Contador vs. Froome vs....Uh, That Other Guy! Sagan vs. Cavendish! Sir Brad's Sartorial Splendor! Jeeeeeeens!

Hell-ooooooooo! Defending Champ Over Here!: yes, the media hype over the Alberto Contador-Chris Froome faceoff at the Tour de France, and diplomatically complimentary smack-talk, has already begun, as the two boys get a trial crack at each other at the Ruta del Sol this week and poor Vincenzo Nibali has to go on the offensive to remind everyone he's actually the defending !@#$ing Tour winner and, like anyone cares, his form is already pretty good and he's tranquillo about his chances in July. Well, hell, Nibs, it's not like you're even gonna be a marked man apparently, you might as well just take the maillot jaune while those two are distracted getting fawned over! I swear, the man can't get *no* respect...

Pick It Up, Peter!: geez, Sagan, not only did Oleg Tinkov pay out the nose for the Holy Grail of Your Royal Wheelieness this season, but with Alberto Contador threatening to retire in 2016 so Oleg can't make him do the Giro-Tour-Vuelta deathmarch--uh, so he can retire at the top of his game--you're all Tinkov's got now, honey, so if you don't start to step up from this 7th place bull!@#$ and win him (forget "win yourself") a good brace of Monuments this season, you're gonna find you'll be suddenly getting paid 3.4 million euro a year just to follow Oleg around disposing of his dirty tissues and wiping his rear end. Meantime, I don't wanna disturb you or Marcel Kittel as he relaxes over at the hair salon with a hot cup of tea and a Cosmo, but Mark Cavendish has been, despite some fine early-season competition, on a hell of a tear, with the added bonus that, should you actually be about to beat him in a sprint on the merits, he can and will rip your derailleur off with teeth within a wheel's-width of the line. I take back every doubt I had about you Cav--at least until Marcel's all done with his blow-out!

Wiggo's Got a Brand New Bag: meanwhile, big style points to baby team boss Sir Bradley Wiggins, who's debuted a stylin' new jersey for his nascent squad that's far superior to the boring (and confusing) black of most'a' the ProTour this year. Special feature: press the target logo on the chest, and it chirps, "*Sure*, I'll help Froomey win the Tour!" Oh, just keep rubbin' salt in old wounds there, Brad...

Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeens!: finally, giant kudos to our fine local bike shop for hosting an entirely bitchin' Q&A with the entirely bitchin' Jens Voigt yesterday. My dear Contador and Cancellara swooners, I get it--never have I seen so many grownups, myself included, share so much in common with a shrieking stadium full of sugar-stoked tween idol fans. Yep, I'm a Belieber--thank you Jens and Cycle Loft!

Aiiiigggghh! It's Real, It's Jens Voigt's Last Race! Aiiiiggghh!: His Career in Review #thankyoujens

Holy crap, it is *just* starting to sink in after yesterday's glorious, fruitless attack at the USA ProChallenge: it's really, truly Jens Voigt's last bike race, and let's face it, much as we'll all still love it, cycling is gonna absolutely blow for all eternity. Sob! Anyway, we can't let such greatness go unrecognized, so let's pay tribute the career, and palmares, of the King of the Breakaways:

9/17/71: Jens is born in East Germany. Doctors and nurses immediately have to give chase as baby Jensie grabs tricycle from visiting kid and takes off at full speed down hallway.

1984: Jens joins national sports school for track and field. Switches to cycling after friction from incredible velocity on foot accidentally vaporizes school's tracks and fields.

1997: Pro cycling career begins with Aussie squad ZVVZ-Giant, wins overall in Niedersachsen-Rundfahrt. In 1998, joins predecessor to Credit Agricole, where he spends the next five years giving the French yet another reason to cry about the state of their own cyclists.

1998: Holy crap Jens is the King of the Mountains on stage 9 of the Tour de France!

1997-2001: Jens attacks. All. The. Time. Like a Labrador retriever after a ball tossed 200k ahead of 'im to the finish line. Hell, he does that 'til 2014--goooooooooo Je--hey, where the hell *did* he go?

1999: Jens wins first Criterium International. Not bad for a whippersnapper!

2001: It's Jens' first Tour de France maillot jaune! Also bags 229-km flat stage 16 to Sarran. King of the Mountains, Lord of the Flats--what the heck *can't* he do?

2004: Jens joins Team CSC, where he will assist in blitzing Ivan Basso to his 2006 Giro d'Italia triumph. When Basso is implicated in massive Operacion Puerto doping scandal shortly thereafter, he pleads, "how the !@#$ else was I supposed to keep up with that guy?" Jens doesn't dope, dope Jenses!

2005: Jens gets second yellow jersey of his career. Also wins first of 3 career stages at the Tour of the Basque Country. Euskaltel unsuccessfully tries to recruit, but deal goes sour when they can't find a team bike big enough for him. Aw, and he'd've looked so chic in orange!

2006: Jens gets his second stage win of the Tour de France on its longest day (natch) from a breakaway (natch) with over 29 minutes over the rest of the field (natch). Woot woot Jensie!

2007: It's the Tour of California, baby! Jens grabs thrilla of a stage three and finishes on the final podium. What else would you expect?

2008: Did I mention Criterium International? Jens takes his 4th--count 'em, 4th!--as soigneurs rush to comfort disappointed competitors with binkies and pacifiers. Also takes stage in the we love the Giro d'Italia and helps herd CSC teammate wee Carlos Sastre to Tour de France overall victory. And that was *before* his morning caffeine kicked in!

2009: Jens sustains horrific crash on descent of Col-du-Petit-St. Bernard and is forced to abandon the Tour. Mountain immediately apologizes and crumbles into dust in penance. Jens, meanwhile, is put back together with 836 bottles of Krazy Glue, and attacks traffic on way home from hospital, beating it by 45 kilometers in a solo breakaway into a headwind. Get well soon Jens!

2010: Jens takes fifth Criterium International, which is now officially renamed the Criterium Screw This We All Know Who's Gonna Win Anyway So Why Don't We All Just Go Out And Grab A Beer Instead of Riding It. And damn, what is it with the Tour de France? Jens hits the deck hard on descent of the Peyresourde, smashes his bike, grabs some kid's, and fires away for 15 kilometers before catching up to a new bike left with a cop for him by his team. Just another day at the office!

2010-2014: Jens exclusively mans the team-bus coffee machine for teammates Fabian Cancellara and the Schleck brothers. Cancellara time-trials around globe in 24 hours propelled by single espresso shot.

2011: Jens joins Leopard-Trek, and damn lucky for *that* disaster of a squad, too! Finishes Tour of California stage with busted scaphoid. At press conference, Voigt shrugs he just kept saying "Shut up scaphoid!"

2012: Jens attacks (of course) the breakaway (of course) on Independence Pass (of course) for a 100km solo breakaway win at USA Pro Challenge (of course). Everyone on planet who uses word "epic" to describe any other bike feat but this one from now on summarily thwapped.

2013: Jens attacks (natch) from an 18-man breakaway (natch) with 5k to go to take stage 5 at the Tour of California (natch). Meantime, locates 963 geocaches in 18 minutes before sign-in on stage 3. Oh, and he's not retiring just yet. Woot woot!

2014: Jens rides his final--aiiiiiggggghhhhh! aiiigggghhhhh! I can't even say it! Aiiiiiigggghhhh! Anyway, *you* know what he rode. No no no no no no no!

And in case you think that's all--or that we're talking the total career palmares of like 50 guys here, rather than just one man--he also grabbed a total of 52-something career wins, wore out two massive steel shipping containers of Sharpies signing autographs, and hammered approximately 2.6 million kilometers of solo breakaway. And since most all his victories can be found on-line, but there's no way in hell to fit 'em all here, now, in a tribute to the master, a Day in the Life of Jens!

Well, I'm still in a state of total disbelief, gratitude, and preemptive mourning. Come back *soon* Jens--but I guess *after* you walk the dog!

Peter Sagan: It's All About the Benjamins (Yeah!)

Pony Up, Tinkov!: so, it seems Oleg Tinkov hasn't *quite* got fan-frenzied babemeister Peter Sagan in the bag just yet: our hero tweeted today his head is "bursting" with thoughts of his future, among them Team Alonso, Astana, *and* Tinkoff-Saxo (Alonso, really?) Translation: pay up, Tinkov, I may have blown the Tour de France but I'm still the hottest man on the market! Oh, Oleg, you shoulda signed 'im when you got the 1000 re-tweets you asked for...

Roman Candle: meantime, after Oleg went on a(nother) twit-rampage over UCI's Kreuziger of poor Roman, his slightly calmer counterpart Stefan Feltrin penned an open letter to the rules-changing scumlords over at UCI, politely blasting new-gen chief Brian Cookson for inconsistency, hypocrisy, and general toolery. Even worse, they're WASTING MONEY PAYING THIS GUY NOT TO RACE, you cash-gouging bastards! Gentlemen and ladies, I think you oughta take this as the raindrop before the hurricane that it is, and free this poor kid to race before Oleg *really* gets pissed. Hell, he's terrifying enough when he's happy--and his boy Alberto's missing the Vuelta, too!

All Hail (No, Really, All Hail) the Peloton: finally, as we love Jens Voigt begins the second-to-last race of his professional career (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!) over at the Tour of Utah--with former Giro champ Ivan Basso and Tour winner Cadel Evans on hand, so a pretty smokin' field all round--the Tour of Poland's decided to beat both the Giro's pathetic snow, sleet, and freezing temps *and* the weakling Vuelta's sunspot immolation by pounding the riders with hail and sending the cold-soaked boys painfully to the tarmac. Wah, wah, you're hit with plunging balls of rock-sized ice, wah--don't you guys know that soccer players play when it SPRINKLES out?! And that sometimes other guys BRUSH INTO THEIR ANKLES?! Quit yer cryin' you babies!

It's Yer 2014 Tour de France in Preview: the Climbers, Roleurs, 'n' Everyone Else We Love (Or Don't!) Roundup!

Tic-toc, you can't make it stop, baby, because it's one day left to the Grand Boucle, so time for our final pre-Tour preview! So last but not very least: the mountain goats, and yer everyone else who's in or out who we love, or just love to hate!

Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler: whose face embodies the angst, the glory, the tragedy, the suffering of the Tour de France? That's right, Tommy Voeckler--and that's all before he gets to the day's sign-in! Watch him for the ebb and flow of attack after attack, the surge of triumph and the gutted visage of defeat. We love you Voeckler--you're like the overacting soccer player of cycling!

Jeeeeeeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeens! really, need one say more? He just got to Yorkshire and already completed a geocache! Plus reconned the course, rebuilt his own bicycle, participated in a barn-raising, repaired Big Ben, took the Queen out to a rave, and personally hammered Sir Brad a new suit of armor. See you in the breakaways, Jens!

Purito Rodriguez: yes, I put 'im in with GC, tho' he's basically here because he crashed out of the Giro and needs some miles--but not pounded out too hard--for the Vuelta. Me, I'm putting him in for a stage win. Woot woot!

Rui Costa: he's the world champ, he just bagged the Tour de Suisse after a typical curse-of-the-rainbow-jersey start to the season, and he aims, if not to win, to make a fuss. Plus, if you piss 'im off, he'll whang the crap out of you with the nearest bike wheel. Now *that's* world-class!

Sylvain Chavanel: for years, along with Sandy Casar, pretty much the only reason the French *didn't* suck. He doesn't make a fuss, but he always scares the crap out of his unlucky companions in a breakaway. Class act all 'round!

Christophe Riblon: no, still not a huge name, but he *did* win the Alpe d'Huez last year. Who wouldn't like a double?

Darwin Atapuma: Colombia's latest sensation among a sea of latest Colombian sensation, this boy has a hell of a future--and luckily, at the last minute, a freakin' visa. Good support for his boss at BMC, and a massive threat in the heights if he gets the nod to strike out on his own for a stage!

Andrew Talansky: yeah, I got smacked for leaving him out before, but here he is: the man who outsmarted--and out-rode--Alberto Contador on the highest passes of the Dauphine. He may not get GC, but if he can hang in for three weeks, he can sure place high--and afford to throw in a body-crushing performance on at least one mountain stage. Let Nibs Alberto and Froomey mark each other--Andrew, take full advantage! Along those lines, Michal Kwiatkowski, 11th last year, who should be able to put on a pretty sweet show despite some recent uneven form. Allez allez boys!

Ex-Carrots: look, I'm not apologizing for Alejandro Valverde here--he still creeps me out. But damn, he's got a great squad of mostly ex-Euskies to back him, and you can't fault Valverde for his total generosity to his teammates in the face of personal setback. Benat, Ion, the whole lot of you--be ready to step up after Piti's inevitable meltdown!

Chris Horner: the oldest Grand Tour winner is back, without huge expectations but still having to convince everyone he really deserved his big win last year. But for !@#$'s sake, if he gets another concussion, take him *off* the bike before the stage ends!

Fabian Cancellara: oh, no, I didn't forget your darling, Fabs fans! He's predicting monster GC chaos on the fateful cobbles, and I'm betting (oops! jinxed 'im!) he'll come out on top. Go Fabs!

Finally, the Missing: out: the incredibly annoying unctuous hypocrite David "I Hearted Doping Til Others Got to Do It Without Me" Millar, who took to social media to whine about his rejection for the final Tour de France Jonathan Vaughters apparently owed him. Everytime this guy opens his mouth, no matter what the topic, I swear it makes me nostalgic for omerta. But don't worry, fans, he'll apparently be the mosquito in yer ears over on British commentary! Nairo, of course, as Movistar herds its baby superstar cautiously. And Cadel, and Uran, and Gilbert. Worst of all on the out list: the glamorous Pippo Pozzato, who's reportedly planning in revenge to pop up and take a nekkid selfie right next to the day's stage winners as they cross the finish line. Well, that settles who wins the queen stage, I guess--now get that guy a maillot jaune before he shocks the innocent public!


Ah, Jeez!: I can't believe I nearly missed mentioning we love Ted King, who got completely screwed out of the Tour de France last year by a pack of soulless nit-picker bean-counter judges, who kicked his !@# over a measly 7 seconds after a nasty crash while repeatedly letting more well-known riders (Cav! Cav! 'scuse me, must be a frog in my throat) off the hook. When he's helping Sagan to yet another stage win over a suck French rider, race organizers, remember that!

The Agony of Blown Expectations; and, Jeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnns! #tdf

Run, Contador, Run!: look, for anyone else--like, say, a French squad--a fourth on GC and the win in the team classification would be the pinnacle of their Tour, even their careers. But for Alberto Contador, Bjarne Riis, and SaxoTinkoff, this looks--and feels--like crushing defeat. Leaving aside the fact that, assuming his alternately delirious and frightening twitter account isn't just a parody, Oleg Tinkov's probably gonna hunt him down bust his kneecaps and sink 'im to the bottom of some murky Siberian lake somewhere, Alberto, at only 30 and already one of the most prolific Grand Tour winners ever, has got to be ready to answer, what the !@#$ has happened to him? Whether it's because he's off the juice and this is just who he is, or Froome's on it doing it better, or there's some totally legitimate explanation, I gotta say, even *I'm* feeling glum for the little twerp. Hell, even Phil & Paul seem to have written 'em off like yesterday's boozy D-list starlet, ignoring him once he popped and hailing guys like Quintana and Talansky as the exciting new generation of cycling. Well, Alberto, be sure to avoid your team boss, Bjarne, I wouldn't !@#% with Tinkov either, and before you both take time off to reflect, mourn, and regroup, make sure you've got those anonymous plane tickets to Untraceableland in yer pockets!

Jeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnssssssss!: meanwhile, in sharp contrast to the depressing excitement shown by everyone whenever Andy Schleck now manages to stay two wheels off the autobus on a climb, the great Jens Voigt continues to show why, despite some acknowledgement of aging in his charming blogs, he'll probably still be obliterating 3/4 of the peloton when his grandkids retire ,with a bangin' attack off the breakaway he started that blew the group apart. We love you Jens! Oh, it just breaks my *heart* that someday my beloved "JJ & Jens & Fabian & Stuey" totebag will be obsolete...but come to think of it, probably it'll still wear out before Jens does!

Night Moves: well, it's on to a novel nighttime coronation for Cav on the Champs Elysees, a huge freakin' outpouring of lucrative contract offers for Richie Porte, and one last Tour wheelie for Sagan--so Froome, before everyone starts asking a bunch of stuff that'll just piss you off for the next year, you might as well start popping your Champagne now! PS You rock Purito!

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

Unbelievably, there's actually been other news beyond speculation over Chris Froome's Vo2 max, Valverde's agonizing flat-stage meltdown and the peloton's collarless-skinsuit fashion tragedy, so in the few hours we've got before the breakaway gets going, here's the 'nother stuff:

1. If Alberto Contador sez Chris Froome ain't doping, I believe it. After all, who'd know better?

2. On a related note, if Contador can't take a stage, and *well*, his whole career looks like a lie. Uh, I think he's got a "virus," Bjarne!

3. Mark Cavendish finally *did* get Alessandro Petacchi as his lead-out! Not for the Giro or Tour though. And he can't help him in the Worlds. But Cav'll probably ride *something* after the Tour. Cage fight for Steegmans and Ale-Jet over who gets to be Cav's top main! Since Petacchi'll probably stop for a spa day and a nice mani-pedi, my money's on Gert for a surprise mid-sauna bushwhack...

4. Thor Hushovd won a race! Like two weeks ago, and not near the caliber of his earlier wins, but still. It just goes to show ya, BMC, don't screw over the Thunder God ever again!

5. On the topic of BMC, winless reigning world champ Philippe Gilbert just looks so glum. Can't the peloton discreetly give *one* stage away for this poor sod?

6. I think Sagan is genuinely heartbroken he can't show off more for his fans at the finish line, considering all his countrymen and women and like half the rest of the earth's female population took a three-week holiday to follow 'im. C'mon, Kittel, you've bagged three stages, show this guy some mercy already!

7. Andy freakin' Schleck, man. Even *I* can't pile on 'im at this point. He'll be lucky to get a contract scrubbing his own stage-soaked chamois next year.

8. Kittel's 80s mousse-fest blowout, or Uran's 80s mullet? Discuss.

9. Jens Voigt is still a god. We love you Jens!

10. !@#$ off, Phil & Paul haters. Phil Liggett could accidentally announce those irritating Michelob Light commercials the entire coming week and he'd *still* rule the airwaves, so like I said, bug off!

11. Cut the crap, UCI--the women deserve their own, real, permanent Tour de France. At least we *know* you jerks won't pay 'em enough to dope & destroy the sport like the guys have!

12. And if you really saw Bauke Mollema in second place, as opposed to just a dark horse for the top five, you are either Laurens Ten Dam or a lying lying liar. Allez Bauke--keep proving us wrong!

Well, onto Alberto's and Valverde's and Cadel's assault on the Alps. Good luck, 'cause with how Froomey looks, you're all gonna need it!

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow (Just Not on the Freakin' Galibier!) #giro

You're As Cold As Ice: yep, after more'n a week in relentless pounding rain, the Giro d'Italia peloton finally gets a break: now that they're finally in the glorious (and race-determining) mountains, it's a blizzard instead! Upshot: to honestly the relief and agreement of the GC contenders, today's climb to Sestriere is cancelled, replaced by a summit finish at Jafferau. Unfortunately, looks like it'll still be raining in Bardonecchia, so bundle up anyway boys! Tomorrow: the beautiful and fearsome Galibier likely faces the axe, some silly thing over a "threat of avalanche." What, you guys don't want a little push on the descents--you've been complaining about 'em all week!

Gone With the Wind (Well, Rain Mostly): meantime, as Ryder Hesjedal (an honorable defense, Ryder!) tries to figure out what went wrong and Brad Wiggins recovers from his crap chest cold, Chris Froome has reportedly built an impenetrable bunker in the Sky team bus to protect his now-blown position as team leader in the Tour de France, cutting off access to the coffee machine, booby-trapping the chamois cream with hot red pepper flakes and armed with his trusty hipster-haircut-destroying buzz-cut clippers should Brad attempt a hostile takeover. Oh come on, Brad, be a sport--you hate the cold and wet, right, so why not just saute yerself over at the hot hot mountains at the Vuelta instead and leave Froomey to the Tour he's earned--of course, you'll have to keep up with your own teammates first!

Jeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnssssss!: finally, it's time for the Amgen EPO Tour o' California to just pack it up and go home, because once Jens Voigt wins a stage in one of his joyous slobbering Labrador-retriever-on-tennis-ball attackfests, really, despite Tejay putting in a rippingly exciting time trial yesterday and all, what's the point of anything else? Just give Jens his Kingship of the Entire Planet already, set the man up a sacred throne room in every country he visits, and commence the worship already!

And, Last Few Hours This Week, Enter to Win Here!

The Worlds Are *On*, Baby!; And, Can Even Jens Save Andy?

Tommeke Tommeke Tommeke!: yes folks, the World Championships are underway, and it's time for the races o' truth to decide who will grace the noble striped jersey next year. Lookin' good there at the Tour o' Britain, Cav, but it still ain't your course! Today: the men's and women's first-ever team time trials, hailed by besieged and desperate Pat "Dick" "I never met Armstrong! He's a figment of your imagination!" McQuaid as a wild success. Victors: Specialized's all-star lineup of Ina Yoko "We Love You! Please Don't Kill Us!" Teutenberg, Amber Neben, Evelyn Stevens, and too many other bad-!@#es to count, making the most of a rolling course with a fine-tuned lineup, and, to even their own surprise, Quick Step, as BMC's Tejay was just a little too strong for his own damn good and inadvertently dropped Taylor Phinney in the screaming chaos on the Cauberg. But even though Phinney was mad, he's not mad--honest Tejay! Completely in the doghouse: Lampre, whose director slapped his helpless squad by saying he was waiting for at least "a show of pride." Ouch! Next up: The 24.3k women's individual time trial on Tuesday, with a flat finish after the top of the Cauberg, with Emma Pooley and unexpected London bronze medalist Olga Zabelinskaya looking for stripes. Oh, come on--like it wouldn't be fun to see Zabelinskaya come outta nowhere again!

Going to Schleck in a Handbasket: and, back in the 'normal' road world, Schleck-brothers guidance-counselor Kim Andersen has confirmed what's been so painfully obvious to us all: with the occasional exception of big bro Frank (who I always thought could've won a Grand Tour by *some* means if not stuck babysitting his more-hyped little sibling), the Schlecks just can't function without each other. So leaving aside how diplomatically Andersen just called Johan Bruyneel a !@#$head--and you gotta admire that--here's my question: so if Frank gets banned this year for using a masking agent for no doping-related reason whatsoever--a-yup!--how the !@#$ is Andy possibly gonna be able to win the Tour de France next year? Forget that he can't time trial or descend for dirt! Oh Andy, *so* fragile--I wonder, (forgive me Jens o great one!), can even Voigt save you next year as he hopes? Aw, the hell with that--Johan, you know you're gonna hose Andy anyway, just give 2013 to Jens right now!

Lookin' Sharp But Not Invincible: Alberto Contador Digs In

Rocket Man: well, there's two things for sure after the first mountain stage of the Vuelta: Contador's still the best steep-climb attacker in the peloton, and his rivals, particularly Froome, ain't bowin' to him just yet. Can Froome rely on his patient tick-tick-tick of the pedals to claw himself back to Alberto two weeks from now, with the Tour still in his own legs and Contador likely only to get stronger, if our Spanish dreamboat's anywhere near who (and why) the rider he was before? Alberto certainly proclaimed himself happy today, despite whispers his sprint-stage bonus-seconds grab was an early sign o' fear. But I wouldn't underestimate Rodriguez' seemingly endless ability in the tough gradients, either, but as to his assessment that today would show who's *out* on GC--bite me Purito, Juanjo's still got a bad tooth and Igor Anton was, uh, just saving his energy, yeah, just saving his energy!

No, Jens, *No*!: meantime, in vomitous RadioSkank news, Jens Voigt has inexplicably signed on with Johan Bruyneel for his (possibly) final year in the peloton, proving once and for all that our puny human minds really are incapable of comprehending the divine consciousness in what must be, somehow, a wholly reasonable, correct, and perfect godly decision. Forgive my faithlessness, o Jens--I'm really *trying* here, throw us a bone and make us understand this horrible thing! Oh, man, next thing you'll tell me there *is* no Santa Claus...

Cavendish, Cavendish, Wherefore Art Thou (Going Next Season) Cavendish?: in transfer news, as even Wiggo genially concedes that Cav's screwed if he stays at Sky next season, pretty much every other squad on the planet appears to be vying for him, so for my money, if they're gonna win their bride (1) they better not have any o' those whiny prima-donna Grand Tour GC contenders; (2) they better have some serious preexisting fast-men or some serious dough to buy 'em, because our Manxman does love a lead-out; and (3) for you poor ol' Sky and Cav fans, he'll just have to look adorable in some other hometown's colors next season instead. Shouldn't be too hard, any of 'em, right? Hey, it's not like RadioSkank's got any Grand Tour hopes, and *someone's* gotta keep our dear Jens company--Mark, how 'bout them?

USA! USA! USA!: okay, what I really mean is "USA Pro Cycling Challenge!"--which really has a hell of a field out there--but anyhoo, isn't it dandy to see Tyler Farrar back on form after his craptastic season so far? Glad to see you back in action Tyler--now start thinking Tour de France 2013!

Win Free Stuff!: finally, remember Vuelta fans, in honor of this smashing race the game's afoot: enter here to gain eternal glory and to Win Free Stuff!

Lessons From the 2012 Tour de France, Part One

1. MOVE. THE. !@#$. BACK. FROM. THE. ROAD. YOU. TOUR. DESTROYING. FREAK. Oh, Samu'! Did you *see* poor Sanchez all awash in tears?

2. Just when the French were starting not to suck. Nice work, Remy DiGregorio!

3. Luckily, though, there's no more doping in the peloton. Keep clickin' the heels of those ruby slippers all you want, Pat "Dick" McQuaid, it still ain't gonna make it true!

4. Frank Schleck, quit whining about *everything* and focus. You're tired from the Giro, you're resentful about the Tour, your team boss is a colossal jerkwad--all perfectly understandable reasons to choke. Embrace it. Your weird symbiotic thing with your little brother, though, isn't. Fix it.

5. If Wiggo "the Spider" really kicks it in the high mountains, no matter how pissed off he gets, I'm still gonna be just a liiiiiittttttttle bit creeped out. You?

6. Speaking of which, there barely are any. What the hell is this, the Tour of Oman?

7. Sometimes, someone is just better than you. Even you, and even your "@#$%-race" competitors. Might as well be a gentleman about it. Get it Cav?

8. It's nice to see Cancellara back on form. At least something at RadioSkank doesn't blow this year!

9. Of course that !@#wipe Armstrong had to be a publicity hog. And was I on a massive crack binge at the time, or did you say you didn't care and weren't gonna challenge this crap? Please, Mr. Integrity, be a man of your word!

10. Crap luck for Vande Velde and Ryder, huh? Valverde too and all, but he was already scheduled for his Spectacular Annual Mid-Grand-Tour Meltdown anyway.

11. Jeeeeeeeennnnnnnnsssssss! Ah, blessed is the asphalt you stomp upon...

12. I still believe in you Cadel!

Deep Thoughts on the Giro d'Italia (Oh, And That Other Race)

1. Either Peter Sagan is the Next Lance Armstrong, or that kid is doped to the gills. Wait, wouldn't that make him the Next Lance Armstrong anyway?

2. Every time Jens Voigt talks about retiring, isn't it like the sky's suddenly turned black, the earth's opened up beneath your feet, and a giant plague o' locusts has just whacked you smack in the face?

3. If a tree falls in the forest, will the Schlecks *still* whine it's another rider's fault?

4. Dave Zabriskie. !@#damn, his upper body is absolutely motionless in a time trial. How the hell does he do it, Botox?

5. Pat "Dick" McQuaid--Alberto Contador just lies awake at night thinkin' of ways to piss you off every day, doesn't he? It's *gotta* be killin' ya!

6. If David Millar *really* felt so crappy about doping, he'd turn down his Olympic spot even though the rules now say he *can* ride.

7. The only consolations whatsoever about Robbie McEwen calling it a career are (1) he's gonna coach other sprinters in the fine art of trash-talk and (2) Roberto Ferrari's even more of a wingnut. Why head-butt a rival when you can just bring 50 of 'em down into the barriers?

8. Saturday and Sunday at the Giro. Yap, Baldy, yap--this weekend we hit the real mountains, honey, and the race of truth begins in the Alps--forza Purito!

9. I don't *what* the hell kind of painkillers Levi Leipheimer's gotta be on to ride the way he's ridin', but don't tell me you wouldn't take 'em!

10. The Giro d'Italia really fixed things this year. It's much, much better for the riders to have to navigate incredibly narrow 180 degree turns 300 feet from the line on every stage, than to have a bunch of those "mountain" things. Good work guys!

I Feel Love: finally, the Giro d'Italia has announced it will have a special tribute to Donna Summer tomorrow, and tifosi, let's get it started right here: Thank you Donna!

On the Road Again/I Can't Wait to Get (to Watch Everyone Else) on the Road Again

It's Paris-Nice, Baby!: yes, it's time for the Classics and Grand Tour prospects to really start to get twitchy--and paranoiacally parse each others' developing form--as Paris-Nice hits the road, honey! The parcours: bookended by a coupla time trials, the last day's uphill--and what's sure to be a disconcerting 90% chance of rain for tomorrow. The startlist: damn near everyone, including a cautiously optimistic defending-bad-!@# Tony Martin, Valverde, Ivan, Damiano, Wiggo, Samu', Tommeke, Jens (bow, beeyotches!), and, of course, Thor. Yap, yap, GC, yap--Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnssssssssss!

A Word From the RadioSkank "Oh, !@#$!" Department: meantime, I'm not sayin' this is a sign the French have been chaining Thomas Voeckler like a dog inside a wind tunnel since last August or nothin', but the Tour de France organizers sure seem to want to smack Andy Schleck off the podium at least: they've actually increased the amount of time trial miles ahead of the race this July. Hey, Andy, you were already warned to ride the Giro this year--tho' I'd rather you not treat *that* superior race you still wouldn't win this year like a cheap consolation prize!

Mmmmmm...Donuts: and, forget such trivial concerns as "your stupid ban left me without a GC contender" or "Saxo Bank is making me pay off their sponsorship scrubbing the men's room in their headquarter with my teeth" or "you're the jackwagon who pulled a BMC and left me with no freakin' firepower"--what's *really* coming between Alberto Contador and Bjarne these days ahead of Alberto's August return, apparently, is donuts. Specifically, Contador *wants* donuts, and Bjarne won't let him *have* donuts, so our sugar-suckin' diva is reportedly packing up and heading to Movistar, which not only has lots of, but will personally hook him up to an IV and feed him as much do--uh, donuts, as Alberto ever wants. Dang, Bjarne, I'll air-mail you a dozen from Dunkin' tonight if it'll help you two kiss and make up--just be glad the whiny little rugrat don't want a beefsteak!


It's That Damn Bionic Bike Again: finally, tho' of course I'm devastated an Italian didn't win, warm congrats to Fabian Cancellara on his first triumph o' the season at the Strade Bianche, particularly because, since I'm nice, it's gonna be the only thing keeping Johan Bruyneel from sobbing like a baby all year. Here's the action:

Yer 2012 Tour Down Under Roundup

1. Andre Greipel: it ain't just "!@#$ races" anymore.

2. Stuey O'Grady: forget his riding, or his awesomely going all Terminator on his chauffeur--it's the masterful way he reminded everyone how Robbie McEwen once head-butted him in a sprint while praising him as a new teammate and best bud. Give that boy a prize!

3. Breakaway artist Will Clarke: So wiped out by his first ProTour win he couldn't even lift his arm to pimp his sponsor's logo at the line. Here's hoping it's the first of many!

4. Versus (oh wait, now it's NBC Sports) coverage: Thanks. Really. But !@#$, was I the only one completely discombobulated by the truncated coverage and total lack of buildup of suspense? Give Phil and Paul some !@#damn airtime!

5. Jens Voigt: The man could run around stealing candy from babies, stomping on daffodils, and slashing all the tires in the peloton, and he'd *still* be a god. Jens, please--do ride for one more year!

6. Alessandro Petacchi: that was one punk-!@# ricochet across the field there. Salbutamol affecting your balance lately, or what?

7. GreenEdge: maybe if Cadel went there, Thor Hushovd wouldn't be totally screwed at BMC. Irrelevant to the Tour Down Under? Sure, but who cares--free Thor!

8. UCI: Ya can't just say "hold it" for 6 hours. Logistics, people!

9. Simon Gerrans: waaaaaaaaaaay classier to Valverde than he had to be. Alejandro Valverde: waaaaaaaaaaaay smart not to draw more attention to himself with an overall win. Good work Movistar!

10. Mark Cavendish: no, he didn't ride, but man, fatherhood has made him *soft*. Complimenting Greipel on a job well done? What the hell is happening to you, Cav?

Well folks, them's mine--onto Rasmussen's eternal quest to get back his 2007 Tour from that rotten little thief Contador!

Valverde's Back...Uh, Anyone Else a Little Squicked Out By That?

"I Just Don't Believe It": yes, after several days of thrilling sprints, heroic breakaways, we love Oscar Freire's smashing face-whack to the ungrateful Rabobank, and some serious argy-bargy, notoriously unapologetic Op Puerto dirt-weasel/Spanish national hero Alejandro Valverde is back in rippin' form at the Santos Tour Down Under after his two-year, um, vacation, and, as even Alejandro verbalizes the same astonishment some of his compatriots must surely be feeling at his near-immediate win, Danny Pate is voicing his disgust on behalf of the peloton, tweeting "if this is the "new age" of cycling your name & superstar shouldn't be used in the same sentence when u r just back from a doping violation." Hey, David Millar's actually been back for quite a while, hasn't he, why pile on him all of a sudden? Anyhoo, here's the nail-bitin' return from exile:

Jens Gets Busted: no, not for that, you horrid monstrous slanderous heathen evil freaks--for, well, being rather in a state of in flagrante near the spectators, because sometimes, when nature calls, one just can't put it on hold. And hey, I get it--the thrilling sight o' Bobby Julich walking not an inch by me at the Giro into an orchard and the dawning understanding o'why was once just a bit too much for my delicate ladylike sensibilities to take. But !@#$, UCI, if you're gonna barbecue these poor bastards in 800 degree heat so they have to suck in a freakin' lake every ten minutes or vaporize into ash, ya can't (1) put up a few discreet roadside curtains or (2)cut 'em a little darn slack? Pat "Dick" McQuaid, get out yer wallet, you cheap bitter jerk, and hand Jens back his dough!

Look Who Else Is Back!: finally, Pat better get out the popcorn while he's at it, as thanks to CAS's relentlessly careful consideration of its verdict, his fave little elf Alberto Contador is ready to hit the tarmac at the Tour de San Luis. Enjoy it while it lasts, Alberto--then again, that might be til 2035 at the rate this shindig's going!

2012: The Year In Preview (Yeah, You Heard Me)

Yap, the days of auld lang syne, yap, that Baby New Year animated show that's not nearly so great as the one with Heat Miser, yap--another fabulous, shameful year of cycling is almost upon us, baby, and it's time for our annual Year In Preview!

January: the verdict is in! Contador and Riis go on three-week liver-crunching rotgut bender, black out and forget if they're mourning or celebrating til too late to train for Tour anyway; RadioSkank goes to week-long training-camp "barbecue" at Michele Ferrari's, Andy Schleck beats world time trial record in training exercise;
Cadel, Thor, Philippe, starving lions to Colisseum for BMC leadership-supremacy deathmatch. Thooooooor!

February: soulless pig Pat "Dick" McQuaid reschedules Giro di Lombardia *again,* runs it as "the Race of the Where the !@#$ Are the !@#$ing Leaves!"; Boonen grabs Tour of Qatar, demands Leipheimer be rolled up for him on team bus for rest of season and used as footrest.

March: time for the Classics! Vino wins Paris-Nice, Tony Martin seen at afterparty with diamond grill, 14 feet of gold chains around neck, keys to platinum-plated Ferrari, entire world's supply of Kristal; Hushovd takes Ghent-Wevelgem, kicked in nuts and fired by BMC management.

April: it's the Hell o' the North, baby! Boonen back on top, orders Leipheimer shaped into carafe and used to pour him coffee every morning; Gilbert sweeps Ardennes classics while actually at home tucking in baby for afternoon nap.

May: it's Il Grande Giro, honey! Petacchi beats Cav in 7 consecutive sprint finishes, attributes to "damn good local espresso"; Contador takes queen stage three days, 11 hours and 23 minutes before it actually starts; Vinokourov buys overall victory from Ivan Basso in exchange for dictatorship of future Kazakhstan satellite states despite fact Vino doesn't even race it.

June: time for pre-Tour doping controls! UCI preemptively declares no doping positives at 2012 Tour de France, entire peloton heads to Spain for "a little R&R"; Vinokourov discovered to have paid Kazakh 8th-grader 2 million euros for three weeks' worth of urine, awarded National Medal of Honor; Ullrich tell-all autobiography out, Lance Armstrong corners Jan at local butcher's, clubs him with wienerschnitzel.

July: what else? Hoogerland winged into fence made of glass shards, sewing needles, razorblades, and thumbtacks, finishes Tour held together by 465 miles of scotch tape; Andy Schleck DQ'd for tiptoeing down Galibier holding Frank's hand for speed, stability; Cadel mistakenly tears Contador to pieces when Alberto attempts to give new baby cuddly binkie toy; holy crap Thor Hushovd is the polka dot jersey!

August: It's the start o' the Vuelta, baby! Juan Jose Cobo takes start line for Movistar after whacking Alejandro Valverde unconscious with wine bottle, fooling squad by explaining he's wearing mask over his face "to keep the dust off"; dull sprint stages livened up by making riders do them blindfolded; still-irked Spanish cow gores unsuspecting spectator Contador.

September: the Vuelta continues! Entire peloton swallowed by tar pits when roads melt after 21 consecutive 114 degree days; Igor Anton floats to GC win in Madrid as water-weight loss from sweating renders him lighter than air; Italian men's team spotted at Worlds course practicing losing *again*.

October: It's the World Championships! Giorgia Bronzini makes it three, runs over Pat "Dick" McQuaid with Army tank when refuses to guarantee women minimum salary of indentured third-world child laborers; Cav keeps World Champion stripes after British lead-out sets up "Indiana Jones" obstacle course, squashes entire pro sprint contingent with giant rolling spherical rock.

November: last-minute contracts! Bjarne Riis signs up top-flight nursery-school playground tricyclists as backup for Contador at 2013 Tour; Jens' legs won't shut up, convince him to keep riding through 2036; Vino appears at Astana press conference with 18 perfect clones. Like he was *ever* gonna really leave, suckers!

December: team camps again! Garmin tires of playing with facial hair, emerges with matching full-body tats instead; GreenEdge goes surfing off Aussie coast, nearly devoured by sharks 'til McEwen raises eyebrow in their general direction, scares off; Sky to Buckingham Palace for crumpets, Cav accidentally chews up priceless 15th-century royal tea set.

Well folks, them's my predictions for next year--I'm sure they're half wrong, but it oughta scare ya even more if they're half freakin' right!

2011: the Year in Review

All right folks, the curtain's about to drop on another year of cycling, and before we all get perma-blotto on too much good cheer and bad eggnog, it's time to recall the sublime, the ridiculous, and the downright disgusting that make this sport so easy to love:

January: Contador's banned! No, he's not! Yes, he is! make up your minds, you clowns!; Tour screws former champ dear little Sastre out of invite, nice work Geox!; Team LeopardSchleck debuts--what, a name like that and *still* your team kit's lame?

February: Floyd Landis interview out, cycling world hit by curious double-attack of projectile vomiting and ennui; Schleck's still bitching about Chaingate; Riccardo Ricco waaaaaaaaay too stupid to dope correctly; Jens says race radios are good, so it must be true. Forgive me for doubting, o Jens!

March: it's the Classics, baby! Boonen roars back at Gent-Wevelgem; Goss surprises at Milano-Sanremo; Gilbert gets ready to start all-year reign of terror; UCI's a buncha crybaby !@#holes. So what else is new?

April: Jonathan Vaughters squanders the great Thor Hushovd; Quick Step dumps on Boonen; Versus relegates Phil and Paul to Obscurity Hour; what's next, you freaks all gonna kick the Easter Bunny?

May: May wasn't funny.

June: class act Lance Armstrong corners Tyler Hamilton by the toilets; French bust Contador for--um, riding down the Galibier without a tail-light? yeah, that'll learn 'im!; RadioSkank announces four GC contenders for Tour de France, might as well pack it up and go home now. Good luck with that podium, Johan!

July: it's the Tour de France, baby! Hoogerland winged into razor wire, gamely finishes Tour; Hushovd turns mountain goat, *still* dissed by Garmin; Schlecks !@#$ up, *again*; holy crap we love Samuel Sanchez is the polka dot jersey!; Cadeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!

August: the fabulous Vuelta gets underway; Levi and George raise hell in Colorado; Cav teases about his team choice; ham-fisted goon Vinokourov "nicely" asks junior team member to retire from cycling to make room for him on Astana. Or else!

September: Euskaltel rules, of course; unheralded Cobo takes the Vuelta, you better not break my trusting heart !@#dammit; Cav grabs Worlds, 2500 spectators blinded by teeth on podium; Georgia Bronzini makes it 2, outrages sport by asking to be paid as much as that horrible off-key ukelele guy in the subway who plays for pocket change. The nerve of some people!

October: Bjarne leaves Contador with no support for 2012 at Saxo Bank, but then, that's what cows are for; Hushovd goes from being screwed at Garmin to being screwed at BMC; Tour announces 2012 route, Andy Schleck starts cryi--uh, learning to time trial. Allez allez Andy!

November: Merckx tells Schlecks to aim for the Giro; Jan Ullrich threatens to talk--watch out, Lance!; Zabriskie croons for Vaughters; WADA gives Contador a pass on plasticizers. IV-suckin' dirtbags o' the peloton, unite!

December: Vino accused of buying win at Liege-Bastogne-Liege for 134k big ones, which is still better'n 98% of the !@#$ he usually does; riders lay out plans for upcoming season; Bjarne Riis tosses Contador out of airplane. Ya got two weeks left in the year--the rest of you guys, don't !@#$ this up!

Well, sadly for me (but luckily for you), I couldn't cram it all in--but let's hope for a lively 2012!

Racejunkie's Ten Things I'm Thankful For This Year

Well treasured reader(s), it's time for us on my side of the pond to give thanks for our great nation by stuffing ourselves til our pants-buttons pop, watching 16 straight hours of football til someone else caves and does the dishes, and trying to keep that weird relative from spouting off freak theories about the alleged "moon landing," so in recognition of this fine holiday, and in the spirit of warmth, generosity, and kindness it so naturally engenders, I humbly bring you my Cycling Stuff I'm Thankful For This Year:

1. Alberto Contador. Love 'im, hate 'im, or stuff 'im with steak, the boy never fails to entertain, even in the off-season. Hell, this might be the last we hear of him for two years--might as well be grateful for him now!

2. Underdogs. If you saw Juan Jose Cobo coming at the Vuelta, you're either (1) a genius, or (2) a lying sack of !@#$. Either way, woo-hoo to the unheralded--just swear to me you earned it the nice way!

3. Mark Cavendish. Sure, he's been disappointingly diplomatic this year, but there's always that sweet underlying suggestion that he could still come flyin' at yer face like a cornered rabid badger at any instant. We love you, Cav!

4. Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeellllllll!

5. Holy crap we love Samuel Sanchez is the reigning polka dot jersey!

6. Thoooooooooooooooor (shut up you haters!)!

7. Cadel Evans. Not only a damn hard worker, the first Tour de France winner in ages who didn't make me just a liiiiiiiittle bit creeped out. And I don't freakin' want to hear otherwise, you got that?

8. Giorgia Bronzini. Sure, the men's squadra azzurra was burned in effigy in the streets of Florence by looting mobs after its spectacular woof in this year's Worlds, but you know who bagged her second world road champ title? Yeah, sing it, sister--again!

9. The Giro d'Italia. If there's ever a race as bitchin' as the Vuelta, the beautiful, perfect Giro is it--plus, prosciutto! Now would the rest of the !@#damn cycling world quit scheduling a buncha stupid crap at the same time or what?

10. Jens Voigt. The man, the myth, the legend--the one who makes the rest of peloton start mewling like babies before he even puts his socks on in the morning. Come to think of it, I'm thankful for Jens every year. Aren't you? Bow, fellow peons--and Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Yer Random News Roundup o' the Week--Rider Smackdown Edition!

Tyler Extends the Olive Branch: y'know, I was gonna post a whole bunch of sweet sentimental ponderings today on dreamy Cav's impending fatherhood and Rodriguez's adoration of Team Katusha, but !@#$ that--for my money, the best tweet o' the week is traitorous Lance Armstrong defector/men's-room beatdown rival Tyler Hamilton, generously letting Lance know that if he wants any restaurant recommendations while he's in town, silly inconsequential betrayal to the feds and impending legacy destruction or no, Ty's still his man. Note to Lance (who shockingly, however, hasn't apparently yet responded)--if you end up in some cockroach-ridden Southie back-alley with Tyler and a posse of black-clad goons at 2 a.m. "looking for the entrance", he ain't takin' you to Legal Seafoods for chowder. See, I can be nice!

BMC See the Bloody Remnants o' Yer Carcass Next Season, Thor!: and, unstoppable Velo d'Or Philippe Gilbert is already amping up the love at Team BMC, ruminating on his chances for dominance in Paris-Roubaix for 2012 and, one assumes, really reassuring Thor Hushovd that besides being demoted to Cadel's water-boy at the Tour de France, he can also look forward to being Gilbert's b!@#$ at the Classics next year. !@#dammit, has ever a recent World Champion been so nut-kicked in such swift succession by squads that oughta be backing him up? Yap, yap, Thor's a whiner, yap--much as I love Cadel and Philippe, he should be freakin' howling at the moon like a werewolf and going all Wolverine on their !@#es, and they should thank him extravagantly for doing it!

The Racejunkie Review o' Books: yes, all that fancy lit-crit is for weenies, because my spankin' new Ivan Basso autobio has just arrived on these very shores, and, faster'n you can say "Birillo," I hope to be posting the more salacious details of his career--which, I fear, may be sorely lacking in this edition--for both yer entertainment. Oh well, what it may lack in potentially-litigious peloton gossip, it'll certainly make up for in really pretty pictures. Woo-hoo!

Jens, the Next Generation: finally, I see total god Jens Voigt has tweeted that one of his Jenslets just competed in--and, inevitably, won--his first-ever bike race. me, I'm thinking that with approximately 563 offspring to his credit, Jens derivatives'll pack to the peloton enough within the next ten years that there'll be no-one left *but* a Jens and Jensette in the ProTour ranks, all joyfully bounding ahead of each other on the road whether their DSes want them to or not like labs after a just-tossed tennis ball. Bow, peons--and with that many of 'em coming up, we're gonna have to get used to doing it *often*!

It's the 2012 Tour de France, Baby (Again)--Somewhere, Andy Schleck is Crying

Off-Season My !@#!: well, the Tour de France route's been formally announced after a concerted campaign to hunt down and kneecap the bastard who caused the epic route-leaking screw up earlier, and baby Schleck, you can forget those few short months of R&R after dragging approximately 8 million miles outta yer legs this season: you've got basically the winter to correct your main weakness before Cadel, Alberto, and even Ivan beat the crap out of you at the Tour, or, in Desperate Pollyanna P.R. Bull!@#$-speak, "I am really looking forward to working with Johan Bruyneel, the guys at Trek, and the aero-geeks at MIT in the wind tunnel to refine and perfect my time-trialing position this winter." Good luck with that, Andy, truly--you are gonna freakin' need it! Still, you'll have yer chance to shine and conquer at the punchy new climbs and the few summit finishes, so long as there aren't any of those irksome "descents" along the way. Hey, if Alberto actually gets banned, I'm sure *he* could help you with that--he sure won't have anything else to do the next 12 months!

Wow, Maybe Katusha Doesn't Suck So Much After All: sure, they tossed Pippo Pozzato into the trash like a radioactive germ-stuffed hanky in flu season, but Team Katusha apparently ain't *all* bad--unlike lame-!@# Rabobank and Movistar, they're reportedly on the verge of hiring the great Oscar Freire for his last (aaaaiiiiggggghhhh!) season in the peloton. Even better, they bagged the legendary Erik Zabel (no, he didn't "dope," he said he rinsed with "Scope," you haters!) to coach the fast men. All right, Katusha, here's yer chance--now give we love Oscar the support he deserves, and don't !@#$ this up you trolls!

Search and Destroy: finally, peloton god Jens Voigt tweets that he's got a fine new hobby, geocaching, which seems to me the perfect opportunity: some directeur sportif--please, *anyone*--needs to suss out Jens' next search target, and leave a new contract and a huge bundle of unmarked euros as the prize. Oh, I know, dear Jens is sweetly loyal to the Schlecks--but come on, surely Bjarne Riis at least is flippin' out enough over his betting the farm so rashly on Alberto Contador next year to bankroll a sufficient sum to make a breach o' contract with RadioSkank worthwhile!

A Minor Correction To Contador's Clenbuterol Explanation

Nice Guys Finish First: yes, as yet another cyclist gets off on a clen violation because Mexico's meat supply is widely viewed as contaminated, the teams openly disdain Chinese food on impurities grounds at the recent Tour o' Beijing, and a certain 2010 Tour de France champ's CAS case draws nigh, I think this is a great opportunity for the unduly-discreet Alberto Contador to correct the international press on their 8,964th mistaken report that Alberto said his contaminated beef came from "Spain," when in fact he's been claiming for the past two years that it was flown in from "Mexico" or "China." Aw, that sweet kid, not wanting any reporters to get in trouble with their editors--but you can't *always* be so kind Alberto, it's *okay* to set the record straight now and then!

The Wheels on the Bus Go 'Round and 'Round: the hell with "doping," o scumlords of the peloton--perhaps, as in the recent case of a renegade English marathoner, it's time to revive a new/old method of improving yer results, taking a bus to the finish line. Now, to be sure, this trick's been tried in the Tour de France before, but really, if you're gonna risk a ban anyway, which'd you rather do--Ricco' a life-threatening fridge-bag of gross old congealed blood (uh, right, "iron solution") into yer virgin system, or blow a coupla euros on medically harmless bus fare? Ding, ding, we have a winner--who's afraid of the big bad blood test now (when you bother to run 'em), UCI?

Your Deep Denial Moment o' the Week: now, I don't know about you, but no matter what the whiny Padova narcs say, *I* wholly believe, as the Italian national cycling federation agrees, that former canniest rider ever/current squadra azzurra commissario tecnico Paolo Bettini was just being darned *thoughtful* when he reminded his notoriously absent-minded riders about an upcoming doping control at the 2010 World Championships. Shut up! And before you haters get your chamois in a bunch, if the cycling fed really *did* want there to be a "surprise" doping control, why on earth would they tell the team head honcho far enough in advance for him to warn anybody, which in any event the great Bettini would never ever do? There, proven--the man is clearly innocent! La-la-la-la-la--I can't *hear* you, so just !@#$ off!

Sky's the Limit: finally, as our dear readers kindly reported, British sprint-studpup Mark Cavendish has officially signed for Sky, raising concerns over how the team is gonna balance Wiggo's bid for GC and Cav's tragic upcoming loss of the green jersey to Thor Hushovd (shut up!) at next year's Tour, and, more important, begging the (trust me, related) question: what the hell is Levi Leipheimer gonna get to do at Quick Step when Boonen kicks !@# this season, and how the !@#$ am I gonna bear watching Fabian Cancellara and indisputable god Jens Voigt being soiled every day by Johan Bruyneel's RadioSkank kit? Oh well, at least Stuey O'Grady's gonna be wearing GreenEdge...Jens, please, I'm sure the Aussies've got at least *one* last spot on their squad--look, look, see how pretty their new outfits are?!