Mud 'N' Guts! The Badger Retires (Again)! Tinkoff Training Secrets Revealed! #cycling

Race to the..What the !@#$ Is This?: yes, Paris-Nice is off, and while it may be the race *to* the sun, it sure as hell ain't the race *in* the sun, as mud, rain, snow, and freezing treacherous glop besets the peloton for a messy--and mercifully finished--Stage 1. Not liking the cold: big Belgian bad-!@# Tom Boonen, waxing philosophical and still, despite an injury-delayed return to top form, gunning for Roubaix. Just take good care of him the next few weeks, Quick Step--Lefevere, if this boy so much as gets the sniffles and it affects his race when it counts, it's *your* damn fault!

Babe in the Woods (Well, Off the Podium, Anyway): and, legendary cyclist and Tour de France podium babe extraordinaire Bernard Hinault--whose frequently violent defense of the sanctity of the podium ceremony gives a whole new meaning to the word "puncheur"--is stepping down from his duties of congratulating the day's champion and keeping the celebrations clear of social activists, publicity-ho rabblerousers, and general miscreants, typically, in recent years, by landing on 'em like a ton o' bricks. Here, he takes down a spindly tax protester just last year: We'll miss you Bernard--but I bet your victims won't!

Getting to Know You, Getting to Know All Abou--RIDE, YOU GUTLESS WEENIES, RIDE!: meantime, after Oleg "Dynasty" Tinkov got into an extended twit-fight with Jonathan "Hipster" Vaughters over whether gaudy Trumpesque gilded champagne-swilling extravagance is superior to smugly downscale faux-rusticity--thereby engaging in precisely the sort of substantive discussions about cycling the lack of which is purportedly driving Tinkov out of the sport at the end of the season anyway--Oleg immediately got right back to the business of, y'know, rallying his troops to start winning *bike races* by, as shown in this clip, encouraging his Team Tinkoff boys from behind as they trained this afternoon. Damn, Oleg, you're no braggart after all--you really *are* a better athlete than they are!

You Spin Me Right Round, Baby: finally, while I frankly can't typically tell the difference between an omnium a cadmium or a millenium, I do gather that (1) Mark Cavendish did something to help his teammate and himself yesterday that was wholly within his rights to do and (2) Elia Viviani, who apparently didn't like how this affected *him*, threw a colossal snit over it. Jaysus, you sprinters are annoying enough constantly crying about each other after every !@#damn *road* race--can we at least agree to let the track rest in obscurity as a pure, quiet space in this broader clash of unbearable egos?

Contador Hits His Target! Breaking Schleck News! and, Women's Cycling Dissed *Again*

Shootin' At the Walls of Heartache, Bang! Bang!: well, *that's* both a relief and a throwdown: on the first major test of his legs since Oleg Tinkov threatened to break 'em last week, Alberto Contador has proven after a wholly bleak year that his elusive form is finally reemerging with a fine, if not perhaps as blazing as of old, win at Tirreno-Adriatico yesterday, and a brilliant--and frankly, classically Contadorian--attack for the ages on the slopes today that left even peerless Nairo Quintana in the dust and poor valiant maglia azzurra Michael Kwiatkowski wincing in several minutes behind. And holy crap, what's with Adam Hansen managing to even hang on to Contador's wheel for more'n ten seconds, and Ben King's brave go in the last 1.5k just as the ramps were hitting 30% and everyone else left was weaving all over the road like St. Pat's was at the critical drunken-hurling point a day early? So good job with whatever you're doing to, well, motivate Alberto, Oleg, and take *that* !@#$, Froomey--and no, your lame show-offy trainin' while painin' this week don't count! Here, yesterday's last k:

Holy Schleck!: and, as Paris-Nice increasingly becomes simply a race of body-count who-survives-upright attrition, Andy Schleck has truly thrown it down at Paris-Nice this week, threatening to--oh wait, he *still* blows. Oh Andy, getting back to your brother-n-mentor comfort-zone was supposed to change your riding for the *better* this year--it's just *too* easy at this point, I'm starting to feel sorry for you again, why don't you go home and have a nice hot toddy and a nap?!

If You're *Really* Good, You Get A Feather-Duster, Too: and, congrats to Lizzie Armitstead for winning a chilly Ronde van Drenthe this weekend, whose prizes, according to this photo, appear to include (and not to diss such fine appliances) a toaster and a vacuum cleaner. Jaysus, 1000-odd euros for a race featuring some of the world's best riders is harsh enough--but rub it in whydontcha, do you really think Tom Boonen has to go home and kick-start the ol' Hoover after a win? Here, the final few k--Lizzie, enjoy your troph--uh, apron!

It's Yer Tirreno-Adriatico-Paris-Nice-Pre-Tour-de-France-'n'-Giro Roundup!

1. Contador's just waiting. Don't get too cocky there, Froomey!

2. Nibali is just gonna crush this Giro. Ivan Basso, there's no shame in a stage win!

3. Andy Schleck is meat for the season. And I hope he gets--well, everything--back for 2014, or it'll go down as one of the most epic wastes of talent in the history of cycling.

4. Cav can bitch all he wants that Peter Sagan's "not a sprinter," but that doesn't mean Sagan won't still beat him again.

5. Speaking of Sagan, holy crap he's fun to watch. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that Sagan can climb without croaking, I'd say he rather reminds me of a certain dashing young Manxman.

6. Yes, Purito, you *do* look great. No, do *not* try the Giro/Tour double, you eejit! When you *win* your first Grand Tour, *then* you can try it. And you'll *still* be screwed. Ever hear the name "Alberto Contador"?

7. Jeeeeens! Jeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeens!

8. If you saw Andrew Talansky coming at Paris-Nice, you are a total lying sack of !@$%. Or Jonathan Vaughters.

9. Yes, that stage at Tirreno was insane. No, don't apologize for it. As Cancellara called it, what's a little "sadomaso" between friends?

10. Coolest. Trophy. In. Cycling.

11. No, this is not related. Get well soon 1995 we-love-the-Vuelta champ Laurent Jalabert!

Thrills! Spills! Chills! Yes, It's Springtime in the Peloton

Te-rain in Sp--Uh, Italy--Falls Main-ly On the Pla-ain: yep, it's not only your fabulous spring racing, but it's also your Tour de France preview, baby, as Tirreno-Adriatico roars off tomorrow with big cheeses Contador Cadel Purito and Froomey staring down and psyching out their Tour rivals, Cav and Sagan plotting mutual destruction, and Cancellara--well, just hoping to get *something* out of his !@#$ experience at RadioSkank in this lifetime. Good luck there Alberto--and Froome, try not to rub the whole "suuuuuure, you don't want to defend the Tour" thing in Wiggo's face too much! Here, yer Tirreno dreamboats macho up for the cameras:

Let Them Eat Cake: and wow, despite Bernard Hinault continually slamming his country's entire current cycling generation as a pack of lazy talentless babyfied thumb-sucking wuss-weenies, the French *continue* not to blow this week, as not only did shock-victor Blel Kadri bag the Roma Maxima (before Pippo Pozzato erroneously celebrated his own win behind) out from under the Italians, but, at Paris-Nice, upstart FDJ rider/French champ Nacer Bouhanni grabbed both a wholly surprising stage win *and* the leader's jersey before a miserable bloody (but fortunately not so serious) next-day crash-out. Get well soon, Nacer--heck knows these guys need you! Tomorrow: a lumpy sumbitch puts on the hurt, honey! Meantime, I stand by my (hopeless) belief that Tom Boonen is merely stealthily *pretending* to be screwed as he desperately works to get his form back in time for the cobblestones. Yeah, keep yappin', wannabes, he'll still kick your !@# at Roubaix!

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To: last but not least, in "Ah, JAYSUS already!" news, Sports Illustrated has scored the next desperate image-rehab victim-playing interview with Lance "I Won't Talk to the Press Anymore" Armstrong, this time, apparently, in which Lance is gonna tell all about that time those bastards Floyd and Tyler stole his sports drinks from the fridge in his private jet, and how if he'd only be granted the kind of pissant punishment reserved for laterne-rouge nobodies who are six seconds late to sign-in--which is already way, way harsher than he deserves--*and* he received a groveling knee-scrapin' apology from his lowly-nobody witch-hunt persecutors, he'd generously forgive Travis Tygart for *everything.* Gee, thanks, Lance--I'm sure those guys are just sittin' at home waiting for your benediction!

Yer Mid-Week Paris-Nice Roundup

1. It's a good thing Andy Schleck actually had gastroenteritis to excuse his performance. Because--and I say this as someone who will personally nut-knee anyone who disses my beautiful mountain gods at Euskaltel--when the boys in black and orange beat your !@# in a time trial, you *know* you suck but good.

2. Tummyache, got it. So, apparently, do half these poor guys, including Thor which completely explains him falling off the back like a brick every stage so far (shut up!). So Frank, what's *your* excuse?

3. Tommeke. It's so great to see him back, physically and most of all mentally, in the game. Ten bucks sez he posts another soft-core shower video on youtube before the season's out!

4. Gustav Larsson. Yes, the conditions sucked for the later boys. Still, like you honestly saw that coming?

5. Jeeeeeeeennnnnnnssssss! Did you *see* his freakin' time trial? Jeeeeennnnnsssss!

6. Alejandro Valverde. It's funny how, when Ivan Basso came back from his Op Puerto ban, it took him over a season to get back to a remotely similar level. Valverde, by contrast, has started winning right away. Funny.

7. Speaking of whom, Ivan Basso. What the !@#$? Get out of the middle of the pack already !@#dammit!

8. Sep Vanmarcke. There ain't no moss growin' on that kid. Canniest up-and-coming fastman I think since Freire.

9. RadioSkank. Just...give Horner the GC for the Tour, alright Johan? But nice try today Klodi!

10. NBC Sports. We get it. 896 races since 2010 now have new winners since horrible Contador's horrible doping ban. Who gives? It's not like he's not gonna take Murcia again next year anyway. On a quasi-related note, am I the only who is absolutely *diggin'* that Alberto is dope-slapping Pat "Dick" McQuaid by posting a photo of himself training on his bike every two seconds on his Twitter feed?

Well, them's mine. I see Tirreno-Adriatico is rollin'. Cav, you want Cipo for a lead-out? I hear he's back on the market!

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:

They Blinded Me With Science

You *Suck*, CAS!: okay, poindexters, clear this up: why the !@#$ is Franco Pellizotti busted for two years under the bio passport when actual proven dopers get to go free or get some punk-!@# 1-year suspension? Fine, Pellizotti's blood values came up "funny." Is that really as incriminating and does it really warrant the same result as, say, your actual drugged-up bloodbag--like Ivan's or Valverde's? Or even, taking the strict-liability clenbuterol rule into account, some !@#$up buying a tainted supplement from some shady assclown off the internet or tainted steak from a farmer? I'm not sayin' Franco's innocent (tho' let's face it, he ain't dirtier than half the peloton last year), but I *am* calling total, complete, unmitigated bull!@#$. And no, I don't want to reward a pack of cheating scumlords for being rich, lucky, or savvy enough to beat the tests. But dang, oughtn't they be held *less* accountable than someone at *least* as stupid and inarguably more clearly guilty? You *suck*, UCI--now do you have the guts to go after a star who *really* broke the rules? And no, "Um, we got Pietro Caucchioli too" doesn't count!

Shades o' Contador: no, not an actual positive test--they wish!--but Franco, for his part, does claim he's been "cheated" and vows he's had it with the whole unjust circus and is quitting the sport for good. Oh, Franco, you cut off those lovely locks for nuthin'...at least you've got nuthin' but time for them to grow back! Anyway, here's our (ex) Giro podium finisher/polka-dot jersey winner in happier days:

The Spanish-Italian War: meanwhile, the tifosi, of course, are freaking out, claiming (1) he didn't do it (2) if he did, they don't care and (3) as usual, the guilty Spaniards get to walk or put off their suspensions til they're actually clinically dead, while the guilty Italians get hosed just in time for that little bastard Contador to ride and take their hometown Giro, *again.* Aw, don't worry, I'm sure Alberto'll dedicate a stage win to Franco in May...won't that make you all feel better?

Nice To Know You: in race news, it's alternately thrills 'n' carnage at Paris-Nice. Today's smashing win (and nasty fall): Get well soon, Sagan--and geez, did *anyone* predict Thomas de Gendt for Stage 1?

Bow, Bow I Say!: finally, for no particular reason except I was just so happy luxuriating in the dulcet tones of Phil Liggett 'n' Paul Sherwen from Paris-Nice this weekend, I bring you a wholly gratuitous tribute to Sir Phil himself: Oh Phil, *tell* me they're all clean, I'll believe anything you say, I promise!