Can't Buy Me Love: so as Johan Bruyneel goes on about how Astana will be at the Tour de France in some form, and Alberto Contador trustingly continues to scope out the key stages of a race he's got no hope in hell of riding as captain in no matter how clearly past his primo Commander-of-All-Creation Lance Armstrong is even after that arrogant wank completely watered down the best pure climber's race in the universe to no effect whatsoever than to completely jack over Gilberto Simoni (wah, wah, collarbone, wah--not that you'd ever think to ask how he's done it, Lance, but didja notice how similarly-incapacitated and damn-near-as-ancient-as you Chris Horner managed to leave even Basso crying in the hills like St. David Millar at a press conference?), one cannot help but speculate, what the heck *is* gonna happen to the poor boy in July? Not to be a cynical depressive naysayer here, or to recall that despite feeling pity for him now that he's all oppressed I still think he was a dope-happy little pin-cushion at Liberty Seguros along with the rest of his grimy little cohorts, but I think this child is done for no matter how much he actually deserves to win (or at least ride for it) at the Tour. First, let's say Lance or his many personal sponsors pony up the dough for the squad--well, we all know who gets to call the shots then even more than now, right? Second, let's consider alternatives. Even if anyone else had the cash to hire you this late, which they don't, the best option among the serious GC squads--Caisse d'Epargne, apparently about to lose Valverde at least for this race--has, no matter how they yap on about giving your utterly underestimated BFF Luis Leon Sanchez another year or two to grow to Grand Tour leadership, an existing, in-house, and therefore cheaper, back-up. Help me folks, I'm trying to think of other options for him here--*besides* Chief Waterboy, you wiseacres!
Little Corsa Rosa/Baby You're Much Too Fast: mercifully, Pedro Horrillo's reportedly out of his coma and thankfully not brain-damaged from his monstrous crash at the Giro this week, but the boys still were too shook up or at any rate too extremely pissed to ride a real race today, 'til Cav got irked at the crybaby GC contenders blowing one of his last chances for a sprint with such stupid concerns in other stages as, y'know, not personally dying, and took the win. Not happy: the race organizers, who snarled the riders were a pack of mutinous hypocrite sissies; Pippo Pozzato, who frankly has more to be embarrassed about this race so far; and notorious tax cheat/Dancing With the Stars champ Mario "the Chest" Cipollini, who not only remains tartishly desperate for any adoration he can garner but also sincerely felt they lacked any dignity or spine whatsoever. Anyway, perhaps teh rest day will soothe some spooked nerves, and please, get well soon, Pedro!
Let's Dance/The Last Dance: finally, for those of you who'd like to see Alejandro Valverde ride one last time before he's forced to face reality and quietly retreat into the Jan Ullrich Memorial Pit of Cringing Obscurity, it's the bitchin' Volta a Catalunya, baby, and it's a formidable course worth watching this year. Good luck Alejandro--I still hope Samuel Sanchez stomps on you though!
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The New Astana Team Kit Is In!
Well, Alberto Contador's, Anyway:
What'd I *tell* you to do, you naive sap? Damn, they don't even have money to pay you, kid--geeeeeeeeeetttttttt oooooouuuuuuuuttttttt!
You Want Freiburg With That?: oh, all crappy right, I've read up on the loathesome Freiburg Report, and all I can say is this: (1) poor little Andreas Kloden was clearly the wholly innocent hapless inadvertent victim of a Machiavellian money-hungry amoral dirtbag-directeur sportif and dough-suckin' rider-endangering scum-sponsor; (2) Kessler and Sinkewitz by contrast of entirely deserve whatever they get; and (3)it's !@#damn lucky none of these backwards ignorant medieval butchers freakin' killed these boys with their recklessness, stupidity and talentless body-mangling, though to be fair, at least they weren't celebrity gynos like Fuentes. Ooookaaaaaay, I am *vaguely* ready to concede that dear Klodi could maybe have done more than shrug say thanks and pull out a magazine to read while he was prepped for an IV and strapped down to a hospital bed for four hours after a long day in the saddle and an hours-long drive to a suspiciously darkened anonymous clinic, but come on, he was a domestique on T-Mobile, like he even had the nest-egg to get his hands on the high-quality !@#$ Jan Ullrich was enjoying?
You've *Got* To Be Kidding Me: so I see the Tour de France organizers, the greatest protectionists of performance-enhancing drug addicts from Rasmussen to Valverde since, well, UCI, have decided that pinup frat boy on wheels Tom Boonen is too indecorous to be permitted in this year's Tour, which means, I suppose, that rather than having one boy snort a few lines on his off-hours for fun, they'll have to content themselves pretending to be shocked at twenty-odd boys signing in at the line with actual visible medical equipment hanging off their !@#es. Am I the only one *not* taking enough drugs here that I think the Tour organizers are a bunch of ludicrous point-missing hypocrites?
Can We Please Shut the Hell Up About Golden Boy Already?: yes, Basso looks not only very pretty but strong, tho' a part of me can't help be just a weeeee bit bummed that Pellizotti's lacking the legs to kneecap his team co-captain on the sly. And I gotta say, whatsisface-who-stole-Roberto Heras'-Vuelta is lookin' pretty good for a heinous lowlife cheat-thief. But to me, despite the fact that in cyclist years he's almost officially clinically dead, clearly, Simoni's just faking you all out. Though he's right to point out that the stages are far lamer this year thanks to the race organizers disgustingly organizing the entire corsa rosa around that petty prima donna cash-cow media whore Lance, and I'm distinctly annoyed at Danilo "I Seem A Little *Too* Strong Lately, Don'tcha Think?" Di Luca for pronouncing himself "disappointed" in our hero, as Simoni optimistically notes, "it's not gonna get decided til the last day in Rome." Forza Gibo--and bite me, you Basso-bedazzled unbelievers!
What'd I *tell* you to do, you naive sap? Damn, they don't even have money to pay you, kid--geeeeeeeeeetttttttt oooooouuuuuuuuttttttt!
You Want Freiburg With That?: oh, all crappy right, I've read up on the loathesome Freiburg Report, and all I can say is this: (1) poor little Andreas Kloden was clearly the wholly innocent hapless inadvertent victim of a Machiavellian money-hungry amoral dirtbag-directeur sportif and dough-suckin' rider-endangering scum-sponsor; (2) Kessler and Sinkewitz by contrast of entirely deserve whatever they get; and (3)it's !@#damn lucky none of these backwards ignorant medieval butchers freakin' killed these boys with their recklessness, stupidity and talentless body-mangling, though to be fair, at least they weren't celebrity gynos like Fuentes. Ooookaaaaaay, I am *vaguely* ready to concede that dear Klodi could maybe have done more than shrug say thanks and pull out a magazine to read while he was prepped for an IV and strapped down to a hospital bed for four hours after a long day in the saddle and an hours-long drive to a suspiciously darkened anonymous clinic, but come on, he was a domestique on T-Mobile, like he even had the nest-egg to get his hands on the high-quality !@#$ Jan Ullrich was enjoying?
You've *Got* To Be Kidding Me: so I see the Tour de France organizers, the greatest protectionists of performance-enhancing drug addicts from Rasmussen to Valverde since, well, UCI, have decided that pinup frat boy on wheels Tom Boonen is too indecorous to be permitted in this year's Tour, which means, I suppose, that rather than having one boy snort a few lines on his off-hours for fun, they'll have to content themselves pretending to be shocked at twenty-odd boys signing in at the line with actual visible medical equipment hanging off their !@#es. Am I the only one *not* taking enough drugs here that I think the Tour organizers are a bunch of ludicrous point-missing hypocrites?
Can We Please Shut the Hell Up About Golden Boy Already?: yes, Basso looks not only very pretty but strong, tho' a part of me can't help be just a weeeee bit bummed that Pellizotti's lacking the legs to kneecap his team co-captain on the sly. And I gotta say, whatsisface-who-stole-Roberto Heras'-Vuelta is lookin' pretty good for a heinous lowlife cheat-thief. But to me, despite the fact that in cyclist years he's almost officially clinically dead, clearly, Simoni's just faking you all out. Though he's right to point out that the stages are far lamer this year thanks to the race organizers disgustingly organizing the entire corsa rosa around that petty prima donna cash-cow media whore Lance, and I'm distinctly annoyed at Danilo "I Seem A Little *Too* Strong Lately, Don'tcha Think?" Di Luca for pronouncing himself "disappointed" in our hero, as Simoni optimistically notes, "it's not gonna get decided til the last day in Rome." Forza Gibo--and bite me, you Basso-bedazzled unbelievers!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Up, Up With People!
Well, the Climbers Anyway: yes, tifosi, having finally figured out how to get this beautiful race on TV, and while I'm still mourning the sucktastic luck of Christian Van de Velde, I can say with pleasure that we already hit the mountains tomorrow, and looking at the stage profile, and considering my own mild personal preferences, I gotta say, I hope Simoni kicks Basso's "attempted-doper" !@#. And if he doesn't? Well, perhaps Ivan'll just be saving himself for the Alps and GC, expecting Gilberto & co. to prematurely exhaust their ancient bods in the Dolomites, but on the flip side, if St. Ivan of Varese does take the stage, I can at least look forward to the distinct possibility that the lately-saccharine Simoni'll finally lose his cool and go, as was his whiny wont, for the verbal jugular. But for my money, what would be even more entertaining long-term: if Basso shows any weakness at any time in the race, because dollars to Dolomites, Franco Pellizotti, who as one may recall went completely shrieking bat!@#$ when Liquigas hired the Comely One, will absolutely hard-core bushwhack him. Anyway, forza, forza Gibo; race commentators, please do not yap the words "Lance Armstrong" more than 800 times a minute any longer lest I officially pull a Linda-Blair-in-the-Exorcist and go all kinds of head-spinning projectile--well, I won't go into further detail, but anyway, it sure wouldn't be ladylike; and no offense, but stick with the Classics Cunego!
I Feel Piti/Oh So Piti: meantime, the ink was barely dry on the Italian narcs' 2 year ban of poor Alejandro "Piti" Valverde before (1) Valverde started yellin'; (2) the tifosi started celebrating; (3) Caisse d'Epargne started suin' and (4)Tour de France organizer Christian Prudhomme finally got his excuse to kick that dirty, dirty boy out of his race once and for all. Me, I'm starting to think that between the Italians having been dragged kicking and screaming into serious antidoping efforts only because they were pissed Valverde got off while Basso got nailed, the Spaniards hell-bent on protecting their national hero at any cost, and the French happy to see any foreigner go down to distract the masses from their own inability to win their Tour for the last decade, none of these clowns are in a position to complain about anybody. Anyhoo, good luck at CAS, Alejandro--as Floyd Landis or damn near anyone else could tell you, you're gonna need it!
Finally, a Giro d'Italia Coverage Haiku:
Aching emptiness
Yapping ignoramuses
Come back, Phil & Paul!
I Feel Piti/Oh So Piti: meantime, the ink was barely dry on the Italian narcs' 2 year ban of poor Alejandro "Piti" Valverde before (1) Valverde started yellin'; (2) the tifosi started celebrating; (3) Caisse d'Epargne started suin' and (4)Tour de France organizer Christian Prudhomme finally got his excuse to kick that dirty, dirty boy out of his race once and for all. Me, I'm starting to think that between the Italians having been dragged kicking and screaming into serious antidoping efforts only because they were pissed Valverde got off while Basso got nailed, the Spaniards hell-bent on protecting their national hero at any cost, and the French happy to see any foreigner go down to distract the masses from their own inability to win their Tour for the last decade, none of these clowns are in a position to complain about anybody. Anyhoo, good luck at CAS, Alejandro--as Floyd Landis or damn near anyone else could tell you, you're gonna need it!
Finally, a Giro d'Italia Coverage Haiku:
Aching emptiness
Yapping ignoramuses
Come back, Phil & Paul!
Friday, May 08, 2009
It's The 100th Giro d'Italia, Baby!
All right folks, I've already tormented both my faithful readers with Giro previews in prior years, so I'll spare you that but first, I'd like to warmly welcome any Giro d'Italia/Grand Tour newcomers--because even if you *are* only watching it because Lance Armstrong is riding it despite the fact that he is the least important and certainly most annoying aspect of this year's race, I love you anyway, and I know you'll come to adore the three weeks of hand-to-hand combat, spectacular climbs, thrilling sprints, fanatic-driven spectacle, and inevitable doping scandals that are the Giro as much as we do. So let's round it up, kids!:
The Team Time Trial: I'm not gonna lie to you, I had Liquigas pegged for this one, not because I didn't think Garmin Astana or possibly High Road couldn't beat them on the merits, but because I was damn near certain the Italians would've run visible IV lines directly from the team car to the rider's rear ends right in front of the cameras to keep some foreigner from taking the 1st maglia rosa in the 100th Giro d'Italia. So apparently they didn't, but I must ask: am I the only shocked by how well freakin' *LPR* did today? Not that I'm suggesting anything untowards here--after all, Danilo's Barbiesque post-race testosterone levels'll probably do that later in this year's race quite nicely on their own--I'm just sayin'.
The Quick and the Dead: okay, it's on to a day or two of sprint stages, and while with Bennati, Head-Butt, Hushovd and pretty well everyone except Petacchi and Cav out of the race the range of possibilities seems rather narrow at best, for my money the fun begins immediately thereafter in the Dolomites, where Gilberto Simoni will be blowing right by his home stomping grounds and hence desperate--no matter how Mr. Rogers our resident smack-talking peloton Mr. T has become of late--to slap around Ivan Basso one last time before he retires. Forza, forza Gibo!--I mean, you guys already lost a bucket of time this morning, so you might as well redeem yourselves in the mountains, right?
Paris Hilton On Wheels: like anything else matters but the Giro, but anyhoo, you've all heard by now that babelicious Belgian party-slut Tom Boonen has sadly tested poz for coke again, and now, sensing serious trouble apparently, he's ditching the rakish charm that's saved his !@# so far, expressing gratitude and regret to the family friends and team he's disappointed, saying he blacked out from drinking too much, and claiming he needs, and is now sincerely seeking, help. Y'know, only he can tell if it's just a club-happy frat-boy sympathy ploy, mindbending reckless career-trashing stupidity, or a genuine problem requiring professional aid, but either way, I hope Boonen, who is really quite thrilling to watch, comes back soon. Clean, this time, get it?
Holy Moly, Ivan Basso Really *Does* Walk On Water!: finally, from the opening festivities in Venice, I give you this proof of St. Ivan of Varese's supernatural talent (now stick with it, through the yappin'):
The Team Time Trial: I'm not gonna lie to you, I had Liquigas pegged for this one, not because I didn't think Garmin Astana or possibly High Road couldn't beat them on the merits, but because I was damn near certain the Italians would've run visible IV lines directly from the team car to the rider's rear ends right in front of the cameras to keep some foreigner from taking the 1st maglia rosa in the 100th Giro d'Italia. So apparently they didn't, but I must ask: am I the only shocked by how well freakin' *LPR* did today? Not that I'm suggesting anything untowards here--after all, Danilo's Barbiesque post-race testosterone levels'll probably do that later in this year's race quite nicely on their own--I'm just sayin'.
The Quick and the Dead: okay, it's on to a day or two of sprint stages, and while with Bennati, Head-Butt, Hushovd and pretty well everyone except Petacchi and Cav out of the race the range of possibilities seems rather narrow at best, for my money the fun begins immediately thereafter in the Dolomites, where Gilberto Simoni will be blowing right by his home stomping grounds and hence desperate--no matter how Mr. Rogers our resident smack-talking peloton Mr. T has become of late--to slap around Ivan Basso one last time before he retires. Forza, forza Gibo!--I mean, you guys already lost a bucket of time this morning, so you might as well redeem yourselves in the mountains, right?
Paris Hilton On Wheels: like anything else matters but the Giro, but anyhoo, you've all heard by now that babelicious Belgian party-slut Tom Boonen has sadly tested poz for coke again, and now, sensing serious trouble apparently, he's ditching the rakish charm that's saved his !@# so far, expressing gratitude and regret to the family friends and team he's disappointed, saying he blacked out from drinking too much, and claiming he needs, and is now sincerely seeking, help. Y'know, only he can tell if it's just a club-happy frat-boy sympathy ploy, mindbending reckless career-trashing stupidity, or a genuine problem requiring professional aid, but either way, I hope Boonen, who is really quite thrilling to watch, comes back soon. Clean, this time, get it?
Holy Moly, Ivan Basso Really *Does* Walk On Water!: finally, from the opening festivities in Venice, I give you this proof of St. Ivan of Varese's supernatural talent (now stick with it, through the yappin'):
The 2009 Giro d' How the !@#$ Am I Supposed to Watch This Thing !@#Dammit!?!; and, an Update
Aaaaaaiiiiggggghhhhhh!: As if cycling.tv hadn't pissed me off enough already, I not only get a nice e-mail from them explaining that they're too cheap and crappy to get any rights to the Giro this year--and I don't know what the hell you people think we're paying you for, but as one might reasonably surmise from the name of your site, it's to *broadcast freakin' races*--but I next learn that, though the bullriding-addicted inbreds at Vs. can't be bothered with the Giro either, we're saved! saved! because "Universal" Sports will broadcast live in the US with not only no commentary but also no replay coverage. Now, I can do without the live commentary--my ears are still ringing lo these many months later, after all, from the excruciating aural assault that was The Trautwig--but no replay coverage? What the hell are we supposed to do if we *work* for a living, you thoughtless nits--get a !@#$ing note from the network? ("Dear Your Honor: please excuse RJ from her hearing today. She has to watch a bike race.") Well, it's all moot anyway, because "Universal" turns out to be the monster hyperbole of the century, as they don't even *broadcast* in my major metropolitan area. Can one even sense how very irked I am at this moment?!
All right, I'm off to find some solution to this hideous scandal, and if it involves selling off a couple of limbs or some extra relatives on the black market to scam a last-minute ticket to Venice, fine. You *suck*, Universal Vs. Cycling.tv and every other damn outlet on earth!
Update: Thanks to all for the advice on alternatives. Plus, Tom Boonen's positive for cocaine again. I don't know about you, but I sense rehab, folks, whether he actually needs it or not!
All right, I'm off to find some solution to this hideous scandal, and if it involves selling off a couple of limbs or some extra relatives on the black market to scam a last-minute ticket to Venice, fine. You *suck*, Universal Vs. Cycling.tv and every other damn outlet on earth!
Update: Thanks to all for the advice on alternatives. Plus, Tom Boonen's positive for cocaine again. I don't know about you, but I sense rehab, folks, whether he actually needs it or not!
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The 2010 Tour de What the Hell Are You Freaks Thinking?!
California, Here I Come--Not!: Is there a good reason why the organizers of the Tour of California want to tell every half-decent Italian and Spanish rider on the planet to eat it by scheduling next year's race right smack in the way of the Giro and the Volta a Catalunya? Y'know, I hope you goons aren't pandering to Little Lord Lanceleroy by scheduling it so he can use it to prep for the Tour in the off-chance he decides to crush Alberto Contador like a malaria-stuffed mosquito again next year, 'cause frankly, the old guy is gonna have to kick off (the bike, of course) eventually, and then what the hell was the point? And don't give me that crap about the weather, these boys ride in Belgium for heck's sake over the sleet-soaked cobbles of death so cry me a river if it takes the tropical fruit an extra day to ripen because it's mildly chilly out for one day in California. How dare you defile the Giro, after Paolo Bettini deigned to ride your lousy race?!
Katu-sh%@!: yes, we haven't even started the Giro yet, and if Katusha weren't already total pointless packfiller in this year's race with the absence of Robbie "Head-Butt" McEwen from the sprints, Christian Pfannberger has been suspended by the team for a doping poz just one day after sending the team a friendly note saying he was withdrawing from the Giro roster for "personal reasons," apparently because he, personally, is a low-rent, cheating spitwad. Aw, Christian, what were you thinking--*never* be the first guest at the party, if you'd only waited til an Italian came up poz for the Giro before you went on the juice, UCI'd barely've noticed!
Prince of Tides: and, I see Simoni's baby-bushwhacker ex-teammate Damiano Cunego is pegging himself a favorite for the race, which is pretty surprising considering his total karmic inability to come up with the goods since the Piccolo Principe's hype machine went into full power like 4 years ago, though I do hope he does well because his poor, loyal tifosi just seem so heartbroken whenever he proves, yet again, that he is--though noble is the endeavor indeed--a Classics man. Meantime, everyone else is swooning anew over the incomparably dreamy Ivan Basso for the win, and one of the really nice things I'm noticing about Alberto Contador besides his admiration for Ivan is how heartily he extends his good wishes to Armstrong to overcome that pesky collarbone and reign triumphant in...well, May, and that's pretty much it. Aw, don't worry little Contador, I'm sure that with Astana's current financial problems Lance won't even have a team to ride for in July! Oh, wait...um, maybe Katusha'd consider you for that newly-opened spot? Or, y'know, Caisse d'Epargne might be short a captain if the Italian narcs beat down Valverde..but then there's Luis Leon Sanchez to step in...Well, maybe one of the photographers'll let you ride on the back of their race moto--I mean, it's not quite the same as riding the actual race but you'll get a nice view of the eventual winner, right?
Welcome Back, 'Korouv: in other Astana news, I see Kazakh rock-star/erratic wingnut Alexander Vinokorouv is looking forward to completely destroying the perfect 2009 Vuelta with the foul acid-bath of his corrosive (if lively) returning presence, with the added bonus that he's gonna go for gold in next fall's Worlds. Gee, grab a trunkload of IVs, a couple of doctors of dubious credentials and swill-dwelling ethics, get ol' pal Kashechkin on his cell-phone, and Samuel Sanchez has got himself an actual rival this year!
Law Is A Many-Splendored Thing: finally, congrats and a passionate "in bocca al lupo, baby!" to the aforementioned Alejandro Valverde, who has decided that he's gonna sue the Italian narcs in the wild and astonishingly unlikely hope that he'd actually be better off getting his !@# adjudicated in front of the Spaniards. I mean, it's not like they've protecting him with all the gun-toting fervor of, say, Cadel Evans' formidable 2008 Tour de France posse, is it? Hmm, maybe I better rethink that...
Katu-sh%@!: yes, we haven't even started the Giro yet, and if Katusha weren't already total pointless packfiller in this year's race with the absence of Robbie "Head-Butt" McEwen from the sprints, Christian Pfannberger has been suspended by the team for a doping poz just one day after sending the team a friendly note saying he was withdrawing from the Giro roster for "personal reasons," apparently because he, personally, is a low-rent, cheating spitwad. Aw, Christian, what were you thinking--*never* be the first guest at the party, if you'd only waited til an Italian came up poz for the Giro before you went on the juice, UCI'd barely've noticed!
Prince of Tides: and, I see Simoni's baby-bushwhacker ex-teammate Damiano Cunego is pegging himself a favorite for the race, which is pretty surprising considering his total karmic inability to come up with the goods since the Piccolo Principe's hype machine went into full power like 4 years ago, though I do hope he does well because his poor, loyal tifosi just seem so heartbroken whenever he proves, yet again, that he is--though noble is the endeavor indeed--a Classics man. Meantime, everyone else is swooning anew over the incomparably dreamy Ivan Basso for the win, and one of the really nice things I'm noticing about Alberto Contador besides his admiration for Ivan is how heartily he extends his good wishes to Armstrong to overcome that pesky collarbone and reign triumphant in...well, May, and that's pretty much it. Aw, don't worry little Contador, I'm sure that with Astana's current financial problems Lance won't even have a team to ride for in July! Oh, wait...um, maybe Katusha'd consider you for that newly-opened spot? Or, y'know, Caisse d'Epargne might be short a captain if the Italian narcs beat down Valverde..but then there's Luis Leon Sanchez to step in...Well, maybe one of the photographers'll let you ride on the back of their race moto--I mean, it's not quite the same as riding the actual race but you'll get a nice view of the eventual winner, right?
Welcome Back, 'Korouv: in other Astana news, I see Kazakh rock-star/erratic wingnut Alexander Vinokorouv is looking forward to completely destroying the perfect 2009 Vuelta with the foul acid-bath of his corrosive (if lively) returning presence, with the added bonus that he's gonna go for gold in next fall's Worlds. Gee, grab a trunkload of IVs, a couple of doctors of dubious credentials and swill-dwelling ethics, get ol' pal Kashechkin on his cell-phone, and Samuel Sanchez has got himself an actual rival this year!
Law Is A Many-Splendored Thing: finally, congrats and a passionate "in bocca al lupo, baby!" to the aforementioned Alejandro Valverde, who has decided that he's gonna sue the Italian narcs in the wild and astonishingly unlikely hope that he'd actually be better off getting his !@# adjudicated in front of the Spaniards. I mean, it's not like they've protecting him with all the gun-toting fervor of, say, Cadel Evans' formidable 2008 Tour de France posse, is it? Hmm, maybe I better rethink that...
Friday, May 01, 2009
RJ's Doping Dos and Don'ts
All right, pro riders. At the moment, damn near the lot of you make me sick. You've defiled this beautiful sport, made pure sportsmanship the scorned purview of the naive and stupid, and effectively mocked the un- and under-paid, hardworking, honest club and small-team riders who wouldn't think of polluting their bodies or love of riding for a better result even if they had your obscenely inflated salaries and 24/7 access to podium babes. That said, if there's anything that pisses me off more than a liar and a cheat, it's a stupid one. Ergo, dirtbags, in a rare act of mercy, I give you RJ's Doping Dos and Don'ts:
1. DO say you didn't do it *one* time, then shut the hell up for all eternity and refer all questions to your lawyers. Sure, you're lying, but at least we only feel like punching you once.
2. DO make a date with a good spa and, if necessary, a spectacular plastic surgeon. To the pretty go the spoils. Sound extreme? I got three words for you, buddy: Basso, Valverde, Boonen. Now fer heck's sake pout those newly-plumped lips!
3. DO stick with the party drugs. Hell, even that idiot Schumi got off easy for amphetamines. Yum--coke!
4. DO confess to old offenses. Exhibit A: Erik Zabel. Come on, who doesn't love Zabel?
5. DO stay on UCI's good side by crusading against everyone else doping to conceal the fact that without it you no longer get the same results. Works for David Millar, right?
6. DO, despite a lifetime of self-absorption, now crave the charity circuit. Oooh--waifs!
7. DON'T believe UCI when they say you'll be rewarded for helping them, ever. So, how's Jorg Jaksche doing these days?
8. DON'T claim that someone slipped you a mickey at the club or in your water bottle. Even if it's true--and it's not--you're asinine. If you're really that paranoid, pay your grossly exploited soigneur an extra 50 bucks a night out of your Ferrari budget to guard your drink and stop insulting us with that bull!@#$.
9. DON'T hide behind your wife, girlfriend, or mother. It makes you look like a wuss, and frankly, if you do it, you ARE a wuss. Riccardo Ricco', read and learn!
10. DON'T whap on so many testosterone patches, o esteemed women's peloton, that you suddenly sound like James Earl Jones, develop a suspiciously Ben Affleck jawline, or actually grow a working, visible penis. Folks do notice.
11. DON'T hide your stash in the home of your family or friends. You're a wank to implicate them. And this, children, is why God created safe deposit boxes.
12. DON'T ever, ever, ever use your innocent dog's name in vain by making it a code name on your blood bags or in any other fashion. Because you're gonna go to hell. And you'll deserve it.
Well, dope fiends, most of you will still continue to cheat like the opportunistic amoral podium-hos that you are, and a select, unlucky few of you may even get caught doing it. But at least this way I'll still respect you in the morning!
1. DO say you didn't do it *one* time, then shut the hell up for all eternity and refer all questions to your lawyers. Sure, you're lying, but at least we only feel like punching you once.
2. DO make a date with a good spa and, if necessary, a spectacular plastic surgeon. To the pretty go the spoils. Sound extreme? I got three words for you, buddy: Basso, Valverde, Boonen. Now fer heck's sake pout those newly-plumped lips!
3. DO stick with the party drugs. Hell, even that idiot Schumi got off easy for amphetamines. Yum--coke!
4. DO confess to old offenses. Exhibit A: Erik Zabel. Come on, who doesn't love Zabel?
5. DO stay on UCI's good side by crusading against everyone else doping to conceal the fact that without it you no longer get the same results. Works for David Millar, right?
6. DO, despite a lifetime of self-absorption, now crave the charity circuit. Oooh--waifs!
7. DON'T believe UCI when they say you'll be rewarded for helping them, ever. So, how's Jorg Jaksche doing these days?
8. DON'T claim that someone slipped you a mickey at the club or in your water bottle. Even if it's true--and it's not--you're asinine. If you're really that paranoid, pay your grossly exploited soigneur an extra 50 bucks a night out of your Ferrari budget to guard your drink and stop insulting us with that bull!@#$.
9. DON'T hide behind your wife, girlfriend, or mother. It makes you look like a wuss, and frankly, if you do it, you ARE a wuss. Riccardo Ricco', read and learn!
10. DON'T whap on so many testosterone patches, o esteemed women's peloton, that you suddenly sound like James Earl Jones, develop a suspiciously Ben Affleck jawline, or actually grow a working, visible penis. Folks do notice.
11. DON'T hide your stash in the home of your family or friends. You're a wank to implicate them. And this, children, is why God created safe deposit boxes.
12. DON'T ever, ever, ever use your innocent dog's name in vain by making it a code name on your blood bags or in any other fashion. Because you're gonna go to hell. And you'll deserve it.
Well, dope fiends, most of you will still continue to cheat like the opportunistic amoral podium-hos that you are, and a select, unlucky few of you may even get caught doing it. But at least this way I'll still respect you in the morning!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
!@#dammit, Rebellin, You !@#$wad!
Aiiigggghhhhh!: okay, two cyclists are poz for drugs from the Olympics, and if my hopes already hadn't been crushed enough by this filthy disgusting cesspool of a sport by Iban and Roberto, from which I am distinctly still recovering and was just yesterday thinking how Heras' situation was all Denis Menchov's fault, now it's !@##$ing allegedly Classics god/aging-well Davide Rebellin down the tubes. Frankly, I don't care who the hell Scumbag No. 2 is, although if Valverde finally gets busted I suppose it'd be a glorious irony and if it's Samuel Sanchez perhaps that will send me quite over the edge, but I am extremely irked if for no other reason that someone who was buried in the peloton for the entirety of its prime doping years ought at least to have figured out how to do this !@#$ without screwing it up. What's far worse, this is just in time to completely jack over we-still-love-and-I-don't-give-a-crap-if-he-pimps-his-own-grandma-for-banned-substances-twenty-times-a-freakin'-day Gilberto Simoni for the Giro d'Italia. You moron, couldn't you have just stuck with the coke and X at the disco like everyone else?!
Gila Monster: of course, the big headline at the fawning princes of denial over at Gazzetta dello Sport is that, despite prohibitions against Pro Tour teams at such events, Armstrong is riding the Tour of the Gila, which, as long as we're exempting Armstrong from any rules whatsoever in order to kiss maximum cash-cow !@# we might as well just do with regard to everything else, including doping tests, the SATs, traffic laws, the criminal code, and the law of gravity while we're at it. I mean, I'm happy to see Levi and Horner ride, but man, can we act like there are *any* other riders left on Earth? Y'know, I'd like to suggest that the rules be similarly waived for, say, Floyd Landis so he can ride in Europe this season, but somehow I'm suspecting that suggestion wouldn't get quite the same reception....
I Wonder/I Wah-Wah-Wah-Wah-Wonder: why Liquigas, despite the formidable performance of St. Ivan of Varese in last week's Giro del Trentino, is still trumpeting Basso and golden-locked babe-muffin Franco Pellizotti as "co-captains" in the Giro? Just bluffing? Fear that a clean Basso of 2009 isn't quite the certainly-equally-clean Basso of 2006? Pellizotti threatening to sue their pants off for breach of contract? No, perhaps the two of 'em were given joint leadership to mollify 'em like tantruming tots when they were squabbling over preening time at the mirror in the team bus...
CSC What Happens When You Hose Wee Little Sastre?: yep, saving the Schlecks for the Grand Boucle, Bjarne's announced Saxo Bank's Giro squad, and though there's no GC contender in sight there is, thank goodness, Jens to randomly slap the field silly on the attack at will, JJ Haedo for the sprints, and Cancellara to hopefully herd the team to a time trial win. I know, I'll be rooting for the Italians in every other stage, cut me some slack--forza Jens!
Gila Monster: of course, the big headline at the fawning princes of denial over at Gazzetta dello Sport is that, despite prohibitions against Pro Tour teams at such events, Armstrong is riding the Tour of the Gila, which, as long as we're exempting Armstrong from any rules whatsoever in order to kiss maximum cash-cow !@# we might as well just do with regard to everything else, including doping tests, the SATs, traffic laws, the criminal code, and the law of gravity while we're at it. I mean, I'm happy to see Levi and Horner ride, but man, can we act like there are *any* other riders left on Earth? Y'know, I'd like to suggest that the rules be similarly waived for, say, Floyd Landis so he can ride in Europe this season, but somehow I'm suspecting that suggestion wouldn't get quite the same reception....
I Wonder/I Wah-Wah-Wah-Wah-Wonder: why Liquigas, despite the formidable performance of St. Ivan of Varese in last week's Giro del Trentino, is still trumpeting Basso and golden-locked babe-muffin Franco Pellizotti as "co-captains" in the Giro? Just bluffing? Fear that a clean Basso of 2009 isn't quite the certainly-equally-clean Basso of 2006? Pellizotti threatening to sue their pants off for breach of contract? No, perhaps the two of 'em were given joint leadership to mollify 'em like tantruming tots when they were squabbling over preening time at the mirror in the team bus...
CSC What Happens When You Hose Wee Little Sastre?: yep, saving the Schlecks for the Grand Boucle, Bjarne's announced Saxo Bank's Giro squad, and though there's no GC contender in sight there is, thank goodness, Jens to randomly slap the field silly on the attack at will, JJ Haedo for the sprints, and Cancellara to hopefully herd the team to a time trial win. I know, I'll be rooting for the Italians in every other stage, cut me some slack--forza Jens!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
You *Suck*, Cycling.tv!
Aaaaaaiiiigggghhhh! (Spoiler): you *blow*, cycling.tv! Here I am, enjoying my "live" coverage of the fabulous Liege-Bastogne-Liege, happily watching baby Schleck smile for the cameras as he's within 2k of the line with an unbeatable lead and indignantly wondering if I am the only person in the world who for once wanted to grab a fistful of doped-up syringes and collectively jam them in the !@#es of the lame disorganized numbnutted chase group to at least get them acting like it would be interesting to win or hell even halfway try to contest the race, when with 1k to go the picture entirely freezes up into a still photograph and I have to hear the race organizers describe in minute detail how little Schleck has all the time in the world to zip up his jersey give a victory salute come triumphantly across the line and, not incidentally, like half a freakin' hour to climb into the team bus for a nice massage and get back to the hotel for a nap before the picture unfreezes just in time to watch the rest of the boys straggle in after I've already heard what order they're in. What the hell, Cycling.tv?! We are in the absolute dead zone of cycling coverage here in the US, we're clearly ready to sell off excess body parts to raise money for the privilege of paying out the hoo-ha to get it, !@#dammit pay some chump with a videocamera charging on a stallion alongside the group as a backup if you !@#$ing well have to and don't lose us within like 20 yards of the finish line!
Thank you. And kindly don't even *think* of allowing this stupidity to happen during the Giro.
Regards,
Racejunkie
Thank you. And kindly don't even *think* of allowing this stupidity to happen during the Giro.
Regards,
Racejunkie
Friday, April 24, 2009
Tough Luck There, Alberto!
The French Back Off: yep, the pissy whiners at AFLD have finally decided to forgo any disciplinary action against Lance Armstrong for taking a post-ride shower and siccing Johan Bruyneel on their hapless urine-sample-collecting goon, citing, after intensive investigation, that "we look like a pack of !@#holes." Oh, poor little Contador--so close and yet so far--sure you don't want to offer to, say, start 'protecting' Lance's water-bottles from anyone (else) looking to take the King of All Creation down ahead of what would have been your Tour?
The Seventh Circle of Hell: indeed, that would be the latest address of we love Andreas Kloden, nut-kneeing the competition in the time trial Giro del Trentino (yes, I saw Simoni was 4th to Pampeago behind Basso's 2nd; he's just saving his legs for May, go to hell!) only to inform the press that Johan--I mean "Klodi"--'s decided to bag the Giro entirely in favor of the incredible honor and good fortune of being a totally subservient subhuman pace monkey to the overly-entitled supernova-of-an-ego that is Lance Armstrong at the Tour de France. Man, Klodi, bad enough that after repeat Tour podiums you were reduced to being Alberto's !@#$% (I could handle, if still be somewhat irked at, your being Levi's); how much lower can you go without actually being ordered to carry Lance up freakin' Alpe d'Huez tied on to your back? Now don't go getting any ideas, Johan...
Update: Yes, I read all about "T-Mobile" and "Klodi." I'm sure it's all a gigantic typo and Der Spiegel meant "Discovery" and "Armstrong." La-la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you-la-la-la....
Don't Mess With Bill (Lance, Whatever): Let's see. The Giro d'Italia race organizers are really excited that Lance is gonna ride their centenary Giro, even though he clearly doesn't give a rat's rump about the race, because he's gonna bring in more money and publicity than God. And Lance just happens to despise Italian national champ/anti-Lance activist Filippo Simeoni, who rides for Ceramica Flaminia, who the race organizers just barred from the Giro. And now, despite the outraged howls of Simeoni and Ceramica as to how a pack of--ack!--Spaniards at Xacobeo Galicia could be more deserving of riding the race than they, RCS is refusing to discuss their reasoning. Um, not to accuse RCS of cowboy-coddling or nothin', but I can't help but surmise that, since Basso, DiLuca, Petacchi, and the CERA-suckin' Ricco's alma mater Fuji are all being welcomed to the race, the problem sure as heck ain't Simeoni's doping history. Or am I just being paranoid here?
Now These Boys Have Their Priorities Straight: finally, for your delectation, here's a spankin' new bike-friendly ad from the fine folks at Stella Artois, for whom I am not a paid shill, for the record, though I am certainly open to soul-selling bribery:
The Seventh Circle of Hell: indeed, that would be the latest address of we love Andreas Kloden, nut-kneeing the competition in the time trial Giro del Trentino (yes, I saw Simoni was 4th to Pampeago behind Basso's 2nd; he's just saving his legs for May, go to hell!) only to inform the press that Johan--I mean "Klodi"--'s decided to bag the Giro entirely in favor of the incredible honor and good fortune of being a totally subservient subhuman pace monkey to the overly-entitled supernova-of-an-ego that is Lance Armstrong at the Tour de France. Man, Klodi, bad enough that after repeat Tour podiums you were reduced to being Alberto's !@#$% (I could handle, if still be somewhat irked at, your being Levi's); how much lower can you go without actually being ordered to carry Lance up freakin' Alpe d'Huez tied on to your back? Now don't go getting any ideas, Johan...
Update: Yes, I read all about "T-Mobile" and "Klodi." I'm sure it's all a gigantic typo and Der Spiegel meant "Discovery" and "Armstrong." La-la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you-la-la-la....
Don't Mess With Bill (Lance, Whatever): Let's see. The Giro d'Italia race organizers are really excited that Lance is gonna ride their centenary Giro, even though he clearly doesn't give a rat's rump about the race, because he's gonna bring in more money and publicity than God. And Lance just happens to despise Italian national champ/anti-Lance activist Filippo Simeoni, who rides for Ceramica Flaminia, who the race organizers just barred from the Giro. And now, despite the outraged howls of Simeoni and Ceramica as to how a pack of--ack!--Spaniards at Xacobeo Galicia could be more deserving of riding the race than they, RCS is refusing to discuss their reasoning. Um, not to accuse RCS of cowboy-coddling or nothin', but I can't help but surmise that, since Basso, DiLuca, Petacchi, and the CERA-suckin' Ricco's alma mater Fuji are all being welcomed to the race, the problem sure as heck ain't Simeoni's doping history. Or am I just being paranoid here?
Now These Boys Have Their Priorities Straight: finally, for your delectation, here's a spankin' new bike-friendly ad from the fine folks at Stella Artois, for whom I am not a paid shill, for the record, though I am certainly open to soul-selling bribery:
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Put Up Or Shut Up, Already!
UCI's Yippin' Again: yep, our intermittently doping-averse friends at UCI are almost on the warpath yet once more, warning us for the umpteenth time that they're really, really, really gone name some dirty, dirty dopers busted by their vaunted Biological Passport program, this time as soon as they have a nice cup of tea and read the morning newspaper, head out to the park for a romp with the dog, stop by mum's house for a chat and some of her famous chocolate-chip cookies, pick up the dry-cleaning, take out the garbage, finally get around to cleaning out the gutters over the garage and--oops!--time for dinner so I guess this'll have to wait for tomorrow now anyway. Damn, UCI, you already gave the boys more than enough time to amp up their pre-season blood values by announcing the program half a year before you implemented the thing--if you've managed to pull off even a quasi-sustainable poz out of this farce despite such stupidity, then either !@#damn name 'em or !@#damn shut up til you can actually justify one already!
B-b-b-bad To the Bone: and, controversy continues over the Theo Bos/Daryl Impey sprint incident at the Tour of Turkey, and while you can judge for yourself here,, for my money, when even notoriously cheap-shot-prone Robbie "Head Butt" McEwen thinks you've pulled a wank move, you're one testosterone-OD away from a Mike Tyson impromptu in-fight earlobectomy. Y'know, watching the replay, it is sorta like those helpful tifosi giving a gentle push to a struggling climber up a muscle-draining Dolomite pass, if you're also trying to shove 'em off the mountainside I suppose...
18 Days and Counting: meanwhile, it's less'n three weeks now til the 100th Giro d'Italia hits the road, and the Liquigas boys are out in force going over the team time trial course, leading to rapturous well-wishes by the tifosi and, in case any of you should remotely doubt St. Ivan of Varese's return to purity, even more irreproachable photos of him cavorting humbly with wide-eyed bambini on his website. Just look at 'im--who could doubt such a wholesome creature? So lay off him, you soulless, cynical vultures!
Coming Around Again: finally, I note with pleasure that for those of you still heartbroken that doper-haven Rock Racing is about to tank, Danilo Hondo is ready to take up the charge in his own native stomping grounds, already contemplating putting together a new squad of his own, not only with him to helm the professional medical needs of, I mean the professional development of, a pack of innocent newbies, but, he hopes, with we-still-miss-him-and-like-you-don't-either Jan Ullrich at his back. Oh, as if you won't enjoy watching 'em too, you lurid voyeurs!
B-b-b-bad To the Bone: and, controversy continues over the Theo Bos/Daryl Impey sprint incident at the Tour of Turkey, and while you can judge for yourself here,, for my money, when even notoriously cheap-shot-prone Robbie "Head Butt" McEwen thinks you've pulled a wank move, you're one testosterone-OD away from a Mike Tyson impromptu in-fight earlobectomy. Y'know, watching the replay, it is sorta like those helpful tifosi giving a gentle push to a struggling climber up a muscle-draining Dolomite pass, if you're also trying to shove 'em off the mountainside I suppose...
18 Days and Counting: meanwhile, it's less'n three weeks now til the 100th Giro d'Italia hits the road, and the Liquigas boys are out in force going over the team time trial course, leading to rapturous well-wishes by the tifosi and, in case any of you should remotely doubt St. Ivan of Varese's return to purity, even more irreproachable photos of him cavorting humbly with wide-eyed bambini on his website. Just look at 'im--who could doubt such a wholesome creature? So lay off him, you soulless, cynical vultures!
Coming Around Again: finally, I note with pleasure that for those of you still heartbroken that doper-haven Rock Racing is about to tank, Danilo Hondo is ready to take up the charge in his own native stomping grounds, already contemplating putting together a new squad of his own, not only with him to helm the professional medical needs of, I mean the professional development of, a pack of innocent newbies, but, he hopes, with we-still-miss-him-and-like-you-don't-either Jan Ullrich at his back. Oh, as if you won't enjoy watching 'em too, you lurid voyeurs!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
What Else?
All right, we all know what happened: Tyler Hamilton came up poz on a banned substance, and retired. And the reactions have been all over the map, from "screw him, he's a lying !@#$%$#@ *again*" to "leave him alone, the poor guy's ill" to the tifosi's relief and pride Cipollini bailed out of that freak show to a burned-out "just go *away* already." Me? After agonizing over why I feel so ambivalent, I think we're dealing with basically three aspects of Tyler (or his career) here:
1. Tyler the Badass: love him or hate him, you gotta admit, even in a sport filled with perversely ecstastic masochists who live for pain--and I concede that, as someone whose greatest physical struggle typically involves manhandling a stubborn cork out of a wine bottle, I do find it mystifying--Tyler stands out. Climbing up some of the most fearsome mountains in the game while pounding on a broken collarbone with every twitch of your body, no matter how much crap you're taking to (1) get you there or (2) kill the agony itself, is nothing if not spectacular. On this one, he was unforgettable, and nothing else he ever did changes it.
2. Tyler the Lying Sack of !@#$: Whatever pathetic need to believe in this sport and its heroes that led me to deface one of his expensive charity's hats with a desperate blazing-red "Free Tyler!" was totally blasted out of the water when he claimed, among other ridiculous excuses, his blood values were off the charts because he ate his own twin. Ya doped--deny it and shut the hell up, or admit it and shut the hell up, but don't have the total lack of grace and the contempt for everyone around you to spew ludicrous bull!@@# like that. In fact, Captain Implausible, it's the reason that an awful lot of good and sympathetic folks now have the sneaking suspicion, or outright claim, that your latest wah-ing is just another in a long line of disgusting scam-artistry. And frankly, using your depression to excuse never owning up to what happened and to quash any entirely fair and reasonable questions about your actual motives now is a punk-!@#, cowardly move. Zero, zero, zero sympathy here.
3. Tyler the Patient: he's got an illness, it's still got a stigma, his facing it and, even more, going public with it takes strength. And part of what's so sad about this whimpering end to Tyler's career is that the antidepressants he was taking that apparently weren't working aren't even on the UCI's banned list. But as someone who lost her dear mom to cancer, I have to say that if he is *remotely* using for one iota of a microsecond her struggle and his reaction to it as a means to justify or garner sympathy for something as base, inconsequential, and stupid as a doping poz--and I will assume, because he's a human being, that he isn't and wouldn't--he oughta zip it right there, unequivocally, for good, and never speak to the press or public again. Meantime, I hope he finds whatever he needs to get and to stay well, because the last thing this sport needs is another Vandenbrouckian or Pantaniesque tragic downward spiral. And perhaps someday, he'll come to terms with owning up.
Oh, and Michael Ball, you couldn't've helped him. He had to find his own way there. But what you can do to help everyone incidentally, is stop hiring every !@#$%in' unrepentant dope fiend on the planet, dressing 'em up in terror-inspiring acid-green spandex, and calling 'em a cycling team.
All right folks, that's all the thinkin' I can do on a weekend without making my head hurt. Tomorrow, it's back to the trenches!
1. Tyler the Badass: love him or hate him, you gotta admit, even in a sport filled with perversely ecstastic masochists who live for pain--and I concede that, as someone whose greatest physical struggle typically involves manhandling a stubborn cork out of a wine bottle, I do find it mystifying--Tyler stands out. Climbing up some of the most fearsome mountains in the game while pounding on a broken collarbone with every twitch of your body, no matter how much crap you're taking to (1) get you there or (2) kill the agony itself, is nothing if not spectacular. On this one, he was unforgettable, and nothing else he ever did changes it.
2. Tyler the Lying Sack of !@#$: Whatever pathetic need to believe in this sport and its heroes that led me to deface one of his expensive charity's hats with a desperate blazing-red "Free Tyler!" was totally blasted out of the water when he claimed, among other ridiculous excuses, his blood values were off the charts because he ate his own twin. Ya doped--deny it and shut the hell up, or admit it and shut the hell up, but don't have the total lack of grace and the contempt for everyone around you to spew ludicrous bull!@@# like that. In fact, Captain Implausible, it's the reason that an awful lot of good and sympathetic folks now have the sneaking suspicion, or outright claim, that your latest wah-ing is just another in a long line of disgusting scam-artistry. And frankly, using your depression to excuse never owning up to what happened and to quash any entirely fair and reasonable questions about your actual motives now is a punk-!@#, cowardly move. Zero, zero, zero sympathy here.
3. Tyler the Patient: he's got an illness, it's still got a stigma, his facing it and, even more, going public with it takes strength. And part of what's so sad about this whimpering end to Tyler's career is that the antidepressants he was taking that apparently weren't working aren't even on the UCI's banned list. But as someone who lost her dear mom to cancer, I have to say that if he is *remotely* using for one iota of a microsecond her struggle and his reaction to it as a means to justify or garner sympathy for something as base, inconsequential, and stupid as a doping poz--and I will assume, because he's a human being, that he isn't and wouldn't--he oughta zip it right there, unequivocally, for good, and never speak to the press or public again. Meantime, I hope he finds whatever he needs to get and to stay well, because the last thing this sport needs is another Vandenbrouckian or Pantaniesque tragic downward spiral. And perhaps someday, he'll come to terms with owning up.
Oh, and Michael Ball, you couldn't've helped him. He had to find his own way there. But what you can do to help everyone incidentally, is stop hiring every !@#$%in' unrepentant dope fiend on the planet, dressing 'em up in terror-inspiring acid-green spandex, and calling 'em a cycling team.
All right folks, that's all the thinkin' I can do on a weekend without making my head hurt. Tomorrow, it's back to the trenches!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
A Pound of Flecha
The Thrilla in...Well, Paris: so that was a roarin' Roubaix, with Hincapie and Devolder knocked out by the Worst Timed Mechanicals Ever, an enraged Leif Hoste--always the slightly-pitiable Dean Martin to Boonen's too-suave Frank Sinatra--sidelined by a careening Juan Antonio Flecha, a surprisingly strong we love Thor Hushovd done in by a slight misjudgment just as he'd surged ahead of Tom, and our Belgian babe magnet just powering away for the win as a booed-beered-and-spit-soaked Pozzato lumbers into second. The fallout? Pozzato cussing out the (pretty low-rent, I grant you) lougie-wielding fans, Boonen copping to indifferent form, Hushovd bemoaning his carelessness, Armstrong tweeting that he thought that watching a bunch of lame-!@# male debutantes at the Masters golf tournament was more interesting than the race, and freakin' everybody lamming into Flecha for (1) wheel-slurpin' laziness and (2) flat-out stupidity. Add to that, the poor fans seriously whomped by a moronothon race moto and the usual gauze-n-blood-covered body count, and you've got yourself a Classic! Question: so is Hincapie, having lost the big one once more at the fossilized age of 35, gonna call it quits, or is he gonna try to live the dream for one more year?
Prijs Release Me/Let Me Go: meantime, in today's action, Robbie McEwen is whining that someone else made him crash and burn *again*, Boonen's foot is disturbingly sore, and the Italians are already crowing that Petacchi's gonna beat the crap out of all the other big boys at the Giro. In related Giro news, dreamy-eyed ex--um, nothin'! he didn't do nothin! Ivan Basso sez he's on smashing form, leaving the tifosi in paroxysms of all-caps-and-exclamation-point-laden ecstasy over his inevitable grasp of the final maglia rosa in May. Hell, more likely him than Cunego, right?
Pimp My Website: yep, Tour hopeful Cadel Evans' new site is up, and to his credit, it's buckets jazzier'n his old one, with the added bonus that you can leave him cheerful notes of encouragement as to his form and Silence-Lotto's excruciating inability to give him the backup firepower he'll need in July. Even better, elsewhere on the web Pippo Pozzato'll actually respond to you if you drop him a note, so if you're Belgian, still can't let go of the Flanders wheel-suck debacle, but were unfortunately too well-raised to actually go up and spit on 'im, you can simply insult him in writing and likely receive an interesting response. But perhaps he could use a little love after this week!
You Ain't The Only One, Honey: finally, if I were ex-Liberty Seguros (alleged!) lab rat Alberto Contador, I'd've thunk twice last week about crowing over how blown away I am by my own shockingly instantaneous improvement in the time trial of late, if only because every time someone totally physically unsuited to the discipline suddenly goes into hyperspeed in it--like his old teammate we-still-love-him-because-he-was-a-perfect-climber-so-bite-me-you-merciless-goons Roberto Heras--he inevitably ends up in the headlines with an IV in disconcertingly close proximity to every single vein in his body. Begging for a twice-daily visit from the narcs, are we?--you better be grateful AFLD likes you better'n Lance, kid!
Prijs Release Me/Let Me Go: meantime, in today's action, Robbie McEwen is whining that someone else made him crash and burn *again*, Boonen's foot is disturbingly sore, and the Italians are already crowing that Petacchi's gonna beat the crap out of all the other big boys at the Giro. In related Giro news, dreamy-eyed ex--um, nothin'! he didn't do nothin! Ivan Basso sez he's on smashing form, leaving the tifosi in paroxysms of all-caps-and-exclamation-point-laden ecstasy over his inevitable grasp of the final maglia rosa in May. Hell, more likely him than Cunego, right?
Pimp My Website: yep, Tour hopeful Cadel Evans' new site is up, and to his credit, it's buckets jazzier'n his old one, with the added bonus that you can leave him cheerful notes of encouragement as to his form and Silence-Lotto's excruciating inability to give him the backup firepower he'll need in July. Even better, elsewhere on the web Pippo Pozzato'll actually respond to you if you drop him a note, so if you're Belgian, still can't let go of the Flanders wheel-suck debacle, but were unfortunately too well-raised to actually go up and spit on 'im, you can simply insult him in writing and likely receive an interesting response. But perhaps he could use a little love after this week!
You Ain't The Only One, Honey: finally, if I were ex-Liberty Seguros (alleged!) lab rat Alberto Contador, I'd've thunk twice last week about crowing over how blown away I am by my own shockingly instantaneous improvement in the time trial of late, if only because every time someone totally physically unsuited to the discipline suddenly goes into hyperspeed in it--like his old teammate we-still-love-him-because-he-was-a-perfect-climber-so-bite-me-you-merciless-goons Roberto Heras--he inevitably ends up in the headlines with an IV in disconcertingly close proximity to every single vein in his body. Begging for a twice-daily visit from the narcs, are we?--you better be grateful AFLD likes you better'n Lance, kid!
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
It's Not Easy Being Green; and, A Call To Action
...Or A Guy Dense Enough To Name His Blood Bags After His Dog, Either: yep, despite the objections of the rabidly anti-doping Spanish authorities, Alejandro "The Green Bullet" Valverde's hearing in Italy is set for May 11, where our still-unscathed hero is gonna have to try to delay any ban from riding on Italian soil til at least after the Tour de France, which, of course, should the ban be in place, would DQ him from riding for GC in the Tour because one stage crosses briefly over into Italy. Given how ticked off they are over Basso's cruel 3-year exclusion, good luck with that one Alejandro! Oh, well, you could always pull a Ricco' and keep yourself busy teaching spinning classes--at least then you won't have to face the press after blowing the Grand Boucle *again*!
It's My Body and I'll Cry If I Want To: so Lance, predictably, has gone on the offensive over the French accusations of grievous etiquette violations, claiming of course he couldn't give a blood or urine sample til after he'd had time for a nice hot shower and his manservant Johan spent half an hour checking the narc's credentials anyway. Okay, Lance, it was an inconvenience, and I sympathize with the hideous damage to your beautiful coiffure, but am I the only one who remembers poor shocked Kevin Van Impe being accosted for a doping control then threatened with sanctions right after he'd learned his infant son had died? Yeah, Lance, *that* it ain't. So suck it up, quit whining (as should the French, while we're at it), and move on already--and oughtn't you at least pretend to keep an eye on the surging Contador?
World's Dumbest Criminals: and, congrats to alleged master thief Lee Crider and general master doofus Dung Le, busted for, respectively, stealin'-and-sellin' and possessing Lance and two other Astana boys' incredibly inconspicuous specially-pimped bikes from a team truck at the Tour of California. Um, I don't remotely want to encourage this sort of knavery, but neither of you two rocket scientists ever heard the handy phrase "repaint it first"?
As If!: meanwhile, I see time trial genius (oops, almost) Stefan Schumacher, banned for 2 years after an exceedingly impressive 2008 Tour de France, has appealed his case to the CAS, which, particularly since he's protesting his actual innocence, sez it unfortunately won't be able to hand down its predetermined screwover til the near-end of the season. !@#dammit, Schumi--quit yapping about this meaningless "justice" crapola--just grab yourself a forlorn-lookin' baby to kiss and start chasing down the paparazzi with it already!
Yes, We Can!: finally, I've just learned the European wine industry is in serious trouble, and folks, as lovers of international cycling, it's frankly our duty to fix it. Therefore, in the interests of saving our beloved sport, and because I just plain like alcohol, I propose a new drinking game: (1) every time the Italians wank about Valverde, toss back Chianti Classico. (2) every time the Spaniards complain about the Italians wanking about Valverde, it's a glass of Tempranillo. (3) every time the French whine about--jeez, what don't they whine about come to think of it, but let's stick with Armstrong anyway--snarf up a nice Bordeaux. I guarantee, with these options, we will have this industry back up and rolling within days. Now get out that corkscrew, and allez, allez!
It's My Body and I'll Cry If I Want To: so Lance, predictably, has gone on the offensive over the French accusations of grievous etiquette violations, claiming of course he couldn't give a blood or urine sample til after he'd had time for a nice hot shower and his manservant Johan spent half an hour checking the narc's credentials anyway. Okay, Lance, it was an inconvenience, and I sympathize with the hideous damage to your beautiful coiffure, but am I the only one who remembers poor shocked Kevin Van Impe being accosted for a doping control then threatened with sanctions right after he'd learned his infant son had died? Yeah, Lance, *that* it ain't. So suck it up, quit whining (as should the French, while we're at it), and move on already--and oughtn't you at least pretend to keep an eye on the surging Contador?
World's Dumbest Criminals: and, congrats to alleged master thief Lee Crider and general master doofus Dung Le, busted for, respectively, stealin'-and-sellin' and possessing Lance and two other Astana boys' incredibly inconspicuous specially-pimped bikes from a team truck at the Tour of California. Um, I don't remotely want to encourage this sort of knavery, but neither of you two rocket scientists ever heard the handy phrase "repaint it first"?
As If!: meanwhile, I see time trial genius (oops, almost) Stefan Schumacher, banned for 2 years after an exceedingly impressive 2008 Tour de France, has appealed his case to the CAS, which, particularly since he's protesting his actual innocence, sez it unfortunately won't be able to hand down its predetermined screwover til the near-end of the season. !@#dammit, Schumi--quit yapping about this meaningless "justice" crapola--just grab yourself a forlorn-lookin' baby to kiss and start chasing down the paparazzi with it already!
Yes, We Can!: finally, I've just learned the European wine industry is in serious trouble, and folks, as lovers of international cycling, it's frankly our duty to fix it. Therefore, in the interests of saving our beloved sport, and because I just plain like alcohol, I propose a new drinking game: (1) every time the Italians wank about Valverde, toss back Chianti Classico. (2) every time the Spaniards complain about the Italians wanking about Valverde, it's a glass of Tempranillo. (3) every time the French whine about--jeez, what don't they whine about come to think of it, but let's stick with Armstrong anyway--snarf up a nice Bordeaux. I guarantee, with these options, we will have this industry back up and rolling within days. Now get out that corkscrew, and allez, allez!
Monday, April 06, 2009
Foiled Again!
Nasty Boy: yes, the triumphant French narcs over at AFLD have nailed Lance Armstrong at last: they've sent a scathing report about his--you guessed it!--behavior during his recent hair-sample gathering to the guardians of etiquette at UCI and WADA, which means, of course, they've failed to get him for actual doping *again*. A violation of politesse by this uncouth barbarian cowboy-pig--quelle horreur! Um, not to tell the French how to prioritize, but isn't there, say, one or two other podium-shot riders we can all think of, perhaps even in the same team kit, who they might more profitably turn their attention to ahead of July?
I Feel a Hot Wind/On My Shoulder/Must Be the Breath of Stijn Devolder: wow, did race fave Pippo Pozzato hose himself suckin' on Tom Boonen so tightly, and while those two trade whines over their colossal mutual woof, I must concede that, while I was actually rooting for we love Thor Hushovd because I'm still stinging from big Maggy Backstedt's casual remark that he oughta be Heinrich Haussler's lead-out--and even a bit for Tom just because hardly anyone picked him either--Devolder's whomping two-fer of a breakaway-shattering solo run absolutely kicked !@#. Oh well...at least Pozzato looks very "Make Me a Supermodel" on his slinky new website!
Killer Queen: meantime, the Queen of Classics, Paris-Roubaix, is almost here, and in my usual paean to losing causes I'll say flat out I desperately want Hincapie to take it, if only because anyone who has the craptastic luck to have his steerer tube shear off his bike while in great position for victory and the stellar reflexes not to impale himself on the thing like he's committing hara-kiri has really, in my view, already earned the thing. Heck, the world owes him *some* justice for killing himself at Lance's service for so many years with only one lousy Tour de France stage win as his thanks in return!
Take On Me: finally, as the Italians continue to pursue Alejandro Valverde in vengeance for Ivan Basso being justly busted for Op Puerto, I see the Spaniards, who in the last years've masterfully avoided taking any action against anyone among a whole peloton's worth of drugged-up home-grown skankballs, are suddenly aggressively declaring jurisdiction over Alejandro, no doubt so they can help make sure those old needle marks are well-covered by makeup by the time he's forced to testify about a truckload of blood bags that not only belong to someone else's dog entirely but will also almost certainly mysteriously disappear sometime this week and render the entire inquiry moot before he even has time to lose this year's Tour in his own right, *again.* See, Italy, they're all for equal punishment for equal crimes--if you're Italian or German, that is!
I Feel a Hot Wind/On My Shoulder/Must Be the Breath of Stijn Devolder: wow, did race fave Pippo Pozzato hose himself suckin' on Tom Boonen so tightly, and while those two trade whines over their colossal mutual woof, I must concede that, while I was actually rooting for we love Thor Hushovd because I'm still stinging from big Maggy Backstedt's casual remark that he oughta be Heinrich Haussler's lead-out--and even a bit for Tom just because hardly anyone picked him either--Devolder's whomping two-fer of a breakaway-shattering solo run absolutely kicked !@#. Oh well...at least Pozzato looks very "Make Me a Supermodel" on his slinky new website!
Killer Queen: meantime, the Queen of Classics, Paris-Roubaix, is almost here, and in my usual paean to losing causes I'll say flat out I desperately want Hincapie to take it, if only because anyone who has the craptastic luck to have his steerer tube shear off his bike while in great position for victory and the stellar reflexes not to impale himself on the thing like he's committing hara-kiri has really, in my view, already earned the thing. Heck, the world owes him *some* justice for killing himself at Lance's service for so many years with only one lousy Tour de France stage win as his thanks in return!
Take On Me: finally, as the Italians continue to pursue Alejandro Valverde in vengeance for Ivan Basso being justly busted for Op Puerto, I see the Spaniards, who in the last years've masterfully avoided taking any action against anyone among a whole peloton's worth of drugged-up home-grown skankballs, are suddenly aggressively declaring jurisdiction over Alejandro, no doubt so they can help make sure those old needle marks are well-covered by makeup by the time he's forced to testify about a truckload of blood bags that not only belong to someone else's dog entirely but will also almost certainly mysteriously disappear sometime this week and render the entire inquiry moot before he even has time to lose this year's Tour in his own right, *again.* See, Italy, they're all for equal punishment for equal crimes--if you're Italian or German, that is!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wow Italia!
On the Attack: so with Giorgia Bronzini smoking the trackies, Pozzato finally reeling in the wins, and even LPR taking a team time trial this week, the real surprise is how good Damiano Cunego, whose record of choking in three-week stage races since his inaugural win as a baby is matched only by his fanatic tifosi's spectacular denial of same, is looking. With Garzelli and Simoni aging, DiLuca being hosed out of Classics--and thus valuable training--left and right despite LPR's apparent compliance with the useless biological passport, Basso improving but not enough yet to confirm he's gonna be who he was two years ago, is it possible this all-talk-limited-action Giro aspirant could really take the whole show in May? Holy moly, we might really have an actual competition here!
Thank You Sir, May I Have Another?: meantime, the ever-doormat that is Andreas Kloden is feeling confident about Astana's killer squad for the Tour, and also saying he has no plans whatsoever to retire any time soon, as the poor doomed sod has a contract with Astana through--gnurk!--2010. Oh Klodi, you've tasted multiple Grand Tour podiums, you could no doubt do more, you're far too good to be some wanky little brat's and past-his-prime giganto-ego's pacesetting !@#$%--how many times must I plead with you people, GEEEETTTTTT OUUUUUUUUTTTTTT!
The First Annual Let's Celebrate Diversity Day: yep, lest anyone think it's only the Spaniards who have an all-star doping doc in the person of Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes, former T-Mobile mastermind Rudy Pevenage is here to enlighten: France, Belgium, Italy and Switzerland have their unsung medical heroes, too, except no-one's had the stones to rat them out. The French, doping--no! Oh, wait...no wonder the Spaniards feel picked on!
Jailhouse Blues: and, I see Bernhard Kohl's manager, arrested earlier in the day for pimping doping producs to athletes including the above, has already confessed to blood-transfusing him, which is presumably the subject of Kohl's press conference set for this evening. Luckily, he seems to have been the supplier for athletes other than cyclists as well, which gives some hope that someone, somewhere, in the Austrian peloton remains clean. Anyone willing to hazard any names--or are we all too used to being disappointed by now?
The Law of Unintended Consequences: finally, as the world eagerly scans every gross photo of Armstrong's gory surgical dressings, if I didn't already love gazzetta dello sport enough for its relentless coddling of all riders Italian, here's another reason to love it even more: perfectly juxtaposed with the video-feed headline "Contador on Armstrong's Injury" is a still shot of our princeling weighing in--and he's smiling broadly. Perfetto, Gazzetta--you may now resume complaining about Alejandro Valverde!
Oh, and we love Jens!
Thank You Sir, May I Have Another?: meantime, the ever-doormat that is Andreas Kloden is feeling confident about Astana's killer squad for the Tour, and also saying he has no plans whatsoever to retire any time soon, as the poor doomed sod has a contract with Astana through--gnurk!--2010. Oh Klodi, you've tasted multiple Grand Tour podiums, you could no doubt do more, you're far too good to be some wanky little brat's and past-his-prime giganto-ego's pacesetting !@#$%--how many times must I plead with you people, GEEEETTTTTT OUUUUUUUUTTTTTT!
The First Annual Let's Celebrate Diversity Day: yep, lest anyone think it's only the Spaniards who have an all-star doping doc in the person of Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes, former T-Mobile mastermind Rudy Pevenage is here to enlighten: France, Belgium, Italy and Switzerland have their unsung medical heroes, too, except no-one's had the stones to rat them out. The French, doping--no! Oh, wait...no wonder the Spaniards feel picked on!
Jailhouse Blues: and, I see Bernhard Kohl's manager, arrested earlier in the day for pimping doping producs to athletes including the above, has already confessed to blood-transfusing him, which is presumably the subject of Kohl's press conference set for this evening. Luckily, he seems to have been the supplier for athletes other than cyclists as well, which gives some hope that someone, somewhere, in the Austrian peloton remains clean. Anyone willing to hazard any names--or are we all too used to being disappointed by now?
The Law of Unintended Consequences: finally, as the world eagerly scans every gross photo of Armstrong's gory surgical dressings, if I didn't already love gazzetta dello sport enough for its relentless coddling of all riders Italian, here's another reason to love it even more: perfectly juxtaposed with the video-feed headline "Contador on Armstrong's Injury" is a still shot of our princeling weighing in--and he's smiling broadly. Perfetto, Gazzetta--you may now resume complaining about Alejandro Valverde!
Oh, and we love Jens!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Sowing the Seeds of Love
You're My Best Friend: as the love-fest continues between the recuperating Lance "I Like You, I Just Think You're Stupid" Armstrong and Alberto "Get Well Soon So You Can Ride the...Giro" Contador, I must say I find it equally heartening that the same good feeling flows from Contador to we love Levi Leipheimer, for whom Alberto is generously delighted to domestique, so long as the old bat doesn't get all uppity over a paltry handful of Grand Tour podiums and a wunk of stage wins and unquestioningly takes his place beneath Contador's nut-kicking bike cleats in July. Aw, someone learned their lesson on "sharing" in nursery school!
The whole problem, of course, could be easily solved by Lance's following through on his reported interest in buying up the Tour de France, which'd not only have the so-sweet satisfaction of humiliating the French even more'n their losing the last 20 Tours to a pack of low-life McDonald's-sucking foreigners, but would also, one imagines, give a certain amount of influence over who snags an invite to the Grand Boucle in the coming years. You want it Alberto?--wag your !@@ and bark like a dog for it! I said BARK, Fido!
BalaBiteMe: meantime, Alejandro "The Green Bullet" Valverde, who joined the Vuelta a Castilla y Leon in a last-second snit he was starting to get overshadowed by Lance and Alberto, I mean, in a thoughtfully-calculated modification to his originally-planned training program, had two great rides at the Vuelta, reminding the foaming-nationalist Italian tifosi how incredibly pissed they still are that the Green Bastard's been winning races the last two years while fellow Op Puerto culprit (and not even really a culprit! just an *attempted* culprit!) St. Ivan of Varese has been cruelly and unjustly banned from the bike. Don't worry, Alejandro, I'm sure they'll get over it in time for your grandchildren to race in Italy without the fans hunting 'em down like wild boars...'til then, enjoy the sunny weather in Spain, or take yer chances!
Back in Black: finally, it's a tentative welcome back to disgraced-yet-beloved (oh, give me a !@#damn break, like you don't miss him!)perpetual-trainwreck Jan Ullrich, whose ol' mentor in blood-value adjustment, Rudy Pevenage, reports may join the management team at Rock Racing, which, incidentally, is looking for an even more unbearably egomaniacal showman of a sponsor than Michael Ball, so long as he's got the dough to ease the pain. Come back, Jan--wouldn't it at least give you great publicity ahead of your promised tell-all?
The whole problem, of course, could be easily solved by Lance's following through on his reported interest in buying up the Tour de France, which'd not only have the so-sweet satisfaction of humiliating the French even more'n their losing the last 20 Tours to a pack of low-life McDonald's-sucking foreigners, but would also, one imagines, give a certain amount of influence over who snags an invite to the Grand Boucle in the coming years. You want it Alberto?--wag your !@@ and bark like a dog for it! I said BARK, Fido!
BalaBiteMe: meantime, Alejandro "The Green Bullet" Valverde, who joined the Vuelta a Castilla y Leon in a last-second snit he was starting to get overshadowed by Lance and Alberto, I mean, in a thoughtfully-calculated modification to his originally-planned training program, had two great rides at the Vuelta, reminding the foaming-nationalist Italian tifosi how incredibly pissed they still are that the Green Bastard's been winning races the last two years while fellow Op Puerto culprit (and not even really a culprit! just an *attempted* culprit!) St. Ivan of Varese has been cruelly and unjustly banned from the bike. Don't worry, Alejandro, I'm sure they'll get over it in time for your grandchildren to race in Italy without the fans hunting 'em down like wild boars...'til then, enjoy the sunny weather in Spain, or take yer chances!
Back in Black: finally, it's a tentative welcome back to disgraced-yet-beloved (oh, give me a !@#damn break, like you don't miss him!)perpetual-trainwreck Jan Ullrich, whose ol' mentor in blood-value adjustment, Rudy Pevenage, reports may join the management team at Rock Racing, which, incidentally, is looking for an even more unbearably egomaniacal showman of a sponsor than Michael Ball, so long as he's got the dough to ease the pain. Come back, Jan--wouldn't it at least give you great publicity ahead of your promised tell-all?
Monday, March 23, 2009
I'm Sorry, Was That My Bike Pump I Accidentally Shoved Into Your Spokes?
Yes, as every clueless noncycling news outlet immediately started shrieking like they were reporting a catastrophic spontaneous explosion of the entire Earth, Lance has indeed fractured his collarbone, and while it was allegedly the crappy Spanish roads that took Armstrong out, not any nefarious underhanded bushwhacking by his baby savant teammate Contador, for my money--aside from the Italians getting to breathe a ginormous sigh of relief that they needn't collectively juice themselves beyond all human recognition just to guarantee one of their own takes the 100th edition of their national race this May--the big story is that with his like-he-ever-gave-it-a-rat's-!@#-about-it-anyway Giro jacked, it seems a virtual statistical certainty that Armstrong is now gonna take, and Contador is completely and officially screwed out of, the team leadership at the Tour. Scope out the Plateau de Beille? Practice your (freakishly improved) time-trialling? The hell with that, Alberto--just practice stuffing multiple water bottles down your jersey and zippin' 'em on up to your master from the team car instead--and give me your bike, you peasant, I've just gotten an ill-timed flat!
Of course, there's always the possibility that Lance will bail on his Tour--and thus his entire comeback--in the next day or so, which, however utterly lame an ending to his perpetually whored return, he'll certainly do if he feels remotely like he won't be the blinding star shining on top of the final podium in Paris for win number 8. In this event, (1) Vs., if you even *think* of displacing Phil Liggett, Paul Sherwen, Bob Roll or even, by god, the vomitoriously atrocious Al Trautwig as commentator in favor of this arrogant unbearable wank at the Tour for one single second, I swear I'm gonna start a massive global publicity-blitz campaign demanding an immediate return to full-time bass-fishing programming, and (2) despite his likely new-found optimism, Contador might as well quit the Tour now and hit the beach anyhow, as every no-neck ESPN talking-head troglodyte is gonna yap 5,000,000 times in July even when Contador freakin' wins the Tour that he'd obviously never have done it if Armstrong were there.
And I won't even point out, because I'm not a wholly callous smirking troll, how perfectly ironic it is that Armstrong was the only rider really taken out in this multi-cyclist accident just days after he blasted Contador for being an inexperienced error-prone twit. Now, sincere wishes to Lance for a speedy recovery, let's leave the poor guy to get some much-needed rest, and--Alberto! Put down that champagne! Turn off that damn techo music and quit dancing around! You've got a race to ride tomorrow!
Oh, and here's the replay:
Of course, there's always the possibility that Lance will bail on his Tour--and thus his entire comeback--in the next day or so, which, however utterly lame an ending to his perpetually whored return, he'll certainly do if he feels remotely like he won't be the blinding star shining on top of the final podium in Paris for win number 8. In this event, (1) Vs., if you even *think* of displacing Phil Liggett, Paul Sherwen, Bob Roll or even, by god, the vomitoriously atrocious Al Trautwig as commentator in favor of this arrogant unbearable wank at the Tour for one single second, I swear I'm gonna start a massive global publicity-blitz campaign demanding an immediate return to full-time bass-fishing programming, and (2) despite his likely new-found optimism, Contador might as well quit the Tour now and hit the beach anyhow, as every no-neck ESPN talking-head troglodyte is gonna yap 5,000,000 times in July even when Contador freakin' wins the Tour that he'd obviously never have done it if Armstrong were there.
And I won't even point out, because I'm not a wholly callous smirking troll, how perfectly ironic it is that Armstrong was the only rider really taken out in this multi-cyclist accident just days after he blasted Contador for being an inexperienced error-prone twit. Now, sincere wishes to Lance for a speedy recovery, let's leave the poor guy to get some much-needed rest, and--Alberto! Put down that champagne! Turn off that damn techo music and quit dancing around! You've got a race to ride tomorrow!
Oh, and here's the replay:
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The 2009 Tour de Lance
Nobody Does It Better: just when you thought the defenseless Alberto Contador couldn't get any more dope-slapped by Astana for the egregious sins of winning two Grand Tours Lance never bothered to even race and snagging a couple of stage wins at Paris-Nice to boot, 2009 Tour de France team leader Lance Armstrong, unsurprisingly, smacks him again, this time by disdaining Contador as too "nervous," and with such a strong team and a great manager, "why get nervous?" I don't know, Lance, because the strongest rider in the world right now (however you think he got that way) is being treated like a 20-euro-a-week chamois-washer by his own freakin' squad? What's more, his wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am love affair with the Giro is distinctly over it seems, as Armstrong plans to be only at "90%" for it and save his real legs for another race--guess which one!--instead. Y'know, particularly given that Contador's stupid double-chest-thump-and-gunshot routine is starting to make me want to thump someone myself, and I mean hard, stop making me feel sorry for this kid!
Keep Up the Good Work, Ricco'!: and, congrats to obnoxious Simoni inferior/Tour de France CERA-sucking scum-cheat Riccardo Ricco', whose two-year ban was just reduced to a sweet 20 months, and will therefore be relieved of his spin-class duties and back in the peloton just in time to defile the 2010 Giro d'Italia. Woo-hoo! Of course, his Saunier Duval teammates, who barely managed to morph themselves out of total unemployment by saving sponsors Fuji-Servetto, have happily received the news that thanks to their beloved ex-squadmate they're completely jacked out of this year's Tour de France. Anyone else thinking Ricco' oughta be careful not to get *too* close to the edge of a mountainside next time he has the pleasure of riding with his old teammates again?
Sweet Dreams Are Made of This: in other Tour de France news, I see Floyd Landis is dreaming of a return at the 2010 Tour, and while I can't imagine the race organizers would let him even get off the plane before they accidentally broke both his knees with a well-aimed crowbar to prevent it, no matter what you think about the validity of the conviction resulting from his ludicrous monkey trial, you gotta admit, it wouldn't be any worse than half the other riders and teams ASO lets into the race year after year. Come back, trustbutverify, come back--who else has tracked him so tenderly!
E.R.: finally, as the dismally unfortunate peloton gets off to about the highest early-season body count I've seen yet, best wishes for a speedy recovery to Quick Step newbie Kurt Hovelijnck, in the hospital with a fractured skull and hopefully, soon, on the mend. Holy moly, is *anyone* going to be left at the end of this summer?
Keep Up the Good Work, Ricco'!: and, congrats to obnoxious Simoni inferior/Tour de France CERA-sucking scum-cheat Riccardo Ricco', whose two-year ban was just reduced to a sweet 20 months, and will therefore be relieved of his spin-class duties and back in the peloton just in time to defile the 2010 Giro d'Italia. Woo-hoo! Of course, his Saunier Duval teammates, who barely managed to morph themselves out of total unemployment by saving sponsors Fuji-Servetto, have happily received the news that thanks to their beloved ex-squadmate they're completely jacked out of this year's Tour de France. Anyone else thinking Ricco' oughta be careful not to get *too* close to the edge of a mountainside next time he has the pleasure of riding with his old teammates again?
Sweet Dreams Are Made of This: in other Tour de France news, I see Floyd Landis is dreaming of a return at the 2010 Tour, and while I can't imagine the race organizers would let him even get off the plane before they accidentally broke both his knees with a well-aimed crowbar to prevent it, no matter what you think about the validity of the conviction resulting from his ludicrous monkey trial, you gotta admit, it wouldn't be any worse than half the other riders and teams ASO lets into the race year after year. Come back, trustbutverify, come back--who else has tracked him so tenderly!
E.R.: finally, as the dismally unfortunate peloton gets off to about the highest early-season body count I've seen yet, best wishes for a speedy recovery to Quick Step newbie Kurt Hovelijnck, in the hospital with a fractured skull and hopefully, soon, on the mend. Holy moly, is *anyone* going to be left at the end of this summer?
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Johan Bruyneel is a Tool
Got Class?: okay, Contador bonked badly. Very badly. But he's still very young, and he still took two, and quite near three, stages in a rather well-regarded race. But even putting aside Lance Armstrong's cool comments as unsurprising from a guy who's too nearsighted to see beyond the immediate glare of his own enormous ego, Johan Bruyneel snarking that "What else is there to say than he didn't race intelligently? He only had to look after Sanchez," was a punk-!@#, low-rent move. Y'know, I don't even care if it's correct--he's *your* freakin' rider, and if you thought he was such an irredeemable moron, why the hell didn't you cut him loose for one of the other 8000 teams that'd've pimped their own grandmas to get him when your golden god returned? And can we get, as Anonymous points out, into the fantastically craptastic performance of Astana, leaving Contador utterly isolated when he needed them most--I mean, !@#$in' *Quick Step* outpacing them in the mountains? That's just lame. And sorry, but Gallopin's blaming the loss on the lack of Levi and Chris Horner (while a nice compliment to them) doesn't change the fact that Armstrong's little acolytes Brajkovic and Popo oughtn't to have, well, mostly sucked. Maybe you're right Anonymous, beyond even my wildest paranoid conspiracy theorist dreams--after all, it sure couldn't be looking much better for Lance at the moment, could it?
Nice Guys: otherwise, though, it was a rippin' Paris-Nice, and I gotta say, besides giving cycling.tv massive points for having big Maggy Backstedt call the race, everyone who's been treating former fellow ONCE/Liberty Seguros nestling Luis Leon Sanchez like Contador's less coordinated slightly embarrassing baby brother better take a look at his growing palmares and the fact that Caisse d'Epargne seems to be quite conscientiously grooming him for the long haul (and I won't even suggest why it's a good idea for them to have a backup for Alejandro Valverde). And while I'm still mystified why the refs didn't penalize Sylvain Chavanel for his egregious team-car drafting on his way back from the Worst Timed Mechanical of the Seasom--tho' it was nice they didn't--what I cheered for most (besides we-still-love-so-bite-me Frank Schleck's smashing performance) was undoubtedly Christian Van de Velde's accidental whomping win on a breakaway. I love late bloomers!
From Sea to Shining Sea: meantime, over at Tirreno, I see Andreas Kloden got the last win Johan'll ever let him take in his entire career, nailing the time trial and setting up a nasty battle for GC, only slightly overshadowed by his too-telling assessment of his role in July where he didn't even mention poor Contador. Okay, I'd been somewhat ignoring the race as it focused on the flats--but is anyone else impressed by how Tyler Farrar smoked Cav, Boonen, Petacchi, and McEwen at the line? Not to be a coarse raging nationalist, particularly since I'm usually rooting for the Italians, but one more American win like this and I'm gonna have to stick antlers on my helmet like one of our tasteless fans at the Tour o' California and start running alongside the racers screaming in a thong. Woo-hoo Tyler!
Gilberto Guevara Rides Again: finally, as Basso continues to insist on his Twitter feed that he's on perfect form, Gilberto Simoni celebrates his recent win in Mexico beautifully by not only doing some charity work for the local bambini and quoting the great, drug-addled Italian pop star Vasco Rossi on his site, but also managing to compare himself to Che Guevara, which considering the way some other folks are erroneously judging their chances for the Giro perhaps isn't so ludicrous after all. Viva la revolucion, Gibo!
Nice Guys: otherwise, though, it was a rippin' Paris-Nice, and I gotta say, besides giving cycling.tv massive points for having big Maggy Backstedt call the race, everyone who's been treating former fellow ONCE/Liberty Seguros nestling Luis Leon Sanchez like Contador's less coordinated slightly embarrassing baby brother better take a look at his growing palmares and the fact that Caisse d'Epargne seems to be quite conscientiously grooming him for the long haul (and I won't even suggest why it's a good idea for them to have a backup for Alejandro Valverde). And while I'm still mystified why the refs didn't penalize Sylvain Chavanel for his egregious team-car drafting on his way back from the Worst Timed Mechanical of the Seasom--tho' it was nice they didn't--what I cheered for most (besides we-still-love-so-bite-me Frank Schleck's smashing performance) was undoubtedly Christian Van de Velde's accidental whomping win on a breakaway. I love late bloomers!
From Sea to Shining Sea: meantime, over at Tirreno, I see Andreas Kloden got the last win Johan'll ever let him take in his entire career, nailing the time trial and setting up a nasty battle for GC, only slightly overshadowed by his too-telling assessment of his role in July where he didn't even mention poor Contador. Okay, I'd been somewhat ignoring the race as it focused on the flats--but is anyone else impressed by how Tyler Farrar smoked Cav, Boonen, Petacchi, and McEwen at the line? Not to be a coarse raging nationalist, particularly since I'm usually rooting for the Italians, but one more American win like this and I'm gonna have to stick antlers on my helmet like one of our tasteless fans at the Tour o' California and start running alongside the racers screaming in a thong. Woo-hoo Tyler!
Gilberto Guevara Rides Again: finally, as Basso continues to insist on his Twitter feed that he's on perfect form, Gilberto Simoni celebrates his recent win in Mexico beautifully by not only doing some charity work for the local bambini and quoting the great, drug-addled Italian pop star Vasco Rossi on his site, but also managing to compare himself to Che Guevara, which considering the way some other folks are erroneously judging their chances for the Giro perhaps isn't so ludicrous after all. Viva la revolucion, Gibo!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Lookin' Good, Liquigas!
Starting the Season in Style: as wussbag doper-enabler Pat "Dick" McQuaid at UCI, after righteously announcing the imminent bust of a big passel of sport-destroying scum-cheats, decides to put off actually nailing anyone anytime soon for it *again* (and, being kind, objective, and pretty lawsuit-shy, I won't suggest this has anything to do with concerns some of his more, well, preferred riders might be in trouble), Liquigas, lately blessed with heavy anti-doping artillery/studmuffinly pinup king Ivan Basso to pound the path to virtue, has already produced the first major drug bust of the season: wee little neo-pro/Duran Duran throwback Gianni Da Ros. Curiously, neither Team Liquigas' nor winged crusader Ivan's website mentions the incident in their news sections, but they do profess excitement for the team's chances at Tirreno-Adriatico. Oops, I see that Liquigas and the Italian cycling fed have both already leapt into action and suspended the boy. My, the "new generation"'s getting cleaner by the day, ain't it?
Johan's Choice: so with Contador having stomped the field in a shocker of a flat opening time trial at Paris-Nice (despite a miserable day and colossal time-suck yesterday), the obvious dilemma arises: if Lance can't pick up his game, and Contador keeps riding like he has been this season, Johan's going to look like a major Lance-pandering unjust-jerkface !@#-of-the-century if he doesn't give Alberto the unquestioned team leadership he's so clearly earned come July. Johan, I know Lance is your beloved and your mentee, the one you've nurtured, who in return has given you seven Tours and more dough, power, and prestige than even the most brilliant team director could ever hope to achieve. Heck, I even admire it, despite its wholly self-serving aspects. But if you don't give this babe-in-arms the full-court press he deserves, in favor of Lance who is not yet what he was and likely never will be again (particularly when he's made it spectacularly clear he's only fallen in love with the Giro out of concern he mightn't win an 8th Tour), you are doing a serious disservice not only to Contador, but to cycling itself. And I say this, of course, as one who firmly believes the child was doping along with everyone else in his infancy at Liberty Seguros, whose current purity I cannot help but cringingly doubt, and who is still deeply pissed at how repeat podium finishers Leipheimer and Kloden have been jacked out of not only the Tour but now the Giro as well, reduced to 3rd rate domestiques, and have given you (publicly at least) nothing but humility, acceptance, and hard work in return. *You* bought the goods, Johan, use 'em--tough for you if Lance came back, especially when you threatened to kneecap poor Contador for breach of contract when he completely justifiably objected to your perfidy after your empty promises of total backing. Let merit, and not your little cult-o'-Armstrong, really decide the outcome!
Johan's Choice: so with Contador having stomped the field in a shocker of a flat opening time trial at Paris-Nice (despite a miserable day and colossal time-suck yesterday), the obvious dilemma arises: if Lance can't pick up his game, and Contador keeps riding like he has been this season, Johan's going to look like a major Lance-pandering unjust-jerkface !@#-of-the-century if he doesn't give Alberto the unquestioned team leadership he's so clearly earned come July. Johan, I know Lance is your beloved and your mentee, the one you've nurtured, who in return has given you seven Tours and more dough, power, and prestige than even the most brilliant team director could ever hope to achieve. Heck, I even admire it, despite its wholly self-serving aspects. But if you don't give this babe-in-arms the full-court press he deserves, in favor of Lance who is not yet what he was and likely never will be again (particularly when he's made it spectacularly clear he's only fallen in love with the Giro out of concern he mightn't win an 8th Tour), you are doing a serious disservice not only to Contador, but to cycling itself. And I say this, of course, as one who firmly believes the child was doping along with everyone else in his infancy at Liberty Seguros, whose current purity I cannot help but cringingly doubt, and who is still deeply pissed at how repeat podium finishers Leipheimer and Kloden have been jacked out of not only the Tour but now the Giro as well, reduced to 3rd rate domestiques, and have given you (publicly at least) nothing but humility, acceptance, and hard work in return. *You* bought the goods, Johan, use 'em--tough for you if Lance came back, especially when you threatened to kneecap poor Contador for breach of contract when he completely justifiably objected to your perfidy after your empty promises of total backing. Let merit, and not your little cult-o'-Armstrong, really decide the outcome!
Thursday, March 05, 2009
One Is the Loneliest Number
If You're Ivan Basso, Anyway: my, I know St. Ivan of Varese has well and humbly reformed and all, but from his little chat with cyclingnews waxing rhapsodic about how honored and delighted he is to be officially "co-captaining", as was previously rumored, with Franco Pellizotti at the Giro for Liquigas, and how wonderful and deserving Pellizotti is, and how sure he's had experience sharing with others as shown with Carlos Sastre at CSC (tho' as I recall Basso was actually the *leader* at the '06 Giro, but what's historical accuracy worth anyhow?), you'd think the boy had barely ever competed as a waterboy in the Giro, much less personally won the thing. Okay, one might detect the slightest hint of resistance to his apparent fate when he alludes to figuring out the real team leader on the road, but I am the only one wondering if team management's hedging their bets for fear their gilded angel ain't gonna be quite the rider he was before he didn't dope in 2006, and is having perhaps the wee-est bit of (incredibly expensive) buyer's remorse? You say you're back to training?--you've still got the Giro di Trentino to win a race and prove my suspicions dead wrong, Ivan!
Eat It, Damiano!: as Cunego takes off for a couple of weeks of high-altitude training in prep for a fruitless run at a second Giro win, new BFF we love Gilberto Simoni is already taking a stage over such formidable mountainmeisters as Floyd Landis and Tyler Hamilton and sitting on the overall at the Vuelta a Mexico, and though there's no denying that Classics Boy's got prettier pictures of himself on his website, the Simoni tifosi are going absolutely wingnut for their "old man"'s form ahead of May. Forza Gibo, and put that punk-!@# Cunego in his place (suckin' down the dust from your wheel) in the Dolomites!
You Can't Make This Stuff Up: and, I see the latest person to proclaim "justice served" in LPR being denied a spot in Milano-Sanremo and dirty pigs Di Luca and Petacchi being thus excluded is resurgent sprint king Tom "Sniffy" Boonen, on the grounds that if they won't commit to antidoping efforts so strongly as he has, they deserve whatever they get. Now, having defended our strapping boy's, say, more powdery escapades in the recent past, I won't be so unkind as to point out the obvious (and to be quite fair, at least "the obvious" wasn't intended for performance enhancement), but I *will* note that Patrick "30 YEARS OF DOPING" Lefevere's Quick Step, which as you might recall dear Tommeke is on, was one of the very last teams (along with CSC) to sign that stupid antidoping virginity pledge ahead of the Tour. What's next, Bjarne "Guess How I Won My Tour de France?" Riis going off on how committed to the cause he is? Oh, wait...
Happy Birthday, Barbie!: finally, a toast to girlhood icon Barbie's 50th birthday, and if you're wondering what the hell this has to do with cycling, it's because I hereby call upon Mattel to forthwith issue a commemorative Marianne Vos I'll Crush You Like the Worthless Weaklings You Are Barbie, a Marta Bastianelli Body Image Issues Barbie, and, of course, a Tom Boonen Jailbait Girlfriend Barbie complete with fake ID and Hello Kitty backpack. Toss in a Faux-Repentant Busted GC Contender Ken with special IV attachment, and a Hypocrite Enabler Directeur Sportif with cash-stuffed briefcase, and we've got ourselves a ProTour squad!
Eat It, Damiano!: as Cunego takes off for a couple of weeks of high-altitude training in prep for a fruitless run at a second Giro win, new BFF we love Gilberto Simoni is already taking a stage over such formidable mountainmeisters as Floyd Landis and Tyler Hamilton and sitting on the overall at the Vuelta a Mexico, and though there's no denying that Classics Boy's got prettier pictures of himself on his website, the Simoni tifosi are going absolutely wingnut for their "old man"'s form ahead of May. Forza Gibo, and put that punk-!@# Cunego in his place (suckin' down the dust from your wheel) in the Dolomites!
You Can't Make This Stuff Up: and, I see the latest person to proclaim "justice served" in LPR being denied a spot in Milano-Sanremo and dirty pigs Di Luca and Petacchi being thus excluded is resurgent sprint king Tom "Sniffy" Boonen, on the grounds that if they won't commit to antidoping efforts so strongly as he has, they deserve whatever they get. Now, having defended our strapping boy's, say, more powdery escapades in the recent past, I won't be so unkind as to point out the obvious (and to be quite fair, at least "the obvious" wasn't intended for performance enhancement), but I *will* note that Patrick "30 YEARS OF DOPING" Lefevere's Quick Step, which as you might recall dear Tommeke is on, was one of the very last teams (along with CSC) to sign that stupid antidoping virginity pledge ahead of the Tour. What's next, Bjarne "Guess How I Won My Tour de France?" Riis going off on how committed to the cause he is? Oh, wait...
Happy Birthday, Barbie!: finally, a toast to girlhood icon Barbie's 50th birthday, and if you're wondering what the hell this has to do with cycling, it's because I hereby call upon Mattel to forthwith issue a commemorative Marianne Vos I'll Crush You Like the Worthless Weaklings You Are Barbie, a Marta Bastianelli Body Image Issues Barbie, and, of course, a Tom Boonen Jailbait Girlfriend Barbie complete with fake ID and Hello Kitty backpack. Toss in a Faux-Repentant Busted GC Contender Ken with special IV attachment, and a Hypocrite Enabler Directeur Sportif with cash-stuffed briefcase, and we've got ourselves a ProTour squad!
Monday, March 02, 2009
The Thorminator
It's the Classics, Baby!: yes cycling fans, it's finally time for two-odd months of bone-rattling, bike-destroying, mostly freezing sodden cobblestoned misery, and I for one can't be happier about it, not least because I don't have to personally microfracture every part of my own body jerking over the things and mostly because we love the indomitable ever-dissed Thor Hushovd continues his own and badass new squad Cervelo's assault on the season by taking Omloop Het They-Should've-Kept-It-Volk-I-Can't-Spell-Niewsblad and Tom Boonen, after a rather depressing start to the year being relentlessly smacked around by Mark Cavendish (but points out the boy has actual human weaknesses and can be beaten at the Tour, namely by tiring the big lumbering beast out too much over a long stage to take the sprint), took Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne with time to spare. And I know these races aren't typically an American's game--but just *one* for George Hincapie, please, before he says goodbye!
Two, Four, Six, Eight, Who Should We Eliminate?: and, I see the perpetual cheat-skank enablers (Rasmussen, anyone?) over at UCI are feeling upstaged by the Italians actually bothering to take action against some of the (alleged!) weasels UCI's happily allowed to ride the Tour the last few years, as they assuage their wholly justified feelings of impotence and irrelevance by announcing that, sometime soon, they're sure to name a few boys in biiiiiiiig trouble over nebulous readings on their biological passports. Um, not to rain on the parade here, but given that you were so slow to implement the thing that the boys had plenty of time to manipulate their blood values before you even established their baselines, who's to say you'll catch anyone but the merely slow'n'stupid? Not that that's a bad thing--I'm just sayin'. Well, I'll take bets on who's going down first--but since we're dealing with UCI here it damn well ain't gonna be someone they've been coddling to date!
Schum' and Gloom: speaking of (alleged!) drug-snorters, as Valverde gets set to beg the Italians later this week not to assume some silly DNA match is any more accurate than a random guess by a roomful o' drunken monkeys, Stefan "I Heart Amphetamines" Schumacher continues to vociferously protest his doping ban, claiming not only the usual round of technical screwups by the shameless unteachable lab chimps, but, even more offensive to the powers that be, his genuine innocence. Heck, if it's true, that oughta win the day--worked for Landis, right?
Giro d'I Really Hope Armstrong Doesn't Win This: meantime, the Italians are throwing down the gauntlet already, with up-and-coming Bennati and slowly-cheering-up Petacchi trading sprints at Sardegna, Rebellin so far looking stronger than Cunego ahead of both their Classics campaigns and the Giro (and given that the Little Prince is supposed to be the GC contender and Rebellin merely Gibo's domestique at the big show, not to mention that his Grand Tour performances since his toddlerhood Giro win have taken on a certain, well, Valverdian quality, Damiano better be planning this right), Basso finding time between Twitters about fun with the kids to rest his knee and inevitably reclaim his rightful place as Giro champ over such discredited foils as Danilo DiLuca, and Spaniard Carlos Sastre stepping in and making it clear that while his first aim is defending his Tour, he's not showing up in Italy just to gorge himself on great food and wine (a tough choice, but who I am to criticize?). Forza Sastre, but I'm still hoping Simoni takes everyone out in the mountains!
Leviathan: finally, a heartfelt get-well-soon to Armstrong Tour domestique (keep dreamin' Alberto!)/Tour o' California champ Levi Leipheimer, whose mild surprise he still felt a bit sore after his little wheel clip with Armstrong turned out to be a broken sacrum, which, despite not preventing him from slaughtering a formidable field in the time trial and overall, is, unfortunately, forcing him off the bike for a whole six seconds or so before he, like all you Tyler Hamiltonesque cult-of-pain bike freaks, returns to whomp on his competitors from traction in a specially pimped hospital bed complete with aero bars and ultralight bottle cage. Come back pronto, Levi!
!@#dammit, *no-one* thinks poor Frank Schleck is innocent?
Two, Four, Six, Eight, Who Should We Eliminate?: and, I see the perpetual cheat-skank enablers (Rasmussen, anyone?) over at UCI are feeling upstaged by the Italians actually bothering to take action against some of the (alleged!) weasels UCI's happily allowed to ride the Tour the last few years, as they assuage their wholly justified feelings of impotence and irrelevance by announcing that, sometime soon, they're sure to name a few boys in biiiiiiiig trouble over nebulous readings on their biological passports. Um, not to rain on the parade here, but given that you were so slow to implement the thing that the boys had plenty of time to manipulate their blood values before you even established their baselines, who's to say you'll catch anyone but the merely slow'n'stupid? Not that that's a bad thing--I'm just sayin'. Well, I'll take bets on who's going down first--but since we're dealing with UCI here it damn well ain't gonna be someone they've been coddling to date!
Schum' and Gloom: speaking of (alleged!) drug-snorters, as Valverde gets set to beg the Italians later this week not to assume some silly DNA match is any more accurate than a random guess by a roomful o' drunken monkeys, Stefan "I Heart Amphetamines" Schumacher continues to vociferously protest his doping ban, claiming not only the usual round of technical screwups by the shameless unteachable lab chimps, but, even more offensive to the powers that be, his genuine innocence. Heck, if it's true, that oughta win the day--worked for Landis, right?
Giro d'I Really Hope Armstrong Doesn't Win This: meantime, the Italians are throwing down the gauntlet already, with up-and-coming Bennati and slowly-cheering-up Petacchi trading sprints at Sardegna, Rebellin so far looking stronger than Cunego ahead of both their Classics campaigns and the Giro (and given that the Little Prince is supposed to be the GC contender and Rebellin merely Gibo's domestique at the big show, not to mention that his Grand Tour performances since his toddlerhood Giro win have taken on a certain, well, Valverdian quality, Damiano better be planning this right), Basso finding time between Twitters about fun with the kids to rest his knee and inevitably reclaim his rightful place as Giro champ over such discredited foils as Danilo DiLuca, and Spaniard Carlos Sastre stepping in and making it clear that while his first aim is defending his Tour, he's not showing up in Italy just to gorge himself on great food and wine (a tough choice, but who I am to criticize?). Forza Sastre, but I'm still hoping Simoni takes everyone out in the mountains!
Leviathan: finally, a heartfelt get-well-soon to Armstrong Tour domestique (keep dreamin' Alberto!)/Tour o' California champ Levi Leipheimer, whose mild surprise he still felt a bit sore after his little wheel clip with Armstrong turned out to be a broken sacrum, which, despite not preventing him from slaughtering a formidable field in the time trial and overall, is, unfortunately, forcing him off the bike for a whole six seconds or so before he, like all you Tyler Hamiltonesque cult-of-pain bike freaks, returns to whomp on his competitors from traction in a specially pimped hospital bed complete with aero bars and ultralight bottle cage. Come back pronto, Levi!
!@#dammit, *no-one* thinks poor Frank Schleck is innocent?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
To Have and Have Not
Bonjour, Scum: so some master thieves have stricken, of all people, poor we love Dave Zabriskie, and what did they take? Damn near everything, it seems, as our boy Twitters a plea for their return, including a couple cars, his Olympic ring and time trial bike, all his fine team steeds, and, perhaps worst of all, his collection of giant Marvel comic book character statuettes. You want to steal from some arrogant wank like Lance or some bitter nasty crankypants like Robbie McEwen? Fine, still deeply uncool, but arguably less objectionable in the broader karmic scheme of things. But Dave Zabriskie? What's next, you pervs, stealing Milkbones from puppy dogs and carrot sticks from bunny rabbits? Okay, you purloined a bunch of priceless Olympic and other carbon-fiber memories off an incredibly dedicated, hardworking athlete--pity party for you, dirtbag, aside from the total abomination of ripping off a bike freak's perfectly-calibrated rides, you're just a pathetic wannabe who'll still never come close to touching the glory that actually earned 'em. But taking the boy's action figures? That's just cold. Show some dignity, you soulless carrion-sucking hyenas, and give Dave Z his stuff back!
Aw, Mom, Do I *Have* To?: Having heroically managed to avoid for a good 3 years holding any Spanish cyclist of consequence responsible for any dangerous liaisons with Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes, the Spanish cycling authorities have apparently been dragged kicking and screaming into the whole sordid mess at last, sullenly conceding they oughta ask for some of that pesky Operacion Puerto stuff on the extremely unlikely chance, of course, any of their kids have done anything remotely wrong. Y'know, not to question the wisdom of wanting to look all Dirty Harry for coming down on a few unemployed no-names from the long-dead Comunidad Valenciana or nuthin', instead of continuing to allow the Italians to paint you as a pack of sell-out cowardly doper-apologists, but are you guys *sure* you're not going to accidentally take out anyone from, say, Manolo Saiz' old stable you might prefer stay in the peloton? Just checkin'!
Road to the Giro, and Tour: meantime, while Basso's knee luckily recovers nicely from his little handlebar thwap in California, and as Alberto Contador pounds the competition in the Volta ao Algarve and sweetly continues to delude himself he'll be granted unquestioned team leadership in July, Lance has announced he's looking forward to hitting "the podium" at the Giro, making one wonder, is he just psyching out Basso, Di Luca, Cunego and co. by appearing uncertain of his impending form, or did he just confirm that the Giro can screw and he's dead-set on owning the maillot jaune on the last day of the Tour? Don't stop believing, though, Alberto--he still might let you wear it a day or two in the mountains, or even give you one with his autograph!
Aw, Mom, Do I *Have* To?: Having heroically managed to avoid for a good 3 years holding any Spanish cyclist of consequence responsible for any dangerous liaisons with Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes, the Spanish cycling authorities have apparently been dragged kicking and screaming into the whole sordid mess at last, sullenly conceding they oughta ask for some of that pesky Operacion Puerto stuff on the extremely unlikely chance, of course, any of their kids have done anything remotely wrong. Y'know, not to question the wisdom of wanting to look all Dirty Harry for coming down on a few unemployed no-names from the long-dead Comunidad Valenciana or nuthin', instead of continuing to allow the Italians to paint you as a pack of sell-out cowardly doper-apologists, but are you guys *sure* you're not going to accidentally take out anyone from, say, Manolo Saiz' old stable you might prefer stay in the peloton? Just checkin'!
Road to the Giro, and Tour: meantime, while Basso's knee luckily recovers nicely from his little handlebar thwap in California, and as Alberto Contador pounds the competition in the Volta ao Algarve and sweetly continues to delude himself he'll be granted unquestioned team leadership in July, Lance has announced he's looking forward to hitting "the podium" at the Giro, making one wonder, is he just psyching out Basso, Di Luca, Cunego and co. by appearing uncertain of his impending form, or did he just confirm that the Giro can screw and he's dead-set on owning the maillot jaune on the last day of the Tour? Don't stop believing, though, Alberto--he still might let you wear it a day or two in the mountains, or even give you one with his autograph!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Leip of Faith
Thor of California: so even with the great Dave Zabriskie on his tail, Leipheimer's just unbeatable, but for my money the most bitchin' aspect of the race this year has actually been the sprints, and while it's nice Cav's snagged his stages and all, it's big lug we love Thor Hushovd's win with his spankin' new, untested, and unexpectedly smashing lead-out train that's the revelation of the ToC. Be honest--did any of you expect an entire squad o' new mates over at Cervelo to gel this quickly? Woo-hoo Thor! On a sadder note, I *know* he's gotten all Ward Cleaver responsible and serious of late, and that's a good thing for any wayward reckless Tour-banned babe-snackin' party-boy-o'-the-past to be. But WTF is going on with Tom Boonen this week--am I the only one thinking he just had that extra little motivating joie de vivre heading up to the finish line when he was indulging in the midnight happy dust? Oh sure, like it's worse than what 90% of the peloton is doing--anyone know of a good party tonight to get our boy back on form? Oh, and Rosemary--I'm jealous!
Ivana Go Home: meantime, it's been a miserable race for half the guys using sunny California as a training ground, with Freire and Kirchen already jacked for the season, buckets of Americans out hosed with injuries, don't even get me started on poor Landis, and, worst of all, Ivan Basso gone after he smashed his kneecap on his handlebars when his chain blew apart scouting the time trial course. Still, to the delight of his endless tifosi, he's confident it won't affect his Giro, so it still oughta be between him and Armstrong in May, that is if Lance isn't really hell-bent on crushing Alberto Contador like a malaria-plagued mosquito in July instead. Keep dreamin' Alberto, it can't hurt you're training so hard anyway since Johan's gonna make you domestique for you-know-who!
Cuz You're Filthy/Ooooo And I'm Gorgeous: and, as the breathless day-by-day countdown to the 100th Giro continues, the Italian GC contenders have pleasingly let loose on each other already, with Di Luca dismissing Cunego as a has-been-never-was Grand Tour wannabe, Cunego implying Basso's a lying obfuscating drug-sucking weasel, Basso protesting his blood values are clean as a whistle, and peerless snipemeister Simoni, wonder of wonders, content so far to merely watch the lot of his countrymen eat their young. Now, I appreciate a pack of sissified oral slapfights as much as any other low-class muckracker, but really, why not cut to the chase--we'll stick you all in a coliseum full of half-starved lions armed with maybe some bike pumps and a couple of brake cables, and see which of you *really* has the endurance and tactical savvy to survive a sustained attack. Hey, easier than that loooong Giro time trial'll be for some of you, right?
Dia de los Muertos: okay, one muerto anyway, as the triumphant Italian narcs announce that they've definitively linked Alejandro "I Can't Believe I Got Away With It For This Long" Valverde's DNA to blood bag no. 18, "Valv. Piti" in Dr. Fuentes' ample stash (huge points to cyclingnews.com for discreetly, and hilariously, noting that Valverde continues to deny any link to the blood "notwithstanding the clear similarities to his surname plus the fact that he has a dog named Piti."), and the Roman authorities, not to be outdone, begin a criminal investigation. Anyone else remember Ivan "Birillo Is Not My Dog" Basso's attorney defending his client on the grounds that he'd personally observed Ivan's toddler daughter calling the family pup by a different name entirely? Anywho, as to the indignant howls of the ruthless Spanish protectionists, I mean crack wholly objective prosecutors, that the Italians have no right to go after their innocent icon? Well, as the Italians pointed out, if they don't like it, there are a good 80 other local sporting heroes to go after, and so far as I can tell, with the Italians naturally invested in not having the also-implicated Giro winner/all-around-angel Alberto Contador besmirch their own Grand Tour, the Spaniards oughta count themselves damn lucky they ain't going after their beloved baby Indurain as well. Cut your losses while you're ahead, boys--don't worry, even with being so busy kissing Armstrong's rump, Johan's not gonna let his newest cash cow go down without a fight!
Ivana Go Home: meantime, it's been a miserable race for half the guys using sunny California as a training ground, with Freire and Kirchen already jacked for the season, buckets of Americans out hosed with injuries, don't even get me started on poor Landis, and, worst of all, Ivan Basso gone after he smashed his kneecap on his handlebars when his chain blew apart scouting the time trial course. Still, to the delight of his endless tifosi, he's confident it won't affect his Giro, so it still oughta be between him and Armstrong in May, that is if Lance isn't really hell-bent on crushing Alberto Contador like a malaria-plagued mosquito in July instead. Keep dreamin' Alberto, it can't hurt you're training so hard anyway since Johan's gonna make you domestique for you-know-who!
Cuz You're Filthy/Ooooo And I'm Gorgeous: and, as the breathless day-by-day countdown to the 100th Giro continues, the Italian GC contenders have pleasingly let loose on each other already, with Di Luca dismissing Cunego as a has-been-never-was Grand Tour wannabe, Cunego implying Basso's a lying obfuscating drug-sucking weasel, Basso protesting his blood values are clean as a whistle, and peerless snipemeister Simoni, wonder of wonders, content so far to merely watch the lot of his countrymen eat their young. Now, I appreciate a pack of sissified oral slapfights as much as any other low-class muckracker, but really, why not cut to the chase--we'll stick you all in a coliseum full of half-starved lions armed with maybe some bike pumps and a couple of brake cables, and see which of you *really* has the endurance and tactical savvy to survive a sustained attack. Hey, easier than that loooong Giro time trial'll be for some of you, right?
Dia de los Muertos: okay, one muerto anyway, as the triumphant Italian narcs announce that they've definitively linked Alejandro "I Can't Believe I Got Away With It For This Long" Valverde's DNA to blood bag no. 18, "Valv. Piti" in Dr. Fuentes' ample stash (huge points to cyclingnews.com for discreetly, and hilariously, noting that Valverde continues to deny any link to the blood "notwithstanding the clear similarities to his surname plus the fact that he has a dog named Piti."), and the Roman authorities, not to be outdone, begin a criminal investigation. Anyone else remember Ivan "Birillo Is Not My Dog" Basso's attorney defending his client on the grounds that he'd personally observed Ivan's toddler daughter calling the family pup by a different name entirely? Anywho, as to the indignant howls of the ruthless Spanish protectionists, I mean crack wholly objective prosecutors, that the Italians have no right to go after their innocent icon? Well, as the Italians pointed out, if they don't like it, there are a good 80 other local sporting heroes to go after, and so far as I can tell, with the Italians naturally invested in not having the also-implicated Giro winner/all-around-angel Alberto Contador besmirch their own Grand Tour, the Spaniards oughta count themselves damn lucky they ain't going after their beloved baby Indurain as well. Cut your losses while you're ahead, boys--don't worry, even with being so busy kissing Armstrong's rump, Johan's not gonna let his newest cash cow go down without a fight!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
California Dreamin'
Love 'Em and Levi'm: okay, Cancellara's an utterly inhuman Bionicle on wheels capable of blasting pavement into high-velocity shrapnel with even one sleepy flex of his C-4 leg muscles, particularly when he was apparently already sick before the start of the prologue, but watching Levi's "Die, poseurs, die!" game face at the start gate, Dave Zabriskie's silky-mooth performance after a couple of really unfortunate seasons, and of course we love Thor "Eat My Green Jersey, Freire!" Hushovd's sturdy ride in his new Cervelo kit (right on, ben, I agree!)--best of all, Phil and Paul's dulcet return after months of sadistic off-season deprivation--I was happy. My question: even giving former Olympic time trial champion Tyler the benefit of the doubt due to distractions and caretaking on the home front, and Basso's declaration his legs felt good at the prologue and his Giro training's going perfectly to plan, is anyone a bit, well, perplexed at their times therein, particularly given the latter's sudden freakish Schumacheresque velocity in the discipline before his little never-doped episode a couple years back? Naw, me neither!
Ouch is Right: and, I hope it was some comfort to Floyd Landis after two straight crap days in a row that new Astana DS Ekimov (I miss Eki!) had pegged him as Levi's biggest threat, tho' I'm still hoping for a stage win. Ivan had a good day, though, didn't he? And, I must say, much as I loathe Rock Racing's philosophy, flashiness, and overall desperate slutty pursuit of constant press coverage (not to mention completely destroying the season and job prospects of buckets of less-recognizable riders and staff) I was almost jumping off my chair with excitement when dope-linked degenerate Francisco Mancebo beat back Nibali after a quite brave ride and almost certain last-minute defeat. After all, he's the least of the peloton's problems at this point, and the squad barely squeaked by with enough dough for a race license--who among them could afford any hijinks even if they were so nastily inclined? Anyway, points to Armstrong for doing his job today, and allez allez Levi!
The Great Escape: and, as the cops begin to conclude that the punk-ass theft of Lance's priceless time trial ride was likely the work of garden-variety morons, not sticky-fingered cycling fanatics desperate to hoard an iconic ride in their stable for the ogling delectation of a few discreet fellow roadies, one can't help but imagine: how exactly *is* the rocket scientist who probably bought the thing for $50 out the trunk of an ancient Chevy Nova so its proud new owners could go get stoked to the gills supposed to return it, exactly, without ending up in prison for their good deed instead of snagging the reward Armstrong has promised? Roll it up the start line in a borrowed pair of bike shorts and some Reeboks and hope to blend in with the peloton long enough to surreptitiously lean it up against a barrier? Apologize, and say they merely mistook it for their own Huffy in the dark as the crowd dispersed? Flee the country and seek asylum in Armstrong-hatin' France? Good luck with that (though the last one might work), o Prince of Thieves!
Pirates of the Mediterranean: finally, it's been a full five year's since the Marco Pantani's tragic death from a cocaine overdose, and, as a theatrical production of his life is given in Italy, his Mamma, still unconvinced, gives an agonizing interview in which she pleads with Marco's girlfriend--an "angel" one day, a "devil" the next--to tell her the truth about what really happened to her son. The tifosi, of course, mourning him just as sharply as they did the day after, and as admiring of his triumphs as they were forgiving of his flaws, blitzed the pages of Gazzetta dello Sport with tributes and "grazies." Riposi in pace, indeed!
Ouch is Right: and, I hope it was some comfort to Floyd Landis after two straight crap days in a row that new Astana DS Ekimov (I miss Eki!) had pegged him as Levi's biggest threat, tho' I'm still hoping for a stage win. Ivan had a good day, though, didn't he? And, I must say, much as I loathe Rock Racing's philosophy, flashiness, and overall desperate slutty pursuit of constant press coverage (not to mention completely destroying the season and job prospects of buckets of less-recognizable riders and staff) I was almost jumping off my chair with excitement when dope-linked degenerate Francisco Mancebo beat back Nibali after a quite brave ride and almost certain last-minute defeat. After all, he's the least of the peloton's problems at this point, and the squad barely squeaked by with enough dough for a race license--who among them could afford any hijinks even if they were so nastily inclined? Anyway, points to Armstrong for doing his job today, and allez allez Levi!
The Great Escape: and, as the cops begin to conclude that the punk-ass theft of Lance's priceless time trial ride was likely the work of garden-variety morons, not sticky-fingered cycling fanatics desperate to hoard an iconic ride in their stable for the ogling delectation of a few discreet fellow roadies, one can't help but imagine: how exactly *is* the rocket scientist who probably bought the thing for $50 out the trunk of an ancient Chevy Nova so its proud new owners could go get stoked to the gills supposed to return it, exactly, without ending up in prison for their good deed instead of snagging the reward Armstrong has promised? Roll it up the start line in a borrowed pair of bike shorts and some Reeboks and hope to blend in with the peloton long enough to surreptitiously lean it up against a barrier? Apologize, and say they merely mistook it for their own Huffy in the dark as the crowd dispersed? Flee the country and seek asylum in Armstrong-hatin' France? Good luck with that (though the last one might work), o Prince of Thieves!
Pirates of the Mediterranean: finally, it's been a full five year's since the Marco Pantani's tragic death from a cocaine overdose, and, as a theatrical production of his life is given in Italy, his Mamma, still unconvinced, gives an agonizing interview in which she pleads with Marco's girlfriend--an "angel" one day, a "devil" the next--to tell her the truth about what really happened to her son. The tifosi, of course, mourning him just as sharply as they did the day after, and as admiring of his triumphs as they were forgiving of his flaws, blitzed the pages of Gazzetta dello Sport with tributes and "grazies." Riposi in pace, indeed!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Let the Games Begin!
Piti Party: as the Italian Olympic Committee, CONI, finally loses it pondering Alejandro Valverde's filthy e'er-doping carcass defiling snow-pure Italian roads while a good half its own boys'n'girls are either out on, or trickling back in from, cheating bans, the ever-accommodating tho' "indignant" dog-defaming "Piti" himself reiterates once again he's delighted to appear before, and cooperate, any authority that asks him--so long as, natch, that authority is "legitimate." Anyone want to bet money CONI counts? Me neither! As for the gazzetta dello sport tifosi? Hell, not only are they still completely enraged they were deprived of their beloved St. Ivan of Varese for two seasons when he didn't even get to dope in the first place (hack! ack!), they're so pissed they're even feeling sentimental about long-ignored little-fish Michele Scarponi--so to finally see a, no *the*, Spaniard fall, especially at the Italians' own tribunal, is a drop-to-your-knees-and-sing-hosannas smug delight. Don't worry, Alejandro, I'm sure you'll get a fair hearing--heck, you've scammed your way out of it this long, right?
Go Ask Armstrong/I Think He'll Know: so while Lance swears his only goal in California is to get Levi Leipheimer the win (!@#damn right, buddy) before viciously screwing Contador (and Klodi! oh, Klodi...) in July, comes the sad but surely inconsequential word that, due to "administration" and "cost" concerns, he's bagging the wholly transparent Don Catlin anti-doping program he vowed like a vestal virgin he'd pursue and publish in favor of Astana's own, and reportedly more, well, laid-back, Dr. Damsgaard. Sure, there's been a bit of skepticism raised here'n about,but nothin' to see here, you cold, nasty cynics--after all, none of Johan's boys ever test poz til after they fly his cozy nest!
Joker's Wild: meantime, the 2009 UCI wild cards are out, and here's who's still reeling from being colossally jacked out of the ProTour events: Petacchi and DiLuca from LPR, and Giro champ Stefano Garzelli over at Acqua e Sapone. Why? Well, UCI sez it's a combination of
sporting history, admin transparency, and willingness to comply with the UCI's so-far-useless biological passport, so what's the prob with these squads? Given their collective palmares even with their teams' crap budgets, I'm guessing it ain't the "sporting history," so be honest, UCI, what are you afraid of: another little OD on the asthma meds you've given a pass for to 3/4 of the wheezing peloton? DiLuca's Malibu Barbie-level testosterone results? Garzelli's, um, nothin', he just wants to freakin' race? Spit it out and tell me why Leukemanns over at Vacansoleil deserves any better, you hypocrites! Oh, boys, you shoulda just stuck with the blow and amphetamines, you'd be free and easy right now...
Goin' to the Dogs: finally, as Red Sox fans the world over celebrate evil bastid/Madonna-slurper A-Rod's admission of drug use during his MVP season, even worse news has emerged: the Sussex Spaniel who won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club this week has been stripped of his title and banned from competition for two years after a positive steroid test revealed the chunky dog is actually a pumped-up teacup Yorkie named Twinkie. Twinkie, through his attorney Maurice Suh, has denied the allegations, contending (1) he's just been hitting the gym a lot lately and (2) if he did test poz, it's clearly due to his kibble being spiked with drugs by some bitch from the Sporting Group trying to bring him down. Damn, first it's Olympic ponies, now it's man's (and woman's) best friend--can't *anyone* lay off the juice these days?
Go Ask Armstrong/I Think He'll Know: so while Lance swears his only goal in California is to get Levi Leipheimer the win (!@#damn right, buddy) before viciously screwing Contador (and Klodi! oh, Klodi...) in July, comes the sad but surely inconsequential word that, due to "administration" and "cost" concerns, he's bagging the wholly transparent Don Catlin anti-doping program he vowed like a vestal virgin he'd pursue and publish in favor of Astana's own, and reportedly more, well, laid-back, Dr. Damsgaard. Sure, there's been a bit of skepticism raised here'n about,but nothin' to see here, you cold, nasty cynics--after all, none of Johan's boys ever test poz til after they fly his cozy nest!
Joker's Wild: meantime, the 2009 UCI wild cards are out, and here's who's still reeling from being colossally jacked out of the ProTour events: Petacchi and DiLuca from LPR, and Giro champ Stefano Garzelli over at Acqua e Sapone. Why? Well, UCI sez it's a combination of
sporting history, admin transparency, and willingness to comply with the UCI's so-far-useless biological passport, so what's the prob with these squads? Given their collective palmares even with their teams' crap budgets, I'm guessing it ain't the "sporting history," so be honest, UCI, what are you afraid of: another little OD on the asthma meds you've given a pass for to 3/4 of the wheezing peloton? DiLuca's Malibu Barbie-level testosterone results? Garzelli's, um, nothin', he just wants to freakin' race? Spit it out and tell me why Leukemanns over at Vacansoleil deserves any better, you hypocrites! Oh, boys, you shoulda just stuck with the blow and amphetamines, you'd be free and easy right now...
Goin' to the Dogs: finally, as Red Sox fans the world over celebrate evil bastid/Madonna-slurper A-Rod's admission of drug use during his MVP season, even worse news has emerged: the Sussex Spaniel who won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club this week has been stripped of his title and banned from competition for two years after a positive steroid test revealed the chunky dog is actually a pumped-up teacup Yorkie named Twinkie. Twinkie, through his attorney Maurice Suh, has denied the allegations, contending (1) he's just been hitting the gym a lot lately and (2) if he did test poz, it's clearly due to his kibble being spiked with drugs by some bitch from the Sporting Group trying to bring him down. Damn, first it's Olympic ponies, now it's man's (and woman's) best friend--can't *anyone* lay off the juice these days?
Sunday, February 08, 2009
The Amgen EPO Tour of !@#$%^& Lance Armstrong
Aiiiiiggggghhhhh!: so I'm thrilled and astonished to discover that Vs. is not only covering the Tour of California next week, but running an actual preview show like it's the Superbowl this week, and my initial untainted joy is hideously slaughtered, and it only takes me about six seconds to want to whack someone over the head with a bike pump, as what do I hear? Yep, "leading the charge" for the Americans is the godlike Lance Armstrong! Um, I know it's rude to use all caps (like that's my worst offense, but I digress), but NO, NO HE'S NOT, YOU REPULSIVE CHEAP-THRILL PANDERING ASSHATS. Levi Leipheimer is "leading the charge" goddammit, and for those of you who've may not have heard of him, he's got a rather bitchin' palmares, is clearly capable of winning the Tour de France for example, and has more than earned the right to be mentioned as the biggest threat of a race he's freakin' taken repeatedly. Look, Vs. I know the only way you can gain enough advertiser dough to justify showcasing the thing over the ever-compelling ratings-blockbuster station ol'-reliables of candlepin bowling fat guys sitting in boats tying flies for six hours and oiled-up extreme wrestlers giving me far too much information is to ruthlessly pimp the lowest-common-denominator easy-to-digest blank-stare-and-nacho-friendly All-American-Hero survival story remember-he-used-to-date-Sheryl-Crow-and-Kate-Hudson !@#$%^&, but let's be clear: this is a complete monstrous disaster for actual coverage of this incredible sport. If the blinding glare of Lance's bottomless ego trip and your own relentless glowing subservience so overilluminates the heavens that no-one you're trying to interest for the long haul can even see enough of anything else to learn about and be drawn into cycling for its own magnificent sake, and they're all just gonna run screaming out the room next morning like you're last night's hung-over beer-pong please-don't-turn-the-lights-up desperation hookup, what the hell exactly is the point?! What's more, in practical terms, if I've really gotta listen to this stupid worshipful unquestioning Princess-Diana-in-spandex stop-the-presses-Lance-just-went-to-the-bathroom crap for the next six months, I'm gonna have to watch every !@#$%^ race with a mute button, or, better, take a sledgehammer to my TV whenever you-know-who comes on. Phil and Paul, please, for the love of Mike (and Levi, and Klodi, and Alberto, and Cavendish, and Boonen, and Gibo, and....), reign in these halfwit publicity-whore bosses of yours and take back this sport! Due credit for redeeming feature: I did hear Levi's name a few times during the hour, and he was, rightly, the last image on screen as the credits rolled. Of course, he could have been mistaken for just the team towel boy and stuck in there as last-second filler....
To Forgive Is Human, To Freire, Divine: meantime, endless world champ/recent green jersey Oscar Freire's wasting no time setting the record straight, disdaining Lance for pathetically returning to the sport when he himself has the dignity to retire for good when he's done, and blaming Valverde's doltish dithering for blowing the squad's chances in Varese and handing the Worlds right over to the Italians. On the other hand, he did warmly compliment Ballan, so if he stays nestled among the boys of the squadra azzura this season, he ought at least to be safe on the roads from his new nemeses. Sing it, Oscar, you're spot on!
Aw, Shucks: heading on over to Teen Beat, I mean, Gazzetta dello Sport, the lovely Ivan Basso is shocked touched and humbled by the tifosi's surprising willingness to welcome him back to their hearts, which phenomenon, of course, happened utterly without any effort whatsoever on his or his astonishingly ginormous PR machine's part, and, fear not, he's in great form on his road to inevitable (re)coronation at the Giro to boot. Anyone else want to take bets on whether he's really gonna be the same "extraterrestri" he was when he left the field crying like colicky babies at the feet of the Dolomites in 2006?
The Five Stages of Mourning: so it looks like wee rightful king of the universe Alberto Contador's slowly getting to the "acceptance" stage of his misery over Lance's return to leadership, admitting he was perhaps less than joyous at first over the news of Armstrong's homecoming to Bruyneel but now professing some muted non-loathing, which perhaps means that (1) he truly doesn't think Lance is gonna have the strength to take him out at the Tour or (2) he delusionally thinks that merit is gonna be the deciding factor. Maybe adding a sixth stage of mourning, like "utterly dope-slapped into emasculated submission" would be more accurate?
Bjorn Again: finally, congrats to both Bjorn "Love to Love You Baby" Leukemanns and the still-pissed Alessandro Petacchi for their inaugural wins of the seasons, and while I didn't check out what the Leukemanns fan club is doing besides competing for his studly affections, the tifosi are going absolutely shrieking wingnut with adulation over Ale-Jet's return after his ludicrous bust and race-result-negating for taking asthma meds the UCI okayed for him (and everyone else, while we're at it) after the end of the race. Welcome back Alessandro--but young Bennati's still gonna try to make you beg for mercy at the Giro!
To Forgive Is Human, To Freire, Divine: meantime, endless world champ/recent green jersey Oscar Freire's wasting no time setting the record straight, disdaining Lance for pathetically returning to the sport when he himself has the dignity to retire for good when he's done, and blaming Valverde's doltish dithering for blowing the squad's chances in Varese and handing the Worlds right over to the Italians. On the other hand, he did warmly compliment Ballan, so if he stays nestled among the boys of the squadra azzura this season, he ought at least to be safe on the roads from his new nemeses. Sing it, Oscar, you're spot on!
Aw, Shucks: heading on over to Teen Beat, I mean, Gazzetta dello Sport, the lovely Ivan Basso is shocked touched and humbled by the tifosi's surprising willingness to welcome him back to their hearts, which phenomenon, of course, happened utterly without any effort whatsoever on his or his astonishingly ginormous PR machine's part, and, fear not, he's in great form on his road to inevitable (re)coronation at the Giro to boot. Anyone else want to take bets on whether he's really gonna be the same "extraterrestri" he was when he left the field crying like colicky babies at the feet of the Dolomites in 2006?
The Five Stages of Mourning: so it looks like wee rightful king of the universe Alberto Contador's slowly getting to the "acceptance" stage of his misery over Lance's return to leadership, admitting he was perhaps less than joyous at first over the news of Armstrong's homecoming to Bruyneel but now professing some muted non-loathing, which perhaps means that (1) he truly doesn't think Lance is gonna have the strength to take him out at the Tour or (2) he delusionally thinks that merit is gonna be the deciding factor. Maybe adding a sixth stage of mourning, like "utterly dope-slapped into emasculated submission" would be more accurate?
Bjorn Again: finally, congrats to both Bjorn "Love to Love You Baby" Leukemanns and the still-pissed Alessandro Petacchi for their inaugural wins of the seasons, and while I didn't check out what the Leukemanns fan club is doing besides competing for his studly affections, the tifosi are going absolutely shrieking wingnut with adulation over Ale-Jet's return after his ludicrous bust and race-result-negating for taking asthma meds the UCI okayed for him (and everyone else, while we're at it) after the end of the race. Welcome back Alessandro--but young Bennati's still gonna try to make you beg for mercy at the Giro!
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Ceeeeeelebrate Good Times/Come On!
I Fought the Law And/I Won: as beloved party-boy sprint king Tom Boonen smokes the field at Tour of Qatar (Cav who?) for his inaugural win of the season,a Belgian court, sympathetically opining the poor boy's been "punished enough," has decided not to criminally prosecute him for his little coke poz(es), and while I agree he's been a naughty, naughty boy (and you all know you like him that way), unless he's pausing 2km out from the line with a mirror, some white powder, and a razor blade, I can't see how one can begrudge the Brad Pitt 'o' Belgium a little after-hours entertainment, right? Best of all, Tour de France organizer Christian Prudhomme over at ASO is warmly welcoming him back to the fold, and, if Speedo's gonna stick with wholesome Olympic icon Michael Phelps despite his pot imbroglio, I'm guessing Tom gets to keep his little leather gladiator skirt and the rest of his cash-cow sponsorships as well. Now let's party--but remember, just stick to the booze, okay? No, Tom, you *cannot* have the keys to the Lamborghini back...
No More Mr. Nice Guy: so while the Italian national champion's squad gets left off the centenary Giro's start list for heck's sake, sad-sack Amore & Vita's been dissed for the start list at the somewhat smaller Gp Costa degli Etruschi, and team boss Ivano Fanini knows exactly who's to blame: yep, it's the scumly nefarious Paolo Bettini, hell-bent on vengeance for Fanini's perfectly harmless suggestion to the entire planet that Paolo knew, in advance, when and how surprise doping controls were being conducted at last year's Worlds. Hey, what adored icon-of-a-nation could possibly mind an assertion like that? Il Grillo, to his everlasting credit, kept his cool, merely replying that the decision to tell the team to blow was made by committee. Damn lucky for you, too, Fanini!
OMG!!!!OMG!!!: As Gazzetta Dello Sport's almost indecent love affair with comely comeback Ivan Basso continues (the snow can't stop him! He trains on his mountain bike!), despite the inexplicable announcement from Liquigas that our never-doped indomitable hero, tho' certainly back to his completely unenhanced and medically-unaided 2006 form, is nonetheless gonna have to "co-captain" with Franco "Don't Tread On Me" Pellizotti at the Giro, comes news you can use (and swoon over): Ivan's got a Twitter feed! And even better, it seems to be in English. Go here, take a long leisurely detour to the gallery to melt away in those dreamy, dreamy eyes, drop him a note (click on "scrivi ad ivan"), hit the twitter icon, sign on up, and get ready for breaking news on his latest massage *and* his latest doping controls. OMG!!!! Oh, Jan Ullrich. This smashing celebrity rehab could've been you. *How* could you have !##$ed things up so badly?
Cycling In The News: last but not least, as Lance's dazzling presence inspires actual commentary by the non-cycling sports press, comes a spectacular gem from National Public Radio, which not only mentioned the Tour of California, but listed four main protagonists--Lance, Ivan, Floyd and Tyler--and their doping histories (once tested positive; attempted to dope; tested poz for, um, "steroids"; and blood-doped). The crack analysis: "at least it should be fast." Lookin' forward to some ace play-by-play announcing at the ToC!
No More Mr. Nice Guy: so while the Italian national champion's squad gets left off the centenary Giro's start list for heck's sake, sad-sack Amore & Vita's been dissed for the start list at the somewhat smaller Gp Costa degli Etruschi, and team boss Ivano Fanini knows exactly who's to blame: yep, it's the scumly nefarious Paolo Bettini, hell-bent on vengeance for Fanini's perfectly harmless suggestion to the entire planet that Paolo knew, in advance, when and how surprise doping controls were being conducted at last year's Worlds. Hey, what adored icon-of-a-nation could possibly mind an assertion like that? Il Grillo, to his everlasting credit, kept his cool, merely replying that the decision to tell the team to blow was made by committee. Damn lucky for you, too, Fanini!
OMG!!!!OMG!!!: As Gazzetta Dello Sport's almost indecent love affair with comely comeback Ivan Basso continues (the snow can't stop him! He trains on his mountain bike!), despite the inexplicable announcement from Liquigas that our never-doped indomitable hero, tho' certainly back to his completely unenhanced and medically-unaided 2006 form, is nonetheless gonna have to "co-captain" with Franco "Don't Tread On Me" Pellizotti at the Giro, comes news you can use (and swoon over): Ivan's got a Twitter feed! And even better, it seems to be in English. Go here, take a long leisurely detour to the gallery to melt away in those dreamy, dreamy eyes, drop him a note (click on "scrivi ad ivan"), hit the twitter icon, sign on up, and get ready for breaking news on his latest massage *and* his latest doping controls. OMG!!!! Oh, Jan Ullrich. This smashing celebrity rehab could've been you. *How* could you have !##$ed things up so badly?
Cycling In The News: last but not least, as Lance's dazzling presence inspires actual commentary by the non-cycling sports press, comes a spectacular gem from National Public Radio, which not only mentioned the Tour of California, but listed four main protagonists--Lance, Ivan, Floyd and Tyler--and their doping histories (once tested positive; attempted to dope; tested poz for, um, "steroids"; and blood-doped). The crack analysis: "at least it should be fast." Lookin' forward to some ace play-by-play announcing at the ToC!
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