best cyclists on the planet, but damn, I've seen more impassioned and wide-ranging publicity for my puny hometown's annual styrofoam recycling day for !@#$'s sake!

11. (Not) speaking of the spider-like flailing elephant in the room, a pile of guys who crashed (and crashed out) have looked *waaaaay* more gory than this happy-photo Pollyanna 'barely a boo-boo' bull!@#$ Chris Froome's PR team's been pimping.  If there isn't contemporaneous photographic indisputably-dated evidence that *right now* he looks like some barfed-up human mis-digestion from "Alien", Twitter still ain't buying it you fakers!

12. Peter Sagan signed an autograph for a spectator *running beside him during the race while he was riding it*, so if you even halfway think, for even a fraction of a split second of a sub-moment of a nanoparticle, that you're a *remotely* passable bike-handler--honey, you ain't !@#%!

All right, we've made it through first half of the race.  On to the Alps--time to *really* get this show on the road!

It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Trois: The Sprinteurs, The Climbeurs, and the Puncheurs!

Ok, we got the course. We got the GC (massively wrong most likely, but we got 'em)!  So who can we count on for more intermittent, but no less spectacular, excitement during the Tour?  These ones!

The Sprinters: CAV'S NOT HERE CAV'S NOT HERE CAV'S NOT HERE! All right, we got *that* out of our system.  Neither is Nacer Bouhanni, presumably for having sucker-punched the hotel breakfast buffet for unsatisfactory muesli options, but I don't see anyone bitching about that.   So who *is* around?  Peter Sagan of course, and as everyone's been pointing out in horror, with baby brother Juraj in national champ victory colors, you'll be able to see him at least briefly in his native Bora jersey on Day 1 before he grabs green for good.  He's like the ATV of sprints: a little unwieldy on a total flat, but fun as !@#$ with a little argy-bargy or bounce in the finale.  Just *don't* pop a stupid wheelie til you cross the line, willya? Perpetual punk Gianni Moscon, which is bad news for his spindly rivals, but good news for the cattle-prod industry, which just experienced a peloton-wide run on 'em to tape to their top tubes in case a jolt of electricity is needed to fend Moscon off.   Also on hand: Elia Viviani, eager to do some damage after his lackluster Giro; Dylan Groenewegen, who has been utterly en fuego this whole year; scrappy Caleb Ewan; Bling Matthews, Alexander Kristoff, Boassen Hagen-Daaz, and, best of all, we love big lug Andre Greipel, who go to hell *and* double-stuff it haters still has at least one more smashing Grand Tour victory in him.  Go go Gorilla--didja see his video with his bitchin' customized new gorilla shoes?

The Puncheurs: Is there *anything* a Wout/Van/der/Whatsit can't do this year?  Just write the all-caps tweets in advance right now, and save yourselves some effort later on when you're two-weeks  impaired by champagne!  Former world road champ Michal Kwiatkowski.  LL Cool Sanchez, who at only a coupla years younger than Valverde can be counted on to bag a stage victory in damn near anything.  And when you look at EF's lineup, you can't help but notice the indefatigable Simon Clarke, who though basically there to support Uran roared back from a nasty injury a ways back seemingly even stronger than before.  Does that guy *ever* crack?  Van Avermonster.  Last year's most combative, Dan Martin.  Everyone's favorite potato head Toms Skujins.  And yes, Tony Martin's already won the time trial--what *else* did you expect?

The Climbeurs (besides the GC contenders): !@#$ed out of leadership from your team or a hopeless inability to avoid an echelon split or to stay in one piece during a time trial?  Too valuable an asset to blow on a pointless day-long 18-man breakaway that'll inevitably collaps as you all start d*icking around 2k to the line?  Well now's your chance for glory! First off--aupa grande Gorkaaaaaaa! Rigoberto Uran, who I know is gunning for GC but is really more likely to have one spectacular day amid a sea of really-darn-goodness.  Romain Bardet.  Aruuuuuuuu--recovering from leg-vein surgery and years of unmet expectations, not a GC threat, but, if feeling well, may go for a redemptive stage victory.  Honestly, I hope this glum kid *does* get a few minutes of positive coverage from the Italian press!   And, never to be underestimated, Alejandro Valverde, who has the uncanny ability to choke on GC, bushwhack his own teammates outta victory, and still, even in his scarily wasted current form, sneak a stage win like he's just parachuted outta the race helicopter.  Numbnut fans--bare yer junk in a too-small speedo if you must, run up the entire Tourmalet in a cow costume--but *please* stay outta these guys' way!

The Absentees: Yes, Cav.  But also Dumo and Roglic.  And Philippe !@#$in' Gilbert for !@#$'s sake!  Also Degenstache.  And for those of you either still mourning the tragic absence of Chris Froome, or enjoying his absence but not his injuries I hope you sick freaks, rest assured that he's been completely reconstituted Westworld-style and is resting both comfortably and completely unscathed from his gory recent accident in his apparently completely unnecessary hospital bed.  Damn, that *does* seem weird--oh no, now *I'm* getting dragged into the abyss!

Well folks, there's your Tour.  Good luck to everyone who inevitably proves me wrong, stay outta trouble please Mikel--and let's get this gaudy show on the road!

It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Deux: The GC Contenders!

All right, we got the course down--on to the general classification contenders!  Let's see...there's Chris Froo--naw...Tom Dumou--aw, dammit! So now no matter who wins, it'll be a big pile of "what ifs" from the fans and journalists in Snarkville, and someone'll be bitching about their lack of respect in every interview for the rest of their life.  So who's that gonna be?  Let's take a look at these guys!

Egan Bernal and Geraint Thomas: Alberto Contador sez Egan's the frontrunner this year, and hell, who would know better?  Even Geraint "Jaysus Ineos I'm the defending Tour champion for chrissake!" Thomas has effectively conceded defeat, and admirably chosen to take the high road, instead of smacking that little twerp back to windbreaker duties where he would normally belong. Still, the Tour is gonna be nothing this year if not full of surprises.  Will Bernal keep up the team's clearly bull!@#$ pretense of equal status, or stamp any doubt out on the road at the first speedbump? Will G help him or hurt him--or worse, just drift backwards like dandelion fluff, and make no difference at all?  Only the tarmac--and Dave Brailsford--will decide.  Til then, clutch that crown while you still can, Geraint!

Warren Barguil or Thibaut Pinot: oh, please.  They'll give a great run for yer money on the mountains classification.  And newly-crowned French road champ Barguil is now the subject of a truly orgasmic French-press (ooo, coffee!) feeding frenzy.  Problem: neither of 'em have got the team.  Still, I expect some serious stage fireworks outta these boys, and a high enough GC placement to keep the press hounds howling.  Prove me wrong, boys--no pressure, but the decades-wounded pride of a nation rests on your tiny shoulders!

Marianne Vo--!@#$ YOU ASO, WHERE IS THE WOMEN'S TOUR DE FRANCE ALREADY? And don't tell me some !@#$ty sprint while the !@#damn street cleaners are still out on the course sweeping up cigarette butts ahead of the men's race counts! !@#DAMMIT!

Jakob Fuglsang: just...what? What? Yeah, I like him too.  But eyes on the ball, people!

Nairo Quintana: How many wheels would a wheelsucker suck if a wheelsucker could suck wheels? Well, he's bound to run out of 'em anyway, particularly if Valverde and/or Landa get annoyed enough hauling his uninspiring !#$ up the Tourmalet.  If that happens, even *if* Unzue's darling's on form to attack, he's downright screwed.  Good luck out there though--and I hope you didn't read what Greg Lemond had to say this morning!

Mikel Landa: Shut up! Can so either! I *know* Movistar won't let him off the leash, what with their bizarre deference to Quintana, and master tactician/recently-terrifying stick-figure Alejandro Valverde just having bagged the Spanish national road championship, the Hour Record, the Hell of the North, Eurovision, a $240 million euro contract with Barcelona, the Westminster Dog Show Best in Breed/Whippets, and the Girl Scout Troop 675 Badge for Most Cookie Sales Lifetime Achievement Award. So since you're outta there next year anyway, Mikel, why not tell Unzue to !@#$ off and make your *own* chances?  I mean, remember how well you worked with Alberto that time?  Now *stay* outta trouble, *don't* let Valverde get close enough to shove a bidon in your chain, and *use* those painful Pyrenees to set yerself up nice for the Alps!

Alejandro Valverde: I. Can't. Even.  Except he probably can.  !@#$, why not just bring Lance back to win the whole thing?

Vincenzo Nibali: boy, is he *pissed* about not winning the Giro.  That said, he wrecked himself enough to make it unlikely he'll be the top man on the podium come Paris.  Famous last words--this prediction'll probably end up like the opening skinnydipper scene in Jaws.  Please don't hurt me for doubting you Nibs!

The Yateses: I can't remember which one was popped for doping, and which one won the Vuelta last year.  I *do* remember that one of 'em said back in May that the other GC contenders for the Giro oughta be "!@#$ting their pants" in fear of him, to an excruciatingly embarrassing anticlimax.  But put one seriously bruised ego and two bros together, and at least one of 'em's likely to place respectably on GC, if perhaps more likely to just bag a couple of stage wins.  Wait, which of you guys is your team backing?

Enric Mas and Richie Porte: aw, lay *off* these fine riders already!

Anyhoo, you all know who *I'm* rooting for, so place yer bets accordingly against me and you'll all be damn millionaires.  For heck's sake, he just needs Unzue not to !@#$ him over for *one* day!  Next up: the Sprinters, the Roleurs, and the Climbeurs!

It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Un: The Course!

Look, the Tour's an obscene, decadent, Caligula-esque circus.  But this year, for the notable though unfortunate absences of certain riders for whom we wish a speedy recovery if they're not actually just laughing their !@#ses off at their underwater James-Bond-villian modernist lairs far from the nefarious intrusions of antidoping controllers--and equipped with both unbearably-slowly nut-slicing stainless-steel laser tables and shark-infested feeding-freezy trapdoor-tanks in the improbable chance they *do* find their way in--we've actually got a modest shot of this year's race being (1) interesting and (2) possibly even competitive, with fun for snowball's-chance-in-hell GC contenders, sprinters, and puncheurs alike.  So what've they got coming to them?  This!

The Overall: Welcome to Brussels, home of the Grand Depart!  This Tour's got something for everyone: plenty of sprints, some nice roll-y breather days for breakaway artists and the inevitable "next [insert iconic name that everyone desperately tries to think of that isn't Lance Armstrong]", and, of course, eye-candy mountains with buckets of opportunity for Movistar to figure out how they're gonna eat their own young, *again.* On to the specifics!

The Time Trials: Hey perfect mountain goat, want to lose the GC to some musclebound mother!@#$er who can barely climb a mountain on a !@#damn helicopter?  Here's your chance! First, yer whole squad gets to screw you over with a mildy lumpy 27.6 k team time trial on Stage 2.  Now, you can relax--and for heck's sake gain as much time as you can in the mountains--before Stage 13's 27.2 k bit-o-rise-y-then-pretty-darn-flat individual effort.  Just--please watch out in the those corners, so we can all get back to the real race!

The Sprints: We start off the Tour in handsome Brussels with Stage 1 long 194-odd-kilometer leg-stretcher, then pick it up again on Stage 4.  Then, a break for actual fun outside the final 5k before we return to Cav's Chance to Blow It on Stage 7, a bucket o' pain til the next sprint finish on Stage 10, and, after the first rest day, another shot at glory (and another fruitless play to rip the green jersey off Sagan) on stage 10.  After that, you just gotta stay within the time cut for 6 more stages till the next easy jaunt on Stage 16 from Nimes to shining Nimes.  And what would the Tour be without the magnificent finale on the Champs-Elysees?  Yap, Sagan, yap--we still believe in you Greipel you big lug, let's cap off this season in style!

The Breakaways: Stage 3 starts off deceptively simply before delivering a nauseating roller-coaster ride for the last 30k.  !@#$, I miss Gilbert already!  Then, after a rest on Stage 4, stage 5 gives the hill-shy their first real leg nips as the tacticians start !@#$ing around the last 2 kilometers and--I mean, as they carefully assess their chances before going for that big last-minute surge from behind.  And geez,  with 5 (!) Cat 2s and two Cat 3s, Stage 8's really not joking about "hilly"--better make time for a winery-Tour refreshment as we hit the surprisingly painful road to St. Etienne!  Stage 9 gives no chance for rest, though, as the unsuccessful stage hunters try for redemption with a rather hefty 7.2% gradient hump 13k out from the finish in Brioude.  If you've blown all of that, though, you've still got a shot on Stage 17 with a likely decisive schlep 10k from the finish line.  Team cars, now is *not* the time to drop trou on your breakaway guys!

The Mountains: Sure, the Tour's "mountain" stages basically grandfather in a coupla the Giro or Vuelta's definition of "hilly" stages, but still, there's pain enough! We start off the *real* race on Stage 7 to La Planche des Belles Filles (French for "Plank of the Podium Babes"), with 3 nasty Cat 1 climbs sandwiching a coupla Cat 2s and a throwaway Cat 3.  Welcome to the Tour the France, kids!  Then, after the first rest day and a flat stage that you all better stay upright on and ahead of any crosswinds dammit Mikel, Stage 12 welcomes us with a gentle valley start before pitching us onto the legendary Peyresourde, then the Cat 1, 7.5%  Hourquette d'Anzican before a bit of a recovery descent to the finish.  *Don't* try to descend out of your league, you-know-who-you-ares! If you've survived the ITT on Stage 13, and haven't decided to crawl home in mortification with some bull!@#$ 'gastrointestinal distress', Stage 14 gives you a chance for an prestigious victory, or embarrassingly public defeat, up the mighty Tourmalet.  Make it through that?  Say hello to Stage 15, as we drag you up--really, you drag *you* up--3 Cat 1s including the spankin' new Foix Prat d'Albis, French for "we're gonna grind you up like goose liver."  Ready for tomorrow's rest day? After all that wine and pate' watching you saps, I know *I* am!  After leaving the lovely Pyrenees, we head into the podium-deciding Alps, with 3 opportunities to helplessly crack just on Stage 18's Col du Vars, the agonizing HC Izoard, and, if you're still not crumbling next to the road sobbing uncontrollably, the beloved (or behated, if you're riding it) Hors Categorie Galibier before a merciful--or terrifyingly exhausting--8k drop to the finish line.  C'mon Sagan, you can do this one--your fans will wait all night if they have to!  Finally, the short (126k) 'n' nasty, Stage 19, with Col d'Iseran 35k from the end, which would give you hope if you didn't have the Cat 1 Montee d'Tignes to overcome before you hit the hotel.  Ouch!  Still within spitting distance of your competitors, including your stupid unsuspecting teammate?  Well Stage 20 wraps it up with the Cat 1 Cormet de Roselend (French for "stop and smell the roses on your nature break, loser, I'm attacking you now"), a chill stage 2 interval, and, for the last gasp of the Tour--and your lungs--the oxygen-deprived summit up the phenomenal Val Thorens.  I just wrapped up the maillot jaune?  Great--now get that camera off me while I vomit!

Of course, the Tour *still* blows in comparison to the beautiful Giro and smashing Vuelta, but you all know we're all gonna watch it anyway, if only for Landa and possibly Thibaut Pinot YouTube highlights.  Speaking of whom, next up (shut up haters!): the GC contenders!

It's Yer Chris Froome Paranoid Conspiracy Theory Roundup!

Look, we all know that Team Ineos in the Sky With Diamonds is capable of truly epic levels of bull!@#$tery, like "marginal gains," "I had no idea what was in that Jiffy Bag labeled "HEY DAVE, HERE'S THAT BAGFUL OF BANNED PERFORMANCE-ENHANCING DRUGS YOU ORDERED FROM ME BY TEXT MESSAGE FOR YOUR RIDERS," and  "we appreciate Geraint Thomas winning the Tour de France for us and will gladly support him again."  But since Chris Froome's shocking 50-kph Tour-and-possibly-career-destroying smash into a wall, there's been a truly, startlingly paranoid quasi-Masonic deep-state X-Files Spy vs. Spy Bourne Identity just-!@#$in'-nutwhack tweet-blizzard o' conspiracy theories, so before we all get totally lost in the weeds here, let's recap, summarize, and clarify:

1. Juanjo Cobo, the improbable Vuelta a Espana champ/current milkman (a far nobler profession than 'pro cyclist', BTW), was busted for bio passport probs and potentially stripped of his win, in which Chris Froome placed an improbable 2nd, THE VERY SAME DAY THAT FROOME SLAMMED INTO A WALL BLOWING A SNOT-ROCKET ON A TT-RECON DESCENT CAUSING CATASTROPHIC INJURIES.  

2. Some other pro guy said he once mistook Juanjo Cobo for a "fat mechanic," not a wasted wraith with the approximate BMI of a half-starved locust.   So...karma, bitches!

3. Ineos sez Froome had multiple breaks to his femur, some broken ribs, and a fractured elbow. Normal people, including Froome-haters, were horrified, and wished him a full and speedy recovery.

4. Allegedly, a coupla tools were like "big whoop, he's a cheating scumbag anyway," leading to massive "YOU'RE A TOTAL !@#$FACE" outrage.  However, I personally more saw, "Yep, hate him, hope he gets well soon, that's a !@#$ty thing to happen to anyone."

5. Updated medical reports said Froome also had a broken neck, and lost like 2 liters of blood.

6. Dan Martin and some other guys said either they were there and thought holy crap he coulda been killed and were blessedly relieved he was not, or told him "hey, careful on the descent there, cowboy."

7. The ambulance took a while to get to and stabilize him before it was safe to move him to hospital. Suspiciously, though, THERE IS NO GORY INSENSITIVE DISRESPECTFUL VOYEURISTIC HELP-NO-ONE STREAMING YOUTUBE FOOTAGE of something that clearly would've completely traumatized his poor family if they'd seen it, so honestly, what the hell is *wrong* with you people?

8. He was in the ER/ICU, and then he was not.

9. Post-surgery, Froome posts a pic of himself giving a thumbs-up sign from his hospital bed, with basically a big band-aid on his elbow, a blanket deceptively pulled over his purportedly mangled torso, no IV lines, and his scrawny neck without any visible immobilization collar or other support.  There is also a noticeable lack of overflowing blood-buckets in his disconcertingly clean hospital room, and a disturbing absence of machines that beep.

10. Some crackpot posts some kind of weird Masonic flat-earth fake-moon-landing little-green-men-but-cyclists thing, and everyone loses it.

11. Phil Gaimon posts a pic of himself after a vaguely similar track crash having apparently been put through a wood-chipper.

12. There are now two schools of thought on Twitter: "boy, he doesn't *look* that injured, he *must* be part of a vast team-and-hospital-wide conspiracy to fake us out" when all he actually had to do if he thought he was about to get popped himself was excuse himself out of the Tour with a much simpler bogus 'stomach ailment' and "WTF, you watch two seasons of "Grey's Anatomy" and now you're a medical expert you tinfoil-hatted freak?" Suddenly, a third group emerges!  It basically just says, "Hmmmm."

13. We love Joseba Beloki talked about his own Tour de France career-crushing femur break and I almost bawled.

14. The upshot: (1) Froome's a dirty dirty you-know-whatter; (2) crashing is a crappy sad way for even an odious sports-weasel to end his career so let's hope he heals completely and quickly; (3) Geraint Thomas is *still* fucked; and (4) I've been running this pointless blog for 13 years and even *I* think we all need to get a life.

Glad that's settled.  On to the Tour!

It's Yer Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!

Yes, it's the holidays, that glorious time of year when we wish good will to all our brethren and sistren, except Team Sky who's relentlessly crushed the fun out of all the Grand Tours with their boring lifeless death-by-power-meter approach so they suck but everyone else we'll cut some slack.  So who's been naughty or nice this season, and what do we gift 'em? Enjoy, dear peloton--you deserve it!

1. Gianni Moscon: how many racist sucker-punching wankmeisters does it take to change a lightbulb? Who cares, but I'll tell you what that kid *does* need--a damn muzzle. And viewing his latest obscene gestures to the cameras straight from the warm-'n'-fuzzy lovefest that is team camp, we should damn well slap on some mittens, too.  Now *don't* take 'em off til you've learned yer lessons, ya little punk!

2. Floyd Landis: All I need are some tasty waves, a cool buzz, and I'm fi--oh wait, that's Jeff Spicoli. Let's just deliver this new team boss, and pleasingly perpetual annoyance to Lance Armstrong, a truckload of Doritos to go with his boatloads of bud!

3. Mikel Landa: the 2019 Giro.  Because until you get one, Unzue is *never* gonna 100% back you for the Tour, the new stupid "two team captain" strategy is *still* gonna fail, and you will always, *always* be !@#$ed.  We love you Mikel, you can do this--just maybe scarf an extra espresso before all those extra time trials this year and it's yours!

3. John Degenstache: damn, I'd love him to win Paris-Roubaix this coming year!

4. Peter Sagan: impeccable bike-handling skil--no, he got that.  A screaming horde of fanboys'n'girls second only to the Beatles--yeah, done and dusted.  More moolah in endorsements than god--mmm-hmm, been there already.  World cham--no, he has like a million o'those.  Aw hell, he doesn't need anything--maybe give the boy a Tour de France mountain stage, just to mix it up a bit!

5. Andre Greipel: a big ol' win on the Champs-Elysees.  Eat *that*, Lotto, you faithless goons!

6. Lotto-Whicheverscrewedhimover: a lump of coal.  You *suck* for jacking our big lug over!

7. Team Sky: Jiffy bags.  Ya gotta be running low by now, amirite?

8. Anna van der Breggen: La Course.  Because she was so, *so* close this year!

9. UCI: Salbutamol, or whatever performance-enhancing drug would give you the strength to bust anyone bigger'n some poor Master's racer for doping!

10. Alejandro Valverde: cripes, he's got the World Champion stripes and at least another 80 top years in the legs--I guess just that everyone won't have just ditched bicycles for flying cars and jet-packs by the time he packs it in?

11. Alexandre Vinokourov: Okay I don't really know what to get you Vino so please don't hurt me but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give Mikel Landa a nice contract and 100% Grand Tour backing, and lure that boy the hell outta Dodge!

12. Dave Brailsford: a crack legal team.  No reason--just good to have in your back pocket in case you ever need it!

13. Geraint Thomas: like, a nice little "participation" trophy or some such comforting trinket given to the kid who always gets picked last in gym class.  'Cause heck knows Froome ain't gonna let the mere defending Tour de France champion have another crack at it this July!

14. Our Baby Carrots: between Edu Prades, Oscar Rodriguez' stealth triumph, and every darn breakaway in every race you rode in--what more our future superstars need, except to continue on the same flower-strewn path?  A case of giant bottles of podium Champagne--you're gonna get 'em anyway, might as well enjoy 'em up front!

15. Marcel Kittel: a buzz cut.  I'm serious.  It's like a reverse Samson & Delilah thing--shave off the gorgeous pompadour, regain your winning ways. Worth a try, right?

16. Nairo Quintana: his mojo.  After Mikel Landa kicks his !@# at the Tour.

17. The Women's Peloton: a TOUR DE FRANCE. Not some bull!@#$ pacifier snoozer-to-watch throwaway circuit race, a REAL FREAKIN' TOUR DE FRANCE. !@#dammit, are you people *trying* to make me doubt the existence of Santa Claus, how much longer do I have to ask for this?!

18. Finally, My Dear Readers (Both of You): look, what with everyone *still* reeling from Alberto Contador's retirement and that catastrophic stick-figure's victory at the Giro, it's been a tough 'ol 2018. May all your cycling dreams, at least those of which I would approve, come true!

All right kids, that's about as much genuine goodwill as I can put out there in one go without passing out.  So crank those maudlin tunes, lift that tasty spiked nog, and Merry Festivus and Happy New Year to all of you!

It's Yer Tour de France Week One (And a Little More) Roundup!

Look, unless we're personally Chris Froome, or someone making a !@#$-ton of money off this farce, we've all been ambivalent about--or outright skipping--the whole damn Tour. But there was actually a lot of action amidst the 800-kilometer sprint snoozefests, so what'd you miss? This!

1. !@#$ you UCI for relegating Andre Greipel! The total unbelievable bull!@#$ you clowns allow and *this* is what you harp on? If you're trying to look *less* like wankers for kicking Peter Sagan out entirely last year, *this* ain't helping!

2. If you weren't absolutely *bawling* when Degenstache gave his tearful post-win interview dedicating his victory to his dear late friend after being smashed to pieces and utterly written off post-his terrible 2016 injury, you have no soul. NONE, you empty ghoul!

3. $%^!in' Porte, man. He can't catch a break.

4. !@#$in' Tejay, man. He can't catch a break.

5. The absurdity of a tiny baby superclimber suddenly bombarded by Next Great Talent hype having to effectively ride Paris-Roubaix in his first Grand Tour is superseded only by the ignominy of his plowing directly into the back of a team car without anyone watching out for him and folding up like a cheap suitcase. Heal up quick, Egan Bernal, and FFS Sky, let this kid develop somewhere a little safer first!

6. I'm not sure it was a great idea for Lawson Craddock to keep riding after his bloody faceplant--I'm a lowly couchpeloton denizen, not a doctor--but the caretaking EF's riders have shown for him as he recovers and perserveres is quite lovely. And kudos to all for turning his suffering into huge charitable donations!

7. Movistar--specifically Nairo and, with one silly paved-surface mishap, Mikel--survived surprisingly well on the cobbles yesterday. But with one less key man in the mountains, and the high passes finally looming, pick a !@#damn leader (Mikel, who is still considerably ahead of Nairo) *now* and stick with 'im!

8. Anyone else feel the universe was just playing a game of freakin' whack-a-mole on poor Romain Bardet yesterday? Just *amazing* he didn't lose more time, he'd've finished that stage two days earlier if not for all that !@#$!

9. Talking smack about your own rider is *not* the way to motivate your boy to victory, Tinkoff--uh, Katusha. Lucky Marcel Kittel whanged his bike into the team bus instead of yer damn head!

10. I know, I'm the only one happy to see Greg Van Avermonster in yellow. Don't worry haters, he'll lose the maillot jaune on the road by the time both of you read this!

11. Lots of yappin' today on whether Geraint Thomas, ahead of team leader Chris Froome on GC, gets to play captain at the Tour. Given Froome attacking his own road boss Brad Wiggins against team orders, I'm gonna say, what are you, on dope?! No, I don't mean that way! Well, come to think of it...

12. Oh, Rigoberto Uran. *So* great, but your run of misfortune continues. But I do believe he's good to fight for a stage win and a reasonably decent revival on GC!

13. Vincenzo Nibali. Uh-huh, that's how this former (and eternal) Tour de France champion gets there--he's so stealthy you almost forget he's around, and then suddenly, you're chum. Watch out for Shark sightings!

14. Yeah, La Course. It's got a stellar lineup--even if half of 'em are exhausted as hell from the Giro Rosa--and it's actually a very nice route. Whoop de doo, and, by current standards, the fact the women get any race at all seems like a celebration. But a group of women are riding the entire Tour de France route *each day* ahead of the guys with--unlike the menfolk--shoestring budgets and limited, if superlative, support to prove there ought to be a *real* women's Tour de France, *and* they're killing it. !@#dammit ASO you backwards troglodytes do what's right already!

Okay, on to the Giro Rosa in Review. And the rest of, y'know, some big fussy race going on in France!

It's Yer 2018 Tour de France in Preview, Part Deux: The General Classification Contenders!

First, stop making those infernal barfing noises. I mean it people! I'm not happy about that !@#$wit and his robot army participating either. But, as with the course, we got the field we got, and to be fair (for once in 12 years of this lowly rag) we *also* got some actual possible contenders here with a chance to win that doesn't 100% depend on a shameful sport-destroying doping scandal and an ignominious 2019 race presentation with a pic of shattering glass over the last year's winner's face and a giant asterisk next to their name for the remainder of human history. So who's in, who's out, and who's just plain ridiculous! These guys!

1. Marianne Vos: Oh wait--despite the incredible depth and talent in the women's field, they *still* don't have a Tour de France, unless you count a one-day quickie that's immediately swept away without a trace in favor of hand-scrubbing the men's course for them so the *real* race can come through. Screw you, Tour de France!

2. Vincenzo Nibali: Not only is he not tired out from riding the Giro, since he didn't (which I found horrifying, but whatever), he's actually got a bangin' squad backing him--one of the best here. New Spanish national champ Gorka. Ion. Pozzo, probably still exhausted from the Giro but who, with the exception of a day's crack, really rode masterfully there. And with Nibs' spectacular descending skills to help him off the Aubisque even if he's not in great shape up top and his all-weather/all-terrain toughness, there's actually some hope here. Of course, if he doesn't let our little carrots off the leash for at least one stage win, I'll hate his guts forever--but not as much as Froome's. Shark attaaaaaaaaccckkkkk!

3. Richie Porte: Oh, BMC. One the one hand, with your impending doom, you've got a great squad filled with talent desperately looking to lock in a half-decent contract with gobsmacking performances here; on the other hand, the hell with teamwork, it is now every man for himself out there. Anyway, they seem to think Porte can do it. I'm thinking more top 5. *Why* isn't it enough for a great rider to just be a great rider without the pressure of all this yellow-in-Paris-or-nothing on 'im?

4. Movistar: a. Mikel Landa: remember how badly Landa chafed at having to waste his own GC legs serving team captain Froome, then inexplicably jumped ship to Team "WHAT THE !@#$ LANDA IT IS GOING TO BE THE EXACT SAME THING!"? Yeah, well, Nairo's made it perfectly clear he won't take this !@#$ any more'n Froome did. Saving grace: he's no worse at time trialing than Nairo. Unsaving grace: with Piti riding 'em like Cancellara the last couple years, he's gonna have to really fight Valverde on the climbs. Don't take yer eyes off 'im for a minute Mikel, no matter what the little opportunist says!

b. Nairo Quintana: To his credit, he's *earned* a Giro d'Italia--it's certainly possible he can take the Tour. But with the more sweeping climbs of France not necessarily his best, and an enormous waste of energy the first week fighting his bull!@#$ happy "co-leaders" for captaincy all but certain, he's hobbled, like the rest of Movistar's leadership, for at least 10 stages after Froomey's already spray-painted some garish neon yellow paint job on his bike. Just try not to get obliterated in a cross-wind for the first 7 sprint stages, and maybe you've got a shot against your own best pals!

c. Alejandro Valverde: How do you rate a guy, since being popped for replacing his entire bodily blood supply with Red Bull in Operacion Puerto in 2006, has only exponentially improved each of the 12 years since then? Hey, !@#$ if I know, but, despite his impressive history of one-day meltdowns wrecking his 21-day races, whatever it is you can't count this genial 834-year-old out. And of *course* he'll generously ride for you Nairo--right up to the second he smells weakness and goes all "Call of the Wild" darwinistic nightmare on your !@#!

5. Rigoberto Uran: Well, we'll get some flashes of brilliance before he fades. We still love you, grande Rigo!

6. Chris Froome: oh, all *right*! I feel dipped in swamp-filth just talkin' about 'im. So y'know that creepy internet video of that backwards-jointed quasi-dog headless bug-robot that's been circulating and causing total end-of-humanity "War of the Worlds" hysteria like "The Terminator" was some sort of staid National Geographic documentary instead of an alien dystopian hellhole future? Yeah, like *seven* of those things, *plus* the veiny twig-sculpture himself. Ugh. I *just* *can't* *stand* it. Tell me, tell me you aren't all just itching now for the relatively benign Lance Armstrong era, I *dare* you! Anyway, it ain't *my* TV ratings in the tank over this !@@$dhow. You suck, Tour de France:

7. Tom Dumoulin: Finally, although everyone's counting him out, there's not no merit here. Weak point: team--the higher he gets, the more he'll have to leech off other teams' tactics, and wheels. Strong point: this sprinty, roll-y, time trial-ly course is waaaaay better for Dumo, even with his improbable climbing ability, than the death-by-a-thousand-hairpins peaks of the Giro. Plus, *he* can time trial (of course, so can Froome now, but what dedicated donkey can't?). Cripes Mikel, if it can't be you, and I just feel too dirty cheering for Valverde, I swear I'm gonna have to root for this guy!

All righty--there's your GC, and I remind you, *none* of this is my fault. Next up, the roleurs, climbeurs, and stage hunteurs--you know you'd rather hear about them than contemplate this year's final podium anyway!

It's Yer 2018 Tour de France In Preview, Part Un: The Course!

Look, with even our beloved Giro the source of couch peloton ambivalence due to the presence--I can barely bring myself to say victory--of that gangly gasping stick figure Froome, it's no wonder that many of my fellow cycling fans are, with his impending attendance and likely triumph, viewing the upcoming Tour de France with all the same appreciation and excitement one views, say, a strangely spreading rash. But here it is, and you're gonna watch probably at least one stage anyway even if you hate it, so if you're gonna, then you might as well know what you're getting into, and on what stage that weasel is most likely to either crack, or pull a 280 kilometer breakaway into a hurricane-force headwind and still !@#$in' win the sprint stage because we all know he's got a motor bigger than a space rocke--uh, he's better than everyone else. So what've we got? This!


The Sprinty Stages: screw deciding the race with some idiot time trial on Day One--barring catastrophe, which can surely occur--this year, we're starting right off with a treat for the fast men! 201 potentially windy K to Fontenay-le-Comte. Gorillaaaaaaaaaa--go to hell, Andre can so either! Stage two takes us more inland; Stage 4'll show us how Sagan is really doing; stage 7 gives the scrappy, on-form Caleb Ewan the chance to--oh wait, he's been completely jacked outta this race! As for stage 8--yep, flat and boring again! @#dammit, are there *any* mountains in this freakin' race? Well, maybe a few, so whoever's wussed out on the green jersey competition might as well bail well before the next sprint day on Stage 13, yer second-to-last-chance for glory on Stage 18, and, of course, yer crowning final triumph on stage 21 the Champs-Elysees. Gorillaaaaaaaaaa--go to hell, Andre can so either!

Aw, Crap, the Time Trials: okay Movistar--it's the 35k stage 3 team time trial, not tooooo long, but still yer first real chance to jack all three of yer captains outta any hope of victory. We know you're no BMC here, but can you *please* not hose dear Mikel outta GC just yet? And if you're within only a few seconds of yer nearest competitor on the podium, you're either preemptively celebrating victory in Paris or projectile vomiting in fear or despair the entire night before Stage 20, a lumpy individual 31k time trial. Aw, who says these things aren't any fun?

The Rollers: get ready, you annoyingly named Quickstep "wolfpack"--the hills-but-not-mountains get rollin' on Stage 5! Next, the 181k Stage 6 welcomes two trips up the Mur de Bretagne. Enjoy--if you don't bonk! Stage 9's yer Classics playground--15 different cobbled sectors damn near all the way to Roubaix. Pleeeeeaaaaaase don't break anything on this, Movistar? Stage 14 is a cat 4, cat 2, cat 3, cat 2 nipper to Mende; Stage 15 jams in a Cat 1 to Pic de Nore before a flat run-in to Carcassone;

The Mountains: Jaysus, are you *seriously* making us wait halfway through the race before we hit even *one* of these? After a rest day, the Tour finally begins on Stage 10, which wakes the GC up with a nice wee stroll up the Colombiere after a brief, if potentially dangerous, mountaintop flirtation with a gravel section. Tired already? Well save yer breath and quit yer whinin'--you got two hors categorie climbs in the first 57k of Stage 11, and that's before the Cat 1 stinger to La Rosiere! As for Stage 12, it's Col de la Madeleine, *and* the Croix de Fer, *and* Alpe d'Huez--so Mikel, if you wanna both completely psych out Nairo Quintana *and* claim a legendary climb, don't !@#$ this up, you hear me! Anyway, you can chill after this to Stage 16, which welcomes you back from the 2nd rest day to a Cat 1 meander up Col de Mente before a *downhill* finish off Col du Portillon. If any of you need to improve your descending skills, well, too late now, suckers! Stage 17, though mountains, is curiously a mere 65k long, but still manages to stuff in Peyresourde *and* a steep finale up Col du Portet. At least the pain won't last too long, kids! As for Stage 19--this is it, Nairo, you either solidify yer win or utterly lose it here, as you grind up the 12k Col d'Aspin before begging for mercy up the Tourmalet before conquering the Aubisque, which includes not accidentally flying off the thing as you head to the valley below. Okay now you can relax grande Mikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!

Well, there's yer course--next up, the GC contenders to either thrill or horrify you. I'll see you all tweeting frantically on the Alpe d'Huez--you know I will, you lying lying liars!

It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2017 Tour de France Racejunkie Awards!

So, missing the Tour de France yet? Yeah, me neither, which is evidenced by the fact that, for the first time in 11 years of this crap blog, I haven't even been able to be bothered to write about it more'n twice since it began. But still and all, it did occur, it *is* the biggest, gaudiest show on the racing calendar, and, for reasons that defy explanation, some guys are *still* willing to ride the thing in the--and it pains me like appendicitis to call it this--Chris Froome era. And, miraculously, a few things *did* manage to happen to keep it from being like dutifully reading a 10,000 page stack of blank paper. Whaddya get if you've won--or lost--one of cycling's most coveted, if completely unknown and totally disregarded, awards? Well, if you're so desperate as to ask for it, you get--I swear to God--a custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap; some kind of cheap-but-shiny trophy-like tchtotchke (possibly personalized, but depending on what I find at the junk store, almost certainly with someone else's name on it); a passel o' glam racejunkie stickers to emblazon your bike, your car, or your garbage can; and, best of all, eternal internet notoriety! So, without further ado, let's get on to this year's Hall of Fame (or Shame):

1. Road to Nowhere Award: well done, ASO--you've managed to design the single dullest Tour de France course in over a century. Endless flat stages? Check. A coupla one-day races with hills in 'em--without the interest or tension of the cobbles, or hell, anything else? Check. Brutal mountain stages without y'know, *mountain top finishes* that could actually mean anything? Bingo. Even worse, you preceded three weeks' worth of sleeping pills with the most disastrous prologue in years, apparently believing that wiping out anyone of any interest with any ambition by sticking 'em on a squirrely time trial bike on a squirrely course in a monsoon was a good way to ensure that *no-one* was around to light up the race in the two high-top finishes that *might've* coughed up some drama. Okay, maybe two stages out of 21 didn't suck. Well done, !@#$wits--next time, can we make the *women's* race three weeks long, and you can just let the guys chill at home and save their energy?

2. Pointless Self-Destructive Bender Award--no, it's not Oleg Tinkov--he sold his team when he got bored of mugging for the cameras with Peter "just a world champion" Sagan! But in a related shoot-yerself-in-the-foot move, this one's to ASO too, for taking one of the few riders absolutely guaranteed to put on a spectacular, crowd-pleasing, media-friendly party-on-wheels for the whole time, and kicking Peter Sagan completely out of the Tour for the astonishingly weak rationale that Mark Cavendish tried to squeeze himself into an aperture more suited for a preternaturally flexible weasel than a human cyclist hooked himself under Sagan's armpit and brought his own self down into a painful pile against the barriers. Are you !@#$ing *nuts*? Not only was it not even a relegation-worthy offense, much less a kick-out one, it wasn't even an *offense*, you eejits. Even worse, now he's gone and shaved his head, which the twitverse is convinced is a direct reaction to ASO's stupidity. Next time, watch the replay, suck up your petulant pride, and do the right thing, you crybabies!

3. Punk-!@# Move of the Race (Team): Congratulations, Team Sky, you've managed to beat out both Nacer Bouhanni's unjustified smack to Quick Step's Jack Bauer for *no* reason, *and* your own team leader's gratuitous bash of Fabio Aru into the crowd for the *!@#$* reason of daring to pursue his own GC ambitions: in a race where the rest of you looked like wheeled grandfather clocks as you clicked dully along, you decided to completely kill any joy or intrigue in the Tour by chasing down your (bushwhacking, disloyal, so what?) teammate Mikel Landa every time he showed *any* signs of independent life. God, I can't wait til he's out of that clone craphole!

4. Punk-!@# Move(s) o' the Race (Individual): The way he has a mechanical exactly at the steepest part of the climb, so the GC'll be too shamed to attack him. Or the way he needs a pee break right at the bottom of every mountain, to destroy everybody's momentum. Or the way he lifts his arm up to "call for the team car" and slow the group down for no reason--unless, best as we can discern, it's just to smell his own armpit. !@#$ you Froome, not only are you a total whinging two-bit cheap-trick punk, you're gonna get all my awards this year, you flyweight glory hog!

5. Punk-!@# Move o'the Race (Fan): look, France. We all think Froome's a doping little !@#$, as well as an abomination against the cycling gods for his hideous position on the bike. But he ain't the only reason you haven't won your own Grand Tour in a generation. Booing the maillot jaune. Understandable? Hell yeah! Class? Well, not so much!

6. The Fast and the Furio--No, Just !@#$in' Boring Prize: Never has a rider made one of the world's most difficult, dramatic, and spectacular sporting events seem *so* like a flavorless three-week-long bowl o' bottomless gruel. Way to go, Froomey, you achieved the impossible! Now come collect your--no, take your eyes off your--hey, you've already won the--!@#$, no-one can get his eyes off that damn power meter for *anything*!

7. Crash-o-the-Race (Jaysus H. CHRIST, not *again*! Edition): Can Alberto Contador's luck *be* any more !@#$ the last few years? Before Trek can even fail to stand up to Sky's hideous mountain onslaught, and the commentators 6iscount our wee hero on account of his being the approximate age of a new-discovered dinosaur fossil (but still a good milennium younger than Valverde), Alberto's chance at a farewell Tour get wrecked once again by a series of idiotic yet painful crashes, including one at the wheel of an exhausted Nairo Quintana, who to be fair was so knackered by his lousy Giro that he may not have actually been conscious he was riding a bike race at all. Just, *please*--can this guy stay upright at least at the Giro next year so we'll know if he could win fair and square?

8. Crash-o-the-Race (Magical Mystery Tour Edition): *Would* BMC's Richie Porte--having only recently learned that best-bro/not-a-teammate Chris Froome might work *against* him sometimes--have tossed his friendship to the wind and gone all-in against Froome for Tour de France GC--and possibly even seriously challenged him for actual victory, or would he have yielded to temptation and superdomestiqued his own rival to the win in Paris, *again*? Welp, we'll never know, because poor Richie crashed out. Richie, when you've recovered from your wins, do pick up your prize--and *promise* you'll really ride against him next year!

9. Crash-o-the-Race (Didn't Make a !@#damn Bit of Difference Edition): y'know, I'm very sorry for Geraint Thomas, and I truly wish him a swift, smooth, and complete recovery. But really, when you've got !@#$in' 10 other next-generation Terminators decimating every other team in their path, did Froome even *need* him there, except perhaps for constant ego-stroking? Nope. Anyhow, get well soon Geraint!

10. Domestique o' the Tour: Michal Kwiatkowski, hands damn down. Sky, time to give that guy a ginormous raise--move it, or lose it to another squad!

11. The Power of Love (And Threats) Award: Oh, Rogue Mikel. You openly resented it, and you even attacked a few (okay, a buncha) times to show that you could, but *something*--pride, etiquette, bodily threats from Brailsford-- drove you to eventually fall in line behind your team captain (a hell of a lot more gracefully than that asshat did for Wiggins, by the way). But you sure don't have to put up with that crap next year!

12. Good, Good, Good, Good Vibrations Prize: Aw, who *didn't* join in podium finisher Rigoberto Uran's obvious delight at standing on the second step in Paris? Better luck next year--or whenever someone gets popped and you get awarded the whole shebang retroactively!

13. Total Freakin' Ripoff o' the Race: y'know, I wanted Andre Greipel to win *every* *single* *stage*--and if you've got any other explanation to suggest other'n "he was just intentionally resting," you can leave my happy island of plausible deniability and shut yer piehole--and Bling put on a super show, but man, Marcel Kittel *deserved* that green jersey, and even I was gutted for him when he climbed into the back of the team car in bruised defeat. Oh, all right, probably Sagan would've had it--but thanks to ASO, we'll never know, will we?

14. Nail-Nipper Moment o' the Race Award: 10 seconds to the line. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Is he gonna--no he's not abou--holy crap he's done it! Romain Bardet pipping Mikel Landa by one lousy second to hold his podium on the penultimate day. Finally, some drama--even if the result sucked!

15. You Spin Me Right Round Baby/Right Round Like a Motor Baby Prize: okay, let's hit this face on: despite my liberal-arts education, I get "inertia." What I don't get is some grasping half-dead guy gacking his way up a hill and weaving like a punch-drunk boxer while his brand-new wheel suddenly starts whizzing up the Alps at 8 million RPM. Or have I missed some valid marginal gains here? You know who you are--either get yer prize, or get lost, you weasel!

16. The Dog Ate My Homework Statuette: we know, Nairo--you couldn't win the Tour this year, but you had a darn good excuse for not doing it. Maybe if Valverde gets back to nip at your heels one last time, you'll be the pup that wins the race next year!

And Finally, Yer Class Act o' the Tour: As a three-time Tour de France champ--and nine-time Grand Tour legend--he could've, in all honesty, just packed up and gone home without anyone blaming him. But what does he do when his GC is shot and his body's too bashed for even a stage win? *That's* right, he !@#damn gets on his bike every morning, attacks his heart out til his legs explode, and honors the Tour de France *every* *single* *pedalstroke* *into* *Paris.* This doesn't change a whit of every word I've written since your jailbait days-but Alberto Contador, you are the winner in guts if not in glory!

Well folks, them's my awards--next year, let's hope Landa gets the big one, and we've got more interesting !@#$ to write about!

It's Yer 2017 Tour de France Rest-Day Week-One-in-Review!

Well, with the dullest course in living memory on the books, the Tour de France's been surprisingly (if daaaaaaarn intermittently) sprightly the last few days, so as Team "You Suck!" Sky dodges the traditional rest-day press conference like a bunny fleeing a wolf-pack, what've we learned so far, fellow tifosi? This stuff!

1. Shut it Froome. I don't even know what you just said. In fact, I don't even know if you've actually been interviewed. Just shut it!

2. Now, reasonable people can differ reasonably--even on the brutish playing field of a pot of tea and crumpets in the parlor--as to the etiquette of a rider attacking the race leader when he's got a mechanical or, if you're one of Froome's GC rivals apparently, ever, under any circumstances, at all. But if Sagan deserved to get his !@# kicked outta the Tour for the sin of Cav riding up under his handlebars from behind and crashing himself out, Froome absolutely sure as hell deserves to get his !@# kicked out of the Tour for intentionally plowing Aru into the spectators with his spiky insect exoskeleton. A punk move I get--deliberate revenge is bull!@#$. Is it me, or are ASO's tender feelings too hurt from the Sagan backlash to play fair enough to punish an !@#wipe who *really* deserves it?

3. Mark Cavendish may have a long and glorious history of being a petty, whinging wanker, and I get the deep and actually rational sense of injustice of the swooning Saganator fan-base over what happened, but anyone who aims their ire--and for !@#$'s sake, even death wishes!--at Cav's wife and kids is a total despicable scumlord. Perspective, you vicious freaks!

4. Trek-Segafredo--you're lovely for buying up Contador with a nice contract, and I do believe you mean so well by him--as evidenced by, if nothing else, the fact that his own teammates aren't openly trying their damnedest to throw their own team captain to the wolves in their own self-interest. But totally aside from Contador's own legs and creeping age, to beat those soldered-together nuclear-powered robots at Sky you *have* to have an *entire* team 100% climbing-ready to escort him in the mountains. What, you need more money--I've got the $50 bucks I couldn't give away to crowdfund Euskaltel burning a hole in my pocket, anyone else in?

5. It was nice to see the remaining GC contenders stepping up to superdomestique Chris Froome for his 2017 maillot jaune today. At least you know Contador, however and whyever hampered, will try to attack when he's got the legs no matter what. Really, WTF was *that*?

6. ASO, any bike race is always dangerous, but this Tour is *carnage*. Valverde. Porte. Thomas. About a dozen other guys so far. Can you *please* try to minimize the inch-wide descents, unpadded corners, and curlicue finishing "straights" for next year, for safety's sake? Honestly, we *don't* need or want the 'spectacle' of people getting hurt and wins-by-attrition! What is this, !@#$in' "Rollerball"?

7. Oh, FDJ. Such fine and deserving talent, but *four* riders outside the time cut today! Maybe you could call Dave Brailsford and talk, y'know, nutrition or something?

8. Speaking of whom, !@#$ you Sky for screwing Mikel Landa for the Vuelta! He looks like a sullen toddler stuck in his "time-out" corner out there. Can you *please* let the guy off the leash and give him a cookie or something?

9. Andre Greipel will so either. He's just, y'know, conserving energy and nicely giving fellow countryman Kittel a few stages to shine. Is too! PS Class for setting things to rights with Sagan after the incidente!

10. Two Grand Tour career starts, two Grand Tour career stages--the Vuelta first, of course. Who *doesn't* like to say "Calmejane"?

11. White shorts. Just--no.

12. Yes, Robbie, the mechanics of on-the-fly nature breaks are fascinating. Can we *please* stop discussing them now?

12. Where the !@#$ is our TV coverage of the Giro Rosa?! *Tell* me what sponsor !@#$ you want me to buy to make this possible!

13. Oh Nairo. Even without Valverde around to bushwhack you, you should've known this was an exercise in total futility before you started. Be honest--is this why you rode the noble Giro, to give yourself an out here?

14. I've said it before, and I'll say it again (which is why it's lucky no-one reads this rag anyway): high mountain stages with downhill finishes are a *total* *!@#$in'* waste. We *know* who can descend--even if they run into trouble. What I want to know is, outside of Froome and his mo--uh, "mojo"--who the hell on a stage can climb to victory?

Well, them's my sum-up. Landa, plot your escape, Nairo, plot--well, *something*, for chrissakes, and Alberto, whatever's gone sour, we trust you'll be back to smack down your rivals and remind them who *earned* 9 Grand Tours another day!