Cycling Things I'm Thankful For This Year

Yes, beloved reader(s), it's Thanksgiving for we Americans, and you know what that means: gorgin', fightin' with the relatives, football(not soccer--football!)-watchin', and stompin' each other like lion-chased wildebeests to get a $100 flat-screen at CrapMart. And maybe, just maybe, a little appreciation for our good fortune. So, with the pure love of cycling in my heart, here's what I'm thankful for this year:

1. Etiquette. Lance, if you hadn'a cornered Tyler Hamilton outside the toilet in that restaurant and been such a mean petty little beeyotch to Floyd Landis, you'd probably still be a 7-time Tour champ. On the other hand, the off-season'd be a lot more boring!

2. Marcel Kittel's Hair. Unless you lived through the 80s, honey, you don't know how much work (and mousse) that takes. Wah, six hours in the saddle on a mountain stage, wah!

3. Marianne Vos. This bad-!@#-of-all-trades is like the one person in the whole cycling universe even *I* can't be cynical about. You rock Marianne!

4. Oleg Tinkov. Some bosses can be ambiguous, nay downright obtuse, in their feedback. But not ol' Oleg--well before he dips your feet in concrete and sinks you to the bottom of Lake Baikal, he'll offer you--and the world--helpful twitter advice like "YOU SUCK YOU LAZY PRINCESS!" and "GET A PAYCUT AND A REAL JOB YOU WHINER!" Refreshing!

5. New Continental Team--honest!--Vino4Ever. Yap, doping, yap--you're diggin' it, just like I am, from the grimiest, shamefulliest depths of your filthy blackened guilty little heart. Oh, yeah, baby!

6. The Giro. Fine, let the publicity sluts swagger for the Tour. For my money, the most beautiful race of the year--followed by the forbidding Vuelta--is the Giro d'Italia. Italian language, Italian food, Italian scenery. And some of the most mind-bogglingly beautiful, and thrilling, racing on the planet. Grazie Italia!

7. Jens Voigt. Yeah, he's been taking some heat lately. But I don't care, because even if it were all true, those people are all going to Hell. We love you Jens!

8. The Call For a Women's Tour de France. Right on, sisters--next stop, the Vuelta Mujeres!

9. Fabian Cancellara. Sure, a tenure at RadioSkank'd darn near demoralize anybody. But not Spartacus--he's going for the hour record in 2014. Woo-hoo Fabs!

10. Dear Reader(s): True, half the time you think I'm an eejit, but no harm no foul. And tho' I don't get to twit much about others, I'm delighted to follow you too. Thanks for readin'!

Well, them's mine, and if I missed a whole buncha more important stuff or if you're thankful too, you can pile on in. Most of all, happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night!

An Ode To Pro-Team Cycling Staff

O cycling staff, how hard you work,
For some coddled prima-donna jerk,
Or kindly low-ranked domestique,
Too zonked from setting pace to speak,
Your constant efforts near unseen
While stars with stage-win jerseys preen.

You rub sore muscles, scrub their chamois,
You tuck them in their bedtime jammies,
You get them to and from the race,
and lug their crap from place to place,
And guide them, like to some foul mirage,
To Controle Anti-Dopage.

You lean outside of the team car,
A deader if you reach too far,
To patch up a leader's gross road rash,
Caused by some idiotic crash,
And as with fans they smirk and prance,
Stuff their drugs in your underpants.

You make them coffee, give them food,
You're placid if they're nice or rude,
You bear their misdirected rage,
When they're the chumps who blow the stage,
You get no praise, you get no dough,
When sponsors bail, you're first to go,
We fans owe you more than we know,
So thanks, y'all, on with the show!

99 Luftballons (And One Colossal Freakin' Paycheck); and, News From the Department of PR and Bodily Safety Disasters

War! Huh! Good God, Y'All! What Is It Good For? Uh, His Wallet: uh-huh, just as Lance Armstrong gets all righteous at everyone throwing him under the bus--because, y'know, he didn't benefit more'n anyone else from his 7 Tour wins, ginormous cult of personality, thuggish omerta enforcement, and constant slavering planetary hero-worshiping butt-kissing from legions of adoring fans and journalists--and accuses then-UCI prez Hein Verbruggen of covering up a 1999 cortisone poz (and frankly, I think he's just ticked UCI apparently tried to cover up ol' Astana nemesis/next-gen-superstar kingship-thieving twerp Alberto Contador's doping poz, too) here comes that stinging wasp-on-wheels/demonic ex-teammate Floyd Landis, using a law apparently developed for wartime use to try to extend the time (and coincidentally, by truly humungous buckets, money) he can go back and dig outta outta Armstrong for his Postal-era nefarious weaseldry. Bet you'll think twice *next* time you wanna make a rude gesture to someone on Brasstown Bald, Lancey-boy!

Rider to Vino: Break My Kneecaps: well, *that* was a short-lived career: refreshingly outspoken--if perhaps not, well, brainiac--2nd-year American Astana protege Evan Huffman has just openly criticized erratic'n'ornery team boss Alexandre Vinokourov for his post-bio-passport-ban hiring of Franco-of-the-Euromullet Pellizotti. Oh well, kid, it's not like you needed those "unbroken bones" of yours anyhow--I'm sure Vino's goons won't put too much of a wrench into yer season! Now, upside yer *head* they might try to whack one...

!@#dammit Hire Samu' Already!: finally, as a truly galling number of cheating dirtwads continue to find gigs for 2014, most of dear departed Euskaltel-Euskadi continues to be hopelessly jacked for next season, including we love Samuel Sanchez, still trying to get a gig with Team Colombia or even Wanty but even allegedly considering a move to an advisory role with the growing world-o-cycling in Dubai. !@#$in' hell, World Tour, Horner I get but Sanchez? He's a spring chicken by comparison! And scandal-less! And--dag nabit, just hire 'im already! Look, look, remember when he was King o' the Mountains? Glory shall be yours, I tells ya!

Good News: The Vuelta's Clean! Bad News: You Still Can't Ride It!; and, Alberto Steps It Up

Dodgin' the (Green) Bullet: yes, we--even, say, Alejandro "Balaverde" Valverde--can all relax now: the Vuelta doping results are out, and the race was 100% no-holds-barred bucket-o'-integrity cutting-edge-testing clean. Woo-hoo! Does this mean everyone's suspicions are allayed and Chris Horner gets a million-euro contract now? Uh-huh, I thought I heard crickets chirping! Anyway, peloton, don't let this all go to your pretty little heads--if you're a female racer, you can apparently wait til you're older'n Horner is before there's a Vuelta a Espana with your name on it. Pigs! Oh well, at least we still got the Giro Donne--forza Italia, as usual!

I'm Sorry/So Sorry (For Me): and, Lance's regret for how he destroyed cycl--holy crap, he really *does* mean "regret for how mean and unfair everyone's been to me"--continues to warm the hearts of other sincere faux-repentants, as not only does he persist in claiming he's ready and willing to open up completely so long as he's in total control and gets exactly what he wants in every way--which hey, seems reasonable to me if I HAD A FRIGGIN' GOD COMPLEX--but he also claims he's delighted to accept any punishment, including the sport's "death penalty", as long as the dirty cowardly rats who helped him win 7 Tours de France bazillions of dollars worldwide adoration and ('til he dissed Floyd Landis once too often) the worlds' best-ever cycling omerta' are held to the exact same standard. Y'know, I do think most of those guys got off way too lightly, but really? You don't see any difference whatsoever in terms of who you were vs. who they were to the sport? No, I guess it's genuinely hard to see beyond the retina-scarring solar glare of one's own boundless ego...

Talkin' 'Bout My Generation: finally, if you thought Alberto Contador was finito after his disastrous 2013, you're wrong, baby--make room at the grownup's table again, Froomey, because he's already completely revamped his training regimen, gotten ready to hit the wind tunnel, and put in some high-altitude miles in Rio. As to those other headliners-of-yesteryear, the Schleck brothers? Well, I can't speak for Andy--though Frank certainly can--but big bro at least is ready to channel the anger and disappointment of 2013 into 2014 victories and is truly hungry to ride. If only you could reawaken the passion and confidence of your wee brother Andy once again, too...well, Alberto Froome & Nibali'd still kick his !@#, but it'd be nice to see some gumption back, anyway!

Uh, Maybe I *Won't* Dope Today...Tales From Cycling's Dark Underbelly (Well, Underpants)

Playing Chicken: that's right, the hits just keep on coming from Michael Rasmussen's tell-all about the gory, glory days of Team Raboskank: having already hastily retracted, under threat of lawsuit, suggestions that we still love so bite me Oscar Freire and Juan Antonio Flecha were doping, when in fact he didn't actually personally *see* them doping--which I'm sure means they didn't--and admitted in a truly gnarly act of filial (im)piety that he asked his dad to literally roll up his sleeves and hand over some nice compatible blood for his own vampire benefit, he's now wittily recounted the tale of how his team bus driver packed a buncha EPO into his underwear in order to evade the skeptical invading narcs. Y'know, I don't care *which* business end those vials were nestled up against, I am *losing* the Tour de France and shattering my lifelong dreams and the whole purpose of my puny human existence rather'n use that !@#$ afterwards. Fine, eat your own twin, store a pint o' yerself next to the moldy yogurt in the defective minifridge, p!@# black for a week while your internal organs freak out from what you've ingested--but using the bus driver's nut-nestled stash? Ewwwwwwww!

The Trials of Being Alberto: and, pity poor wee former Rider of His Generation Alberto Contador: despite winning a bucket of Grand Tours and being still at the tender and primo winning age of 30, two straight DSes have now pegged Chris Froome as the boy to beat for years to come, with sad-sack Pistolero apparently perceived to have Wigginsed off into the sunset. Add to that the beastly threat of Oleg "You Blow, You Overpaid Lazy Worm!" Tinkov reportedly considering buying Saxo Bank and Alberto's sorry butt outright, and I think he's got pretty well one option left: jump into Bjarne's arms, grab 'im in a death grip, and start bawling at the top of his lungs. Glad to see you're remaining tranquillo though, Alberto--just switch yer training plan back to whatever worked for you before, and hope it's (1) undetectable and (2) enough!

The Cit(ies) of Brotherly Love: meantime, cycling's greatest (or hell, even just past marginal) dopers continue to slag each other, with Tyler Hamilton reacting to Lance's latest bull!@#$ I wanna-help-cycling oppressed-victim pity-party on cyclingnews with the friendly Twitter invite "Hey @lancearmstrong - If you're sincere about wanting to talk, jump on your jet and fly to Missoula, Montana. Your posse is not invited." and angry scapegoat Joerg Jaksche musing, as he also commented on Lance's interview, "My last tweet brought me to the question is 'being more honest than [Jonathan Vaughters] a benchmark? Fuck..NO!!" Y'know, it's heartening to see all these guys bonding over how to fix the sport...

Hire Samu' Dammit! Hire Samu'!: finally, eager as I am to start my campaign to Make Patrick Lefevre Let Tom Boonen Ride the Tour de France, I gotta say, Luis Leon Sanchez is about to ink a new gig right after he got dumped over (perhaps, to be fair, unjustified) doping accusations, and Euskaltel's Samuel Sanchez freakin' remains without a contract? Look, look what the boy can do!

My Fantasy Doper Bull!@#$/Reality Press Conference

Good morning. I've called you all here today because I've had a sincere crisis of conscience/some bitter !@#hole I used to ride with just outed me to everyone. I'm deeply ashamed to say that a very long time ago/until very recently, I once/damn near daily used a banned substance/cheated like a thieving scumbag. However, I felt deeply ashamed/deeply paranoid about my actions, and immediately stopped/called my team doctor for reassurance I wouldn't be caught taking this !@#$. Furthermore, as an athlete wholly dedicated to pushing my body to its god-given, natural limit/taking any crap I could to get an edge on my competitors, I detested putting these drugs in my body/the thought that any of them could be doing it better than I was. Therefore, I deeply regret the choices I made early in my career/until yesterday. And, I'd like to point out that it is a total and complete coincidence that, as I say in all honesty/in a ridiculous excuse not even my grandma would buy, I stopped doping just before the statute of limitations ran out/before Pat "Dick" McQuaid called me from an untraceable disposable cell phone that the narcs were about to catch on to my act.

I know you'll find it hard to forgive me/let me totally off the hook anyway because I'm so much more likeable than Riccardo Ricco'. And I know I'll have to work hard to regain that trust/find a ghostwriter some other dope fiend hasn't already used to write my tell-all to make even more money off you suckers. In sum, I'd like to honestly apologize to my sponsors, team directors, fellow riders, family and friends/everyone I'm now gonna rat out in an effort to divert attention from myself for my inexcusable actions/for not being as ruthless as Lance Armstrong in shutting my enemies the hell up in the first place. Now that the truth has thankfully been revealed/has tragically been revealed totally against my will, I swear to join the fight against doping/the fight against anyone else doping while I have to ride clean. Thank you for your understanding and support/not hunting me down like a plague-spreading medieval bubonic rat if you're one of the guys I cheated out of a career.

Aiiiggghhhh! Zombies! Zombies are Rising From the Dea--Oh, It's Just Bruyneel And Those Guys

And No-One's Gonna Save You From The Beast About to Strike: yes, just when you thought it was safe to go outside, well get the hell back in, dumb!@#--Lance Armstrong minion/Postal mastermind-in-chief Johan Bruyneel is getting called up by the narcs but quick, and as they line up ol' pals like Tyler and Floyd to take down their former boss, he's already embarking on a weird Twitter assault to defend his virtue against all comers. Aw c'mon, Johan--you were the power behind the throne, the Rocky to his Bullwinkle, the Robin to his Batman, the Ken to his Barbie--embrace it, don't deny it, just ask Landis, it ended up being so much *better* for him in the end to 'fess up!

I Told Ya, It's the Walking Dead!: in other unholy news from the netherworld, most-inept-doper-of-all-time Riccardo Ricco', apparently irked at watching eight thousand other peloton dirtballs continue to enjoy the Grand Tour stages he once rode so spectacularly slimily, has announced his new goal: he's gonna set a world record climbing Mont Ventoux, and frankly, especially given the lack of scrutiny the banned boy's under at this point, I wouldn't doubt him. Even over, say, Valv--uh, nothin'! Look, he's already posing for the podium babes: All you need is Pat "Dick" McQuaid up there shakin' your hand, Cobra, and it'll be just like old times! Over in Germany, meanwhile, a high court has cleared former Gerolsteiner rider/busted CERA-weasel Stefan Schumacher, who if I recall right actually beat Fabian Cancellara in a time trial, over accusations of fraud on his team director Hans-Michael Holczer for doping at the 2008 Tour de France on the grounds that Holczer knew darn well what the hell Schumi and everyone else there were doing the whole time. On the plus side, the court apparently *didn't* believe Holczer's contention that indeed he *could* be that stupid. So when you think about it, it's a compliment, really! Anyway, you needn't cry for the poor naive guy: he's still working as a consultant to Katusha, where he was lately a team manager. The new clean cycling era continues nicely!

Pain, I'm in *Pain* I Said!: finally, great to see the rabid enforcers over at Team Sky taking the high road, demanding that opioid painkiller Tramadol be banned from the peloton despite admittedly giving it to their own riders--but only when they really needed it, not for, say, generally allowing them to train harder through the usual pain like everyone else but *them*. It's heartwarming, isn't it, how they're all watching out for each other's well-being? Well, *I'm* touched, anyway...

They're !@#$ed!: 15 Kilometers of Cobbled Tour de France GC Destruction

Come Together/Right Now/Over Me: yep, the 2014 Tour de France route is out, and lucky for these guys it's lots less brutal but still bizarrely more prestigious than the beautiful Giro or Vuelta, with 5 mountain top finishes, two rest days, 40 sprint stages, and some choice opportunities for Thomas Voeckler to singlehandedly shatter the road surface below 'im into smithereens with the sheer force of his grimace. And sure, Froome won't know he's won til the penultimate day's huge 54km individual time trial, but first, he and the other GC boys'll have to survive this: nine separate sections and over 15 kilometers of stage 5 cobblestones, which could--depending on flats, crashes, dropped chains, and whether wee climber Nairo Quintana accidentally slips through a crack in the pave and disappears into the center of the earth--decide the final yellow jersey before we're even outta week one. Reaction: Contador is cagey, Bjarne's confident he'll still suck less than Froomey on the cobbles, Nairo's stoked for the climbs, Froome professes both optimism and the implausible idea that he and 2012 champ Wiggo can ride it all kumbayah together without them punching each other's faces in, Valverde's psyched to stick it to Rodriguez again, Purito himself is suited just fine to a whole buncha climbs til he's hopelessly screwed on the time trial, and Cav and Kittel's formidable hairdos nearly came to blows bragging on who's gonna grab the green jersey. All in--Andy Schleck, who apparently misunderstood the part where they said your brother *can't* take you down the descents with you sitting on his handlebars. Model of Understatement Award: former Tour winner Stephen Roche, discreetly opining that perhaps this year's "soft" course won't encourage vulnerable innocent riders to take "shortcuts" again. Wait, are we talking those jackwagons who grabbed rides on cars and trains back in 1904?

Ho Ho Ho!: and, we're about to find out who deserves to be on Santa's naughty list: Lance Armstrong mastermind Johan Bruyneel's got his arbitration date just shy of Christmas, and if I were him, after all that stupid crap with Lance whining how oppressed his poor railroaded teammates were getting cakewalk 6-month off-season bans in return for incredibly profiting from and still capitalizing on their ill-gotten gains (lovable as these fine gents are), and pretending he's getting ready to spill the beans again, I'd be worried he was ultimately gonna Landis my !@# and I'd start *talkin'*, honey. Oh, but omerta's still so much more dignified...

Papa's Got a Brand New Tat: finally, congrats to dashing Classics suavester Pippo Pozzato, who's clearly taking the massive heat from the disappointed Italian press for being all style over substance to heart in this nascent off-season, by revising his diet, spending days hunched in a windtunnel perfecting his position, and restructuring his entire training regime for 20--uh, getting some nice new ink. But it is *so* aero, man!

Horner Hears a Who?; The Tour de France Shapes Up; and, Ina-Yoko Teutenberg, Warrior Princess

Uh, I Can Delete That, Right?: yep, just as Chris Horner already wasn't helping his own cause sending a bitter bizarre series of wig-out tweets that'd completely freak the average publicity-conscious DS outta hiring 'im, *then* twitted a cheerful "so long, see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya" to his RadioTrek squad o' four years, now if it's even possible the poor guy's hosed himself even worse: uh-huh, some sports-science ween is claiming Horner's voluntarily-released bio-passport results from the Vuelta look just a liiiiiiitttttle too good to be true. Disgusting slanderous rumor-mongering or no, I sure hope you signed a new contract in the last, oh, ten minutes there, Chris, 'cause the rest of the teams are only gonna pretend they never heard of you even more from here on out! #iscrewedupthat...

Countdown to July: meantime, for riders who actually *have* contracts, it's already shaping up to be a hell of a competitive Tour, with defending champ Froome cannily demanding that any thought of cobbles next year be swiftly dispatched, Contador desperate to reclaim his rightful rep and fat paycheck, Quintana opining he could have this one in the bag, and Nibali, unsatisfied with having won merely two of three Grand Tours, now going all-out for the big show. Aw, come on, isn't *anyone* in addition to Basso and Cadel in for the beautiful Giro--what's the big deal about the winky ol' "Tour de France", anyway?

More Retirements That Suck: finally, best wishes and suck-for-the-peloton as incredibly prolific sprint bad-!@# Ina-Yoko Teutenberg hangs up her cleats--despite an injury-wrecked 2013, she's racked up over 200 wins in her long career, and with any luck for the sport of cycling she'll get some obscenely lucrative coaching gig training riders or something who if even half the talent she is'll be Ina-ing up the tarmac for years to come. Here, winning as usual in 2012: Congrats on a great career!

Euskaltel-Euskadi, 1994-2013 #euskaltelteam

Fine, cycling teams come and go. But Euskaltel-Euskadi was a unique and glorious one, and it deserves every bit of homage it can get. So here, and in gratitude for damn near twenty years of excitement, being a major factor in my falling in love with the sport, and having the most smashing fans in fandom, a quick summary of we love Euskaltel-Euskadi's greatest hits:

Grand Tours: small budgets, big hearts, bangin' results. For all the (well-earned) hype about Iban Mayo and Haimar Zubeldia, the top finishes actually all go to 2008 Olympic gold medalist Samuel Sanchez: a third in the 2010 Tour, a third and a second in recent Vueltas. And did I mention (this week) Samu's been Tour de France King o' the Mountains? Woo-hoo!

Stage Races: 1st (Samu) and 2nd (Iban) at Tour of the Basque Country. First *twice* (Iban, Landaluze) at Dauphine-Libere. And 1st at the Tour de Suisse (Aitor Gonzalez). Not too shabby!

Stage Wins: okay, forget the 80 gazillion stages in the tours of Asturias, the Basque Country, Burgos, and Romandie--in Grand Tours alone, they've racked up 17 victories since 1999, starting with Roberto Laiseka's wins in the Tour de France and Vuelta right through Ion Izagirre's 2012 stage win in the Giro d'Italia. Eat *that*--aw, you know who you are!

Scandals: shut up! who gives! bite me! far less than most squads, so stuff it!

Lastly, The (Clearly Heartbroken) Tribute:

Thank you Euskaltel--I doff my bitchin' orange team cap to you and all your riders and staff past and present for many years of great cycling!

Like That Disgusting Goo-Covered Thing That Pops Outta That Guy's Guts and Skitters Away In "Alien," But More Painful

Quotes That Rip My Guts Out: yep, even as EX-EUSKALTEL-EUSKADI rider Benat Intxausti, who those vulturous poaching carcass-pickers over at Movistar grabbed a coupla seasons back, takes a mountain stage at the Tour-of-Who-Gives-A-Crap-Except-It's-Dear-Euskaltel's-Last-WorldTour-Race-Ever!, our actual beloved Euskies continue to honor their carrot jerseys with characteristically hard work, but for my money, it's the quotes o' resigned doom coming outta the mouths of our boys in orange that's breaking my heart the most. The latest from team captain Samuel Sanchez, tentatively thought though clearly now not going to joining besieged and recently key-domestiqueless Alberto Contador at Saxo Bank: "Time goes by, and even if I do not want to end my career, I'm getting used to the idea of retirement." Arrruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu (or however you write an agonized howl), arrrrruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Well *I'm* not used to it !@#dammit, what the !@#$ is with you cheapskate soulless assface sport directeurs, hire Samu' already, *look* at some of the goons you've got on your squads who could be added to or replaced! Oh, bad enough young sprinter (a sprinter! Euskaltel's got a sprinter!) Lobato has no home, erratic yet worthy Igor Anton is finally conceding “As things stand I’ve got nothing, or at least nothing concrete,” and half the team are tweeting rueful farewell pics of their final team kits, now this--arrruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

On the Catwalk/On the Catwalk, Yeah/I Shake My Little Tush On the Catwalk: meantime, to no-one's shock, startlingly incompetent doper/Byblos runway man-candy Danilo "Low T" DiLuca's is finally facing a largely-too-late-but-at-least-symbolic life-time ban from his own deeply annoyed cycling fed. I gotta say, I almost get why guys like Jan Ullrich and poor ol' Strawberry Shortcake here are so aggravated at the utter arbitrariness at who still gets singled out for scorn--or all-embracing, prodigal-son forgiveness--in the peloton. Ah well, Danilo, at least your buds can keep you in style with free clothes!

If You Experience Performance-Enhancing Symptoms, Call Your Team Doctor Immediately to Get More: and, many thanks to USADA for their warning today about a popular weight-loss and "focus-enhancing" nutritional supplement that apparently acts on the body like meth, because apparently, that lovely opioidtramadol crap the new, clean generation's currently taking as a pain-reliever (pain-relief being, well, useful to athletes who painfully *ride* six freakin' hours a day)isn't even banned yet. It's under review though! Whew, I'm *so* glad things have completely changed...hey, if you guys aren't gonna use your resources to combat this, maybe you could use the spare energy (and dough) to help Samu get a new contract instead?

Horner Freaks Out!; Scarponi Looks S!@#$ed!; and, Like *Sanchez* Is the Biggest Prob in the Peloton?

#HireMeYou!@#$ers: yeah, you read it, or at least read the 24-hour stream of mocking tweets: Chris Horner's rabid rapid-fire twit-barrage of how he got to be the Vuelta champ he is today, how you're the lowly slacker worm you are, and how you better, ergo, start paying him tons of money to ride for your team next year. Look--I see how he might be very mad and all, that after years of intermittent (if intermittently brilliant) results, his passionate defense of Lance Armstrong against doping accusations after years of publicly slagging him which totally coincidentally stopped right when Johan Bruyneel hired 'im, and a clearly successful all-McNugget training diet, there's still some, well, slight suspicion about his recent achievement. Adding insult to injury, Europcar snottily announced today that Horner's agent tried to sell 'im for 750,000 euro and was harrumphingly dissed. But Horner, let's be honest here--leaving aside that you didn't actually win the Vuelta until after the big guns'd already blown their transfer-season budgets, *and* their terror of losing their sponsors and folding their team if you get popped, I think they're frankly worried that your incredibly advanced age of 400 makes this win, even if legit, a freak fluke, and at your age you're gonna just start droppin' limbs off like some rotting undead carcass zombie. So I get yer mad--now quit complainin', and get in line with everyone else still out of a job!

Scarpface: meantime, things ain't lookin' much better for Michele "I Can't Believe They Gave Contador's Giro Win to *Me*" Scarponi, who, reliable talent though he is, is having a hard time picking a team from all his lucrative offers, apparently one down though with Europcar having also smacked Scarponi's agent for sending an unsolicited unwanted e-mail and then claiming that's some sort of near deal. No offense to Michele, or Horner, but right on Europcar--really, they're gonna get more mileage outta some piddly Grand Tour champ(s) than the irresistible camera-whore breakaway antics of Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler?

RaboBull!@#$: and, bad racing news but apparently a sweet payoff for stalwart stage winner Luis Leon Sanchez, who was ditched by RaboBlancoBelkin because he's been linked to too many doping stories. Jaysus, like *he's* the biggest liability in the peloton? Have you guys *noticed* what clowns are still getting paid hundreds of thousands or even millions of euros to actually *ride*, like right now, like next year, like 'til the next generation of dipwads gets busted and immediately rehired by equally morally outraged hypocrites? I mean, damn, I don't expect *anyone* who started over at Liberty Seguros, even as a baby, to've come outta there without some serious, well, nutritional advice, but Sanchez? When other squads are fielding Contador? Valverde? Scarponi? Sure, clean 'em out, I actually agree, but enjoy the two guys you actually got left...anyway, hope you do get a new gig if yer a cleanster an' all now LL, but one more spot open for a Euskie to grab, you hear that Igor Anton?

It's the 2014 Giro d'Italia, Beeyotches! All's Forgiven, You Wanker! and, Money Troubles of People Who Can Bite Me

Rosa Is the New Bad-!@#: yes, fellow Giro junkies, the "humane" 2014 corsa is officially out, with enough sprints (8, too !@#$in' many for me, but then I don't have to ride it) to seduce Mark Cavendish, enough "medium mountains" stages to give false hope to the breakaway artists, enough high mountain stages packed into the final week to guarantee GC suspense, and, after last year's violent protests, enough transfer time that they don't have to rappel some poor sap like Scarponi down from a helicopter to get 'im to the next stage in time and risk whackin' 'im into the rock face of the Passo Stelvio. Best of all--though it makes no actual sense from a race perspective--we start in my ancestral stomping grounds of fair Ireland. Road trip! Here, yer official promo: FORZA, FORZA, FORZAAAAAAAAAAAAA--oh, c'mon, Nibali, a Giro-Tour double can't be *that* hard, right?!

Redemption Song: and, huge congrats to Purito Rodriguez on his season-soothing--and second consecutive!--Giro di Lombardia win, and for then graciously deciding to simply agree to disagree with mortal enemy/Worlds-screwing teammie Alejandro Valverde as to both gentlemen's view of the prior weekend's race tactics, at least until Purito has the opportunity next year to jam a bidon into Valverde's chain ring flap a musette into his face on a plummeting descent drop 'im in a violent cross-wind and accidentally squirt an espresso gel onto his glasses on a twitchy corner. Jeez, of all the perfectly solid 'nother reasons to want Piti's !@# outta the peloton, and *this* is what's pissing Spain off? Perspective, people!

No Scrubs: meantime, while Alberto Contador's getting just glowing press for cutting his salary by like two million euros to save Bjarne Riis' de-Tinkov'd Saxo Bank--which has, for !@#$'s sake, saved-Alberto's-butt-and-shoulda-podiumed-instead-himself Roman Kreuziger, who alone makes the team worth saving--the rest of the peloton isn't faring quite so well in the wage-crushing scramble for the last few pro spots, so desperate high-class rabble Thomas de Gendt, for example, has taken an 80% pay cut to just to ride at all and be some GC snot's water boy, which means he's probably earning like what the best women earn now, which means he better start training on that McDonald's Fryolator but quick. Am I the only one not quite crying a river that Alberto, adorable as he is, is only gonna make like five million euros in salary and endorsements to possibly choke at next year's Tour? On the other hand, that cute little "pistolero" thing--aw, I'd pay gazillions of dollars for that too!

Will You Still Need Me/Will You Still Feed Me/When I'm Thirty-Four?: Retirees We'll Really Miss

The Old M(e)n Of the Mountain: yep, in an annual ritual of grievous crapitude, a whole wunk o' great riders are retiring this year--let alone the guys who're "retiring" because we love Euskaltel and like half the Pro Continental squads are folding--and I gotta say, Marco Pinotti, Juan Antonio Flecha, and the great Sandy Casar are (1) by far the most underrated and (2) the ones the peloton're gonna blow without the most. Why? Because Marco Pinotti is not only a great time trialist in his own right, he's also consistently voted (by me, so what?) as the Guy Least Likely to Be An !@#$hole About Being a Gregario. Because you've never, *ever*, seen Flecha not driving some insane daredevil breakaway, and, either he's a total wisenheimer, in which case we love 'im even more, or he's seriously threatening to become a pro surfer next season. Because Sandy Casar was basically the sole reason the entirety of French cycling didn't completely suck the last 15 years, and, unlike Philippe Gilbert (who we love anyway), he actually didn't interrupt his Tour de France to hunt down and scream at the clown who let his dog meander into the course and damn near kill 'im. Because they're not the megalomaniacal sprinters, the preening Grand Tour contenders, or even the skittish thoroughbred climbers who consistently get the press, the camera time, the hysterical lovesick fans, or the Ferraris-as-pocket-change contracts. Because they don't screw over their teammates, pimp themselves as saviors, or make the kind of sickening stupid excuses that only shame them. Most of all, because they make the whole damn sport tick, and because though you might not see them often, you know this place will be poorer for their absence. So grazie Marco, gracias Flecha, and merci Sandy--you were a blast to watch, and thank you!
Juan Antonio Flecha vole un drapeau américain - Buzz

Payback at the Giro di Lombardia! Andy Schleck's Big Plans! Contador's Wishful Thinking!

It's The Beautiful Giro di Lombardia!: yes, it's time for the last monument of the season, the glorious classica delle foglie morte, and what's usually a hotly-contested source o' local pride for the Italians is this year a rematch of last weekend's Worlds, with Rui Costa debuting his shining new rainbow kit (as Giovanni Visconti wistfully Twitted today, "In Rui Costa's room to admire his new maglia, shorts, gloves...I touch them delicately...they're a dream..."), Vincenzo Nibali to do what he was obviously perfectly capable of doing last weekend if he hadn't hit the deck, and Alejandro Valverde, if he's got any brains left in his legs whatsoever, staying the !@#$ away from a still-extremely-distraught (and this race's defending champ) Purito Rodriguez. Others on the hunt: twilight Italians Scarponi, Basso, and Cunego; climber supremo Rigoberto Uran; Basso teammate/wheelie-poppin' studpup Peter Sagan; and new-stripped Philippe Gilbert, with one hell of a gnarly lump on his knee. Ow, !@#$--heal up quick Philippe, looks like it's a good thing it's the end of the season already! Anyway, the course: perfect, with a trip up the Madonna del Ghisallo and later a sharp drop before the flat run to the finish. Forza ragazzi--I'm still just in awe you got anything left in the tank at all!

He's Baaaaa-aaaaaaaack (Uh-*Huh*): and, after an openly-conceded but still devastatingly crap season, Andy Schleck, his big brother and go-to trainer/nurturer both back to cocoon 'im in 2014, swears he's ready to come back blazing next year, all set to target (1) the Classics and (2) seriously, the Tour de France. What Andy Schleck *needs* to target first, frankly, is a finish line. Small steps, baby Schleck, small steps!

I Dream of Bertie: last but not least, in bocca al lupo in particular on Sunday to Alberto Contador, who's professed he's already blocked out his suckfest 2013 and is counting the Giro di Lombardia as a fresh start to a hopefully better 2014. So Bjarne told you he's got the dough to pay you next year after Tinkov slagged your overhyped butt and is gonna try to taunt you next year with a new, winninger, more cost-effective squad? I'd be pretending it's already 2014 too!

Amy Dombroski, R.I.P.

U.S. 'cross and mountain bike rider Amy Dombroski, 26, an American riding for Belgian team Telenet-Fedea, was killed in a crash with a truck while training today in Belgium. She competed in the GP Gloucester just this past weekend, where she posted strong results against a stellar field. Her website is here, and a lovely summary of her career is here. Condolences to all.

Yo, We've Still Got Racing (and Transfers!) To Do!; and, Yer Post-Worlds Nasties Continue!

It's Milano-Torino, Baby!: yes, despite the new-crowned Kings and Queens of the Worlds, the actual cycling season still ain't over yet, as the venerable Milano-Torino, including the tough Superga climb, races tomorrow with a field including defending champ Alberto Contador, Joaquim Rodriguez, Andy Schleck, Damiano Cunego, and even the men's worlds road race lanterne rouge (and hell, at least he finished!) Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler. Who's out: Vuelta winner Chris Horner, whose cracked ribs have called a late-early end to his season. Lookin' for vindication, Purito? Here's your chance! And in case you missed it last year:

The Race of the Falling Leaves (Teams, Whatever): meantime, as the clock ticks down to the lovely Giro di Lombardia, riders from Euskaltel to Sojasun are still scrambling for the last few spots in the ProTour teams, with grim Thomas de Gendt wondering if he'll get the last Quick Step spot from Igor Anton, Mikel Astarloza already throwing in the towel and retiring, stellar carrot climber/GC o' the future Mikel Nieve just grateful to play superdomestique and screw his own palmares over at Sky, and even the boys over at Bjarne's Saxo Bank starting to get a liiiiiiiiitle bit nervous they're gonna be stuck last-second without a squad. Still, fear not that baby Basque cycling talent won't be nurtured, at least: their cycling fed's hoping to start a wee Continental team to keep the Ibans (shut up!), Mikels, Josebas, and Igors coming nicely along. Til those heavy-handed money-bags at Movistar poach 'em anyway. !@#$!

Oh, Snap, Italia!: and, while British media is saturated with self-flagellating analyses like "Why We're A Pack of Weenie Dropout Quitter Wussbags," even one-medal (congrats, Ratto!) Italy's now piling on poor ol' Spain, with Paolo Bettini saying that, below hometown expectations as his squad was, at least they fought like lions and didn't lose like Spain. Geez, not arguing--because they really did snatch defeat from the slavering jaws of victory--but can people maybe lay off anything connected to poor Rodriguez while he's still a quivering mound o' tears over Costa's pip at the line? I mean, listen to the guy..."this is Purito's bitter destiny..."--kick 'im while he's down whydontcha?

It's Yer Post-Worlds Blame-Game Roundup!

National Brotherhood Week: yes, Portugal's Rui Costa, previously best known as a fine stage racer, tenacious climber, and for his spectacular sissy-boy slap-fight with Carlos Barredo at the 2010 Tour (tho' to be fair, it was Barredo whanging *him* with the bike wheel), is now our very worthy men's world road champ, and while the elite women exchange hugs, warm compliments, and congratulations all 'round, the men've already devolved into a seething snake pit o' venom-shooting viperous blame-purveying, with Britain telling its own team--none of whom managed to finish, least of all Brad "I Would Do Anything For Froome (But I Won't Learn To Descend)" Wiggins--y'all just suck except for Cav, Spain's chief slamming Alejandro Valverde for greedily screwing Purito into a lowly silver, the vaunted Classics hardmen dismissed disgustedly for failing in perfect (for them) weather, Team Italy head Paolo Bettini in and out of a job every six seconds, and only recent Vuelta runner-up Vincenzo Nibali roundly proclaimed a god 'cause if he had the strength to chase back on like that after his !@#$ crash with Luca Paolini he clearly woulda won otherwise. Surely these bitter Bettys can find *some* mercy for each other--damn, look at poor Rigoberto Uran's team kit! Anyway, here's how it all unfolded: Complimenti Rui!

We've Got Our New (Old) Women's World Road Champ! Lance Sez "Huzzah," But Should He? And, Yer Men's Preview!

Holy Crap, She is Just One of the Best Athletes in the World Right Now: yep, after a select winnowing down to a field of 8--including three Italians, Longo Borghini, Ratto and Guderzo--2 Dutch and the best of the rest of the world including the US' Evelyn Stevens, then a wily spit out the back of two Italians and one last rider, then a desperate return of the three and two more cracked by a brilliant attack from Marianne Vos, then a frankly worried-looking Vos 3.5k solo from the line, it was Vos, with actually plenty of time to enjoy the win, then a fifteen-seconds distant Johannson and Ratto to round out the podium. Let's be frank--the quality of the women's peloton right now *far* outweighs the respect, dough, and treatment they're given in this sport. You wanna support women's cycling, UCI? Well you've got the Muhammad Alis of cycling to bring it home for you--you better not !@#$ this up, Cookson, and congratulations Marianne!

Hallelujah!: meantime, after a whole lotta nasty political wrangling yesterday which in my view could've been settled way less fussily with just a good ol' Thunderdome cage-fight, Pat "Dick" McQuaid was finally ousted, with Great Britain's Brian Cookson winning the hearts and votes--though actually, not by *that* much--to be our new UCI prez. Happy campers--tragic Op Puerto victim Alejandro "Bloodbag" Valverde, and hero Lance Armstrong, who bizarrely tweeted "Hallelujah!", and was immediately rewarded with Cookson cheerfully announcing now's a *great* time for "Truth & Conciliation." Uh, I know that glory-whore McQuaid hocked you into the gutter like a lougie after you embarrassed him, Lance, but weren't you maybe still better off with him in the end than someone who *wasn't* once your greatest swooningest cheerleader? Be careful what you wish for, new heralds o' clean cycling--looks like someone wants to clear out the garage!

You Better Not !@#$ This Up, Bettini!: and, tomorrow's time for the men's race, and it looks pretty much like this: either the sprinters barely survive the climbs, and Sagan who can already climb anyway takes it, or the sprinters choke on the climbs, and whoever's not too gutted out from the Vuelta takes it. Alternative: Gilbert, underestimated, is poorly marked. Last alternative: Vinokourov, still pissed at Nibali for blowing the Giro, jumps in in full Astana colors, takes the gold medal in fist-pumping triumph, and immediately whacks the Shark unconscious with it. Italy's problem: if commissario tecnico Bettini doesn't get *someone* a victory on home soil--and no, even Ratto's fine bronze today won't cut it--he's gonna be discarded like a nut-sweaty testosterone patch and tarnish his great rider legacy. Me, rooting for Nibali or impossibly Gilbert tho' I am (and yes, I'll be wrong by the time both of you read this, stuff it), I'd almost love for Alejandro Valverde to grab the win. Wouldn't *that* be a great start to our shining new era?

Grated Carrots!; Yer Worlds-in-Preview Part Due!; and, !@#$ You Movistar You !@#$ing !@#$ers!

How You Do Write "General Heartbroken Keening and Wailing" in Basque, Again?: yep, our dear 2013 Vuelta team-classification-champ Euskaltel-Euskadi's officially over, and typically, in one of its sweetest qualities, our doomed loyal squad was harmed being dead-set on providing for its back-room staff and bitchin' bike supplier, as well as its entirely unheralded and unappreciated riders, with "F-1" (apparently, some kind of car-related !@$#) superstar Alonso reportedly reluctant to take 'em all on as of course he should if Euskaltel even remotely willed it. And, in response to the constant bitching of late about the putrid decaying state of Spanish cycling, Euskaltel-poaching bottom-feeders Movistar allegedly also did their damndest to make it even worse, hampering the buyout because they feared having another Spanish team'd drive up the price of currently dirt-cheap Spanish riders. You capitalist oligarch worker-bee-crushing cheapskate Rolex-flashing bean-counting wingtip-wearing swine-pigs, how dare you help take them down--bite me Movistar, now and forever, and remember this day when your points-piling cash-cow Valverde (1) ages out or (2) gets popped again!

A Plea: which leaves us with this: Samu' is probably gonna retire, and a bucket of really stellar talent, including Mikel Irizar and Ion Izagirre (guess-who having grabbed bro Gorka), and even the uneven but still exciting Igor Anton, are without contracts at a truly dire time of year. Me, I'm thinking that for the boys who *don't* find gigs, we maybe chip in to cheer 'em up and fly them and their hardworking soigneurs and masseuses over to our respective home countries to at least stretch their legs and earn a few bucks in some nice local crits. That, or we blow the whole pot on a truckload of Irish whiskey and drown our sorrows. Who's in?

Oh, Right, *Those* Races: Meantime, it's still the Worlds, baby, and...oh, who the hell am I kidding, how can I focus while this Euskaltel catastrophe's going on, anyway, it's the women's individual time trial tomorrow, it's 22k, it looks like this , yer reigning champ is Judith Arndt, and prowomenscycling.com is calling Ellen Van Dijk for the win. Oh, and here's the highlights of the women's team time trial that UCI wouldn't let be broadcast live those goons: Good run there Wiggle, congrats to Specialized!