Your Handy Tour de France Glossary

Yes, cycling fans, with the Tour at hand the commentators'll be using lots of unfamiliar language, and as I've already done at least 1 dictionary in years past, I'll keep this one short'n'sweet:

Allez: what you yell at the cyclists to encourage them. Example: "If you *ever* try to leave this team again, I'll have my goons drag you down that allez and break every bone in your body!"

American: the retina-burning abomination running alongside Lance dressed in a Speedo, a giant foam cowboy hat, and the Stars and Stripes painted across his gut. Use: "I can't believe we can't beat the !@#damn Americans in our own Grand Tour!"

Climbs: climbs are divided into Categories: Cat. 3 (small), Cat. 2 (medium), Cat. 1 (large), and Hors Categorie or HC (holy crap!). Example: "HC, I can't believe Vinokourov made it up that thing so fast unassisted!"

Cracked: when the clean rider that can't keep up with the dope-stuffed autobots who're about to take the podium. Example: "Cadel Evans has cracked!"

Directeur Sportif: if you're not Lance Armstrong, he's your boss. If you are Lance Armstrong, you're his boss.

Doping: what there wasn't a single instance of during last year's Tour, and what there won't be a single instance of this year, either. Usage: "I have never tested positive for doping. Suckers."

Enjoy myself: what you're at the Tour to do when you've just realized you're gonna lose the overall.

Entire annual steel industry output of China: what Stuey O'Grady's got holding his body together after 968 consecutive crashes. We love Stuey!

Gods: Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen. Kneel, beeyotches!

Musette: the little cloth bag of food the riders pick up on the fly in the feed zone. Usage: "I'm sorry, Lance, did I accidentally toss my musette into your chain ring?"

My Grandma's: the blood bag/syring/white powder/notorious doping doctor found in your hotel room.

Promotional item: what you just sliced Thor Hushovd's arm open with two feet before the line. You idiot, you just lost him the stage!

Road rash: when you rip your skin off in a crash. Example: "if you drop me in the mountains when I need you, I'll give you !@#$ing road rash you weakling!"

Sprint: what Mark Cavendish interferes in to screw you out of a stage win. Wanker!

Stomach ailment: (1) a stomach ailment; or (2) what you suddenly drop out of the race for the night before the race organizers announcing your doping poz. Alternate use: "Man, I said I was coming back to win, but then Contador kicked my !@#. Must've been, um, that pesky stomach ailment!"

Team Car: where your DS keeps the little cooler with the "Fanta" in it.

Water bottle: what gives you a total bull!@#$ excuse to hang on to the team car for half an hour when you're about to croak on a climb. Usage: "Oops, the cameras are on us--I better 'pass' you another water bottle!"

Well, that oughta hold you all for this race. And hey, Buster--quit staring at my tete-de-la-course!

Welcome to the 2010 Tour de France, Baby!

Yes, dear newbies and oldies alike, Lance Armstrong has announced this is his final Tour, Versus is gonna pimp 'im for all he's worth, you don't want to miss it anyway, and it's time for the Grand Boucle! So having done buckets o' glossaries and other intros throughout the years--archived in late Junes past--this year I'm gonna cut right to it: meet our overall contenders! Caveat: for those of you playing fantasy Tour de France at work, please note that since my predictions constantly blow and you can thereby reliably bet against my picks, I fully expect an obscenely huge cut of the massive amount of dough you're about to win. So here goes!

Ivan Basso & Liquigas: Ivan just won the Giro, a year after his return from his doping ban, and has a great squad to back him up. Two potential issues: (1) he could be too tired from the Giro to win the Tour; and (2) in a complete pansy move, his squad wussed out and dropped last year's King of the Mountains Franco "Euromullet" Pellizotti because of an ongoing controversy over his cleanliness and because he's a rival to Basso, so Ivan is short a climber. Prediction: podium or top five.

Carlos Sastre & Cervelo: wee climber Carlos killed his back in the Giro and sez he's fit to ride but the team's had its knee on his neck and I think he's hosed. We love Carlos tho'--he won the Tour in 2008. Team's also split talentwise b/c they're backing Thor Hushovd, who will triumph, for the green jersey hunt. Top ten.

Cadel Evans & BMC: he's always 2nd in the Tour & historically allergic to attacking but since he got his World Champ stripes, he's got wings. Unfortunately, w/the exception of hyperexperienced ex-Lance lieutenant big George Hincapie, he ain't got the squad to back him up. Top 5.

Christian Van de Velde & Garmin: great rider, crashed out again at key training ground Giro d'Italia, smashing team, damn good sport who kindly answered my question at Interbike re: how the poor riders feel when naked freak publicity-seeking fans run alongside 'em screaming when they're trying to ride their race. Top 10.

Andy Schleck & Saxo Bank: big bro/protector Frank should take a stage and w/him and the dynamite we love Jens Voigt to blow apart the helpless peloton at will, Andy's in good hands. Excellent climber but this season? A bit rough around the edges. I'm rooting for him anyway for the top spot in Paris. Go baby Schleck! Podium.

Lance Armstrong & Radio Shack: Lance has the huge advantage of the strongest and, more importantly, psychologically-whipped team in the universe and didn't win 7 tours being an idiot. Weak spot: age. He's lost the legs to surge. But if anyone can, he can. If not, I predict catastrophic "stomach troubles." Podium.

Alberto Contador & Astana: so-so squad, wingnut mentor in crazed ex-doper Alexander Vinokourov, but best stage racer in the world. Weakness: could be out in the 1st few days if he crashes on the cobblestone stages, at which he ruthlessly sucks. If not, virtually unbeatable--he can float like a butterfly (and sting like a bee) up the high passes. Ugh, the final win in Paris--can Bernard Hinault do us all a favor and tackle *him* into the pavement if he makes that annoying pistol-shot move again?

Samuel Sanchez & Euskaltel: aiming for stages & a good result for Samu'. Lords of the climbs, look for their wiry tiny bodies and their hysterical rabid fans in orange in the mountains. Top 10 and a stage for Samu'. Shut up!

Denis Menchov & Rabobank: sorry, but I've still completely unjustly got it in for the little bastard because he was awarded a Vuelta win after we still love so go to hell Roberto Heras was busted for EPO. Fine stage racer but don't seem to have it this season--I honestly don't get the fuss. Plus Rabobank has Oscar Freire in the green jersey hunt--certainly a distraction. Top ten my !@#!

Brad Wiggins & Team Sky: Always good but completely rebuilt his body and just came outta nowhere last year--a lean, mean, pedaling machine. Sky's brand-new and already winning damn near everything it enters--look for a few stage wins at least. There's *one* British team that don't bite!

Well, dear readers, them's my thoughts, and before the slobbering hypnotized Lance zombies slog out of the woodwork to dope-slap me again for my ignorance and perfidy, I'd just like to reassure you fans, Lance *still* acted like a !@#$in' punk last year. Here's to good sportsmanship, and a great (and cleanish) Tour!

My Fantasy Team Astana Pre-Tour Pep Talk

Alberto Contador:

Good morning. As you know, we're here today because Alexander Vinokourov promised to have his goons literally rip my legs off if I even tried to breach the contract I so stupidly si--I mean, because it's only a few days to the Grand Boucle, and boy am I excited to be riding it with the fabulous Team Astana for 2010!

First, I'd like to assure my good friend Vino that I was *not* trying to escape the hotel last night when I dressed up like a ninja, cut the power to the entire floor, jimmied the deadbolt to my room, knocked out my Kazakh security guard with a lamp base, ran down the hallway and took a head-first diver into the laundry shaft. I merely got lost on the way to the bathroom. Second, I want to assure everyone that I am absolutely in top form for this race. Not only have I been practicing my patented "pistolero" move in front of the mirror 21 hours a day for the last month and a half, I've also been working closely with my manager to determine my most becoming angle for the daily sign-in photo shoots, refining my podium-babe triple-kiss *and* training 15 minutes every single morning and afternoon, which leaves me a full two hours a day for sleeping, eating, and attending to personal bodily functions. Take that, Armstrong you "hard-working" poseur!

Now, let's talk about team strategy. The first strategy is, you half-wit backwards no-talents !@#$ this up for me and I swear I'll hunt you down like rabbits. Next, as you might imagine, each of you is committed to a particular task. Vino, all I ask of you is that you please lay off the juice or at least not beat the major GC contenders to the line by 36 minutes every stage when you've got a visible needle-hole in your arm unless you're gonna cover it up discreetly before the sign-in with a bandage for your "road rash." Iglinskiy--your job is to hijack one of those road-repair trucks in the dead of night and cover all the pave with tarmac, 'cause let's face it, I don't care if Peter Van Petegem carries me over that !@#$ cradled in his arms like a baby, we all know I'm still gonna get killed. Why you? Because you !@#$ing Kazakhs got me into this hellhole, that's why! De La Fuente, Hernandez, Noval, Navarro--once I drop your !@#es in the mountains, you're gonna stick with Lance, Cadel, Ivan & the Schlecks, and while I don't want anything to happen to the Schleck brothers 'cause everyone seems to somehow like them so much, and Basso's just as pretty as I am so marring that level of beauty would really be a disservice to the sport, if Lance accidentally punctures a wheel on every critical climb because of the sudden appearance of tacks totally coincidentally thrown under his wheel by some unknown cheap-shot sabotaging personage who won't rat me out as the instigator, I'm not gonna cry my eyes over it afterwards, either. Tiralongo, Grivko--you're in charge of laundr--I mean, providing essential domestique services in varied terrain. Now, I've heard some whining over "why isn't Oscar Pereiro here after both of you said he would be," "isn't leaving him off the Tour squad a crappy way of paying him back for all the hard work he's done for you"--whatever. He's out because, not only is he completely intentionally "focusing on the Vuelta" this year of his own free will and an enormous payout from an offshore bank account, I don't want him getting any stupid ideas about team captaincy because of his 2006 Tour de France "victory." Next jerk who brings that up again joins 'im!

Last but not least, I'd like to say how truly happy and proud I am to be riding with each and every one of you, so long as you--with the exception of Benjamin Noval of course--don't talk to me, my soigneur, my mechanic, or my masseuse, stay at the same floor of the hotel as me, expect the "team" chef to be allowed to cook for you peons, dine at the same restaurant, use the same team bus, look at my bikes, or try to climb up on the podium with me in Paris for the "team" classification award. Now let's get out there and win m--I mean, the great Team Astana--another Tour!

RadioSkank Says It All

"We Chose Pure Slaves": yes, unless this is some kind of hideously amusing April Fool's joke--perhaps unlikely, tho' not impossible, in late June--them's the actual words of Team RadioSkank DS Dirk Demol, describing Gert Steegmans' exclusion from the Tour de France squad, apparently on the grounds that, besides being a useless sprinter, the unbelievably arrogant little !@#$ has the gall to have a soul of his own. Oh, Levi, oh, Klodi--*look* at your own palmares(es?) for once--*listen* to the cruelly honest assessment of Demol--*how* can riders of your caliber debase yourselves tolerating this crap from this unappreciative !@#hat? Anyway, finally, someone calls it like it is in the service of that mindbogglingly egomaniacal tyrant-on-wheels--now, can Lance man up and do the same?

WUSS!: I call bull, WADA--UCI claims there really wasn't a single doper in the Tour de France last year, the narcs who aren't completely whipped see-no-evil team stooges miraculously found enough completely unnecessary medical waste to stoke a season's worth of "Intervention" episodes, and you *still* won't let AFLD in to do some of their own testing this year? You spineless jelly-limbed wussbags! Yes, I've no doubt this is the cleanest group of cyclists in all human history since the bloodbag vampires from Operacion Puerto. And yes, the French, who wholly forgive doping in their own riders but still can't field a winner for their own Grand Tour the last two decades, are perhaps not without ulterior motives. But *really*--you'll let AFLD hand you names then pass 'em to UCI so *they* can let anyone important off the hook? And no, you disgusting clowns--a first year neo-pro from Vacansoleil doesn't !@#$in' count!

Mr. Mojo Risin': yep, the final rosters for July are comin' out, and for me, with Skank Astana Saxo and BMC's deals pretty clear, the most interesting issue remaining is, what the hell is really gonna happen with Liquigas? Franco of the Euromullet beat the heck out of Ivan "GQ" Basso last season and, more importantly, now has the climber's jersey to defend at the Tour. But with Pellizotti out of the way at this year's Giro thanks to the UCI bullsh--I mean, biological--passport, Ivan's got the maglia rosa to shoo him in for unquestioned leadership except, I imagine, our fair Franco--if he's allowed to ride--is gonna question it anyway. Eatin' their young, again, anyone? Free Franco!

Jeannie In a Bottle: meantime, in cyclists-who-aren't-raging-@#$holes news, the amazing Jeannie Longo has taken her 467th consecutive French national (time trial) championship at age 51, which makes me think (1) Jens Voigt should really think about sticking around another decade or so and (2) everyone else in the peloton who retires is a quitter-simp. You go, sister--and see you next year!

Paolo Bettini Steps Up: last but not least, in the wake of beloved Italian cycling head honcho Franco Ballerini's sad demise, good pal and mentee Paolo Bettini really is stepping up as the next Commissario Tecnico for the Azzurri, and while he sounds a bit humbled by the legacy he has to uphold, for my money, the Italians really can't do better now than the man who was, to my mind, the best damn tactician ever in the peloton. Watch, remember, and learn, you pathetic brainless wannabes!

Don't Do It, Sastre!

Leave Dear Little Sastre Alone, Cervelo You Goons!: fine, Thor Hushovd is still hurt, not like it's gonna affect him at all, but really, with Boonen wounded, Robbie McEwen still violently allergic to the mountains, and Cav just acting like a wank, is any of that really gonna jack him out of the points jersey? No, so suck it, and why the !@#$ is Sastre riding the Tour de freakin' France 10 seconds after he's healed from his back injury? Do you *want* him to be a bodily train wreck for the next twelve months? Of course, if Carlos says it's okay, it must be, but if it's not, you *suck* Cervelo--get over your sponsor-whore pressure-cooker instincts and let the poor boy ride the Vuelta instead!

No More Mr. Nice Guy: yes, as Alberto Contador shrugs off the flu that's keeping him out of the Spanish nats but surely can't be great for his Tour prep, humble angel Ivan Basso's cutting the saint crap at last and getting down to business, telling gazzetta dello sport that he's not afraid of the climbs, he's not afraid of anything, and he's certainly not afraid of Alberto Contador. I was hoping he couldn't keep up this dreamy-eyed martyr bull!@#$ forever--you go Ivan, if you can without the, um, particular strength you had in 2006!

I Wanna Schlecks You Up: okay, let's cut to it: Frank's looking absolutely bitchin' after his surprise (to me--weren't you?) win at the Tour de Suisse, Andy is, honestly, a little less so but he's still got some time to tweak or even ride into his form so I'm trying not to let my head explode, Carlos is !@#$ed, Cadel is solid as always plus with his new wild-card ability to attack, Ivan I still think is overreaching, so what of Lance? For my money, he just looks really good, not great. So to me, the question is will he be either (1) consistently steady enough to win even without a great stage or two or (2) able to pull away from his rivals if/when he needs to? He certainly can't beat Contador there, tho' it's always likely our pretty boy will do something tactically stupid, but if he don't, even with The One having Levi Klodi and every other top cyclist on earth to dope-smack into submission, my bet’s still on Contador. Even so, I can't bring myself to root for the little pain in the !@#, so allez allez Schleck!

Emma, Queen of Trentino: finally, compliments to Emma Pooley on her humungous win at the Giro del Trentino, and particularly to Eleonora Patuzzo on her smashing acceleration from a formidable breakaway including Judith Arndt to take the final stage. Check out the celebratory champagne sprays: Forza Azzurri--and on to the Giro Donne, baby!

Lance Gets Pissed

The E! Red Carpet Fashion Review: yes, two weeks out from the Tour de France, the One's gone postal (no pun intended) over what really matters:Outside Magazine's Photoshop addition of the words "38. BFD." to his cover-shot t-shirt. Y'know, while I understand that was perhaps uncool, considering what they *could've* Photoshopped on there--like, say, an accusation from Floyd Landis--you really come off looking at worst like a desperately ironic hipster rather'n, say, (not that you are or ever have been!) being a giant doping dirtbag. Oh well--I guess no stickin' on devil horns in my next post about you, Mr. Sensitive!

The Little Engine That Couldn't: meanwhile, UCI's announced it's gonna have a scanner all ready for the Tour de France to detect mechanical bike doping, which means that, if they match their incredible record for catching actual drug-dopers at the Tour, they oughta come up with a bike poz sometime in 2015. Til then, have at, you weasel punks--you're still not gonna beat Cancellara!

It's the Giro del Trentino, Baby!: yep, as if doing this bitchin' race once wasn't enough, it's time for the women's Giro del Trentino, baby, with Cervelo's British bad-!@# Emma Pooley whomping the likes of Alessandro d'Ettorre, Judith Arndt and Trixi Worrack. What, no Cav-esque !@#$-you chest-thump?

Ivan Looks Ahead: in Grand Tour dreamboat news, I see our redeemed Ivan Basso is promising to be at his best at the Tour de France, and, curiously, his once-besotted tifosi--though still in love--are taking a more tempered view these days of his chances, particularly given his post-Operacion Puerto, well, lack of his previous strength in the time trial. Me, I gotta say, now that he's no longer the Mark Cavendish of Grand Tour contenders and, one hopes, clean as snow, I'm hoping he can at least rally to take a stage. After all, we already know he's pretty in pink--why not the maillot jaune as well?

Angels in Chains: in other Basso news, Ivan's equally-slinky sister Elisa and her smooch/disgraced ex-pro Eddy Mazzoleni have scored deferred sentences for dealing performance-enhancing drugs, and while I'm certainly happy for the hard-luck Basso clan, y'know, it's almost too bad--this had the makings of a great 1970's "Charlie's Angels" hot-babes-in-prison episode all over it: So Ivan, you gonna apologize for dragging your innocent sis into the disgusting cesspool of this sport, or what?

Riders We Miss o' the Week: finally, yes, I'll hold off on like-you-give-a-rat's-!@#-about-we-still-love Iban Mayo for now, as the Rosemary family is--quite rightly--missing the two-wheeled stylings of the fabulous Big Maggy Backstedt. So here he is winning something or other in 2007: Come back, Magnus, come back!

Radio/ Someone Still Loves You

But It Ain't the Vuelta: so yes, the fabulous and ever-underrated Vuelta has announced its 22 squads, and who one of 'em ain't is our friends at RadioSkank, for, the Vuelta assures us in spite of Johan Bruyneel going absolutely bull!@#$, entirely legitimate "sporting reasons." In instead: Garmin, Katusha, Sky, Cervelo for dear little Carlos of course, and a couple of small-yet-respectable Spanish teams. Yee-owtch! Natch, the part of me that wants Levi and Klodi to get the Grand Tour win I *know* they are capable of if only Lance Armstrong stops nut-kneeing 'em is crushed, but it's not like Lance'd be sending his top-form A-Team to support their worthless lowlife carcasses anyway. The part of me that has no soul? Oh, yeah, I'm diggin' it, baby! Of course, it's not the One gives a rat's !@# about this perfect race anyway, but then, that's precisely why the squad doesn't deserve to race the Vuelta. Love it or leave it, Skanks!

Psych-Out!: okay, so after the first rainy day in Switzerland Lance is sayin' he's just not the rider he was in the rain back in the day. So are we seeing a guy who is really more risk-averse and is gonna ride gingerly for the long haul to his inevitable detriment in the Tour--reservations our young Contador still doesn't seem to have--or is this just another famed psych-out move against cocky little Alberto a la' BSing Jan Ullrich that he was in the bonk of his life lo these many years ago? Me, I think Lance was maybe a bit shaken by his first-time busted collarbone and is cautious about losing Zubeldia to a routine crash, but the fact is, back in the day or not, as his brilliant avoidance of we still love Joseba Beloki's downfall showed, he's one of the best bike handlers of all time, and I can't imagine, retirement or not, that that brilliance ain't still in there somewhere. More, if Lance is gonna be beaten (again--ha!), it'll just be a better Tour and a nobler victory if the man is beaten at the top of his game. That said, I still wanna see him whomped in July. Go Schlecks!

Nice Work Cav!: finally, it was bloody carnage at the finish line of the Tour de Suisse today as Mark Cavendish swerved like a drunken Tom Boonen smack into Heinrich Haussler, knocking the poor thing out of the race entirely just as he'd snagged a stage and was coming back into form, and big kudos to class-act-o'-the-race Alessandro Petacchi for declaring himself disappointed in his own win as he'd been too far out to deserve it in the first place. Don't worry, Ale-Jet--if Cav keeps riding like this much of a clod, you're gonna really earn another one soon enough!

An Honest Question for UCI (For Once)

And No Honest Answer Forthcoming, Of Course: all right, UCI, I may find your stupid disputes, petty favored-rider coddling, and total impotence annoying, but here's a sincere question for you: you've been crowing over the Italians' fearless pursuit of Alejandro Valverde for the last two years, so why the heck, with the Italians having just equally fearlessly kicked a whole squad out of the Baby Giro for allegedly having a bunch of suspicious medical supplies on hand, haven't you had the stones to take on Lance Armstrong's Astana (hell, even Caisse d'Epargne, and we know you already hate them) for allegedly doing the exact same thing (allegedly!) at the mildly more well-known and prestigious Tour de France last year? Now, before the fanatic Armstrong acolytes come out to screech at me, I'm sure, in addition to the whole rumor being entirely and completely false, either (1) one, some or all of the best athletes in the world at Astana were in fact so grossly debilitated by ailments every day that they couldn't make from the team bus to their hotel rooms without utilizing a surfeit of bizarre blood-related equipment or (2) some silly soigneur simply misread the word "aspirin" off the daily grocery list and inadvertently came home with the kind of stuff meth addicts usually have to break into hospitals to find. So truly--if this *did* seem legit enough for even the hated French to investigate, why isn't--particularly amidst their allegations of you schmoes being soft on dopers--UCI demanding that Johan's squad,like other teams not actually currently proven to be engaging in wrong-doing before it, be preemptively cut out of the Tour this year? Not that I'm suggesting it oughta be--I'm just genuinely curious. Well?

Down To Business: meantime, Contador certainly made his point to his former best-buddy-ever on the Alpe d'Huez this week--as a really smashing Janez Brajkovic clearly earned the overall--so with Lance looking on fine form at the Tour of Luxembourg and now at the Tour de Suisse, the question is, with Astana perhaps somewhat weaker as a whole but RadioSkank having likely lost crucial mountain goat Haimar Zubeldia to his broken wrist, who, a few weeks out, has got the edge for the Tour in July? Me, I'm so hoping either we love Levi Klodi or Horner is allowed a stage win instead I actually don't much care where their GC contender lands, so long as either Baby Schleck or even that aggravating rugrat Contador wipes the floor with 'im, but I gotta say, if Vino and Pereiro can hold it halfway together, I'm giving so far the slight bet on Alberto. So, in keeping with my fine tradition of losing choices, allez allez Schlecks!

Reading Is Fundamental: finally, class, for your summer vacation I'm going to assign you (because I'm too cheap to buy it, and I'm still saving up for Simoni's book, besides which the brash child ought to have *some* consolation for losing the green jersey at the Tour de France to Thor Hushovd *again* this year) Mark Cavendish's wildly-anticipated and splendiforously-received new tome, Boy Racer: My Journey to Tour de France Record-Breaker." While again, I can't personally speak for the contents, I *can* say on the "Surprise Me!" selection I pulled up on Amazon, I did learn more than one had ever anticipated about a top pro cyclist's breast-feeding and potty-training competitive streaks. Congratulations on your literary debut, Cav--and far better an autobio from you than another, say, Landis book!

D Is For Doping, That's Good Enough For Me

Or Just Dopes, Whatever: yes, in yet More Disgusting News That's Never Gonna Affect Lance Armstrong No Matter What, the narcs apparently spent some time last month interrogating official Lance mastermind Johan Bruyneel over that pesky ton or so of unapproved and wholly-unnecessary medical waste found in Astana's 2009 Tour de France garbage, which, if Johan is to be (entirely reasonably) believed, our brilliant yet unusually clueless leader knew absolutely nothing about. Heck, if *I* had millions of euros *and* another Tour de France win *and* my legacy as one of the greatest managers ever *and* Lance's whole entire legacy riding on the cleanliness of *my* riders, *I* wouldn't be interested in what they're doing with enough drugs to stoke the entire Spanish peloton for a year, would you? Of course, it's entirely a moot point anyway, because (1) let's face it, UCI wouldn't bust Lance Armstrong for drugs if he personally sauntered back and forth before the press corps with a giant IV flapping out of his !@# every morning at sign-in time, and (2) Johan'll just say it's Alberto Contador's stash anyway. Damn, and to think a team led by Alexander Vinokourov could actually look cleaner'n last year's model!

I See London, I See France, I See Pat "Dick" McQuaid's Underpants: meanwhile, the smug French narcs continue to out-PR the hapless rider-slurpin' suckups at UCI, today slamming the oft-trumpeted biological passport as essentially useless a mere 24 hours after eliciting hysterical shrieks of "bull!@#$!" for also pointing out that it seems, well, implausible that there were absolutely zero dopers--including among the teams with the doping refuse right out in the open, never mind what they disposed of more discreetly--at the 2009 UCI-controlled Tour, as whenever AFLD does the testing, like they did in 2008, riders drop like Raid-soaked flies. Me, I'm siding with UCI--I mean, *everyone* knows the peloton's been utterly clean since at least post-season 2008!

Prison Song: in legal news--and no, I'm not announcing the formation of a new "Floyd Fairness Fund," tho' I will accept your cash and hell, I haven't even lied to you--looks like the Austrians have cleared elder Tour cheats Bernard Kohl and Michael "Feed Me!" Rasmussen of organized doping charges and, even better, legendary Italian sprint stud Mario "the Chest" Cipollini, lately accused of tax evasion, has been exonerated of that heinous crime as well. Aw, it's almost too bad, don't you think?--SuperMario would have looked so feral in prison stripes!

Killing Me Softly: for those of you who've been wondering what we-still- love-so-go-to-hell/4(yes, *4*)-time Vuelta winner Roberto Heras is doing (shut up!), he's taking on a prestigious race in Mongolia for which, I will have you naysaying jerkface weenies know, he is the favorite. Goddammit, Roberto, I *told* you to pull a Basso and start kissing babies the second your drug poz broke--*see* where ignoring my advice has gotten you?

Back the !@#$ Off Carlos, Already!: finally, as dear little disc-herniated Carlos Sastre (and what a bad-!@# to still come in 8th at the Giro, no?) pleads desperately to be left alone for six seconds to let his back heal, can Cervelo--which already ditched its perfunctory lying "his health is all that matters" crap and named him to its Tour de France short list anyway--please lay off the pressure already? Wah, you need the sponsorship exposure for the Tour, wah--not only would this option let Carlos ride the smashing Vuelta which I am sick of everyone dissing and give Samuel Sanchez a worthy companion on the podium, but Thor Hushovd's already going to take home the green jersey anyway so there's really nothing for you wanks to whine about. Remember this, Cav?

It's The Countdown to the Tour de France, Baby!

Face/Off: so Lance and Contador's Tour de France prep is well under way, with Lance turning in a genuinely handsome performance at the Tour de Luxembourg and Alberto, having reconned the Pyrenees with posse in tow, now ready to take on the Dauphine for, he swears, just some training time as he positively assesses Lance's prospects for July. Me, I'm stuck on a more fundamental question: short of some evil lackey of Contador's stealth-slashing all the RadioSkank bike tires every morning--and even assuming the poor twig makes it out of the opening cobblestones sections alive--how the hell is he gonna stand up to Lance's mentally-crushed robot army with *his* squad? Ya can't suck off of Saxo Bank *every* day in the mountains, honey!

The Emperor Has No Clothes!: surprisingly, in a distinctly unfamiliar experience for Lance, he was actually accosted by a non-adoring member of the public at a press event, with the local ruffian calling out that Lance was a "cheat" and a "liar", and Armstrong challenging the ultimately-cowardly miscreant to "come here and say it to my face." Lance: 1. Ruffian: zip. Oh, why even *try*, haters--the man's just unbeatable!

Alejandro Valverde Needs Your Support: in other Tour happenings--or more precisely, not-happenings--Alejandro Valverde would like to extend to you his heartfelt thanks for your support--which message you can leave for him here, and no, let's not abuse the poor boy psychologically, you wisenheimers, at least not on his own website, particularly when UCI has recently released its revised world rankings. Ouch! On the other hand, congrats to Cadel, and look where our big lovable Tom Boonen is sitting--Tommeke, how far you've come! Y'know, I was gonna post some rakish photo of Tom himself, but having just come across some distinctly disconcerting clips of our boy in what appears to be an au-naturel photo-shoot shower scene, I admit, even I've actually got standards, so here's a nice pic of the car he wrecked in his far-away bad-boy days:

Motorin'/What's Your Price for Flight?: and, the controversy over motorized bike dopingcontinues to rage, with UCI swearing to take down anyone except Lance Armstrong who engages in the practice and Marco Pinotti, at least, knowing--but refusing to say--exactly who to blame when he blows the victory. Aw, come on, pony up, Marco--what's a little slander between friends?

Que CERA, CERA, Suckers!: finally, in vaguely-related-to-cycling-news, the Olympics have just announced that they're going back to check to 2006 Torino samples for CERA, which means, presumably, that they're also gonna go back and check the 2008 Summer Olympics samples for anything the then-new testing protocols may have missed the first time around. So for my money, while of course we all know we love Samuel "Holy Crap He's the Olympic Gold Medalist!" Sanchez is innocent, the rest of you two-wheeled weasels oughta get ready fast with the Official Doping Excuses of Disgusting Cheating Skankwads, namely, (1) I didn't do it; (2) the lab !@#$ed up; and (3) Lance Armstrong peed in my sample. Lookin' forward to the press conferences, dirtbags!

Tips From the Lance Armstrong Playbook; And, Good Luck With That Training Camp, Honey!

It's a Cruel (Cruel!)/Cruel Summer: yes, dear reader(s), the glorious Giro d'Italia is behind us, and it's back to the rest of the sleaze, passion, and triumph that marks the run-up to the 24/7 Lance Armstrong orgasmatron that will be the 2010 Tour de France. So what's the first piece of good news? That's right, o' underrated Contador companion Luis Leon Sanchez--Op Puerto wonderskeez Alejandro Valverde's finally been busted by the big boys, so the Caisse d'Epargne captaincy is yours! The ill-used Alejandro, of course, has come out guns blazing with the help of his cash-cow-lovin' squad, trumpeting, as revered mentor-in-dissembling-scumwadliness Lance has done almost daily for years, that he's Never Tested Positive In His Life. What, he gets bonus points for being a particularly successful doping dirtball? On the other hand, I've been thinking of late, with the riders so generously laying out the Greatest Guide Ever to the beating the now completely-useless biological passport, that really what we ought to be doing is banning riders that test poz from now on for their unvarnished and now inexcusably lame stupidity rather'n any actual cheating offense. In that case, you *go*, Alejandro!

I Heard a Rumor: meantime, wholly unsubstantiated word on the pave' is that even *more* of Lance's oppressed little minions are selling him out to the narcs, which, though in my eyes unlikely to derail the Tour de France prospects of the Noblest Rider Ever--in no small part thanks to the care and protection of the Greediest Most Obsequious Fame-Suckin' Enabler Industry Ho-Bags Ever--certainly could, if coming from someone slightly more reputable than Floyd Landis (and that's a dirt-low standard to begin with), perhaps contribute to a "catastrophic stomach ailment" for Lance sometime during the Tour de France itself, particularly if, even with by far the most formidable and psychologically-crushed team in the race, it looks like he's gonna get his !@# beat by that arrogant little twerp Contador again. Ow, something I ate seems to have suddenly disagreed with me--didn't I *tell* my soigneur I oughtn't've deliberately eaten that bag of prunes last night after I heard that nasty L'Equipe story was about to come out?

I'm Your Venus/I'm Your Fire/At Your Desire: in other Tour and Giro news, joyously reinstated dreamy-eyed pinup king of Italy Ivan "I Can't Believe How Perfectly My PR Campaign Worked" Basso has completely ditched the "I'm so looking forward to being a domestique for Franco Pellizotti in the 2010 Tour de France" crap, firmly putting Franco of the Euromullet back in his wannabe place even as a supportive Liquigas shepherds their quasi-discredited other Adonis to the pre-Tour training camp. Y'know, as if I didn't love Gilberto Simoni enough for rightly dope-smacking Basso as a drug-snarfing "extraterrestri" in 2006 when everyone just thought he was being a sour-grapes beeyotch, on the very eve of his retirement Gibo's bagged his recent maudlin diplomacy again, this time calling bull!@#$ on St. Ivan of Varese's angel-winged comeback by saying (very roughly): "Basso is a phoney nice guy. He behaves like a choir boy, but he isn't. Back then he did even worse things that flick me. His doping throw mud on the whole of Italian cycling." Aw, I'm sure Basso won clean this time--but I still love you Gibo, and thank you for a wonderful career!

Jeez, It's Not Enough the *Riders* Dope?: finally, when I first read it on tuttobiciweb I thought it must just be that my Italian skills sucked, but while that may yet be the case, it *is* also true that there's a new kid in town to displace those annoying back-alley drug deals and bothersome EPO injections: bike doping. The latest accusee: beloved time trial god/multiple Monument champ Fabian Cancellara, called out for (and vigorously denying) purportedly jacking up his ride by unlawful mechanical means and thus far outperforming those ProTour saps stuck with some crappy $10,000 steed. For !@#$'s sake, people, are we gonna have to start making the frames out of clear lucite from now on like some $2-stripper pole-dancing hooker heels? Me, I highly doubt the charges--heck, Fabian's 3 feet taller than the average cyclist already, he can intimidate anyone out of trying to challenge him just by standing next to their scrawny little bodies! Anyhoo, here's how it's supposed to work:

Feelin' the Love, Baby!

Get Your Mortirolo Runnin'/Head Out on the Highway: yes, tho' it crushes me to say, we're down to the last few days of the Giro, dear readers, as Carlos Sastre gets ready to brutally beat down St. Ivan of Varese and Cadel Evans (shut up! will too! at least on Sunday's stage when they're not expecting any snow I hope) on the feared Mortirolo, and Ivan and Cadel get ready to slug it out for GC over two ugly mountain stages as their revered mutual trainer Aldo Sassi, currently battling a brain tumor, roots for both his boys he swears are clean. Me, I'm almost inclined to agree--as a local wiseacre has opined, even with his recent world-champ power surge, "Cadel's just too boring to dope." Anyway, forza Sastre--and watch out for a late attack by Gibo!

Run!/Run Away!/Run Children/Run For Your Life!: meantime, the Most Hated Man In America continues to get it from all sides--from the understandably enraged believers who shelled out dough for his crap book or legal defense to the Lance-lovin' doping (oops, anti-doping) agencies desperate that this year's Tour de France not be !@#$ed with--which just goes to prove two things, kids: (1) no good deed goes unpunished, particularly if you've got weaselly ulterior motives, and (2) if you're gonna accuse a guy like Lance Armstrong of anything, you'd better have a more incredible run, and a more sympathetic charity to sell, and frankly, one taken-back Tour win over a decimated second-rate field, and a bull!@#$ repository o' personal "fairness" funds (whose website, curiously, seems to be offline at the moment) just don't cut it. Ah well, Floyd, live 'n' learn--and, not to think ill of others, but if I were you, I sure wouldn't leave my house from now on without a bulky steroid-stuffed goon entourage!

Good News!: and, good news for you, Mark Cavendish--Andre "Shit Race" Greipel, who took the final sprint in the Giro d'Italia today, would like to stay with HTC-Columbia next year. Of course, with squads like Quick Step begging to up their sprint power and Andre free to be on the market, anything could happen, but then again, with a relationship like you two have, Mark, I bet the boy couldn't even be pried away, much less be seduced by some shabby little pay raise and some paltry top billing. What, you're not popping open a bottle of champagne?

You're So Vania: over in doping-appealsville, I see cyclocross champ/EPO poz-with-subsequent-sorta-negative-B-sample/Riccardo Ricco's spawn-mama Vania Rossi is up against the Italian narcs on June 4, and I gotta say, I'm inclined to feel some sympathy here. I mean, doping for a Tour de France stage and the truly obscene amounts of cash your new contract is gonna get you, I understand--but a freakin' *'cross* rider on the no-credit women's circuit? What the hell benefit could she possibly have been aiming for, a window seat while stuffed in the back of the team Citroen with 6 other teammates on the 1500-mile ride to the next race? It just don't make *sense*, honey! Of course, if easy access leads to temptation, well, at least til Ricco' dumped her at the first sign of trouble, *there's* the apple in the Garden for ya...

What the !@#$ Is Wrong With You, Lampre?: all right, you *did* hire the great Gilberto Simoni to ride one last Giro and remind everyone that, of the two Giro winners on your squad, only one of 'em's done it twice--between that, and the Princess Bride uniforms that recall my fondest tot-hood dress-up adventures, I *am* appreciative. So why the !@#$ are you charging $46 US for his bitchin' new book "Gibo d'Italia" on your website? I'm not saying I won't pay it, once I pimp a kidney on the black market, as Amazon appears not to have an Italian outlet--I *am* saying that just flat sucks. Free Gibo's new book you bloodsuckers!

Oooooh-Whooooah Sweet Child o' Mi-ine: finally, nice job Floyd Landis breaking the heart of a wholesome young tween who ought to be sighing over pictures of that vampire guy right now, as this faithful girl comes to the defense of Lance Armstrong *plus* you made her dad use the swear word "jerk" in very range of her innocent ears:
I feel your pain, little sister--but I still think...oh, why set myself up for a lawsuit from the One?

I Hope He's Clean, I Hope He's Clean, I Hope He's Clean; and, Bravo il Grande Simoni!

Please Say It's So, Basso!: First, compliments to Carlos Sastre for gallantly and wholly intentionally allowing Cadel Ivan and Nibali to reclaim their dignity by getting 2:30 on him on the stage to Monte Grappa and Ivan to take Zoncolan and get ahead of him on GC today. Shut up! Second, much as I'm used to being grossly disappointed and deeply disgusted by every scum-snorting drug-sucking dirty-pig cheat-wank I've ever admired in the peloton, and much as I despised in particular St. Ivan of Varese's incredibly smarmy and coldly calculated image rehab from his post-Op Puerto "attempted doping" (and right there that continues to piss me off), I must confess that in today's beautifully agonizing stage I rediscovered, in the Ivan-of-2006's elegant reserve, relentlessly smooth turning of the pedals, and--for the first time--visible effort scratched into his face, and in Cadel's painfully workmanlike drunken-sailor rocking on the bike, the sheer sense of romance and impossibility that drew me into the sport in the first place and made me squiggle precariously under a pride of humungous hulking Germans on Passo Pordoi for a tiny picture of Ivan's head, and found myself absolutely caught between longing and cynicism. Ivan, *please* say you did it clean this time--give us poor bastards who follow cycling *some* hope!


Grazie Gilberto Simoni!: no, he didn't take Zoncolan--by a huge wad of riders ahead--and yes, I'm crushed. But in his dotage he's become a perfect gentleman (okay, sue me, I still hope he rips Basso one more time for old times' sake), and here's our class act and two-time (that's *two*, Cunego!) Giro god on his final trip across the line on the mountain he's already conquered so beautifully twice: Bravo Gibo dei tuoi tifosi americani, sei veramente un mito!

The Loathsome and the Odious: in other news, in the wake of Floyd Landis' oddly sudden crisis of conscience (and, not to be petty, he needn't have given me the Stare of Death last year at Interbike, particularly since I spent half of 2007 *defending* (at least on procedural grounds) his dirty doping !@#), repugnant enablers UCI and WADA have already made it clear what they're willing to do to keep the Armstrong legend going, braying the Lance party line that "he's never tested positive" and "there's no proof." UCI, cut the crap! Since when does that matter to you guys? The entire bio passport, for example, is based on the premise that the rider never tests positive. And you're still going after Giro-barred dreamboat Franco Pellizotti, as well as a half a dozen other minor players, aren't you? So either throw the bio passport out entirely and demand reputable A & B samples before any sanction is issued, or stop punishing riders for !@#$ you can't even show they did. Oh, *I* get it--it's *who* doesn't test positive that counts, now *whether* they test positive. Yep, you've convinced me you really care about eradicating doping by everyone! Credibility much, you dissembling weasels?

Quote o' the Week: finally, in addition to we love Dave Zabriskie's second on GC at the Tour of California today, he gets gigantic points for this masterful quote on learning that Floyd Landis (whose recent accusations about Lance have apparently been corroborated by the One's ex-wife) had slithered briefly into the sidelines at the ToC to apologize to an over-gracious Greg Lemond for his associate's boozy threat to presumptuously out a painful episode in Lemond's life and, one imagines, to take a nice long look at what he lost through his own venality: "He's here, really? Tell him I said hi. How's he doing?" How can you *not* love Dave Z?

What Else?! Landis, Lance, and Lies

All right, you heard it: Floyd Landis has 'fessed up to being a lying doping bottom-dwelling estrogen-sucking scum-weasel and, at a minimum, pimped Lance, George, Levi, and Dave to the narcs. Anyhoo, kids, there's buckets to cover, so let's get to it:

The Motive: Ticked off we're no longer winning, are we? That, or I'm going for the Bitter-Betty triumvirate of (1) I need the dough from my next book (2) I'm still pissed I got caught and (3) I'm still really, really pissed Lance didn't. While honesty for any reason in the matter of doping is arguably a good thing, wah !@#$in' wah! Look Floyd, I'm sure you *are* telling the truth at this point. And I stand by my original assessments that (1) you still would've won that Tour stage--if not by that much--because the peloton completely misjudged the day and (2) you were subject to a total farce-meister monkey trial. But y'know, a *lot* of people both put up whole websites defending your sorry nonexistent integrity and donated actual hard-earned moolah to your bull!@#$ Floyd Fairness Fund. If you've got an ounce of self-respect left, don't you think you owe them (1) an apology and (2) their cash back?

The Reaction: honestly, if I had to watch one more oily second of that smug priggish self-adoring wanker I was gonna spit, but here goes: "it's our word against his word. I like our word. We like our credibility." Of course, Lance--you're a saint no-one feels comfortable criticizing for obvious reasons *and* a national icon to a country full of football fans who couldn't tell a peloton from a pedophile. Plus, like, you've nailed a rock star, man! The fact that a huge percentage of your domestiques turned up dirty after leaving your spotless kingdom just shows they lost their morals as soon as they left you. Be real, you "like" your legal team, honey--and with what you can afford, who wouldn't? Johan Bruyneel, of course, chimed in with a smirking "he needs to seek professional help." Um, Johan, he apparently *did*, tho' not the kind you're suggesting--isn't that precisely the crux of the problem? As to UCI's Pat "Dick" McQuaid, stop the presses! He's in deep selective enabler protectionist mode, zealously guarding his unimpeachable multi-year cash-cow from any aspersions no matter how true they may actually be. Way to clean up the sport, Pat "Dick"!

The Future: fine, you're all skanks, except for the cyclists I like, who, if dirtbags, were all cruelly manipulated by omnipotent egomaniacal selfish forces entirely beyond their puny helpless minion control. And frankly, if you're not gonna have the (male or female) stones to pony up right off the bat--or at least go into instant !@#$-you-hypocrites attack-dog wingnut Vinokourov mode--I am calling today for an immediate return to the brief-lying-denial-and-immediate-dignified-omerta of the ol' Roberto Heras/Jan Ullrich days. Why? Yes, it's disgusting, so before I hear a damn word let's cut the straight-edge granola-eating kumbayah crap about how everyone should truly feel remorse for their treachery. But what it *ain't*, at least, is a bunch of sniveling maudlin crybaby crocodile-tear Oprah-episode con-artist sob-whining about how sorry you are and how terrible you feel and how you're gonna devote your life to setting an example to the youngsters by riding clean and saving whales and kissing starving moppets and creating an endangered butterfly preserve on your team bus. I just can't stand to hear it. Look, you're sorry you got caught, and enraged that every other guilty needle-sticker you know is doing it wasn't. That's human. I understand. So either man or woman up with no excuses, or shut the !@#$ up already!

The Fallout: unless UCI suddenly develops a spine and Lance contemporaneously develops a career-and-Tour-ending "stomach ailment," I'm guessin' nothin' except a giant wad of defamation suits. Better get that "Fairness Fund" back up and running, Floyd, no?

Giro d'!@#damn *Right*, Carlos!

*That's* How It's Done, Baby!: man, bad enough that it's now 11 stages into the Giro without a single Italian stage win and the press and tifosi are going bonkers--now, we get to watch damn near every one of the favorites go off on each other over today's catastrophic collective meltdown and dear little Sastre's smashing vault back into GC contention. Vinokourov? Scornful--he wasn't about to work his !@# off for Basso and Nibali, particularly if they were too lazy or stupid to do it themselves. Liquigas? Whining--Astana didn't honor the maglia rosa and they weren't gonna domestique for Vino either. Cadel? Surprised, but to his gentlemanly credit, not an ass. Cunego? Blaming the guys on race radio for not telling 'em Sastre was up ahead. Carlos? Typically modest. Oh, right, some other guy actually won the stage, like it matters. Let's review, shall we? Woo-hoo Sastre!

You Suck, Vs.!: Look, Versus. I can overlook the fact, because it's presumably not your fault and because I will forgive people who employ Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen for damn near anything short of cuddly-big-eyed-puppy torture, that I spent two hours of my life that I'll never get back the other night watching snore-inducing footage of an empty finish line because the coverage of the actual road race crapped out entirely. And as for yesterday, I *like* hockey--hell, I was a devoted child fan of the Hanson Brothers from "Slapshot." But it's 2k to the finish, the gap to the leaders is still shrinking, and you tell me that because of some dumb!@# NHL playoff I'm supposed to watch the gut-clenching last few moments of the race on the amgenepotourofcalifornia.com website? What kind of !@#$in' stupidity is *that*? Do you know what happens in the first two minutes of a hockey game? Squat, the players haven't even had time to get in their inaugural sucker punch yet--get your priorities straight, you pandering freaks!

We Love Jens!: over in Toura California news, I'm delighted to see we love Dave Zabriskie grab a stage, but for my money, what's *really* bitchin' is the New York Times of all papers paying due obeisance to Jens Voigt, if only for his impressive bounce-back from his gory face-plant at last year's Tour de France. Plus, he's already attacking like a madman, and it ain't even July. You go Jens!

Release the Hounds!: finally, sincere condolences to family and friends of the RadioSkank team car mechanic, apparently first treed and then devoured by a pack of 100 rabid hunting beagles on Lance Armstrong's orders after taking an unheard-of 50 seconds for a bike change at the Amgen EPO Tour of California yesterday. Let the tattered bloody remnants of his clothing be a warning to the rest of you peon layabouts!

Nice Guys Finish First (Unless You're...oh, Forget It!)

Bjarne, Give That Boy a *Raise*!: all right, yesterday's stage on the strade bianche was, in fact, truly epic. And while even posing nekkid with a saddle coyly in front of his works wasn't enough to bring Pippo Pozzato the win, and whatever one thinks of Vino's bad-!@# current performance at the Giro, Cadel Evans was truly a class act both on the road and in his uncharacteristically light-hearted post-race tweet, though I'm still not convinced, as he lost yet another teammate today, that he's not bound to be completely screwed in the third week anyway as he soldiers on all alone. But for my money, what was really rewarding was Chris Anker Sorensen's win on the Terminillo, in large part because, not only was the team mechanic entertaining as all heck to watch screaming his head off at Sorensen the last 2 kilometers, but unlike so very many riders, who shall remain nameless 'cause they can afford better lawyers than I, who breeze up mountains totally solo looking like they've just returned from a day sunning at the beach, our hero's face today looked pretty well the entire climb as if he were alternately being flogged, kicked, constipated and run over by a team bus, and he still stuck it out for the win. Bjarne, you've snagged your new sponsor, give the boy the homage he's due--and Chris, when I say "homage," I mean "next year's paycheck!"

Heart-Attack Headline o' the Day: all right, Universal Sports. Bad enough that I've paid you 15 bucks to see the last 6 minutes of race coverage at your random convenience when your website consistently says it's live for ages before I can actually get it, which I then end up having to watch on Gazzetta TV instead anyway, but what the !@$$ was with today's spazz-on-a-stick headline "Nibali Crashes Out"? No, he didn't, you nimrods--he *crashed* yesterday, but was still *in* the race. Anyone else already "out" of the Giro that you'd like to tell us about? Cadel? Vino? Ivan? Well, if he really can't pick it up a la the old days, maybe...

An Amgen EPO ToC Preview: no, I can barely stand it, but if this is the price I have to pay for seeing Levi's last race this season not being openly !@#$!-slapped plus hearing the perfect commentary of Phil and Paul--and because Jens is riding, of course--I guess I'm willing to pay it: here's what to expect the next few days as Dave Z hopefully gives Levi a run for his money and sweetly reformed big Tom Boonen beats that ego-on-wheels Cavendish at least once. Speaking of Levi, many belated thanks to Steevo for pointing out Levi's apparent long-ago lapse in jailbait judgment on the issue of performance-enhancement, which leaves me, so far as I can tell, with three options: (1) acceptance; (2) denial; and (3) hypocrisy. As one can surmise, and as my resolute fandom for Roberto Heras has trained me so well to do, I'm going for (2) and (3). Allez allez Levi--and who knew they put that !@#$ in Gatorade back then anyway?

Let's Head for the Hills, Baby!; and, That !@#$in' Lancefest in California

Higher, Baby!: yes, I've been lame about posting, and yes, it's because Petacchi and McEwen aside I really don't give a rat's !@# about the flats, but now the fabulous Giro's *really* under way: it's time for the hills, baby! On immediate tap: playgirl pinup Pippo Pozzato gets going on the strade bianche, and predicts disaster for pampered-kitten roadies Ivan Basso and shut-the-hell-up-Pippo-he's-a-god-anyway we love Carlos Sastre. Just please don't lose any more time, Carlos! Here's Sunday's parcours. Finally, some mountaintop action--oh, can it, you pervs!

Cadel Evans Is Scr#wed!: okay, let's get straight to it: Cadel's fine young team--and they *are* a fine young team--just doesn't have the chops to put Cadel into the final maglia rosa in Milan. Can someone please explain to me why the !@#$ a multiple Tour de France podium finisher & current scorchin' world champ can't ever find a team to hire him that can actually do him justice? I mean, I still want Sastre to stomp him into the dust and all--though I mightily appreciate Cadel's both ditchin' the wheel-suck and his increasing tendencies to go certifiably wingnut on the unsuspecting press corps--but are the powers-that-be *trying* to Klodi this poor guy into total obscurity? Hmmm...if Valverde gets nailed (ha!), there'd be Caisse d'Epargne, except LL Cool Sanchez is ready to take over there...if Bjarne can't find a new sponsor and the Schlecks hightail it for their own gig, *he* might have a last-minute opening...um, anyone?

Oh, All *Right* Already!: finally, it's time for the Amgen EPO Tour of California, and, in lieu of a formal preview, I'd just like to point out to the celebrity-grubbing Lance-whores who will ignore every other world-class rider on the planet and turn this event into a 24/7 piss-me-off-athon, Levi Leipheimer, not the Chosen One, is the RadioSkank rider for GC. Y'know, he's a cyclist...he's bagged a ton of Grand Tour and other glory...he's nice to animals...he wins this race every year...anyway, *we* love you, Levi!

Blood, Guts, and the Giro

The Agony and the...Well, Agony: Boy, if the fact that the first two stage wins and the first two maglia rosas went to English-speakers weren't enough to make the Italian press freak out over an obviously imminent linguistic and cultural takeover, seeing national hero Petacchi admit he blew it and watching half their riders looking like extras from some sleazy teen-movie gorefest sure were. Is anyone else thinking that Alberto Contador, watchin' the carnage and thinking ahead to his own first stages at the Tour, is quivering at home like a storm-soaked Chihuahua right now?

A Gentle Plea to Vs.: WHY THE !@#$ AREN'T PHIL AND PAUL ANNOUNCING THE GIRO LIVE EVERY DAY YOU LANCE-OBSESSED GOONS? Is it really more fulfilling as a matter of sport to cover a bunch of cowboys sadistically jerking ropes around innocent bulls' fragile packages while they're being tormented by rodeo clowns for other people's entertainment? Do you realize how many windmills we've passed without an in-depth investigation into their presence in an important 15th-century painting, or the particular hoppiness of a local beer they enjoyed together back in 1963? Hell, let's talk race--in the midst of the hours of dead air that characterize the other English language coverage I can get, you think some of us might be curious as to how Caisse d'Epargne ended up fourteen hours in arrears by the finish line or how the hell Cadel's gonna survive in the mountains if his fine-yet-inexperienced young team can't hold it together in the flats? No, I'll keep watching Dutch streaming video interspersed with 8,000 hard-core porn ads per second, you just keep showing bass fishing--really, it's much better. Aiiigggghhhhhh!

Thor Hushovd is !@#$%ed!: well, Cavendish, you've maybe got your green jersey for the Tour de France, 'cause poor we love Thor's training's now been been wrecked by--as if his early-season illness weren't enough--a broken collarbone sustained running over some sweet little tot on a training ride. Now, I'm not saying you're not right in your endless, years-long whining about how you've been totally unfairly jacked out of the green jersey by someone less deserving through no actions of your own whatsoever. But what I *am* saying that, *this* year, if *I* were you and took the final jersey in Paris at the Tour after Thor's training had been so catastrophically interrupted, I'd be wondering every single day for the rest of my life if I'd really have won it if it hadn't been. Every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life. But that's just me who'd wonder. Every. Single. Day. You just run along and enjoy it, you hear?

Somewhere, Mark Cavendish and his 2,000 Teeth Are Grinning: speaking of Cav, I can give him one more reason to smile tonight: HTC set up the perfect--perfect--lead-out, and arch-nemesis/derided second-rate backup-boy Andre Greipel, indeed the only sprinter with any teammate within a kilometer of the finish line, completely and utterly blew it:
Apropos of not-the-last-kilometer, get well soon Christian Vande Velde, and anyhoo, nice job Wouter--but Patrick Lefevere still kinda thinks you suck!

My Losing Pick o' the Day; and, Don't !@#$ With Robbie!

Forza!: yes, my losing pick of the day is, for nationalist reasons even tho I'm not even actually Italian, Alessandro Petacchi. Dai Ale-Jet! Why this pick's a dog: after yesterday's mechanical debacle, Robbie "Head-Butt" McEwen's gonna be out for revenge, tho' since he won't personally have a mechanic any longer having chewed him up into mulch after the time trial, that minor detail will work against him. Here's the last 27 seconds of his mechanic's life on this earth:
Either way, stay the !@#$ out of his way, honey!

One Day And Counting, Baby!; And, A Shout-Out to the Sprinter Fans

What the !@#$ Does *That* Mean?: yes, tifosi, with the Giro officially underway, and English-language coverage virtually guaranteed to freeze up or just plain suck, it's time to learn just a bit more Italian than those lines you always quote when you're loaded from "The Godfather," so here's some stuff you'll need to know:
Partenza: the start line
Traguardo (or Arrivo)--the finish line
Fuga: the breakaway
Tappa: the stage
Testa della corsa: the leader(s)
GPM (on signs, or on the road): the part of the climb where the points are awarded. What's that? The King of the Mountains contenders are looking for points toward the climbers' jersey, and other teams' domestiques are sent up to snake them out of 'em.
Pendenza: the percent gradient of the climb you're watching. Ahi, the Mortirolo hurts!
Tornante: the hairpin turns on a climb or descent--they're often numbered so you can keep track of how many more brushes with death (or just garden-variety misery) you have.
W--it's not a "W" you see on the road really, it's a "VV" for Viva. Naturally, VV Gibo!
Well, unless you want me to spell out in ill-bred detail the cuss words the tifosi are screaming at Vinokorouv, that's your lesson for today. Vaf--forget it!

It's My First Your Losing Pick o' the Day!: yep, the opening day in Amsterdam (or thereabouts) is a short flat time trial to stick someone in the maglia rosa and enrage the Italians if it isn't them. And yep, I know it should be that sanctimonious whine-wussy St. David Millar. But Cadel's got to beat the crap out of Ivan Basso right off the bat to psych him out, even tho' Ivan knows Cadel's easily gonna whomp him anyway, so I'm pickin' him. Forza Cadel--break my pathetic losing streak, I beg you!

More Practical Stuff You Can Use: so what's the order of sendoff of our brave cronomen tomorrow? Look for Damiano Cunego at no. 37, Gilberto Simoni in 125th, the irksome Millar at 185th, Bradley "Please Kick Millar's Sorry !@#!" Wiggins at 186, then Ivan, then Cadel, then Alexander Vinokorouv at 190, and Sastre at 195. Dai, dai Wiggo!

Self-Serving Wah-Wah of the Week: this one's for 2009 ex-podium finisher/disgraced druggie Danilo di Luca,for using a cheerful brag to the press that he's back in training and ready to hit the road--and good luck with that, sucker, but I digress--to snipe that the entire GC field this time is a pack of blowmeister milquetoast girly-man weaklings, which, of course, would not be the case if *he* were there. Glad all your free time during your ban hasn't diminished your good sportsmanship, Killer!

Faster Than a Speeding Boonen: first, you *suck*, Amgen EPO Tour of California!--what sick twisted Giro-hating pervert even *thought* to schedule this at the same time, are you *trying* to help Lance screw Levi and Klodi even worse than usual? Anyway, as I said, a friendly shout-out to our dear sprint fans here at racejunkie, as their faves, the toothilicious Mark Cavendish and Belgian ex-party-boy hunkster big Tom Boonen, are at the ToC so I'll try to cover the damn race a bit for their sakes. And as I don't want either fan base to pound me into jelly, good luck to 'em both!

Finally, a Loving Reminder: now, repeat after me: Gilberto Simoni is a god. Bow, peons!