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*!

Yer Cyclist Guide to Morality, Fair Play, and General Good-Guysmanship

On Dekk: yep, as he returns to the peloton after his ignominious doping ban, former Rabo-rauser Thomas Dekker has taken the moral high road and pimped himself to the narcs--not because he personally has anything to gain, because as he justly points out he's already served his time, but because he wants to make the world a better place. Awwwwww, so sweet! Um, am I the only one thinking this is a total bull!@#$ excuse for him to root out a buncha other dopers so now that he's been personally declawed he doesn't have to compete against fellows as morally flexible as he (used to be)? Thomas, thanks in advance for noble services to yourse--uh, I mean cycling, that's it, cycling!

Now *That's* Freakin' Scary: Frankenstein and zombies my !@#, I'll tell ya what's really flippin' me out as Halloween approaches--though I've been tightly clinging to denial thus far, I must finally concede the rumors exist, from none other than dear Samu' himself, that beautiful perfect Euskaltel-Euskadi may be having sponsorship troubles, and, worse, may actually have to fight it out with FD-!@#damn-J of all squads for a high-level gig. Are you !@#damn *serious*? Sanchez is the reigning polka-dot jersey you dirt-sucking amoral goons! Aiiiiigggghhhhhh! Bad enough the rest of you big-budget pervmeisters are constantly stealing Euskaltel's talent--now you're gonna leave the lonely brilliant Basques without a single ProTour team to call their own? Aiiiigggghhhhhh! Ergo, I hereby establish the Racejunkie Save Euskaltel Euskadi Fund, for which, under these dire circumstances, I will be accepting dollars, euros, yen, Groupons, trade ya whatever your mom packed in your lunchbox, marbles, candy, livestock, crap from ebay that can't even garner the minimum bid, and untraceable illicit black-market !@#$ that'll probably land me in prison the next ten years. Save Euskaltel--Aiiiiggggghhhhh!

The Mask of Zorr--Uh, Kolobnev: so lemme get this straight: although there was zero doping positives at the Tour de France this year, a guy who tests poz for a diuretic/masking agent (which masks, y'know, dope), is gonna get a 50-cent fine and a sloppy wet kiss from the narcs, but a wayward party-boy who comes up twice for coke-for-fun in 7 years is gonna get barred from the sport for 2 1/2 years? Not to endorse anything potentially involving horrid European techno music, but what the hell kind of sense does *that* make? At least prove he snorted it outta his musette when it'd've helped 'im in a breakaway or something first! Still, this does provide a valuable lesson: so long as you don't show up with actual dope in your system, evidence you've been trying to *beat* the tests is all juuuuuust fine. Thanks for the clarification--anyone else picturing Danilo DiLuca running out to stock up on whatever girly !@#$ was making him test at the testosterone levels of a Bratz doll a few years back?

Clean as a Whistle!: finally, it's with unrestrained delight that I report that the Vuelta a Espana was completely clean this year, which, considering they've allegedly historically taken even less interest in anti-doping efforts than the Amgen EPO Tour o' California did this season, makes me fully confident that the shocking result in nearly every stage plus GC this year is, in fact, clear evidence that previously-frustrated talents now allowed to compete on a level playing field are finally getting their rightful day in the sun. Yep, the peloton'll toast to that--wait, that ain't no champagne glass!

Yer Burnin' Cycling Question O' the Week: #whatthehellwascontadorthinking?

'Cause This Sure As Hell Wouldn't've Happened to Armstrong: so let me get this straight: Contador--yes, even our brilliant wee Contador--needs some more support in the mountains next season, Saxo boss Bjarne Riis has known for a *year* he's gonna need some more support in the mountains, the !@#damn 2011 Vuelta winner, Denis Menchov (hint: both these guys are decent climbers), and their support riders are all out of a job with Geox's implosion and willing to ride without saddles next year to get a new gig, and one of the winningest riders and winningest team bosses of all cycling history can't scrounge up enough dough between 'em to buy *any* of these guys for next year? What the hell is *wrong* with this sport? And no offense, Alberto--because your tactical sense has certainly grown all up of late, and no-one can blame you for bailing for *anywhere* much less Bjarne and a really very fine stable of talent after the last couple seasons you've had--but this domestique debacle would *never* have happened to Lance. Of course, Lance is the kind of guy who (allegedly!) corners ex-minions outside of bar-room bathrooms like high-school-bitch on dork at Homecoming, so I imagine one might reasonably stick with him for life or else--but dang, you can't even sell off the diamond-encrusted fuzzy dice from yer sportscar to raise a few euros for one of yer ol' pals to have yer back? Hey, Samuel Sanchez sez he'd like to work with you--sure, they got no money either, but maybe you could still ditch Bjarne for Euskaltel!

News From the Department of Total Pointlessness: and, say what you want about Jan Ullrich--'cause you can sure as hell say it about everyone else he rode against, including a few guys who've still got starring roles in the peloton--but to me, at least the guy kept to his twisted code o' silence and didn't fake a bunch of bull!@#$ crocodile tears in saccharine crap remorse for publicity points, and since he's spent the last five years in a tailspin and only just emerged back on the charity circuit, I'm inclined to say it is completely useless at this point for the selective hypocrites at UCI to continue to try to prosecute his !@#. Their reasoning? Apparently, they'll look even more randomly vindictive--or enabling, depending on the rider--than they already do, if they don't. Now *that's* the way to clean up the sport, Pat "Dick" McQuaid--anyone else you wanna yank outta retirement to make an example of? Didn't think so!

Gee, We Oughta Just Start a New Cable Channel For This !@#$: speaking of which, as technological mastermind Floyd Landis goes on trial in absentia in France for computer hacking--for which, if I interpret L'Equipe correctly, the penalty is a year's diet of Wonder Bread, Cheez Wiz, and rotgut foreign sparkling wine--I see associated drug-weasel Joe Papp has been sentenced as well, and I gotta say, if this trend continues, certain riders are likely to openly stick their IV bags right on their handleb--um, repent unprovoked and voluntarily ban themselves 'til their careers would've been over already anyway. The proof--there's been nary a doping poz this season, except for a freak group of renegade Canadians, so it's obvious these hard-line tactics are working. Congrats to all--now, pay no attention while I suddenly start having play dates this winter with Ferrari!

Back In My Happy Place: finally, as I offer my fondest wishes for future employment to the thanklessly ditched loyal-Lanceista Ekimov outta the Johan Bruyneel ranks, compliments to talented youngster Brice Feillu for finding a home after the LeopardSkank merger debacle, which means that between them, Geox, and HTC's collapse, there's only a mere 6000 or so worthy pro cyclists still left without a contract next season. Y'know, far be it from me to suggest that a dedicated cyclist consider crossing over to another sport or nothin'--but heck, if any of y'all are desperate enough, I hear that say the Mets could use a hand (that's *any* hand) next season!

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!

Blood, Guts, and Liquigas--It's the 2012 Giro d'Italia, Baby!

Who Can It Beeeeee Now?: yes, reluctant defending Giro champ Alberto Contador is going for full-on revenge at the Tour de France--and not even considering he won't be able to do either of them--which leaves, despite a penultimate-day blowup on the Stelvio that Contador could really whale on, basically a spindly-gladiator internecine dog-fight between warily-complementary Liquigas teammates Vincenzo Nibali and Ivan Basso for Grand Tour glory. Look, prodigy Nibali blew this year's Vuelta and Basso woofed--despite a fine and steady performance throughout, but we're talking by Basso standards here--his once-unquestioned claim to the Tour. So the question is, does Liquigas put a much surer bet on proven Giro commodity Basso for three-peat Italian glory and just pray for Nibali to hold it together for a decent showing in July, or does it assume that a Contador-free Nibali can still grab the Giro with a bunch of domestiques essentially training to support Basso and put all its real faith into Ivan's potential for a final maillot jaune in Paris? Me, I'm guessing that even Basso's hard-swallowed pride of the last few years won't allow a major rebellion from Nibali just yet--but one thing I do know is, with this year's flat-lovin' parcours, Mark Cavendish'll look really bad even for a sprinter if he skips out any time before the final week!

"Falling Leaves" My !@#--You *Suck*, UCI!: and, as the last edition of the real Giro di Lombardia goes out with a thrilling and satisfying end with a win by typically unheralded worker-bee Oliver Zaugg, it finally whacks me like a Grand-Tour post-doping-control "stomach virus"--that wanker Pat "Dick" McQuaid really means it when he booted Lombardia from its rightful season-ending position in favor of the Tour of Beijing for 2012, because if there's any hallowed tradition *more* deserving than the beautiful Giro di Lombardia of being kicked back to a totally unnecessary and irrelevant time slot near the Worlds in favor of a one-year-old race no-one yet cares about in which cyclists are afraid to eat the food, DSes are afraid to feed it to them, and riders are tweeting each other terrifying photos of the lung-munching pollutant haze, Pat "Dick" apparently hasn't heard of it. What next you goons, rescheduling the dandy and certainly enjoyable--but still pretty new--Amgen EPO "Don't Bother With Those Silly Blood Tests, We Don't Mind" Tour of California exactly so half the peloton'll bail on the far more worthy, century-old Giro d'Italia? Oh, wait...you *double* suck, UCI! Anyway, here's the glory our humble Zaugg deserves: All Hail the Domestiques!

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?!

It's The 2012 Tour de France, Baby--Oops!

How Do You Say "You're Fired!" In French Again?: yes, the 2012 Tour de France route has been revealed, which is great--except for the poor bastard who posted it a week before the actual presentation was supposed to take place. Of course, since I assume they're scrambling to scrap the entire route right now so it looks like it was just a completely made-up "prediction" by the rabble-rousers at L'Equipe instead of a humiliating internal ASO woof, this could in fact be *good* news for none other than Baby Schleck, who has recently vowed to improve his dismal time-trialing but must have been horrified to learn today that the Tour organizers planned to completely jack him out of the win in Paris with approximately 5,600 kilometers of the discipline. Oh well, ASO, at least you don't have to agonize over whether multiple Tour winner/potential 2010 Tour strippee Alberto Contador should take the stage with Cadel and Andy at the route-presentation press conference!

Greg Van Avermaet Takes Off (And Takes It Off): and, after what must have been a very frustrating last kilometer for poor Marco Marcato, during which Greg Van Avermaet sat on Marcato's wheel like a lump o' lead only to pull out around him as Marcato's leg seized up in a burnin' ball, Van Avermaet took the win at Paris-Tours, and, in lieu of available video, I bring you a photo of his win instead: . Gee, he didn't even need a bike to do it--impressive!

Suck It, Katusha!: in other news, after a crap season at the grossly unappreciative Team Katusha, Pippo Pozzato finally took his first win o' the year at the GP Beghelli, which means not only is he looking good ahead of next weekend's season-finale Giro di Lombardia, but with this new result on his side he's probably gonna be able to squeegee new squad Farnese Vini into upgrading his next season's lodgings from a standing-room-only berth with the soigneurs in a hotel janitor's closet to an actual above-ground shared hotel room. Things are lookin' up for 2012, Pippo--now don't blow it!

Watch Out for Deer: on a cautionary note, many thanks to cycletard for tweeting this footage of a freak collision during a mountain bike race, which makes me wonder if this, along with the truly humungous number of recent road-race cloven-hoofed disasters, proves the entire worldwide population of prey animals has suddenly pegged cyclists as the mistaken target of their enmity: Very glad to read the boy's okay, and the rest of you--watch out for Bambi!

Hold It Together, Cav!: finally, the incomparable Tom Boonen can breathe a sigh of relief that he's not doomed to be Mark Cavendish's lead-out beeyotch next year, as Cav's rumored deal with Quick Step has fallen through and, bizarrely, he still hasn't inked a deal with anyone else yet, either. Bad timing, Cav, it surely didn't help to have let yourself get so far behind at Paris-Tours this weekend--but it's still not like most DSes wouldn't sell off most of their minor relatives to get you to sign on with 'em anyhow!

I Get High With A Little Help From My Friends, With A Little Help From My Frieeeeeeeeee-eeeends!

Oops, I Mean, I Get *By* With a Little Help From My Friends: yes, on the eve of his CAS appeal, none other than patron saint of drug-snorting livestock Alberto Contador has called for "more rider involvement" in doping regulations, and before you nasty-minded cynics naysay the whole idea, I, for one, think it would be a great service to the sport if Lance, Floyd, Vino, and--well, you get the idea--all formed one big Roman-orgy love-in of a cyclist executive committee to put together some standards everyone with (allegedly!) ungodly amounts of dough and unscrupulous connections can live with (and win with) and set the whole thing straight from here on out. !@#$, if UCI can't keep its microdosing minions from unfortunate errors and unpleasant publicity, who better than expert riders to set some realistic goals? You go, Alberto--and the rest of you, he can wave to from the window of the team car as he gets chauffeured back to his hotel past you suckers still slogging up the road in the "autobus" towards the finish line!

Hang 'Em High: of course, in the same article, UCI's Pat "Dick" McQuaid's got a different take on the whole situation, saying that the national cycling feds oughta be banned outright so riders he's pissed off at that week can avoid that pesky due process and head straight to an international kangaroo court instead, which, while certainly likely to cut down on the nationalist fervor of antidoping ministers with a more, well, cutting-edge view of sports medicine as regards their own athletes, seems really unfair to extremely vigilant countries like, say, Spain. Damn, is there any option here for noble riders and faithful fans that *doesn't* suck?

A Gentle Plea for Reason: and, before we leave this topic for today, may I also point out a reason that, as November approaches, the fine folks at CAS might want to give our pretty little Contador a walk? Yes, yes, our charming boy is pure as snow, and surely, that counts for something--but more important, am I the *only* person who'd rather listen to a thousand rabid in-heat wolverines screeching for all eternity than hear Andy Schleck bitching about Contador (because let's face it, there's pretty much nothing bad one can say about Cadel) for the *next* two !@#damn years? Yeah, didn't think so--I rest my case, free Contador!

Give 'Em Hell, Cadel!: finally, speaking of whom, defending Tour de France champion Cadel Evans has spit out his plans for 2012, and while it's certainly a darn shame he won't be gracing the Tour Down Under, I *would* like to suggest that, while I've never been a big fan of human-machine hybrids (Fabian Cancellara naturally excepted), given the ringing endorsement recently given Cadel by none other than Big Mig himself, if there's ever been a case for, say, surgically implanting an outlet in your !@# and plugging in a giant neon sign blaring "MIGUEL INDURAIN JUST CALLED ME 'RIDER OF THE YEAR'", *that* compliment is it. Oh, come on Cadel--it'd still be sorta aero stuck onto yer time trial skinsuit, don't you think?

Game On, Baby Schleck!

Tick-Tock, Sucker!: yes, even in the wake of WADA backing off on its own butt-kissing cowardice and sticking with a minimum level for clenbuterol despite doe-eyed superstar cash-cow Alberto Contador's upcoming doping appeal and the easy "why the hell bother punishing 'im" excuse it would provide, our boy's gutsily announced his program for next year, this time skipping the Giro he rode in case of a Tour ban last year, and setting his sights 100% on Paris. That's 9 months you've got to learn to time trial and make your peace with those unfairly-included "downhills," Andy Schleck! Of course, the race is Cadel's to defend, but with BMC apparently aiming for a spectacular infighter-meltdown between the already-irritated (and thoroughly justified, so stuff it!) Thor Hushovd and ever-ready stage-seeker Gilbert, Alberto's got a pretty sweet shot at the whole show despite a Frank'n'Andy tag-team wear-down--if he's allowed to ride next year. Good luck in November, Alberto--but I bet Andy's not quite so rooting for you!

Don't Cry for Me Jakob Fuglsang ('Cause The Giro Won't Change For *Your* Whiny !@#):
meantime, the spectacular Giro d'Italia's announced its 2012 queen stage, packing in a record 465 climbs in one day including the fearsome summits of the Mortirolo and Stelvio, leaving the race completely undecided until after the penultimate day and already causing nuevo Vuelta sensation/now-serious Giro aspirant RadioSkank recruit Jakob "Jan Ullrich's Mini-Me" Fuglsang to start crying like a 2-month-old. Look Jakob---you are a stellar young talent with a bright future at the Grand Tours. But do you really wanna start emulating Andy Schleck in *everything*?

Questions That Keep You Up At Night: okay, maybe not "you," but probably unjustified Bruyneel reject Jani Brajkovic, anyway--like, is Alexandre Vinokourov gonna nurture and support me to my full and obvious potential at Team Astana, or is he gonna intentionally claw his bike over my body like a discarded gel-snack on his way up the mountains at next year's Tour? Me, I'm genuinely hoping for the best for the talented Jani, but then, well, Vino *has* been known to be a little erratic. Damn, kid, maybe you'd've been better off with RadioSkank--at least the Schleck brothers are fairly harmless!

Caaaaaaaaaaav!: And, Your Overall Worlds Roundup

Well, it's big love (and a dashing photo of Cav, of course) to our Brit friends on Mark Cavendish's smashing win at the Worlds today (see, I can be fair to your boy!), and aside from that, just a few things we might remember about this lively week:

1. I was all kinds of ready to extravagantly compliment the French racers for not sucking and musing enthusiastically on their bright new future after stars-o-tomorrow Arnaud Demare and Adrien Petit went 1-2 in the men's U-23 road race and Pierre-Henri LeCuisinart or whatever bagged the junior men's, 'til some French asshat crashed and WRECKED THOR HUSHOVD'S CHANCES TO DEFEND HIS JERSEY! Fine, the French won't suck *soon*. And I like pomme frites, so I'll give 'em that too. But for holding up Thor, your compatriot *blows*!

2. Amber Neben certainly earned her spot in the time trial, as, by whatever obscure criteria, she won her appeal fair and square--it's not her fault those morons couldn't get their act together on a ruling 'til Kristin Armstrong had just landed in freakin' Copenhagen. But if *I* were Armstrong, and I were home with a cold one in my hand watching those results on TV...come on, like *you* wouldn't be pissed!

3. I'll give it to 'em--for Cav to take that sprint after having been boxed in and losing any kind of home-town wheel to cling to despite a bitchin' lot of work by his teammates, a situation completely out of his comfort zone--*that* was some kind of bad-!@#. Congratulations, Cav--you did in fact rock this one!

4. Watching the perfect Dutch lead-out in the women's road race, and then Marianne Vos *still* taking second place, was just heartbreaking. On the other hand, strikingly like her commissario tecnico Paolo Bettini, two-years-running champ Georgia Bronzini is one canny !@#@$%^&*!. Well played!

5. For Fabian Cancellara to be rocking all over the bike like a rum-drunk sailor in a hurricane, and *still* come in third in the world in the time trial, is a testament to his greatness. And didn't Tony Martin beating him *not* give you the same sickly feeling as when Stefan Schumacher did back in that Tour?

6. I've hereby solved this total !@#$shit question over whether some of the best cyclists in the world should be guaranteed the same minimum base pay as, say, the high-school delinquent who cleans out yer local 7-Eleven's Slurpee machine: everytime Pat "Dick" McQuaid says something toadying, arbitrarily enemy-attacking, or just plain asinine, that's 10 bucks in the women's peloton paycheck kitty. Screw that silly sponsorship dough--Ina-Yoko Teutenberg, six months from now, you're rich!

7. Y'know, Ina-Yoko does kinda scare me, but after watching Judith Arndt in the time trial, I'm pretty sure that if I or, say, the Incredible Hulk met her in a dark alley on a bad-mood day, one would need some pretty serious nonexistent video-game weaponry to come outta there alive. Just sayin'. Go Judith!

8. Finally, for certain faithful readers, yer bonus gratuitous Cav adulation shot:

Complimenti to all, and to all a good year!

The Armstrong Question: Should They or Shouldn't They?

Yes, cycling fans, I'll get to the Worlds, but before we even find out if Thor Hushovd is gonna kick !@# for a second year in a row or whether he's gonna intentionally hang back in an excess of modesty and graciously let some undeserving schnook take the stripes instead (shut up!), here's the question of the day: as the Italians accuse you-know-who of using a sham company to discreetly funnel money to old "social friend" Michele Ferrari in exchange for a damn thorough doping regime, should the narcs continue pursuing Lance Armstrong, or shouldn't they? Okay, Lance's time--and that glorious period of hero-worship, genuine naivete, and unimpeachable faith--has passed. So I get it--in a way, what the hell's the point? But for my money, if yer gonna sic a slobbering pack of PR goons on your every real or imagined enemy, get yer nemeses kicked permanently outta yer favorite beer haunts (horrors!), and call everyone who halfway dares to cross you a cheater, liar, druggie, betrayer, scumball and general puppy-kicker, I say, game on, you smug punk-!@# bully! Y'know, there's your own personal omerta'--and really, can one *so* despise, say, an Ullrich who, knowing exactly who gets taken down and who oughta be but isn't, at least only destroys himself with his denials?--and there's bull!@#$ing *and* punishing the guys who--for their own selfish and messy and noble and regretful reasons, so let's not fake they're saints either--call you on it. Oh well, at least we know there was no doping at the Tour de France *this* year--the *rest* of those (alleged!) miscreants were all riding the Vuelta!

And He's Off (the Hook Again)!

Too Little (But Not Too Late): yep, things are lookin' good for doe-eyed young Grand Tour savant Alberto Contador: WADA, apparently as reluctant as UC--um, everyone else--to lose the Greatest Cycling Ambassador/Cash-Cow Since Lance Armstrong, is totally coincidentally now on the threshold of Alberto's doping appeal considering instituting a minimum acceptable level--and bagging the zero-tolerance--for Clenbuterol. Yap, there's no guarantee this would influence Contador's appeal, yap--I got a bridge in Brooklyn needs buyin', chumps! Anyhoo, the only wrench in this gigantic gift is the pesky fact of all those alleged plasticizers also resident in Alberto's blood, but not only is the test juuuust undeveloped enough to give our hero's lawyers a bitchin' ground for smackdown, but I have it on extremely reliable authority--that is, my own--that 'Berto ingested that plastic !@#$ chewing on the new Lego set Bjarne Riis got 'im last Christmas. Damn, Bjarne--can't you at least get him something that's *not* a banned substance to teethe on?

A Modest Proposal To Solve Missed Doping Tests: first, skeletal Danish superstar Michael "the Chicken" Rasmussen gets busted by UCI and Rabobank after it becomes irksomely public that he blew off a doping controls fleeing to Mexico. Next, it's poor Jeannie Longo. Now, it's Danish (mmmmmm...Danish) trackie Alex Rasmussen of near-defunct HTC getting fired for not being where *he's* supposed to be. Now, me, I'm sure all these missed connections have nothing to do with any of 'em doping. Why? Because I'm an eejit. But while I'm no techno-whiz, either, it seems to me there's an easy, dignified solution to make sure cyclists are where they say they are when they say they are--(1) those lunky electronic collars you use to buzz pets with a "humane" wad o' voltage if they stray, and (2) one a' them GPS microchip thingies they implant into runaway-prone dogs, except maybe right under the sponsor logo on the shorts-butt for convenience. C'mon, just *think* about the broader possibilities--Andy Schleck, say, tries to sneak into Saxo territory to slash the tires on Alberto Contador's bike on the queen stage of the Tour de France, and ZAPPO--he's droppin' that naughty Swiss Army knife like a hot potato! Yes, thank you, you can nominate for me official UCI watchdog here....

Russian Roulette: meantime, in pinup transfer news, Classics stud-machine Pippo Pozzato has bailed out of the thankless Katusha--and why that is is beyond me, because as Contador can tell you, hangin' with a squad that ABSOLUTELY HATES YOU is a peach--for smaller tho' actually very fine Italian squad Farnese Vini, potentially screwing him out of Paris-Roubaix but most definitely allowing him to race--um, down the block to the gelateria? Well, this can only be a turn for the better, Pippo--and if Farnese don't let you race, you can always go back to modeling!

Ask and Ye Shall Receive, Baby!: dang, it's good to be the king: Philippe Gilbert's reportedly gotten the Tour de France 2012 to change the first stage for him because, well, he doesn't think he can win it and Philippe doesn't darn well *like* that! Y'know, I'm all for valued rider input on the courses--for example, "I don't want to get beat down by a bunch of political radicals when I'm just trying to ride a !@#damn bike race"--but for my money, this kind of !@#-kissing goes a *bit* too far. Hell, with all due respect to Thomas Voeckler, dear race organizers, if you're gonna rig the Tour de France course, at least rig the freakin' thing so a French guy can win the maillot jaune in Paris for once!

Oh, No, Carlos!

This Just Sucks: so wee little Sastre, having already announced he's leaving Geox after a wholly pointless and mutually self-destructive alliance with Denis Menchov, has finally decided his future: he's retiring. Now, I have had certain persons who shall remain nameless suggest that, despite his obvious total greatness, it was, perhaps, a bit odd that our pure climber rode the time trial of his life and pulled off the win at the 2008 Tour de France, to which my highly analytical response is, of course (1) bite me! and (2) even though Carlos *did* have the time trial of his life, (a) it still kinda sucked, which *has* to be reassuring, and (b) the maillot jaune, as Phil and Paul say--and what kind of unworthy heathen would argue with them?--gives you wings. And that's *only* the maillot jaune, you haters! Anyway, since turning pro with the late great ONCE 15 years ago, Carlos Sastre racked up a huge palmares, but was never too humble to domestique someone who deserved it--right up through the 2011 Vuelta--no matter the personal cost. Here's dear little Sastre winning on Alpe d'Huez in 2008:

And kickin' !@# at the Giro in 2009:

And generally being way more fabulous than that oppressor-wank Bjarne Riis ever deserved after the way he treated 'im:

Aw, rats--thank you Carlos for 15 years of spectacular climbing!

Your General Roundup o' the Week; and, Watch Out, Alberto!

Thooooooor!: so, nouveaux climbing freak Thor Hushovd's lookin' mighty bitchin' ahead of the Worlds, bagging a victory at the Thor of Britain as reluctant Belgian leader Philippe Gilbert predictably whomps the field in his own latest race: Yer clearly getting past those sniffles you had that were a direct result of Jonathan Vaughters horribly screwing you out of your Worlds prep at the Vuelta--Thooooooooooooooooooooor!

So Longo, See Ya, Wouldn't Want to Be Ya: meanwhile, in the latest la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you news, perpetual French champ/inspiring ageless national icon Jeannie Longo's husband is getting busted for allegedly procuring EPO from tireless drug pimp Joe Papp, and Jeannie, of late in hot water herself for evading doping controls (like that stopped UCI from, say, letting Michael Rasmussen nearly take the Tour de France before they decided to get upset over it), has reluctantly withdrawn from the Worlds to avoid getting blood-tes--um, to stand by her man. Aw, I'm not worried--I'm sure that !@#$ was her grandmother's/her dog's/mislabeled baking soda/just a little something to give the neighborhood school kids an early-morning energy boost in their juice boxes!

That's Rich: since you just can't get enough of disgusting bottom-dweller Riccardo Ricco', I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear that our hero has now sworn under oath to the Italian narcs that he never, never, never, never blood doped from his fridge, because, in fact, he did it from a bag stored in his coole--wait, am I reading this right? Anyhoo, lest you're tired of watching people actually summit *after* the rest of the peloton's had time to sign in at the start line on race day, Riccardo is promising that, like a season-ending saddlesore or an unpleasantly itchy reaction to that new chamois creme, he'll be back. Lookin' forward to it--especially since your compatriots you ripped off so many victories from must loooooooooove you so much!

Yep, I *Still* Feel Dirty: finally, it's with that warm and fuzzy feeling only truly oleaginous hypocrisy can produce that I report that Alexandre Vinokourov is back on the bike, training for Lombardy and, I presume, ready to bushwhack Alberto Contador with a buncha steel-toe-booted goons should this rumored marriage between Saxo Bank and Astana come to pass by the end of the season. If they go mano-a-mano, I know who I'm betting on--and it ain't the little twerp with the 65 Grand Tours to his name!

Yer Deep Thoughts On The Vuelta a Espana

1. IGOOOOOOOOR! IGOOOOOOOOOOOOR! IGOOOOOOOOOOOOR!

Igor Anton Wins Vuelta Stage 19 - from Universal Sports -

Yep, that's about it. Oh, wait: EUSKALTEEEEEEEEEEEL! EUSKALTEEEEEEEEEEEEL! EUSKALTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL!

2. Chris Froome: not bad for a domestique.

3. Okay, I'm sure he earned it the hard way (hell, even the easy way is the hard way)--but don't tell me your eyebrow didn't raise juuuuuuuuuuuust a bit at the top podium in Madrid! Still, I'll believe 'til my little heart gets ripped out and stomped into a mazillion gazillion tiny pieces *again*: Venga Cobo!

4. Man, Tom Boonen is *cursed*. Come back, Tommeke, come back!

5. Looking back at my "welcome to the 2011 Vuelta" post, I look like a complete dumb!@#. Yes, I'm only copping to *that* post. Yeah, like you predicted it any better--stuff it!

6. Tyler Farrar may be the only sprinter in the cycling's entire history to admit he !@#$ed up a sprint and caused a crash. Pure class!

7. Wiggo's got *some* guts, boy.

8. Word to organizers: next time you stick a roundabout at the end of a sprint, put a guy with a freakin' flag there. But I bet JJ Haedo doesn't think so!

9. Liquigas, even *you* can't bag all three of 'em in one year. Pick one Grand Tour, and focus on it, from soigneurs on up. Forza Ivan--next year!

10. RadioSkank just *sucked*. Oh well, Klodi, maybe Johan'll let you take a couple guys from the development squad for you to domestique--um, to be your domestiques next Vuelta!

11. Moncoutie, Moncoutie, Oh-So-Soft-and-Cuddle-y: geez, these points-chasers are the accountants of the peloton. Not glam, but 4 KOMs ain't bad!

12. Contador is gonna beat the crap out of all these guys next year. Except Igor. Who's gonna take it, until Mikel Nieve does the year after. Shut up!

13. The Basques: Bitchinest. Fans. Ever. Epic--just try to give Igor a little room to move next time!

It's Jensageddon--Aiiiiggghhhhhhh!

Don't Tell My Heart, My Achy-Breaky Heart: oh my god, Anonymous (thanks Anonymous!) is right--we love Jens Voigt has signed with RadioSkank! It's like that horrible opening scene in "Jaws" where some pretty teenager bips away from the party at the bonfire to cavort in the surf ahead of her laughing boyfriend, and this creepy anticipatory music kicks in, and everything goes dead still for a moment, and a giant Great White shark rears up out of nowhere with its gazillion enormous razor teeth and ruthlessly chomps her to pieces, except it's Johan Bruyneel's head coming out of the water and he's got one of those unattractive RadioSkank jerseys clutched in his teeth and he hands it to Jens instead! Oh, Jens, I'll remain faithful to your superior godliness and if you say you want this I'll try not to yack--but please, please tell me this is all some horrid B-movie hallucinatory nightmare! Okay, just staaaaaay calm everyone (okay, me), at least Jens will still spend next year in the peloton no matter who he's with...

Ivan Basso Gets Slapped

All Right, *That's* Too Much: look, I'm all for takin' down the Man. So if a bunch of separatists and/or their opponents wanna go all wingnut and start a half-riot at the Giro di Padania, hey, that's cool. But slapping Ivan Basso?! That's just punk-!@#, you pansies! First, as Ivan rightly notes, he's a cyclist, not a politician, so you're slappin' the wrong dude entirely. Second, he's a *cyclist* and weighs about 1/50th of a normal human being, so if you're any bigger than a freakin' Barbie doll you look like a complete wussy for whackin' him. Third--he's Ivan !@#$ing Basso you moron, do you know how much that pretty face is worth if he sues your !@# for bruising that thing?!--Betty Grable's legs alone were insured for $1 million back in World War II, for chrissakes! Oh, wait, that's his hot sister. Anyway, here's the chaos: That's it, not *quite* clear on the slap but close enough for me and a passel o' swooning jurors, you're going DOWN, fuzzy-boy--Ivan, sue the !@#$*&!!

Froome, Froome!: okay, sing it--you didn't peg Chris Froome for the podium--hell, even the guy who sets up the podium--at the Vuelta a Espana, either. But there he is, and there's Cobo, who you didn't see coming either, still in red. Which begs the question--what the hell? And before any of you wisenheimers start making little syringe-squirting motions with your hands, let me just say this--I have it on good authority (meaning, I can't find where I read it) that Juanjo rode a really, really low gear to win his stage compared to the other riders, and Froome--well, come on, the man was staggering all over the Angliru like a Bud-soaked frat boy coming off a merry-go-round, and anyhow, could that big a Boy Scout ever do anything that pervy? So go Cobo (even if Igor Anton *did* almost crush you today, woo-hoo!)--and don't !@#$ with my stupid faith in you, you hear?

Jens Voigt Transfer Update: nothin'! there isn't one! anywhere! not a peep from anyone! aiiiiigggghhhhhhhhhhhhh! aaiiiiiiiiggggghhhhhhh! Oh, Jens, *please* not RadioSkank...

Get Tom Boonen Back on the Blow; And, Where the !@#$ is Jens?

Party On, Tom!: okay, maybe I've suggested this before, but it bears saying again in no uncertain terms whatsoever: we've all faithfully supported the good-boy bull!@#$, but Tom Boonen was a better, luckier, gutsier rider when he was accepting suspect cocktails from strangers and snorting up mystery crystals at parties, and it's time he gets back to the job. Sure, it's the wisdom and maturity of age creeping up on him, his new-found fear of sprints, the natural caution that a series of crap season-screwing injuries is gonna have on you--Tom's clearly lost his joie-de-whup-ass, and that emasculating wanker Patrick Lefevere over at Quick Step better quit slagging our boy in the press, assess what's psyching him out, and !@#damn stuff him full of Ecstasy every night like a teenager if that's what's gonna make him happy. Now plug your ears from that hideous Euro-club techno-!@#$, Patrick, and get the real Tommeke back already!

Come Back, Jens!: first, aaaaaiiigggggghhhhh-it's true! Leopard-Trek is merging with RadioSkank! What the hell does it take to keep a sponsor *in* this business, anyhow, a Tour de France victory--damn, the French squads would've all croaked a generation ago! Second, why the !@#$ isn't we love Jens Voigt mentioned among the "nine riders" moving to Johan's House of Hell? I get he doesn't have a longer contract with Leopard-Trek--who gives? Is he retiring, in which event the entire peloton is gonna suck for decades to come? Is Johan stupid enough not to offer him at least a lousy year's gig, not that Jens working for anyone else--say, a pimp--wouldn't be preferable? Has some Michael Ball-esque Lance Armstrong wannabe wisely decided to hand Jens gazillions of no-strings dollars to start his own squad of fellow gods? Jens, you *can't* let this be the end--even if you should become a DS, no-one existing is worthy of your legacy!

Yer Vuelta a Espana Rest Day Round-up: all right, so a clearly back-on-form Igor Anton is gonna obliterate the field for a stage win in the last week--yeah, stuff it!--Wiggo, I think, has no-one to apologize to ever after impossibly sticking it out on the 23% gradients of the Angliru to hold on to 3rd, if the spectators keep messing with the climbers' lines some pack of citizen-vigilantes're gonna have to start whacking 'em out of the way with a stick since the cops ain't getting it done, Cobo looked so relaxed I thought he was taking a nap at 100kph, and, despite Nibali's brave declaration he's gonna fight it out for numero uno to the end, we're sure gonna have a surprise in Madrid because the only GC contender left out of the original bunch is the freakin' lanterne rouge at this point. Still, there's the Basque country left to come in the final week, along with Euskaltel's inevitable group o' victories. Yeah, I said it--venga Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!

Oil and Water Don't Mix: last but not least, to no-one's surprise that oily little weasel Riccardo Ricco' has definitively been found to have besmirched faithful last-chance trainer Aldo Sassi by having not only blood doped but having done so like a world-class moron, which means Ricco', no longer troubled by such oppressive burdens as, y'know, riding a bike for a living, is now free to pursue his fallback career as a total !@#ho--um, bartender instead. Well, Riccardo, you open your new booze-house to cheating unrepentant dirtbags-on-wheels, and you got yourself a million-dollar biz and a regular "Cheers" without the laugh-track--good luck and good riddance, snake-boy!

The Great RadioSkank Bail-out

Go Green!: okay, Levi's apparently bailing for Quick Step, the squad's already lost half its young talent, Klodi--aw, Klodi'll probably stick it out--and now, the exodus continues, as the great Robbie McEwen decides to wind down his peloton days with new Aussie supergroup GreenEdge. Woo-hoo Robbie--especially if it's gonna be the Johan Bruyneel all-Tour-de-France Schleck Show, there's no need for you to put up with that !@#$! In other transfer news, future Grand Tour winner Tejay Van Garderen is headed over to BMC, which at this point is either gonna be (1) the best team on earth in every race next season or (2) a thrillingly catastrophic implosion of egos, conflicting goals, and bloody team-bus smack-downs. Me, in the spirit of good sportsmanship, I know what I'm rooting for--but Thor, I'm on your side just in case! Check it out Cadel, you gonna mess with this?

Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow: meantime, a big--and fast!--"get well soon" to Tom Boonen, hit hard by an excruciatingly-detailed chafing injury to his manly parts, but still determined, tough guy that he is, to continue on in the Vuelta. Damn, can't this poor thing get *any* type of break this season? Oh well, at least we all know he won't mind wandering around in public without his pants on while he heals!

Ever Wanted to Wear the Maglia Rosa Without Looking Like a Total Poseur?: well, now you almost can, as the Giro's running a bitchin' promotion where if you tweet why you love it, the man in the lead at the race next year may wear it right on the podium. Just think, your own words on some dreamy chest--I know who certain faithful readers are gonna root for!

Some Good News For A Change: finally, congratulations to the late Wouter Weylandt's family, as girlfriend An-Sophie De Graeve has given birth to baby girl Alizee', and both mom and daughter are doing well. Best to all!

No, Jens, No!

From the Department of Unholy Matrimony: look, bad enough I had to watch we love Chris Horner become BFFs with Lance Armstrong--now *Jens* is gonna become a denizen of the devil's playground 'cuz of a rumored merger between Leopard-Trek & RadioSkank? Aiiiggghhhhhh! First, can poor Andreas Kloden *get* any more dope-smacked? Sure, he's been unjustly demeaned and downtrodden for most of his incongruously illustrious career, but when the Schleck brothers get ahold of 'im, forget doing *their* laundry, he's gonna be washing their soigneur's sister's in-laws' dirty underwear every night *and* bringing 'em breakfast in bed every morning. Oh Klodi! Second, though I'm clearly a soulless monster to be annoyed with Frank'n'Andy this year if Jens loves them, the thought of Jens finishing his career in RadioSkank team kit is a flat-out gackfest. Don't do it, Jens, please--if there's ever been *any* time to unleash your immortal powers on the peloton, destroying this crap disaster deal is it!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes: In other team sponsorship news, I see from its formal 2012 UCI filings that Astana will be known henceforth as Team "Don't !@#$ With Me You !@#$ing Maggot, I Am Alexandre !@#$ing Vinokourov!", and, effective immediately, the DS, soigneurs, masseuse, towel boy, mechanic, team car driver, chef, team-bus maintenance guy, team leader, domestiques, Kazahk U-23 development squad, agent, PR firm, legal counsel, component maker, and official bike manufacturer will each be some guy listed as "A. Vinokourov." Here, new security guard "A. Vinokourov" clears the scene at the press conference. Lookin' forward to next year, Team DFWMYFMIAAFV!

A Helpful Tip From Paul Martens: y'know, as a gentle lady, I can only posit the masculine discomfort, but if *I* were Pat McQuaid, and *I* were surrounded by 180 guys hot off the bike with distinctly unhappy gentlemanly areas who also have access to large, heavy swingable objects like bicycle stands and giant wrenches, I might heed the sage tweeted words of new fave rider/Rabobank tough guy Paul Martens: "I wish the UCI comissairs would do a 47k tt with the new rule that the saddle must be horizontal #deadballs !" Y'know, Pat, I'm sure Paul is a friendly, reasonable man and all--but it's not like he can't find you after a bike race while you're preening about for the press corps, you think you might ease up on those specs a bit?

No Rest for the Weary: last but not least, despite Igor Anton having finished sometime next year in yesterday's individual time trial, I remain deeply in denial over Euskaltel's Vuelta GC prospects, & fully committed to my stance that Menchov'll be lickin' at least Mikel Nieve's bike shoes clean for him by the time of the final podium in Madrid. Come on Mikel, even a single stage win'll do it! As for Purito Rodriguez, I'll irrationally deny wise and valued reader Paul's peremptory (if wholly correct) thwap and point out that Brad Wiggins is bound to crack in the mountains sometime, Nibali's gonna be awful sleepy after that good ride yesterday, and, in fact, the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy do exist, which I can totally prove because they all just busted out a nice rose' with me last night at dinner. Don't screw with my happy place, people!