I Challenge Thee to a Duel!: A Practical Solution to the Wiggins-Froome Dispute

Look, here's what's clear: Wiggo can't man up and admit he's riding the Giro because he's more afraid of the Tour, so he won't cut the fantasyland bull!@#$ about a successful double, and Froome won't let Wiggins forget he'd be kissing Froome's !@# from the second spot on the podium if Froomey hadn't herded him up the Alps like a knocked-up goat, so he won't stand any challenge to his leadership at this year's Tour. Upshot: not only can they not work together, they're absolutely gonna sabotage each other, intentionally or not. Solution: cut the smack-talk, sissy-boys--we're havin' a duel! The rules:

Duration: Until (1) death or serious denting or (2) either one o' you runs crying home to momma. Anyone wanna guess how long this one's gonna last?

Coaching: well, we can't use Sky management--just look where it's gotten you guys so far! Wiggins--you get Pat "Dick" McQuaid. Froome--you get Travis Tygart. Just count yer blessings I didn't stick you guys with a Schleck or something!

Press Coverage: Nope, can't delay the fightin' that way. One overhead camera turned on at the start, no pre-duel press conferences or junkets. Nice try, Brad "I Hate Talking To The Media" Wiggins!

Location: Top of Alpe d'Huez. Caveat: you gotta get there under your own steam. See Froome, ol' Brad's half out of the running already!

Distance: With Wiggins' primordial pterodactyl wing-span, Froome is toast right off the bat if Brad is standing within 50 feet of 'im. 50 yards to start!

Weapons: Anything y'all can lift with that legendary cyclist upper-body strength, which I suppose, come to think of it, stops you both dead well before "seat post." Style points for "most original use of a spoke wrench"!

Attire: Regulation Sky team kit. Any attempt by Brad to wear his last year's yellow jersey to mock Chris, or by Chris to rip it off his torso and wear its tattered shreds himself to taunt Brad, will be punishable by one free hit.

Nourishment: Both parties must grab their musettes on the fly, during the match, from your soigneur, and either eat safely, or fall over trying. Just like a bike race!

Teammates: None. Neither of you guys needs anybody else, right?

Nature Breaks: What are you, animals? I can't even take it when the cameras catch that stuff during the Tour! You cyclists are always bragging how much you suffer on the bike--now prove it!

Testing: Any and all blood spilled will be collected, frozen, and tested ten years hence in accordance with then-current testing protocols. This way, we can see what !@#$ you guys are obviously both o--uh, how hematocrit naturally changes over the careers of top-level athletes. Anyone need a couple days to clean u--um, prepare yourselves mentally before we begin?

Reward: What, you want *another* knighthood, Sir Brad? This one's for the fans. Ya fought, ya won or ya lost--now ya quit yer whinin', and shut yer damn yaps about this stupid dispute from now on!

Well, dear reader(s), them's *my* fix. See you at high noon tomorrow, and may the best man *really* win!

Martin and Ryder Bust it Out for Garmin; Riccardo Ricco' Thinks You Suck; and, a Week o' (non) Wisdom-by-Tweet

Tactical Skill-o'-the-Irish: well, that was one slammin' surprise at Liege-Bastogne-Liege, not that seeing Gilbert-pleasingly-strong-but-not-quite-havin'-it was a shocker after his showing so far at Liege (and yes, I was rooting for him), with Argyle Army general Ryder Hesjedal looking great ahead of his upcoming Giro defense, Joaquim Rodriguez with a brave and nearly-successful flyer towards the end, a giant panda--uh, Valverde snagging yet another podium before he heads off to whack the field at Romandie, but ultimately Ryder's Garmin teammate Dan Martin taking his first--and Ireland's second, woo-hoo!--Liege. Whether you love or hate Jonathan Vaughters' letting ex-Lance-teammate/dopers Tommy Dave and Christian ride off peacefully into the post-scandal sunset, you sure gotta give it to 'im (and not least Dan Martin himself) for tactics--brilliant! On a bonus note, perhaps buoyed by shepherd Fabian Cancellara's likely-imminent departure, Andy Schleck rode tolerably ok. And don't worry Philippe, we have faith, you'll break the curse--surely it was *some* extra motivation seeing your name written every six inches in giant letters every bit o' the race on the tarmac! Here, Dan Martin's great win:

The Cobra Lashes Out: all right, young Italian riders, you've been slapped: disgraced inept-doper former-champion-now-mild-mosquitoesque-annoyanceRiccardo Ricco, praising wilier-fellow-miscreant Michele Scarponi for his form at Liege, sez in his twit-feed that compared to the older generation of current Italian cyclists, you all just suck. Yeah, too bad *you* weren't there to animate the race and immediately throw Italy in disrepute by testing poz for the CERA oozing out yer sweatglands, you weasel! I look forward to further whining when Vincenzo Nibali whomps the Giro--hey, aren't you supposed to be too busy with your new gig at "Cheers" or something (and a noble profession it is, which is more than you deserve) to be bothering the, y'know, working cyclists?

Talkin' Turkey: meantime, he may not have had the Classics season he wanted, but tattooed dream-stud Pippo Pozzato is set to give his all in the Tour of Turkey, so let's take a moment to wish him good legs and good luck, particularly since, I've noticed, he's always the first to tweet warm congrats to his compatriots for their own triumphs. Worse comes to worst, he can always rest up apres-tour reclining by the sea and posting swoonalicious photos of himself like usual, right?

A Humble Programming Note: well, both my dear readers, I won't have access to bloggery this week, but if anything ludicrous happens I may not be able to resist weighing in with a twit or two, so while I miss all the action, kick back with a cold one, scream your heads off for dear Euskaltel, and enjoy the races!

The Single Wussiest Bike Throw Ever; "I Big" Face Off at Trentino; and, It's Liege-Waffle-Liege, Baby!

First Prize for Wiggo!: yes, in an early lock on the 2013 Sissy-Boy Tantrum o' the Year Racejunkie Award, Giro hopeful Brad Wiggins manages simultaneously the luckiest and total-weeniest frustrated-rider bike toss *ever*, landing this gem--and apparently the outraged intervention of the Pinarello gods--as he freaks out over an ill-timed mechanical at Trentino. Watch out, Giro d'Italia--he gets pissed at you there, he might land you a glancing blow with a ripped-off bike glove or something! Oh, the fury...

Vincenzooooooooooooo!: speaking of the fabulous Giro--and, to be fair for once, cutting Wiggo *some* slack for his recent delicate manly-regions problems (though for my money, the diuretic-downing Frank "Midol" Schleck's lady-cramp issues were clearly *way* worse)--"i Big" are looking in great form at testing grounds of the Giro del Trentino, not only including the obviously-blazing champ Vincenzo Nibali, but also, seemingly out of nowhere, a suddenly-surging Cadel. *Now* we've got ourselves a Giro, baby! Me, I'm still gonna root for (sorry my dear Italy and fabulous Aussies, I know I'm ungrateful scum) the smashing Canadian Ryder Hesjedal to take the two-fer, but we'll see how *he's* going this weekend at Liege. And thinkin' about the major GC guys of our time, is anyone else noticing that Contador--obliged as he clearly was by the sponsors to do the Ardennes--just ain't looking so hot this season? Here's your chance, Andy Schl--damn, I just broke my voluntary self-imposed rider insult moratorium on the poor kid, I'm *so* ashamed!

Where the !@#$ Is the Video Coverage for Women's Cycling for !@#$'s !@#$ing Sake?: meantime, am I the only one completely rabid over the fact that I can get 8,000 video hits of Peter Sagan apologizing for his disgusting grab-!@# 30 seconds after the camera shuts off, but it takes a whole *day* for a single piece of footage of the great Marianne Vos bagging her record-setting 5th Fleche-Wallone to show up in the craposphere, particularly as one clearly can't post about this week's cycling 'til it's available? Well, finally, at least *some* lame coverage from UCI: Now how about filming the actual !@#damn *race*, whydontcha?

Lieeeeeeeege!: and, all hail the magnificent Liege-Bastogne-Liege this weekend, as Philippe Gilbert gets one last chance to finish off his bummin' Classics season with *some* glory, and the ever-disconcertingly-powerful Valverde, Nibali, and of course Dani Moreno's faithful Fleche superdomestique Purito Rodriguez, who *still* pulled off a bangin' result in his own right despite that sob of a bruise on his leg, bring on the whup-!@#. Oh, let's give this one to Gilbert--he needs to break the curse of the rainbow jersey on *something* good!

And the Ardennes Are Off! Plus, Brad Wiggins Loves the Giro! He Swears It!

Czech-mate!: well, with all the hype over nowhere-to-be-seen Sagan and everywhere-to-be-seen world champ Gilbert (who would've been lovely for the win, but still), a fine run by Gerrans, a total !@#$ (and Tour-prep-hosing) crash for we love Purito Rodriguez nursing his left knee after he whacked into some dimwit who glued his wheel into deep mud at the side of the road, Valverde creeping everyone out as usual by grabbing the sprint for second, *and* a smashing long breakaway by Euskaltel's Mikel Astarloza of all people, it's SaxoBank's totally underrated Roman Kreuziger who grabs the win at Amstel Gold! Body count: besides poor Purito, a really nasty crash for Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler, first rumored to have a broken femur, then a busted shoulder, then finally (for now) just a snapped collarbone. Get well soon, Thomas--it's so much more preferable watching you contort your face into a scream just, say, signing in to the race start! Here, proud teammate Alberto Contador with the insta-tweet: Congrats Roman!

If The Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Big Pizza Pie, That's Amore: meantime, not-defending Tour de France champ Brad Wiggins swears to Italy how much he really, really loves the Giro and really, really doesn't care about the Tour, particularly asserting he really, really has no interest in being one of those selfish losers who aspires to win the Tour de France two or even three times, and, to boot, he wouldn't even mind taking the Vuelta a Espana some day. Um, Brad, if you're riding the *Giro* this year because you're afraid the Tour's parcours don't suit you (and why you think the Giro *is* better for you is beyond me), have you taken a look at the *Vuelta's* all-vertical roads-o'-death the last couple of years? Of course, Froomey could always lug you uphill again, but damn, even he'd need some sled dogs or a scooter or a tractor to drag your !@# uphill all over Spain for the win. Now bow, *bow* to the noble Giro gods 'til they're convinced you're sincere enough to ride it, you ungrateful Tour-winning peon!

Aupa, Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!: finally, despite the best efforts of that complete tool Pat "Dick" McQuaid, our dear if wholly discombomulated Euskaltel-Euskadi is back at last, ripping through the Vuelta a Castilla e Leon and, with Mikel's bitchin' break in Amstel today, finally building enough confidence to carry we love Samuel Sanchez to the Giro. Eat his dust in May, boys--remember, he's already been King of the Mountains at the Tour!

It's Yer Paris-Roubaix Awards!; And, It's All Pat "Dick" McQuaid's Fault!

1. Massive "You Suck" o' the Race: WHY THE !@#$ IS THE ENTIRE REST OF THE EARTH SCREAMING THEIR HEADS OFF OVER FABIAN'S WIN AND IMMEDIATE COLLAPSE AT THE LINE WHEN THERE'S STILL 10K TO GO OF "LIVE COVERAGE" ON NBCSPORTS? *Must* we be so grateful for coverage of *any* cycling race in this crotch-scratching tobacco-lougie-spitting big-lunks-crushing-each-other country that we simply have to accept this mess? Aiiiigghhhhhhhhh!

2. Return of the King Award: Speaking of NBCSports' coverage, yes, I know perfectly well what Phil Liggett's done this past year, thank you--he damn near broke my faithful heart doing it. But hearing him and Paul together again is a symphony among banjos. He was an innocent lamb, I tells ya, an innocent lamb--bug off haters!

3. Fan Dipwad Prize: of course, one of the crazy-!@# things that's so great about cycling is that--unlike, say, in soccer, where one might get dragged off the field and stomped to death by 70,000 rabid hometown fans for pulling a similar trick--you can literally get close enough to reach out and touch the riders. But there is a difference between a bit of over-enthusiastic leaning over the roadside, and knocking a surging rider off his bike and out of the *biggest win* of his career. Poor Vandenbergh's tumble was bad enough--if not for having to make a spectacular cyclocrosser save over a camera-wielding nimrod, and even considering Sep Vanmarcke's phenomenal strength, Zdenek Stybar *really* could have won the whole race today. *Back* *up* you thoughtless freaks!

4. Rainbows-'n'-Unicorns Happy Place o' the Race: look in the break, and who do you see? Yep, it's we love Stuey O'Grady! Sure, he bonked eventually, but is that really any worse than how he usually ends a race, run over by a team bus, engulfed by some huge inflatable promotional item, stuck in someone else's derailleur, stampeded by a herd of 'roid-raging elephants? I know it's likely your last season Stuey--but can't you still change your mind?

5. Crash o' the Race--no, it wasn't decisive. Yes, it suuurrre did blow. Yoann Offredo's full-strength all-in flying-eagle whack into a road sign. Ow, even by Hell o' the North standards--hope you're okay, Offredo, and compliments to one heck of a hard-man for even getting back up so quickly!

6. He's Baaaaaa-aaaaaack (well, "Backish") Prize: yes, I was darned proud of Chavanel and Phinney, but then, they never had anyplace to come back from in the first place. Thor Hushovd, you're still mostly living down to everyone's worst expectations this season--but it was certainly nice to see you in the second chase group, perhaps it bodes well for much more!

7. Well, At Least It Wasn't Boring Award: last but not least for this year's Paris-Roubaix, I must humbly tip my hat to Fabian Cancellara--unlike Flanders, where we could've all just taken a nap the last hour, even Spartacus had so much on his hands the whole race he just plain fell over after the line. Nicely done--now someone bring that boy a proper pillow and blanket, he's earned it!

You *Suck* UCI and Pat "Dick" McQuaid!: and, lest I depart today's post without the most important news: look how you've destroyed my glorious beloved Euskaltel-Euskadi with your stupid domestique-screwing ridiculous "points" system--not only are they gonna apparently be winless til the Giro because you've stripped them of half the power that made them the peerless peloton climbing machines they so wonderfully were, one of the junior jackwagons that displaced guys like the smashing Amets Txurruka has turned up positive! *Dammit*, you petty loathesome abacus-crunchin' numbers-slurpin' soul-missing bureaucrats--shouldn't this little snake have been slithering around in someone *else's* colors this season instead?

It's Paris-Roubaix, Baby!; and, What Is This, International Treat Women In Cycling Like !@#$ Week?

Welcome to Hell (of the North)!: What is it: Cobbles, baby! Twenty-seven sections and 52.6 kilometers of treacherous, uneven, spine-rattling, pile-up-inducing, damn near mocking blocks o' agony. And no, they're not as steep as Flanders, and no, they still ain't any more merciful. This ain't no pansy-!@# skip through a daisy-spangled meadow, honey, so enjoy--if you're not ridin' 'em!

Why You Should Watch It: Pain. Suffering. Grit. Bike handling. Power. Save pure climbing, it epitomizes virtually everything that is magnificent about this sport into a single fateful day. If you win Roubaix, you know you're one of the best cyclists who ever lived. Hell, if you *finish* Roubaix, you know you're one of the best cyclists who ever lived. Hell, if you crash out and break a baker's dozen o' bones at Roubaix, you know you're one of the be...

Who to Watch For: yes, yes, a pissed-off, twice-crashed Cancellara, but also 2011 champ Vansummmeren, ever-dreamer pin-up Pippo Pozzato, and, well, almost anyone else in the race from Belgium. And maybe the race *will* be a giveaway, if no-one's willing to work together to defeat Fabian. But it's Paris-Roubaix, and anything can happen. Your bike could spontaneously splinter. Your legs could freeze up. Your collarbone could explode into a pile o' pulverized bone-bits. You could get face-wrapped by a wind-whipped Flemish flag. Or you could have the best day ever of your life on a bike, and *still* not win. Me, I'd love, love, love for the fabulous, luckless Sylvain "See? The French Don't All Suck!" Chavanel to get it (shut up, I know he's most likely to podium, shut up!). And I actually like that wily s.o.b. Flecha, too, though sure, Vacansoleil's ignoring the whole Op Puerto thing til after the finish line's pretty skeevy. Forza, forza Sylvain--heck, Boonen can't stomp it this year, so it might as well be you!

What the !@#$ Is Wrong With You Freaks?: first, a pointlessly ornamental podium babe gets grabbed by freshman wanker frat-boy Sagan. Now, the women's five-stage Energiewacht Tour gets screwed for an entire day by giant trucks riding the course, race-stopping boat and train passages, and crap directions to the !@#-end of nowhere. Jaysus, can things *get* any worse for women in this sport this week?--now up their pay, fix the problems, and treat 'em with some damn dignity whydontcha! Here, Kirsten Wild *still* manages to pluck a win:

Cancellara Gets a Boo-Boo! Baby Schleck Gets a Break! Purito Rodriguez Gets a Grip!

Prijs Release Me, Let Me Go: man, crap luck today for Spartacus today at his training ride at Scheldenprijs, as Fabian Cancellara goes down (tho' luckily not bone-snappin'ly hard) and whangs the hell outta his posterior and side--hardly, as his team glumly notes, ideal prep for Paris-Roubaix. Well, at least you won't be home on your couch with a pile o' nachos watching "Dr. Phil" and pretending the race isn't on, like our poor soul-smooshed Tom Boonen--get well fast, Fabian, but for heck's sake try something new to liven up the race this weekend!

Freebird!: in *good* news, Andy "Linus" Schleck has almost got his security blanket back: big bro Frank's suspension for the banned diuretic he thoughtlessly scarfed for his severe menstrual cramps is officially up mid-July. Andy, we all know that, optimistic musings to the contrary, you cannot ride for !@#$ without Frank there to snuggle you along. There's no shame in that--unless, well, you compare yourself to Contador, Rodriguez, Froome or Nibali. So why not just be honest with yourself, wait 'til Frank's free for the Vuelta, and ride that one instead? Plus, it gives you an extra month to get over your lingering (and certainly understandable) post-crash willies, and how can that not help? Note to Frank: try a hot toddy a bowl of ice cream and a chick flick next time--*don't* !@#$ over your little brother again!

Finally, many thanks to inevitable (damn, I've cursed him!) Tour de France podium finisher Purito Rodriguez, who, unlike Cadel, has wisely decided to skip this year's Giro d'Italia after all, leaving it to that Heras'-Vuelta-thieving weasel/former Giro champ Denis Menchov to sully its pure and beautiful roads as Purito focuses on France instead. For any of you other clowns still considering the perfect Giro as training for the Tour, (1) how dare you use the perfect Giro for anything other than a holy tribute to its own glorious self, you cultureless classless goons and (2) enjoy staring right up the !@# of the day's lanterne rouge once you hit the mountains come July, eejits!

It's the Vuelta a Pais Vasco!; and, For !@#$'s Sake, "Buttgate"

Hey, It's the Tour of the Misogynist Little !@#$!--Uh, Flanders: yep, leave it Peter Sagan to overshadow Fabian Cancellara's win (however dull) at the venerable Tour of Flanders on Sunday: Sagan's pigfest podium ass-grab, and resulting shotgun-apologies (including a wholly lame tweet and sorta-improved regret video), have taken the cycling world and heck even the normal media by storm, as the international comment-n-twit-sphere seems actually somewhat divided between "eh, big deal" and "yes, big deal!" Still, even the offended podium attendee, Maja Leye,magnanimously took the high road in chastising Sagan, noting, in what is either a sincere mistranslation of the word for "apology" or an entirely delicious dope-smack, "excuses accepted." Am I on drugs, or do I just keep missing the footage where the female cyclists pinch a butt's-worth of the local dignitary giving them *their* trophies? Now keep groveling, Peter, and be glad if she lets you up off your knees with your nuts intact or we let you up to ride the Ardennes! Here, some video of the women's race, !@#dammit:

Hey, It's the Tour of the Basque Country!: meanwhile, in *race* news, Contador, Porte, Tejay, and we love Samuel Sanchez (bite me! dear Euskaltel's just warming up! stuff it!) faced off today at the beautiful Vuelta a Pais Vasco, with Euskaltel crushing me spiritually by failing to ride towards the front and getting caught behind a crash *again*, but fortunately, however, their redemption still to come in the upcoming mountain stages. I SAID, THEIR REDEMPTION STILL TO COME IN THE MOUNTAIN STAGES! DID YOU HEAR ME, EUSKALTEL? I SAID...

Tejay, Way Classier Act Than He Needs To Be: and, as Cadel Evans seemed to be already conceding defeat at the 2013 Tour by announcing he'll ride the Giro as well--what the hell is it with all the GC guys thinking this stupidity this year?--indispensable lieutenant Tejay Van Garderen almost immediately chimed in by gamely affirming he's only in it to support Cadel for the win. Jeez, Wiggo, you might want to find out what Cadel's doing so right with this kid--unless you *want* Chris "The Anti-Tejay" Froome to keep trying to bushwhack you again this year!

It's Flanders, Baby!--Has Ever a Race So Beautiful Become So Snoozy?

Can we get to the point? This circuit !@#$ and skipping the Muur just sucks. Why not just let the peloton have a nice relaxing brunch the first 5 hours then start from 20k out? Anyway, it is still Flanders, so let's recap:

1. !@#$!: Tom Boonen down, stitches impending, and his Classics totally !@$#ed at 30K. Despite the fact that I was rooting for Boonen anyway after his crap season-so-far, and 80% of Boonen is still 120% of anyone else, am I the only one thinking that the Classics just ain't the Classics if Tom and Fabian can't slug it out in full form? Here, Belgium breaks its heart:

2. Notable Mechanicals: Rear wheel puncture for Fabian at 53k out. Flecha mechancial at 34k. Really, is that gonna take either one of 'em out?

3. Yep, It's Flanders All Right: walkin' on the Koppenburg.

4. The End is Near: Fabian and Sagan are marking at 34k! Argy-bargy at the foot of the Kwaremont! Roelandts ditches Hinault at 18K! Chavanel falling back!

5. Okay, You Can Turn Off the TV Now: Cancellara jumps again as Sagan hits the hurt locker at 17k! All over at 13k as Sagan and Roelandts settle for a slugfest for second.

6. Vooooos!: yep, it's Marianne Vos for the women. Damn, does she even need a bike to ride on--that woman could just win races walking and pickin' daises!

Well, that's what you missed, unless seeing Fabian Cancellara--who is brilliant, yap yap yap--pull the same one-length-and-he's-gone trick can keep you entertained for every race on the planet. Me, not so much. Bring on Roubaix, and for God's sake, some other freakin' tactic!

Peter Sagan vs. Mark Cavendish: Yer Handy Primer

Okay folks, there's been a loooottta flashy ridin' lately and a looooottta fan fightin' over who reigns supreme, upstart young Slovak Peter "Pop-a-Wheelie" Sagan or less upstart but still young Brit Mark "Colgate" Cavendish. And frankly, between the sprinterly arrogance, lightning-fast finishes and whack-job victory salutes, it's sometimes hard to tell who's who. So who are they, and who's the bitchinest of them all? Here, Yer Handy Racejunkie Primer:

Early History: Sagan: junior world mountain bike champ. Cav: gold-medal world madison champ trackie. And yes, they both rode everything else, too. Mountain bike's more beery 'n' fun, but track's just wicked cool. Advantage: Cavendish.

Palmares: Sagan: this year's Gent, possibly Sunday's Flanders, 5 stages and the green jersey at last year's Tour, points classification in basically everything else last year, too. Cav: 2011 world road champ, Milano-Sanremo, a mind-boggling couple dozen stages at the Tour de France, points classifications in the Tour and, miraculously, the fabulous Vuelta. Yes, Sagan's younger, but boy--you've got some more work to do!

Nickname: Sagan: the "Terminator." True, to be sure, but holy crap is that overused, and his sponsor should still be thwapped for that obnoxious green bike last year. Cav: the "Manx Missile." Cav takes it by a landslide!

Victory Salute: Cav: a clean, straightforward, chest-thumping, finger-flippin' "screw you!" Sagan: a masterpiece of arcane movie gestures, crowd-pleasing showmanship, and just plain goofy joy. Sagan, you charmer--sure, your elders are miffed, but then, they're jealous of you, too!

Strengths: Sagan: jack of all trades, master of...well, it's still a little too soon to tell where he's gonna really go, right? Cav: undisputed fastest man on two wheels in a pure sprint. Cav 'til Sagan gets a little more experience!

Weaknesses: Sagan: uh...I dunno...he's too darn big to be a Sastre-esque pure climber? Cav: can't climb for !@#$, but man, does he ever stick it out. Cav, we'll see if he out-chokes you at something!

Team: didja know Sagan's a Quick Step reject? Well, I didn't, you insufferable bike-stat snotwad! Lookin' a little green there, Lefevere? Anyway: Sagan's the better natural Classics rider, but Cav's got the better Classics squad. Sagan wins on the smashing Liquigas (Cannondale, whatever) team kit, which is almost as garish as he is, but Cav's already smacked his new Quick Step minions into a solid lead-out. Me, I love any team that's got Chavanel and Boonen, and Cannondale's still pissing me off for losing Nibali. Toss up!

Team Camp: sure, Liquigas is admirably sadistic, but it was Quick Step that had Cav and everyone else go special-ops Rambo on everyone's !@# this year. Drop and give me 20, Sagan you punk!

Argy-Bargy: there's still some debate about whether Sagan's De Panne win the other day was a bit of a punk-!@# move for changing his line, but did you know Cav once single-handedly flung Tyler Farrar over the border into the Spain by grabbing his bike jersey with his teeth? Yup, they still haven't found 'im! Gotta give Cav management points for delegating half his dirty work to his domestique goons, though. Sagan wins for cleanliness!

Smack-Talk: Sagan is relentlessly, heck, almost freakishly, polite. Cav, on the other hand, will not only blame the weather, the announcer, the race moto, and the other squads failure to support 'im for his loss, but will publicly rip into his own teammates to boot. Wait, do we give this to the diplomat, or the !@#$-you guy?

Eye-Candy Quotient: oh, gimme a break, you smug little purists--you think Mario "the Chest" Cipollini made his career on results alone? On this, I defer to my loyal reader(s). 'Cause it's not like you all hadn't thunk about it anyway!

Well, them's my assessment, and honestly, I'm surprised how Cav's more'n held his own against the Sagan hype machine. So slug it out on the road, boys, and let's see who earns the vulgar victory display at the end of the season!

It's the Abominable SnowClassics!; and, Baby Schleck on an Upswing

Watch Out, Big Boys!: well, if there was any doubt that Peter Sagan was ready to win a big race, presumptive Classics kings BMC Quick Step and (thanks to Fabian) RadioSkank are scared straight now: the boy not only had the strength, but even seems to be developing a little tactical sense this week, to take a snow-snapped Gent-Wevelgem. Speaking of which, am I the only one totally pissed at how Thor Hushovd's going this season? Time to earn your damn paycheck o "God o' Thunder!" As for Tommeke, it looks his 2012 win streak has totally gobsmacked him out of any luck whatsoever this season. Dagnabit! Of course, the Terminator finished off in grand style, this time wielding an imaginary lasso and popping a trademark wheelie across the line. Sure, he's cocky--but doesn't it still make you want to smack him a lot less than when Contador pulls that "Pistolero" crap? Here, poor Tom:

Woo-hoo, He's Saved!: meanwhile, just as I was about to drop a bucketload o' mercy and resolve a Voluntary Rider Insult Moratorium on sad-sack bar-fly Andy Schleck until he finished a race, he *did* finish one this weekend by golly, coming in a respectable 57th out of 60 at Criterium International at only 22 plus minutes back. Start quakin', Alberto--after all, you're the one knocked out with the sniffles this weekend! However, I really do wish him a total physical and mental recovery for July. But it ain't still gonna help if you don't learn to descend and time trial, Andy!

Et Tu, Wiggo?: thinking of Chris Froome, who took the stage and GC from teammate Richie Porte at Criterium International on the last day, am I the only one thinkin' that Brad Wiggins actively wants to !@#$ over Froomey at the Tour by saying he now plans to ride the Vuelta as well as the Giro? Sure, Wiggins, he maybe tried to pull a Cunego to your Simoni at the Tour de France--with a ton of ungracious whinging at that--but you still couldn't surpass 'im with this year's parcours so why be a bitch about it? Either help or stay home, and just upstage 'im in France with your rock-band entourage or somethin' instead!

Boonen Goes Bull!@#$! Sagan Eats Pie! Phinney Phreezes! And, Wiggo Wants Whup-!@#

Uh, Aren't the Belgians Supposed to *Like* This Slop?: well, that was one smashing start for African cycling, as big Maggy Backstedt calls it early for the brand-new MTN-Qhubeka's sprint-stud Gerald Ciolek, powering around nicely as Sagan over-marked Chavanel to lose the top spot, and Chavanel himself provided, for my money, by far the most aggressive and entertaining ride of the race. But of course, the big news of the day--because it sure wasn't the podium--was the near-blizzard conditions that forced the Italians to cut off the race's Turchio climb but still left the peloton, even after their team-bus lay-off warm-up, in a severe state of soaked, miserable, decimated, pissed-off Popsicle. An extremely ticked Tommeke, as he bailed out at the break: "I think my decision says enough.This is partly a precaution, but also a statement to the organization. They knew long enough that there was so much snow on the road. What happens now is the fault of the organization's own fault. Have you ever wanted to bicycle through the snow ridden? There are nicer things than this. I'm completely frozen." Other casualties: Vincenzo Nibali, Matthew Goss, and, well, pretty much everyone from Spain. Stickin' it out: Mark Cavendish for heck's sake, who simply tweeted "Fucking.Freezing." and *still* came in strong in the chase group. Right on Cav! Here, Taylor Phinney coated in ice, and a cheerful Sagan with his pie:
And, the last 3k:

There's Always Tomorrow/For Dreams To Come True: but wait, there's more--it's the fabulous Volta a Catalunya starting tomorrow, baby, and it's really all about the pre-Giro showdown between we love modest Canadian defending champ Ryder Hesjedal, Brad "I Hate Being Famous! Wait, Where's the Paparazzi Going?" Wiggins, and Tour rivals Rodriguez and Valverde. Also in: controversial returning Lance-yappin' Garmin ban-ees Van de Velde, Zabriskie, and Danielson. Me, I'm just gonna be smug as hell when dear Euskaltel finally grabs their first win of the season (go to hell! are too! it's been cold out!). And come on Cadel, you can do this--time to show some form already!

Rain! Pain! The Cipressa and Poggio! It's All Wide-Open for Milano-Sanremo, Baby!

What Is It?: the first big Classic of the season, baby, and a looooooooong 298k. Ow, !@#$!

What's The Terrain: well, it's flat enough at the very end for a bunch sprint. But the Cipressa and Poggio climbs and descents can (1) let a break get away and (2) thin the herd like lion on antelope. And it depends on how hard the wind is blowing. And if the rain is falling--which it will be. And how cold it is. And...damn, thank god I'm gonna be watching this thing from home!

So What's That Look Like?: Here, and for heck's sake at least wake up for the last 25k:

Who's Gonna Be There?: Who isn't? Oh, right, the munchkin 20-ounces-soaking-wet climbing specialists. The rest of you, line up and prepare to hurt!

Who're The Faves: yeah, you know 'em! Past winners Gerrans, Gossy, Pippo, Cancellara, Cavendish. Bearer of High Expectations Sagan. Bearers of Middlin' Expectations Boonen Nibali and Gilbert. Bearers of Crap Expectations Hushovd. And about 20 other big wily bastards who ain't talkin'. Me, I'm wondering if Sagan'll be so marked he'll just be Cancellaraed outta the win. Forza Tommeke--shut up, he can too!

What's the Weather?: according to the forecast, so miserable even the Belgians'll hate it. But come on--if you ain't riding it, doesn't it seem more "epic" that way?

Right, the Gilbert Psyche-Out: geez, what crap timing for world champ Philippe Gilbert to have to deal with accusations of bogus-prescrip'd cortisone use at Lotto after everyone'd already stopped doping 2 years ago--don't let it freak you out, Gilbert!

Finally, Yer Bonus Cav-Boonen Press Conference Eye Can--uh, Highly Informative Speaking Stuff:

Well, it's on to the race--good luck and stay upright you guys!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7. Jeeeeens! Jeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeens!

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

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

10. Coolest. Trophy. In. Cycling.

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

I Love You, You Love Me, We're a Happy Fam-i--You Suck You Worthless Vermin Dirtbags!

Yay, He's Back!: Geez, just as I was about to complain that Mark Cavendish's newfound happiness at Quick Step was making him into a vomitously saccharine gushing goo-goo-eyed alien pod-person whose brain has clearly been taken over by Smurfs, he's graciously restored my faith in humanity by immediately blaming his teammates for his humiliating 5th-place loss in today's Tirreno-Adriatico. On the plus side, Mr. Sensitive did say he would "talk about my feelings" with his lead-out train tonight. Awwwww. NOW !@#$ IT UP TOMORROW AND I'LL RIP YOUR HEADS OFF YER NECKS WITH MY GIANT TEETH LIKE YER A BAT AT AN OZZY OSBOURNE CONCERT! YAAAAAAAAA! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Here, why he's pissed, and how Gossy takes the win:

You're All Worthless and Weak!: meanwhile, Marianne Vos, natch, has not only already bagged a huge mountain bike event this week, but she's just nailed her first road race of the season as well at the Drentse 8, as well as the top spot on Wheel of Fortune, Project Runway, the Newlywed Game, and the Annual Betty Crocker Cake Mix Cook-Off, which, so far as I can tell, leaves even great rivals like former world champ Giorgia Bronzini and Emma Johansson pretty much scavenging for podium crumbs in her wake. Don't worry though, she still hasn't won a national election in the Ne--oops, hello, Prime Minister!

Sissy-Boy Slap-Fight o' the Week: finally, it's clearly gettin' ugly in ex-doperland, as Floyd Landis snarls that retired Rabobank doping-denier Michael Boogerd, who previously claimed Landis was only accusing him of drug use because Boogerd mortifyingly called him an "arrogant jellyfish", is still only coughing up half-truths now that he's confessed, much less total bull!@#$ artists like Tour de France second-place Oscar Pereiro, who still won't even cop to nothin'. In response to this latest salvo, Boogerd reportedly called Landis a "stuck-up hermit crab" and a "snotty-ass sea slug," while a less eloquent Pereiro merely labeled Floyd a "m!@#$%f!@#$$." I say, forget this whiny little smack-talk--you're tough, right, why not challenge each other to a duel?

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

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

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

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

Oh, For !@#$'s *Sake*: In Which I Solve All This Stupid Doping !@#$

Look, particularly now that it's *racing* season, I'm getting deeply irked with all the drug drama suckin' up the headlines. But it's so damn incessant you can't just ignore it--it almost feels dishonest, somehow. So here's one all-encompassing proposal, so we can all get back to loving actual cycling in peace:

1. No, *Indurain* doped? I *get* it. They almost all doped. They're almost all dirtbags, and frankly, Big Mig, Pantani, Cipo, Contador, and all those guys are *still* gonna stay national heroes no matter how much evidence you pile up in front of everybody, so quit wastin' yer breath, suck it up, and move *on* already! And yes, "just" doping *is* different from being a whistleblower-intimidating, bullying, omerta-enforcing goonmeister, so no, both remaining fanboys, Lance *doesn't* get a pass.

2. Still, that doesn't mean some sincere repentance isn't in order. You alive? You doped? You think you beat a clean guy? Give him some dough, hand over the jersey, and apologize. Same to anyone else who gets busted now, with the addition of handing over all the proceeds from yer ill-gotten lucrative endorsement deals. Bonus points if you offer to let 'im kick your !@#. There--done!

3. It's awesome that Mellow Johnny's is giving equal prize money to men and women's mountain bike race winners, and running a great race to boot. But Lance--you're still a !@#$.

4. Anyone who says they paid a doping doc, particularly a gyno, just for "medical" or "training advice" is presumptively a lying sack of crap. Next guy who claims it has to get a full-on annual gynecological exam to prove it's legit. Gentlemen, start your speculums!

5. Anyone who doped and admitted it--great. It's a true service to cycling. Now *shut the hell up* about your poor tormented soul !@#dammit!

6. Any !@#wad directeur sportif who arranged for his riders to dope with medically inept or negligent dip!@#$s gets to have the same procedure done to him/herself. Not to worry, it's all perfectly safe--right?

7. "I only doped until [exact date statute of limitations ran out or lucrative subsequent contract kicked in]." Give us a break already!

8. Face it, if we eliminate all the DSes doped, or had their riders dope, there won't be anyone who knows diddly-squat left to even run the sport. 'Fess up, then shut up--you're in. So Vaughters or (gack) Riis--congratulations. Eki and the rest of you clowns--you're fired.

9. Teams--you're just as disgusting. Rider gets punished, team gets punished. Bet you'll know who your boys are seeing in the off-season *then*!

10. Fellow fans--sadly, people are still doping. Hopefully not as much at the moment, but doping. The narcs *just* developed a new test to detect microdosing? Party on peloton! Am I the *only* one pissed in advance we're gonna have to go through all this 5 years from now, *again*?

So let it be written, so let it be done with. Now let's get on to the fabulous Strade Bianche, and Cancellara--time to show your form!

Woo-hoo, We're On the Cobbles, Baby!; and, Andy Schleck Dissed *Again*

Finally!: yes, it's time to kick off the venerable (and painful!) Belgian Classics season at last, baby! The races: the exciting (and cobblier) Omloop Het Nieuwsblad, and the "infernal race with the heavenly finish," Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurnage. The players: a newly-healed Tom Boonen juuuuust testing his form at Omloop, Cav defending his Kuurne title, Thor desperate to show his season-opening win wasn't a one-off, ever-threat Juan Antonio Flecha, the dashing Pippo Pozzato, and, in its virgin appearance on the cobbles, intrepid new African squad MTN-Qhubeka. Most importantly, the weather forecast: bbbrrrrrrr, with a chance of snow for Kuurne on Sunday! Here, Sep Vanmarcke edges Tommeke for last year's Omloop win: Allez allez boys--and good luck staying uprightish!

Sturm und Schleck: last but not least, yap, Vicioso tried to hide from the Op Puerto trial and Eki had to suspend him to keep Katusha's new WorldTour spot, yap, Tyler terrifyingly weed black after Fuentes mangled him, yap--nope, the big news is poor ol' (well, young) Andy Schleck again, as his Grand Tour rivals are already showing impressive form and, cringingly, even his own country writes him off as a hopeless lumpen slacker before the season hardly gets going. Damn, Andy, get your act together already--remember, if you don't, you won't be able to blame scumlord rival tactics or unfortunate equipment failures when you blow it this year!

Wiggo In Denial, *Again*; Thoooooooooor!; and, Quick Step Goes All "Gangnam Style"

We *Get* It, Bradley, *Jaysus*!: All *right*, Wiggo. You're the only Tour de France winner in history never to want to win it again the least teeny tiny super-miniscule damn-near-invisible sub-atomic bit *ever*. And of course, we are convinced 100% that it has absolutely nothing with the 2012 Tour being a once-in-a-century course seemingly tailor-made just for you, the 2013 Tour being back to its usual hilly self once again, and the 2013 Vuelta set to be even more sadistic, if that's humanly possible, than last year's. Which is why you're so much happier maybe committing to help your TdF team captain/resentful ex-backup man Froome win the big maillot jaune if you feel like it and if you don't have something better to do like mow the lawn or trim your toenails or sit around in a pub crying your eyes out over a beer for three straight weeks in July. We *hear* you, we *believe* you, we swear it--now run off to Jan Ullrich for some tips on safely losing that surprisingly big off-season weight gain, and prove how much you want the Giro by laying it down on the tarmac in May, already!

It's Race Roundup Sunday!: and, suck it Hushovd haters--as if such an undead mutant twisted freak could actually walk the earth, but I digress--as Thor clearly puts his miserable 2012 in the past with a bangin' win at this weekend's Tour de Haut Var, the triumphant Froome exceedingly ticks off Contador, Tony Martin aims to scare the time trial right outta Cancellara this season, and, creepily disconcerting as always, Alejandro "How I Got Out of Yappin' Blood Bags at the Fuentes Trial Sure Beats the Hell Out Of Me, Too" Valverde himself taking the time trial at the Vuelta a Andalucia. Not that I'm suggesting anything here, Alejandro, but remember what happened to Schumacher when he started with that !@#$--dial it back a little, would ya, even if it *is* (as it certainly is) totally legit! And no, it weren't flashy, but here's Thor: Allez allez, big guy!

"Harlem Shake," Whatever: well, newly-serious Belgian studmuffin Tom Boonen may not be doing nekkid shower scenes or posting apres-race massages to porn music on-line anymore, but his Quick Step ("OPQS", whatever) squad has gamely taken up the mantle for him, with a surely prize-winning Dance Fever-worthy performance of their own. Well done, gentlemen--but don't you clowns even *think* of pulling a quad and hosing over Boonen or Cav unless it's during a race this season, you hear!

It's Yer Valentine's Day Gift List for the Peloton!

The hell with flowers, chocolates, an overpriced dinner at an overpriced restaurant, or that Naughty Nurse outfit you saw in a catalog--our darling peloton could use a *real* token of affection for St. Valentine's Day, and it's up to us to give it to 'em! Ergo:

1. Lance Armstrong: a heart. 'Cause someone's gonna piss 'im off again sometime, and we all know what he does when *that* happens. For the sake of everyone else, someone, give him a heart!

2. Andy Schleck: mojo. The poor boy really, really needs his mojo back. How else can Contador take any pride in kicking his !@# in July?

3. Pat "Dick" McQuaid: a spine. The spine to own up to what he did, whatever it was. The spine to step down. And the spine to respect the sport, the riders, and the fans enough to do it.

4. Marianne Vos: dang, what *do* you give someone who's already won everything she could possibly want? Well then, equal podium babes for the ladies, I say!

5. Johnny Hoogerland: body armor. A light, flexible, comfortable, impenetrable set of full team kit. Nothing says "I love you" like a gift that keeps you in one piece!

6. Purito Rodriguez: a lovely new team and a bangin' new contract. Unless Katusha gets its ProTour license Friday. In which case, Ekimov has to strew rose petals in his path for every single step Rodriguez takes next season. Show him the appreciation he deigned to show you guys this whole time, Eki!

7. Jesus Manzano: a clean bill of health. Jeez, did you *read* that !@#$ he went through at Kelme--no-one, dirty doper or not, deserves that!

8. Mark Cavendish: y'know, he *did* step in for Tom Boonen at the last minute in Qatar, to quite brilliant effect. I mean, the race don't ride itself. Give Cav the green jersey at the Tour!

Well, dear reader(s), them's my sweet wishes for the sport we hold so dear. So pop yourselves some champagne, feel the love, and enjoy the season ahead!