Lance Armstrong Is Still A Bee-yotch; And, In Defense of Garmin-Slipstream

Sure, He's Team Leader, But I'm Still Waaaaaaaaaaaay Better Than He Is: so just as Lance astonishingly concedes team leadership to Contador, as he should've done two weeks ago if he wasn't gonna make Bruyneel let Alberto out of his contract months back as he clearly deserved, our hero nonetheless manages to put Contador in his place with easily one of the most obnoxious quotes of the race: "If we ride into Paris with the yellow jersey in the team, I'm cool with that. I've got seven of them at home." No, really? I hadn't heard, you relentless egomaniacal self-obsessed goon! I mean, let's be honest, Contador is a tiresome pain in the !@@ with his non-stop shooting action (particularly thoughtless, one might suggest, after Oscar Freire almost got taken out entirely by some air-pistol-wielding wingnut), but not only does he get big points for pausing to pat the sweetly drooling St. Bernard at his podium presentation, at least he's not screaming "I won the Giro!" "I won the Vuelta!" "I won the Tour!" in every interview, when, as one of the few ever to do so, he could've entirely justifiably tattooed that on his naked butt and mooned the cameras with it the last two weeks. But yes, Lance, we know. No-one's ever contested that you're the best Tour de France rider in history, and to be fair, no-one ever should. And if it makes you feel better, o Mother Theresa of the Peloton, the entire planet is apparently completely capable of blocking out the umpteen times you've said in the last 6 months that you're coming back to the Tour de France solely--and inevitably--to win it. Ugh. Am I the only one longing for the halcyon days of the irritating non-stop People magazine updates about the latest Olsen twin he's snogging?

Don't Get Your Bike Shorts In a Twist, Everyone!: and, while Vs. impressively managed to barely mention the fact that Cavendish stiffed we love Thor Hushovd in a sprint and, rightly or wrongly (and of course you can guess who I'm gonna side with), was relegated right out of the green jersey competition, the big news from yesterday was of course George Hincapie being cheated out of the yellow jersey by the grotesque actions of Garmin-Slipstream, who, so far as I could tell, are basically guilty of trying not to get Christian Van de Velde jacked out of GC contention and setting up their own boy Farrar for the post-breakaway sprint. How dare they?! Natch, everybody and their mother--and particularly Bruyneel and Armstrong--immediately tossed Garmin under the bus, saying of course Astana was only up there driving the pace with no GC or sprint threat in sight to *help* poor George take the jersey as was their plan all along (and, because I'm sporting, I won't even point out that it took 7 years of endless subservience before Lance even allowed Hincapie a stage win), whereas Garmin clearly had some nefarious plan to hose somebody everybody likes out of nowhere to no benefit to themselves. The problem: no one has yet advanced any plausible reason whatsoever why Garmin would've wanted to keep Hincapie out of the maillot jaune, which he'd have no possible hope of keeping in the Alps anyway. And no, being 'a competing American squad' doesn't cut it--their DS Matt White is an Aussie for heck's sake! While we're at it--if Columbia was so freaked out at those five seconds, and so outraged that Garmin was pinching them as they watched the clock tick along, why the hell'd *they* of all squads pick up the pace, even if ever so slightly, for the sprint? Anyway, a crap ending for a great rider--but I don't see how Garmin is at fault. Do you?

Try Not to Kill the Riders: Fan Etiquette 101; and, an Update

Look, fellow fans. I understand. I've been there shoving a camera two inches from Ivan Basso's game face among a frantic horde of 6-foot Germans. Hell, I've even been far-too-close-to-there when we still love Bobby Julich unexpectedly let it rip in a roadside orchard. So I fully get how desperate one can be to press right up to the best, and most beloved, athletes on Earth. But as the rider body count seems to increase every year by the reckless actions of over-impassioned spectators, I hereby offer this handy Guide to Fan Etiquette in the hopes that some lucky rider will remain alive to claim the maillot jaune in Paris:

1. Leash the dog, you dimwit!


2. Come to think of it, leash the kid. Both tend to wander. Alternately, try duct tape.

3. The camera goes adjacent to, not into the actual nose of, the rider.

4. The razor-edged, plastic or cardboard promotional tchotchke, at 50 meters to the line in a bunch sprint, belongs *inside* the barrier.


5. Grocery-bag handles go over the shoulder or wrist, *not* into the course.


6. Flags, while admirably patriotic, can be inconvenient when shoved into one's face on a narrow climb with a 6,000-foot drop to certain, rocky death.

7. Riders only appreciate a quick push on the back up the mountain occasionally. Hint: the presence of a race-moto or camera with the power to time-penalize them, an angry torrent of probable curses in an indecipherable foreign language, or an actual slap to your face or body generally mean "no."

8. If, by contrast, you should inadvertently trip up a nearly-naked runner in a thong and neon clown wig, it's not exactly polite, but it's not like anyone (the trippee perhaps excepted)'ll fault you. If you trip up the Devil, however, whom I love, you are personally bound for the Searing Lake o' Burning Fire in the next world.

All spectators intentionally violating said restrictions will be summarily whacked upside the head with 900 pounds of Rabobank's most formidable blood-doping setup. All spectators merely accidentally violating said restrictions shall be forced to watch a two-hour continuous tape loop of Alberto Contador making that assy "pistol-shot" salute when he crosses the line. Well, that oughta about do it, tho' if I've missed anything, by all means let me know. So let's let the boys ride their race in peace (and in one piece), and do go ahead and yell, Allez Allez!

And remember: enter my contest, and Win Free Stuff Part Deux!

Update: Holy crap Levi Leipheimer's out with a broken wrist! Poor Klodi. It's all on you now. And not to be a total !@#$%^%$, but Carlos--here's your chance.

My Fantasy Team Astana Press Conference

Johan Bruyneel: Good morning. As all you lurid media vultures are demanding, we're meeting today to discuss the situation here at Team Astana honestly, openly, and with love in our hearts. I hope this is not only informative, but enough to get you !@#@#$%s off my back for ten minutes so I can DS this !@#$^%$ race. I'll first turn it over to Lance Armstrong and Alberto Contador to discuss their relationship.

LA: Well, when I first heard I'd be Alberto's teammate, I couldn't've been more excited. I mean, certain guys--and I'm not naming names here--I know are just gonna bow down to me like a god, but a rider like Contador? Sweet. So what's with this "I want the Tour this" and "I wanna be Captain that" crap I'm hearing now? Wash my feet, you worthless dirtbag!
AC: It's a good thing I can't speak English, or I'd tell that arrogant entitled cowboy !@#hole where to stick it in explicit detail. I don't give a crap what you think I snarfed at Liberty Seguros or why you think I've improved like a freak in the time trial since last spring, I'm the best stage racer in the world, I'm only 26, I've already won the Tour the Giro and the Vuelta which is more than Lord One Trick Pony can say, and I have to beg to be allowed to go off the front like some zero neo-pro water-bottle-carrier who's barely won a nursery-school summer-camp tricycle race? Are you kidding me? I AM ALBERTO !@#$ING CONTADOR !@#DAMMIT!

JB: As you can see, they're great friends. And they only care about the well-being of the team. Now let's move on to the mood among the domestiques.

Levi Leipheimer: Me, I'm happy to work for anyone. Thank you, Johan, may I have another?
Andreas Kloden: With all the dope I took at T-Mobile, I'm just glad I'm not in prison.
Haimar Zubeldia: I should've stayed with Euskaltel. At least Samu' Sanchez is mentally stable...
Sergio Paulinho: That kid better take me with him when he bails next year or I'm gonna shove his scrawny butt off the side of Ventoux.
Yaroslav Popovych: Lance, dear, you look a little peaked. Can I get you a nice cold lemonade? Here, let me fan you with this palm leaf!
Chris Horner: I can't believe I got stiffed out of the Tour for some !@#$^%$ Kazakh nobody!

JB: Let's turn to team strategy. Guys?
LA: I haven't decided yet.
JB: Um, I guess I haven't decided yet.
AC: Whatever it is, I'm hosed.
YP: After what I did to Cadel Evans last year, my only strategy is to stay the heck out of his way.
LL: If one of these clowns cracks, it's no more Mr. Nice Guy. Aw, yes it is. Rats!
AK: I don't see why I have to hand-scrub Lance's bike shorts every night. It says "machine wash cold, delicate cycle" right here on the label.

JB: Finally, let's look at our plans for next year. As for me, if they think I'm gonna blow my legacy coddling that psychopath Vinokorouv and his yes-man acolyte Kashechkin, they're freakin' nuts. Besides, the Livestrong team kit's already on its way back from the manufacturer.
LA: I'm not worried. Johan'll do whatever I tell him to. Especially after I beat him down for not putting the lid on that twerp Contador this year.
LL: I don't know, but after multiple Grand Tour podium finishes and about a hundred stage wins, I don't see why I would deserve team leadership anywhere. That's what Lance and Alberto tell me, anyway!
AK: How much does a soigneur make again?
AC: I will spend the rest of my professional life making Johan Bruyneel pay for what he has done to me. Plus, who the hell else does this 'new Spanish team' think is gonna win the Grand Tours for them, Valverde? Adios, suckers!

JB: Well, this concludes our Team Astana press conference. Remember, if you don't like Lance, yer an America-hatin' commie-socialist pro-cancer sissified wine-drinkin' Brie-eatin' Euro-weenie--no yellow bracelets for you!

We've Got Ourselves A Contest Winner--and, Win Free Stuff This Week, Too!

Yes, folks, it's been an exciting seven days, but having randomly drawn from among the correct entries from the Holy ONCE-Eroski Cycling Cap O' Destiny, we've got us a winner from this week's contest!
The correct answer: the first rider to be pulled out of the Tour for doping this week will be from...Nowhere! I gotta say, I'm shocked as you are. Frankly, even shockeder. I mean, not one single Spaniard went down?
The winner is: RossCo--congratulations Rossco!
The insult moratorium for the next two weeks is on this rider: Tom Boonen!

Thanks to all for participating--and starting now, join your fellow reader(s) for Win Free Stuff Part Deux!

Lance Armstrong: "The Team Won't Be the Problem"

Yeah, and you should've expected that when you came back acting as if Alberto was just gonna drop to his knees before you like every other rider who's ever worked for you.

Wank.

It's All About the Pyrenees

The Thorpedo Strikes!: yes folks, if you root for him in every stage, our big Norwegian lug will eventually come through, this time pipping we also love Oscar Freire at the line. Woo-hoo Thor!--but can poor Tom "Sniffy" Boonen's luck this Tour get any lousier? Just have a nice cup of tea and a massage tonight Tommeke, and you'll bounce back all right--but that's *all* you get to have to soothe your wounds, understand?

It's the Mountains, Baby!: and, it's on to Arcalis tomorrow in the first of a trio of days in the Pyrenees, and while I don't want Alberto Contador to unduly wipe himself out ahead of the third week, I *do* want him to kick the crap out of Armstrong in the stage, no matter where in the stage standings he has to do it. Then again, I'd be even happier seeing Klodi (didja see where he is on GC?) kick the crap out of Contador, but one can't have *every* dear wish one hopes for come true, right? Meantime, Cadel has to freakin' do *something*, Menchov's glum DS sez he just hopes Denis can make it through the first mountain stage without actively !@#$ing up, and Carlos Sastre, of course, can do no wrong so if you don't think he can come back from 2-odd minutes back you all just colossaly bite me. And forza, forza big and baby Schlecks--you're just in 25th Frank, don't let it become all about your little brother just yet!

My Eat Crow Moment: finally, a monster shout-out to Shameless St. Millar Defender, and all our beloved Brits, for their boy David's incredibly close, and incredibly brave, breakaway effort today. There, that feels good. Can I go back to abusing him for being a weepy whiny camera-whoring twit now?

Questions from Newbies; and, The Heat Is On, Baby!

Today, I take a moment to address a few burning questions posed to me this morning by a dear TdF newbie, intrigued, but befoozled by, a sport not involving three strikes, peanuts and Cracker Jacks. Reasonable people may certainly disagree, but then, I'm not one of 'em anyway. So here we go:

Q. What the hell is all this I keep hearing about problems on Armstrong's team?
A. Here’s the scoop. The opening day was a time trial and Alberto Contador beat his teammate Lance Armstrong, which made it look like Armstrong might ultimately have to concede team leadership over to Contador. Monday should have been a routine sprint, but it was very windy, which split the peloton into two groups. 20-odd riders, including Lance but not including Contador or GC contenders the Schleck brothers, Cadel Evans (2nd last year), or Denis Menchov (winner of this year’s Giro and 2 Vuelta a Espanas) made the front of the split. The controversy: Astana, Lance and Alberto’s team, should’ve just chosen a damn team leader before the start of the race and backed him 100%. Instead, Lance and Alberto are infighting for team leadership, and the whole team is in disarray as a result with some domestiques backing Contador and others Lance. So when Lance made the split, Johan Bruyneel, the team manager in charge of picking the team leader, told two other Astana riders who also made the split to pick up the pace for Lance, therefore hurting Alberto who was in the second group, so that Lance ultimately gained about 40 seconds on Contador (though in the overall Contador is only 19 seconds back, which he can probably pick up in the mountains in the third week). The upshot: Armstrong was smug, Contador (who should have quit this team the second Lance announced his comeback) is ticked, and the whole team is a demoralized angry trainwreck. Fun!

Q. Why do the French hate Lance so much? Who would the French like to see win instead?
A. The French press hates Lance’s guts because they all think he’s a doper; of course, so are their own riders, but that's perfectly fine with them. The fans are a little nicer to Lance since he learned to speak French the last couple years. Mostly though they all just hate him because the French riders have, for several years running, pretty well sucked. Can you say "displacement," boys and girls? They are looking to French riders like Sylvain Chavanel and Christophe Moreau for stage wins and a decent finish overall. Barring that, they will probably root for Contador—he’s very handsome and has a really flashy style in the mountains—tres chic!

Q. What is this "domestique" thing? Do they *do* anything?
A. Domestiques are the “worker bee” riders on a team whose job is to support the team leader. For example, on a flat stage, they will surround the team leader like a cocoon to keep him from being jostled by other riders so he won’t crash, and will keep him towards the front of the peloton, as most crashes happen in the middle of the group where it’s most crowded; in the mountains, they will go to the front of the race to set a very fast pace to try to exhaust and distance the team leader’s rivals, and will also ride right in front of the team leader, taking the brunt of the wind resistance for him, so the leader can ride in their slipstream and conserve his own energy so he is strong enough to attack later. If the team leader crashes, and the team support car is too far away to bring him a new bike right away, they’ll even give the team leader their own bike so he doesn’t lose time waiting. If you're really low on the totem pole, or if later in this year's race, you're, oh, say, Alberto Contador, you have to schlep back to the team car to get water bottles for everyone, which you shove down your shirt like a spandex-covered camel. Your only consolation: covered in your sweat and skank from hours of riding, that's what your boss gets to drink from. Sweet!

Q. So who is going to win the Tour? Who do you want to win?
A. If I were betting, I would bet on Alberto Contador—-he is absolutely the best Grand Tour racer in the world right now, and he is not only a great climber with amazing acceleration, but he has learned to time trial, which you need to be able to do to win. He is still very young and needs some better tactical sense but he is learning. He deserves to win but if Armstrong bushwhacks him the rest of the race he may not. However, I would like to see Carlos Sastre, the defending Tour de France champ, win again. He likely won’t though-—he is a “pure climber”, and the best he can do in the time trials is try to limit his losses. He also has worked quite humbly for other guys his whole career, like Ivan Basso who got busted for doping, without any complaint despite his own capabilities and deserving leadership before that himself, so, in keeping with my neverending backing of losing causes, I am dreaming of a karmic victory here. Allez allez little Carlos!

The Hosed and the Beautiful: meantime, as the Astana boys and team management trade barbs, backtracks, and damage control, the team time trial today made certain things clear: namely, Cadel Evans is unequivocally jacked. I mean, when a pack of mountaineer munchkins like Euskaltel-Euskadi kick your squad's !@# in the time trial, you *know* you might as well go home. Poor baby--was anyone else just heartbroken watching Cadel drive his own team to the line? Nor do things look much better for Denis Menchov, or even the aforementioned we love Carlos Sastre for that matter. Not to worry folks--at least my boy can actually attack in the mountains!

Finally, don't forget: join my contest, and Win Free Stuff !

Contador, You Spindly Nit!

You Picked the *Wrong* Time to Play Space Cadet, Kid: all right, Alberto. You're a great champion (however you got that way, and however much the dope-fueled playground that was your day-care center at Liberty Seguros still irks me). But you're still very young, and one thing you don't want to do is zone out enjoying the view on a windy day when someone with a creakier body but far more experience who has made no secret of the fact that he is here to win the Tour and is clearly ready to roll over your bony carcass to do it pays attention to the crosswind and comes in 40 seconds ahead of you on the line. Aaaiiggghhh! Of course, I'd be quite happy if, say, Klodi pounds you into the tarmac, but if you want to claim the leadership from the unbearable Armstrong once and for all you cannot let your current athletic superiority lull you into milch-cow-like complacency. Fine, you're only 19 seconds back of him in GC now, and you've got your spectacular acceleration in the mountains to unleash on the old dog ahead of you. But in the meantime, all your domestiques are in limbo waiting--and wasting energy--to see who's their true master. Just keep those pretty long-lashed eyes of yours open from now on, for heck's sake!

Silenced is Right: meantime, poor hosed Cadel Evans, already hamstrung by the weakest team a repeat podium finisher and clear GC contender's ever been stuck with, also didn't make the key move today in the crosswind, and if he or Denis "I Heart Doping Investigations" Menchov think it's gonna be enough to just wheelsuck from here on out, or even that no-one'll notice if they actually attack anyway, they're on more drugs than I thought Rabobank was already taking. So solid, so admirable, so frequently yawn-inducing--oh Cadel, if Andreas Kloden weren't so much *more* downtrodden, I might have had to pour all my fruitless ever-stomped hopes into you instead!

Money, It's a Gas: in general stupidity news, I see Contador, Armstrong & co. were fined a day's worth of milk money for failing to meet the sign-in deadline this morning, reputedly because, claims the team, they were so busy signing autographs and communing with the fans they lost track of time. Less known: whether Lance's taking coffee with the Hollywood glitterati caused the problem. Could we *please* take this sport out of the People Magazine hell Lance's cult of personality is dragging it into, and perhaps get to watch some bike racing?

(Time) Trial of the Century: and, it's onwards and upwards to the must-see team trial tomorrow, and given that Contador's going to have to prove to Armstrong that he can still put the hurt on him despite his colossal choke today, I'm putting my money on Astana, tho' I'd rather see Garmin, after Cavendish's whiny mocking wimpy wanking after the team time trial at the Giro, take out both Astana and the estimable, and clearly incredibly unified, Columbia. Come to think of it, since it took like 7 straight years of relentless subservience and stunning quality service by the great George Hincapie to the bottomless well of Lance Armstrong's ego before the latter even let our boy take a stage win at the Tour, I'd like to see Columbia stomp 'em as well. Go Garmin, even if we'll have to see Astana on the podium instead!

This Team Will Self-Destruct in 5 Seconds

The Old Gray Mare, She Ain't What She Used to Be: and no, I don't mind it as a matter of fact, because Lance insulted we love Carlos Sastre like an arrogant low-rent bar-brawling thug-pig and deserves a giant karmic thwap because of it, but let's get down to business: Johan Bruyneel has got to decide which of his two prima donnas he's gonna coddle, and damn well get the loser to do it too, or he's in danger of letting a pack of crotch-grabbing power-plays derail the near-guaranteed victory chances of one of the most talented teams in cycling history. I'm going to leave aside the continuous feeling of mild stomach upset that Contador's stunningly recent improvement in the time trial has given me, and assume that, as is always the case with Armstrong's squads, everyone is truly pure til he leaves. You want to back Lance, Johan? I admire your loyalty, but if you give it to him now, at least before Alberto undergoes some spectacular crack, you are doing a disservice not only to Contador who has today earned the leadership (if, to be entirely fair, by a pretty small tho' notable margin), but to the broader sport as well. And while we're at it--free the course-smokin' Klodi for heck's sake, you can't put one of Lance's old lowly Discovery minions on Cinderella drudge-duty for your chosen one and let Kloden do what he's capable of for once? Keep your eyes open, Carlos--if Astana starts playing cannibal in the mountains, there's your chance!

Arf!: meantime, while these guys were all battling it out, what the hell (besides his winning effort at the Giro) happened to Denis Menchov? This course suited him, and he woofed it--not by so much it's unrecoverable, but he's gonna have to go against his habits and really attack in the mountains if he's hoping (probably fruitlessly) to gain time on Contador there. I'm sure it's got nothing to do with the fact that, post-Dekker, the team's feeling a little, well, conservative about its race prep...

Cav Comes Down to Earth: and, as Mark Cavendish gets ready to tackle his near-inevitable multiple sprint wins this Tour, and near-inevitable obnoxious-sprinter foot-in-mouth episode he's likely to have after at least one of 'em, I have to say, I was surprised that, despite his total incapacitation at the mere mention of a hill much less the actual presence of one, an ill, out of sorts, and severely colon-blown Tom "Sniffy" Boonen still managed to come in ahead of him. It's okay, Cav, you're still the fastest man on earth right now--don't let it psych you out too badly!

Tomorrow's Race: for those of you who have money bet on this year's Tour, you can almost guarantee winning if you pick whoever I don't, so in the interest of enriching you all I'm gonna say Cav's gonna keel over from the hilly parts and hand this one to Thor Hushovd. Sure, you can mock me--but at least I'm making you richer!

And, It's the Giro d'Italia Again, Baby!: finally, as the boys rip it up in France, the women are conquering the Roman Empire at the Giro Donne, and for purely entertainment purposes I note that among an all-star field the great American Kristin Armstrong sure placed a whole lot higher in the opening time trial standings than Lance (no relation) did. Hee hee--and you go Kristin!

Win Free Stuff--Enter the Weekly Racejunkie Tour de France Contest!

Yes folks, in honor of our wonderful Tour de France, and because I couldn't figure out how the hell to do this in time for the even more bitchin' Giro, once a week for the next three weeks, I'm gonna have a contest here at racejunkie, and here's the link to go to to enter. Prizes: a spiffy custom-embroidered "racejunkie" cycling cap, and an insult moratorium on your favorite rider. Good luck to one and all (if anyone), and may the best fan win!

Your Tour de France Preview, Part Quatre; and, Boonen's In!

All right folks, we're in the final run to the start line at the venerable Grand Boucle, so let's wrap up our preview so's you can hit the ground screaming your head off for your faves!

1. The Jerseys: When you see someone not wearing their team
kit, they're either wearing their national championship jersey, or one
of these: Green is for Points/Sprint. White is for Best Young Rider.
Polka-dot is King of the Mountains. And Yellow, of course, is the only
one that matters in the end.

2. The Time Trials: there are both individual and team time trials
in this year's Tour. Team time trial: Garmin (blue-and-orange argyle
uniforms); Astana (baby blue-and-yellow); Columbia (yellow black and
white). Individual time trial: normally, it'd be Fabian Cancellara (Saxo Bank), by far the best in the world; American Levi Leipheimer (Astana), has won this
multiple times at the Tour de France before; Dave Zabriskie (Garmin),
crazy American hippie; but the opener's hilly so a GC guy might be better suited. Used to be Brit David Millar (Garmin), but since he stopped doping--which of course is a good thing--he sort of, well, not *bites* exactly, but certainly at least, um, nibbles. Lance was a great time trialist as well--will probably place highly at least.

3. The Breakaways: the French haven't had a GC contender for their
own Grand Tour in over a decade, which is pathetic, so stage wins in breakaways are basically their only hope. Did I mention it's pathetic? Anyway, riders to watch are Sylvain Chavanel, Christophe Moreau, David Moncoutie, Thomas Voeckler, and Sandy Casar, who crashed in the Tour quite badly a few years back when some idiot let their dimwit Golden Retriever wander right into the course when the guys were going like 45 mph so of course I'm always rooting for him. Another rider I love to watch in the breakaways: Jens Voigt (Saxo Bank), a great old warhorse who speaking of dogs is like a big happy slobbering Labrador retriever going after a tennis ball-he basically just mopes around (but is working hard) the whole race itching for his team director to let him off the leash in a breakaway.

4. A Link to a Basic Cycling Dictionary, and a Coupla French Cycling Terms You Need to Know: When you're watching the race on Vs., the screen says what's going on in French, and here's what it means. "Tete de la course" is who is at the lead in the stage so that's what you want to look for; "Poursuivant" is the chasing group; "Peloton" is the main group behind them; and "Totally !@#$%&!" (technically, "autobus") is the guys who are dead last. Note: You will hear the spectators yell "Allez, allez!" (go, go) as the riders pass. The Americans, of course, paint the US flag on their hairy beer guts and run alongside Lance as he goes by--it's embarrassing.

Free Tom Boonen!: as the narcs announce that another 4 or 5 riders may still yet be nailed for doping before the Tour even hits the start line--and not to argue with UCI's timing on this, but if you want to convince everybody that the sport's cleaning up, mightn't you try announcing this stuff in, oh, February when no one gives a rat's !@#, instead of when even the freakin' no-neck American football fans are watching?--I'll say it again, and I'm not even Tom's dealer so it's not like I have a pony in this race: would you clowns let this boy race? He is the *least* of the peloton's problems, and doesn't anyone want anyone besides Cav to take a sprint so we limit how much we have to hear Cavendish wank to the press? Worse, you just made Quick Step drop this overgrown club kid into Monaco, home of some of the world's most decadent nightlife, while he waits to hear his fate--if you want him to stop with the coke, that's maybe *not* the optimal plan. Not to suggest he'll ever do anything wrong again--I'm just sayin'!

Update: And, he's in--now we're gonna have some sprints worth watching, baby!

Your Tour de France Preview, Part Trois; and, Bonjour, Scum!

Welcome back to your 2009 Preview yip-yap, dear newbies and oldies! Today’s installment: the climbers, always the best part of the Tour de France. You’ll note that they are also most of the GC contenders, plus some specialists—you can’t climb, you lose the Tour. So, onwards and upwards:

1. Alberto Contador (Astana): best acceleration of all the climbers right now, he just pops out like a champagne cork on the most excruciating gradients. He will take one or more mountain stages or I will say something really, really nice about Armstrong.

2. Lance (Astana): Historically not so much interested in winning the actual stage as gaining time on important rivals. Since he's still whining that he should've beaten Pantani a decade ago on the legendary Mont Ventoux, which he's never won, I imagine he'd like to take that. Ventoux is the penultimate stage this year so it oughta be a GC nailbiter right up to the Champs-Elysees. I still hope Carlos kicks your !@# on it though, Lance!

3. Andy Schleck (Saxo Bank): best young rider at last year's Tour, he's a long gangly goofball with incredible endurance. Always a domestique til now due to his age/inexperience, he’s earned the right to go for it and will.

4. Carlos Sastre (Cervelo): defending champ, pure climber, not flashy but can attack so gently you don’t realize it til he’s too far up the road to catch. See, it pays to be small!

5. Levi Leipheimer (Astana): always in the front or at worst second group in the high mountains plus works like a dog for everyone else. We love Levi because he’s podiumed repeatedly at grand tours but still is not a pretentious jerk like he has the right to be.

6. Cadel "the Tick" Evans (Silence-Lotto) & Denis "" Menchov (Rabobank): Cadel's so darned earnest I can't help but like him, but he makes me insane on the climbs because he generally sucks off someone else’s wheel and can stay there but not much else. Menchov, by contrast, prefers to beat down his rivals psychologically by simply matching their every attack--he's really quite a sadistic little s.o.b. when you think about it.

7. Euskaltel-Euskadi: the Basque national team, all of them climb great (and with the exception of their sole sprinter, can't do anything else). You will always see their black-and-orange team kit in the highest, sharpest mountains and their crazed fans (the roadside mobs in orange t-shirts) are like Red Sox fanatics on steroids--lovable, but then it never hurts to have, say, an electric cattle prod around 'em in case you need it.

8. The missing: Mauricio Soler (Barloworld), former Tour de France King of the Mountains—dinky team wasn’t invited but this is a major outrage because he is the best climber in the world besides Contador. Also a rather bummed yet always smashing Samu' Sanchez (Euskaltel), whose team is making him skip the Tour to take his national Vuelta. Last but not least--Alejandro Valverde (Caisse d’Epargne), a perpetual GC contender who never ever lives up to his hype and who can’t race because he’s been banned in Italy due to the big Spanish doping scandal from 2006 (the Italian cycling authorities were mad their national hero Ivan Basso got nailed and banned for it while Valverde got off the hook, so they went after him in revenge this year) and the Tour crosses over into Italy for a stage. Don't worry Alejandro--like every reject who dopes his !@# out of the Tour, I'm sure you'll swing by to defile the beautiful Vuelta this year!

And We're Off!: finally, the Tour hasn't even begun, kids, and already we're hit with our first doping scandal--yep, child prodigy/Mozart-on-wheels (come to think of it, Mozart *did* take a lot of snuff) Thomas Dekker has come up poz for EPO via a 2007 sample and the UCI "I Told You We'd Get Someone You've Heard Of" biological passport and has been summarily tossed off the Tour team by Silence-Lotto, stripping Cadel of his only possible mountains man and prompting Silence to point out that, at the tender age of 22, Dekker was then actually a scum-cheat for Rabobank. Anyone else remember that Brady Bunch episode where the kids broke Carol's favorite vase playing basketball in the house and they glued it back together to fake her and Mike out, then at dinner the thing started springing leaks from 20,000 different holes? Yeah, that'll be Menchov when the narcs get done sticking holes in 'im. Ah well Denis--nothing a little duct tape (or reparative homologous blood doping) can't cure, I'm certain!

Which brings us to Anonymous' question, what's *with* this thing of freezing and retesting old samples til the end of time? Before anyone gets pissed off at me for being concerned about this, again, let me restate, doping bad and I hope they all get caught and they should all have to wear a scarlet "D" on their jerseys and be banned from the sport for all time and spit upon by the local children and roughly ejected from respectable nightclubs. But given that the last few years have been marred by EPO scandals, in a purely practical sense, do even the most morally righteous narcs (and I don't include those hypocrite enablers at UCI) want to go there? For my money, if we're gonna do this, we oughta go after the teams instead. Not to rabble-rouse, but Dekker just came up positive *now*--where did an untried 22-year-old get the dough, much less the connections for, the good stuff? And is anyone really buying this crap that when extremely valuable cash-cows were, say, disappearing for 5-hour roadtrips to a team-doctor university clinic on the eves between quite draining Tour stages their teams just assumed they must be delayed in the powder room primping (I mean, if it were the Italians, sure, but Patrik Sinkewitz)? Even if one does assume the teams, DSes, and everyone but the individual rogue cyclists themselves have been wholly in the dark, the on-the-ground implications are clear: at a minimum, we're gonna have to dig up freakin' Fausto Coppi before we come up with a rider we can be sure, truly sure, has been always, historically clean and who absolutely, unequivocally deserves a winner's jersey above all his compatriots. So why don't we hold the teams and their either doofus or nefarious management responsible, and concentrate on a tighter time frame? Both my faithful readers--what's your take?

Your Tour de France Preview, Part Deux; and, Your Daily News Update

Okay folks, since I can't say no to a Stuey O'Grady fan, I'll get right on to the sprinters. The coveted Green (or Points) Jersey is awarded every year to basically the best sprinter in the entire Tour. In addition to points you win by your placement at the end of a stage, you can also pick up points by crossing the line first (or second or third) at various arbitrarily-set places during the course itself. You will often see a team’s lead sprinter sending another teammate up the road to grab these points instead, both to conserve their own energy for the sprint to the finish line and to keep any other sprinter who is a threat to the green jersey from getting them instead. Got it? Good! These guys are mostly *big*--it's all about the power, baby! Really, what’s fun on a flat stage is the last kilometer, when the “lead-out” boys are setting up the sprint for their main man for the frantic crush towards the finish. Frequent crash scenario within sight of the line: some dimwit forces another sprinter into the barriers at the side of the course, taking down like 20 guys at once because they’re too tightly packed and going too fast to avoid it. Now that's great television! So, without further ado, the sprinters:

1. Mark Cavendish (Columbia): the fastest man in cycling right now, absolutely. Just unbeatable in the last 100 meters. Very young, arrogant (a common sprinter trait), frequently obnoxious, but to be fair still learning how to handle the press. Dropped out of the Giro early after several wins because he couldn’t handle the mountains, got criticized for wussing out, wants to stick it out til the end of the Tour to take the green jersey and, not coincidentally, stick it to his naysayers as well.

2. Thor Hushovd (Cervelo): multiple green jersey winner and also a prologue (the short first time trial stage in some races that’s just there to put the leader’s jersey on someone’s back) specialist. Big lovable Norwegian, good sport, not as powerful as some of the others, but smart and can do it if the stars are aligned. Heinrich Haussler, his lead-out man, has been outshining him a bit so far this season, and nice-guy Thor will let him take it if he earns it. I’m rooting for Thor because not only is he grossly underrated, but because Cav has been a real wanker lately.

3. Daniele Bennati (Liquigas): smack-talking Petacchi-dissing Italian upstart, whose legs can sometimes even match his mouth, he just had a pre-Tour training crash. In bocca al lupo, Benna-Jet!

4. Tom Boonen (Quick Step): A special case. Busted for out-of-competition coke *again* this spring, partying Belgian national hero found out today he's got to wait for yet another tribunal to decide if the Tour will let him in even tho’ he’s a bad example for the kiddies. He drinks too much, snorts blow, occasionally wraps his Lamborghini around a tree, and is beloved by all, so I’m betting he’s in. Just crowned Belgian national champion and out to clear his name, he is the best sprinter in the world besides Cav as well as a hell of a Classics man and is great fun to watch.

5. Tyler Farrar (Garmin): until 2006 US-based (which is viewed as sort of farm-team level by the European peloton), has surprised everyone this year and is the best American sprinter right now--2nd in a couple of Giro stages, he could take a sprint at the Tour.

6. Oscar Freire (Rabobank): just coming back from an unusually ugly crash at the Tour of California. Perpetually thwapped by gross career-threatening saddlesores, weird neck problems, and damn near every other injury or ailment a cyclist can suffer, and just keeps on winning. Best of all, he's named after the best Muppet on earth. What's not to love?

7. Missing in Action: Aussie Robbie “the Pocket Rocket” (he’s small) McEwen: beyond rude by even sprinter standards, he’s great because he’s a total loose cannon but is unfortunately still recuperating from a brutal crash. Also Alessandro “Ale-Jet” Petacchi—-one of best sprinters of all time, his little team wasn’t invited to the Tour.

Remember, just watch the last 2 km or so if it’s too boring watching nothing happen on Vs. for six hours til it’s near the end (and before you whine at me, o hardcores, we're trying to draw the newbies *in* here)--now have at!

'Cause This is Thriller!/Thriller Night!/And No-one's Going to Save You From the Beast About to Strike!: finally, Lance sez again that he'll work for Contador "with pleasure" if it's "clear" the boy can win it, and if that don't give him his angel wings, I simply cannot see what will. Um, not to question the tactics of one of the best cyclists in history, but by the time you finish competing internally, won't you have sapped key time and energy that might have better been used trying to beat more unified squads? Ah, well, it's not like it hurt T-Mobile when Vino decided to kneecap Jan Ullrich at the Tour, right? Oh, wait...

The Tour de France in Preview, Part Un; and, an Important Medical Update for the Gentlemen

Welcome, cycling newbies (and oldies) alike! Yes, the Tour de France starts this Saturday, and since the lame American press is only gonna yap about Lance Armstrong (and no hard feelings, if some bewilderment, if you like it that way), and there's so much more to this fabulous race than that, it's time to get crackin'. Having already force-fed both my faithful readers various "Tour de France 101" or "Cycling 101" type gigs in the past, I'll mercifully spare you all that this year, but for my money, there's a ton elsewise worth watching this Grand Boucle, and you ain't gonna hear it from Versus. Ergo, today’s must-have (well, not necessarily "must" have, but tough noogies for you you "do" have) installment: The Overall Contenders:

1. Alberto Contador (Astana). Lance’s teammate, one of only a few riders to have won all three Grand Tours (Italy, France and Spain), and the best Grand Tour racer in the world right now, hands down. Great climber with incredible out-of-nowhere acceleration uphill, improving enough in the time trial to have just won Spain’s national time trail championship (and I won't mention again why that makes me just itch), and a true GC contender needs to be able to time trial. The European bookies have him as the overwhelming favorite. Potential downfall: with Lance on the squad, the team’s loyalties are divided. If they let infighting get in the way, it could open the door to someone else, namely:

2. Denis Menchov (Rabobank). Has won two Vueltas (Spain’s grand tour) and won this year’s Giro. Doesn’t quite have Contador’s acceleration, but can take an amazing amount of pain and is a good tactician—he will match any attack, and is not afraid to attack himself if he has to. Rabobank’s team is not quite as strong on paper as Astana, but it’s still one of the best and they are 100% behind Menchov.

3. Cadel Evans (Silence-Lotto). Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. Second in last year’s Tour. Solid, hardworking, has never attacked at all until this year, usually just gloms onto someone’s wheel like leech on skin. He could do it with a stronger team, but won’t because Silence is generally too weak to help him—you’ll notice in the high mountains he is almost always left alone.

4. Carlos Sastre (Cervelo): defending Tour de France champion. Great climber, pretty sucky time trialist (as pure climbers tend to be) but a very strong team. Lance, who is a jerk, gave an interview to an Australian newspaper saying last year’s Tour was a “joke,” but then again, Lance is a jerk.

5. Big Bro (Frank) and Baby Bro (Andy) Schleck (Saxo Bank). Will probably take a couple of stages, but if Frank, who never doped so you can all just bite me, thinks his gangly little sib can get the podium, he will work like a mad dog to chew up and spit out the field for him.

6. Ugh, Lance (Astana). Johan Bruyneel, his boss who guided him to his 7 Tour wins, left off one of his key domestiques Chris Horner this year, which hurts him somewhat, but then, he did the same to Contador. Probably in better form than he’s letting on—an old trick from his younger days. Says he’s in it to win it. Again, the question is whether Lance will decide to wreck the team rather’n let Contador take it over him.

7. Levi Leipheimer (Astana) and Christian Van de Velde (Garmin): Enjoy your rabid nationalist moment, Americans! Repeat podium finisher Levi’s gotta work for Lance so look for him to take a stage or two instead. Van de Velde was 5th last year but had a really nasty crash-out earlier in the year he’s still recovering from and may podium but not likely to win.

All right, now that we've nailed down the GC contenders, undoubtedly some French guy no-one's ever heard of is going to defy all prediction and take the race. Anyway, enjoy--and woo-hoo we love dear little Sastre!

And, a TMI News Roundup: last but not least, bad news for the boys in the band, though from the bambini they're constantly carting up on the podium they seem a pretty fertile lot unless the little tykes are just manly-man stage props: cycling more'n a bucket o' nothin' for these guys can seriously damage their sperm. On the plus side, they can plan ahead and freeze it up while it's still good. Heck, half of 'em are already intimately familiar with proper blood storage, how hard could this be?

Countdown to the Tour, Baby!

HIStory: okay, I admit I'll masochistically take virtually any amount of aural and visual assault I have to in order for US television to finally, in this post-Lance era, give me the Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen I deserve. And I know, because I'm in the US, I have to put up with 24/7 coverage of the Lord of All Creation for the next 4 (ack!) weeks in order to watch Alberto Contador dope-slap his !@# in the mountains if Lance doesn't accidentally shove him off the side of one. And if you must return, for wholly unselfish reasons that have nothing to do with your own undying convictions as to your own earth-shattering perfection, I understand. I mean, nothing publicizes your genuinely noble work to fight cancer more effectively than cutting off all press contact, assily demeaning other riders who actually ride other races besides the Tour during their careers without iron-fisted control of the rest of their teams at their relentless disposal as talentless losers, and crying incessantly on your Twitter feed about how grossly unappreciated you are. But am I the only one who already wants to poke her !@#$ing eyes out with chopsticks from watching this endless hero-worshipping crap?! Calgon, take me away!

Land of the Lost: speaking of which, today's fawning Cyclysm Sunday, featuring we-still-love-and-I-don't-give-a-rat's-!@#-what-that-unctuous-control-freak-Saiz-at-ONCE-and-Liberty Seguros-forced-him-completely-unwillingly-to-take Joseba Beloki's agonizing leg-snap, Iban "Shut Up! He's Still Perfect" Mayo, the ever-erratic-but-lovable Jan Ullrich, and then-young backstabbing wingnut Alexander Vinokorouv, was notable for the sheer number of doping pozes to come out of that peloton, particularly Johan Bruyneel's boys, who only, because Discovery was pure, ever came up dirty afterwards. However, before I start wallowing in nostalgia for the days when I stupidly didn't expect to see an IV port sticking out of everyone's shorts at the sign-in, can we talk about the sheer amount of talent so far left out of this year's Tour, and am I the only one who thinks this seems unprecedented? Horner. Gerrans. Petacchi. Boonen, which is just idiotic. Noval. Valverde, if you think he's no worse, as bitter bettys Jorg Jaksche and Bernhard Kohl suggest, than anyone else near the podium. Heck, even Basso, if you buy that he's still just getting his legs under him. Anyone else up for a "Tour de Rejects"? Ten bucks says they'd still wipe the floor with Silence-Lotto's chosen squad!

Ghosts of Tours de France Past: and, it's a hearty near-welcome back for famous Tour skanks Michael "Feed Me!" Rasmussen and Riccardo "I Am a Simoni-Betraying Scumwad" Ricco', the one for a team still unclear to me because I can't make sense out of a google translation that starts, "Bomb Chicks Comeback," and the other for Ceramica Flaminia next year because, apparently, Diquigiovanni had the sense--or merely opportunistic sense of self-protection--to reject him. Gee, give a certain young rider a team that's not gonna eat itself, and we might have a real mountains race next year!

We Are the Champions: finally, as we congratulate Nicole Cooke (as usual), sneak-attack Ruben Plaza, Tom Boonen (who could use some good news), and the Schlecks for their national championship wins, I cannot help but wonder: am I the only one a little squicked out every time a rider like, oh, say, Alberto Contador wins a time trial title? Ah, I thought so. I'm sure I'm just being paranoid, as usual!

Who Gives About Astana's Tour Roster, Michael Jackson is Dead!

Okay, I Still Give, But I *Am* Traumatized: yes, in a promo right out of a testosterone-stoked summer action flick, and not coincidentally guaranteed to make the Americans look even more like a bunch of arrogant imperialist !@#!@#$# than we already do despite the fact that the team's technically Kazakh, Astana has announced its team roster, and all I can say is, *what*? Okay, Contador got his Paulinho (tho' he lost Noval) and Johan sez he's "earned the right" to be the "leader." And Lance, mourning Horner (which he's right to do, as one Horner, even ten minutes after getting run over by a truck, is still stronger than a half-dozen other riders put together), sez he's not the leader of the team. But let's review Johan's video masterpiece, shall we? Lance is--and I doubt it's just cause "Armstrong" comes first in the alphabet--right on top. And frankly, I cannot come up with a single freakin' reason that any rider, much less Lance, would ride the Tour de France after 7 straight wins only to come back as maybe a stage winner but definitively a lowly domestique water-!@#$%. Seriously, can you? Incomprehensible. Which means one of two things: (1) Armstrong's soul has been taken over by Andreas Kloden's agonizingly subservient hopelessly beaten-down ego, or (2) he's gonna fight it out with that rugrat Alberto in July no matter what this he's-a-jolly-good-fellow crap he's posting. Really, Johan hates to lose and all, and hardly ever does--but if he's gotta back one of 'em, who the hell else is he gonna pick? Oh, Alberto, you could've looked so pretty in baby-blue-and-orange...

The Longo and Winding Road: speaking of France, lest anyone think I've been ignoring all the national championships, which I have, Jeannie Longo, already just past the half-century mark, has yet again stomped a field of stellar cyclists less than half her age and taken the French time trial title, again. See, we-love-and-I'm-afraid-you're-gonna-call-it-a-day-in-the-near-future Jens? No need for you to retire anytime soon, you're just a *baby*!

Get Over Yourself, Cavendish!: and, in the (incredibly small) "sprinters who aren't wankers" category, the smashing Thor Hushovd has extended his gig with Cervelo for another 2 years, which does beg the question randie raised, how could a team with such refined and impeccable taste diss a multiple Tour de France stage winner like the great (if ever-unheralded) Simon Gerrans? You just better not do anything to hose over Sastre next year, weasels!

Livin' On the Edge: meantime, poor Tom Boonen now doesn't get to learn his Tour fate until next Tuesday, which gives him plenty of time to destroy himself psychologically particularly as, if his handlers have any sense, they're going to have to chain the boy to a tree like a dog to keep him from cheering himself up at the club between now and then. Hold it together Tommeke--these money-grubbing publicity sluts have got to let you and your big babelicious news-generating carcass in the race!

Requiescat in Pace: finally, in memory of Michael, let's have a moment of silence, and then 3 minutes of boogie (replete with cutting-edge special effects and, best of all of course, Tito) in The Gloved One's pre-perv days of course:

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner? (Because He Sure As Heck Ain't Going to the Tour)

Yoooooooouuuuuu'rrrrreeee Out!: yes, with the Italians still objecting to Valverde's presence on their sainted untainted soil, and even the Spaniards finally suggesting they might be a little suspicious of their national hero, Caisse d'Epargne has bowed to the inevitable and, before our boy even had the chance to shove this farce down CAS' throat, announced he's officially yanked from the Tour de France. Even worse, it looks like poor jacked Alberto Contador actually managed to completely blow his own salvation *twice*, as he was apparently also in talks with Oh My God You Could Have Ridden With Garmin And You Still Put Your Faith In Lance's Right Arm Johan Bruyneel?, and failed at that as well. Y'know, as a legal geek, I sincerely and wholeheartedly believe that breaching a contract is a terrible thing, and I admire your taking the moral high ground, or perhaps simply wallowing in the pit of naivete, in sticking with Astana while they refused to pay you for months. But as a cycling fan, I have to ask, what the !@#$ were you thinking, you nit?! And I thought no one on that squad could actually be hosed worse than dear little Klodi....

Tom Boonen Dance Party: so, the court is due to rule on a demoralized Tom Boonen's Tour de France entrance, and I gotta say, while yes, coke bad, the sprints'll be boring as hell--except for the ones Thor Hushovd wins, and subject also to Mark Cavendish's ravenous unstoppable egomaniacal post-race ravings, as well--without our sweet repentant hellraised there too. Oh well Tommeke, if you can't get a gig riding your bike, you can always get on with your pinup career!

Saxo-n, Saxo-ff: in positive, non-doping related Tour news (and we might as well be grateful while it lasts), however, Frank Schleck's knee is on the mend, as he, baby bro-savant Andy, and real time triallist Fabian Cancellara, in addition to Bjarne's usual cadre of breakaway-crushing superdomestiques, are ready to hit the roads of France. Okay, I still deeply dislike Bjarne for so rudely wanking at we love Carlos Sastre--but if Astana's just gonna destroy itself with infighting, who *wouldn't* at a minimum halfway root for the Schlecks?

One Way/Or Another/I'm Gonna Find Ya/I'm Gonna Getcha Getcha Getcha Getcha: and, just in time to highlight the incredible dearth of actual doping controls during the centenary Giro d'Italia, which must just have been a wholly inadvertent oversight, come the we-really-mean-it-this-year narcs at the Tour de France to announce a snazzy new test that's guaranteed to get the latest and hottest drugs on the market, which means that since they won't be looking for the old-school faves so closely I guess, everyone can just revert back a few years and imbibe without fear. Don't worry AFLD--no matter how many scandals yostill have, ya can't look any worse than you did last year/the year before/the year before, right?

A Lawsuit by Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet: meantime, Tuttobici is asserting that Olympic silver medalist/accused cheat-scum Davide Rebellin may actually be innocent, proving definitively that (1) we must always be mindful of the possibility that the allegedly dirty may in fact be clean and (2) in any event, the Italians as a whole can't possibly be more drug-stuffed than the Spanish. Go get 'em, Davide--and Simoni, didn't you also suffer significant economic and emotional distress damages when his help was unjustly denied to you in this year's Giro?

Escape From Alcatraz: finally, I see the Dumbest Thief in All of Human History has been sentenced to 3 (gnurk!) years in prison for stealing The Most Incredibly Recognizable Bike In the Known Universe, which, you'll all be sorry to hear, you could have been the one to buy instead of the cheapskate moron who got it if only you'd been willing to shell out less than most of y'all spend on Gu packets in a week. Come on, I believe in both my faithful readers' impeccable honesty...but like NEITHER of you would've wanted to stash the thing behind a pile of crap in your basement and just sneak down to pet it once in a while?

Incoming!

Weapons of Mass Give-Me-the-Munchies: so I see ex-world downhill champ Missy "the Missile" Giove's been busted by the federalesafter they seized more'n 200 pounds of marijuana from a truck she was driving in upstate New York, and t'aint lookin' good for a light sentence: the narcs, taking over from an earlier driver, completed the handover and followed Missy as she dropped off the goods at a friend's house. Oh, those wacky stoner mountain bikers--don't they know they'd get off so much easier just dealing smaller quantities of the hard stuff to the roadies?

Speaking of Being on Drugs: and, in the wake of some skepticism over the efficacy of the UCI's bio-passport, Anne Gripper sticks to her story that the worst of the scum are already gone, leading to the obvious question: so only the lamest sub-domestiques in the peloton are doping, and even that doesn't help 'em halfway compete against the perfectly-clean top riders? Riiiiiigggggttttt. Meantime, several top cyclists, asked about her remarks, reportedly "laughed their asses off," "popped open some champagne," then "excused themselves to go to a doctor's appointment." Yep, I'm confident ol' Anne's spot-on!

He's Hosed: so, Alberto, after Valverde promised to help you fend off Lance's inevitable attacks at the Tour, Astana stopped paying you for months, and Caisse d' Epargne had a perfect spot just waiting for you if Alejandro stays out and if only you'd had the guts to go after it, not only has responsible good guy and your natural ally Luis Leon Sanchez gallantly offered to step up to leadership at his squad after all, but Lance has just told Velonews unequivocally that he is going to the race to win. Okay, the prospect of Astana eating its young in July is highly appealing, if only because that's the only way in hell Klodi's gonna be allowed within 800 miles of the podium, and I'm still pissed at you and the rest of your twerp-like ilk for getting out of Liberty Seguros alive while we love Joseba Beloki went down. But since you became so horribly oppressed by that tool Johan I have been kinder to you, and this is the stupidity you continue to pursue? Oh, Alberto--don't say you weren't warned!

Schleck!: in even lousier Tour news, Frank Schleck is now in doubt for the Tour from a bum knee, which, much as I hate to, I can't help but wonder means "I have a bum knee," or "I have a bum knee because someone's just found old photos of me getting a blood transfusion." Either way, get well soon Frank--we all know it can't be true, anyhow!

Dese Two Suits: meantime, our two dissolute heroes Alejandro "I Heart Blood Bags" Valverde and Tom "Didja See Those Lab Reports Saying I Coulda Got the Coke From My Hair Gel?" Boonen are both back in the ol' courtroom again, "Piti" to beg CAS to order the Italians to let him cross the border so's he can ride the Tour, and Tommeke in the far more justifiable quest to be let in on the grounds that (1) even the UCI isn't whining about his drug use and (2) everybody just plain likes him anyway. Too bad for the French they're taking such a hard line on doping all of a sudden--after all, how else is one of their riders ever gonna win?

Radio Ga-Ga: finally, seemingly in response to complaints that race radios are a supense-destroying candy-!@# crutch for strategic dimwits, the Tour has announced that it's gonna try two stages radio-free this year, and while I'm stoked that this'll set up some genuine thrillers, to me the bigger question is which of the obedient robots that half the boys have become are gonna actually manage to think and act for themselves without their heads literally exploding into feathery bits and let 'em take the stage. Aw, where's a canny guy like Bettini when you need 'im?

Take That, You Dirty Rats!

Not That Anyone Cares: yes, the UCI has finally come out with its Really Impressive List of Earth-Shakingly Important Cheaters, and what shocking names does it include? Right, no-one you, their mamas, the cycling feds, or even their teams particularly care about. But boy, does this warn the riders off the cheap stuff--you clearly gotta be a big-budget big-shot to afford the goods that'll keep you off the hook! Thanks for the heads-up, UCI--anyone else seeing a rash of, say, unusually large home-equity loans in some cyclists' imminent futures?

Break Out the Vino! (Tho' Not Til the Tour's Over, I Guess): in actual riders-who-(used to)-matter news, the exquisitely sociopathic Alexander Vinokorouv has learned his one year ban by the Kazakhs has been extended to two years that're almost up anyway, so while our national hero will miss this year's Tour and thus sadly the chance to create the most spectacular intra-team chaos since, well, he personally bushwhacked Ullrich at T-Mobile, he will, it appears, be all set to destroy morale, all previous climbing-speed records, and any semblance of fair play at this year's Vuelta. *Must* I ask yet again that that spectacular race not be the dumping ground for every Tour-rejected bottom-dwelling skankbag in the peloton? Oh, Samu' Sanchez, you deserve so much more worthy competition than such classless flotsam...

Oh, Fer Heck's Sake: yes, USADA has taken a strong stand against immorality and for total pointlessness, as, after Tyler Hamilton already retired in depression and disgrace, it imposes an entirely unnecessary 8-year ban on someone who had no nefarious Vino-like intentions of polluting this snow-clean sport ever again. Y'know, there's a lot of reasons not to respect Tyler--and a huge chunk of his generation, while we're at it--for what he did and the way he handled things, but it seems to me entirely wussy and, frankly, sixth-grade-alpha-!@#$% to go after a guy like this when he's already so far down. What's next, you badasses gonna text the whole school that his outfit today is dorky? OMG!!!!!!!!!

Back On the Chain Gang: meantime, I see the French are taking an innovative tack on reintegrating prisoners into society: yep, they've formed 'em a cycling squad to take their own 2,400 km Tour de France, complete with some pretty sweet rides, prison guard escorts, a team car, and (highly recognizable) team kit. Say the cyclists, it gives 'em a chance to prove to their families that they can do something good, and I gotta give it to 'em, at least it'll keep 'em too tired to shank their roommates. Caveat: like they couldn't have found enough felons in the *current* peloton to fill a freakin' team?

What To Do, What To Do: last but not least, as July draws inexorably closer, and wee little Contador himself has the sense to name Lance as one of his biggest rivals, it seems to me that Lance "The Happy Domestique" Armstrong has really only a few options to consider here:

1. Dedicate himself, 100%, no exceptions, to being Contador's pace-setting, wind-protecting, slip-stream-generating, snack-feeding, bike-changing, water-bottle serf. Ha ha! Okay, back from fantasy-land, folks. Why the @#$! would a 7-time Tour de France winner want to do that? And don't give me that pious crap about promoting Livestrong--he's been doing it to great success for the last 3 years without having to depend on the peloton, and if he cared so much that he cut off the fawning Italian press for the last two weeks of the race, what makes you think he'll promote it any more to the Armstrong-loathing French? What's more, let's face it, the guy got more publicity for his worthy organization suckin' on that Olsen twin, so if he's *really* lookin' for attention, he should pimp himself to People (again). Anyhoo, I digress, so let's move on:

2. Lay down the law like he always does with Johan's enthusiastic enforcement, and ride uncontested for GC. No doubt he'll do this if, and only if, he thinks he can win. Still time to snag Valverde's spot at Caisse d'Epargne, Alberto--and you know your old pal Luis Leon Sanchez'll genuinely help you if you ask!

3. Kneecap Contador faster'n you can ask "what was the name of that doltish inbred Tonya Harding sicced on Nancy Kerrigan again?" Oh, I'm so *very* sorry I rammed my wheel into yours at 65 mph!

4. (a) Start 'n'suck or (b) don't start if you think you'll suck, and cry "stomach flu" or some similarly disgusting no-questions-we-don't-need-the-details ailment. It's not like anyone'll suggest you just couldn't cut it anymore, right? Not with your legal team, they won't!

Well, that's my take on 'im, anyway--and of course, Free Klodi!

This Is The Best They've Got?

The Entire Peloton Goes Down: well, not exactly, as UCI makes good on its promise of mind-boggling celebrity drug busts by taking out one man, the king of all cyclists, um, Toni Colom? Needless to say, Katusha's already suspended him and Colom has (1) denied everything (2) demanded his B sample analysis and (3) worst of all, sicced his lawyers on the narcs. So we've spent what, eighty gazillion dollars, consumed thousands of needles, and issued 900 panting-hot press releases about the biological passport and *this* is the sum total of your accomplishments? Wow. Perhaps stung by the ho-hum response to this fearsome revelation, Pat "Dick" McQuaid and co. announced today that *next* week, they're really, really, really gonna surprise us with a bio-passport CSI thriller for the ages. Like what, you've now nailed some recreational cyclist for taking too much Sudafed to soothe her sniffles?

Just Say Yes: speaking of the UCI's terrible powers, the banned 'n' bitter Tour cheat Bernard Kohl continues to laud them with hosannas for providing a glorious roadmap to fail-safe doping levels, details his quite impressive out of competition drug intake, and snorts that there's no way the top ten at the Tour weren't doping right along with him and that twerp Ricco' last year, and it's a good thing he's not planning on ever coming back to the peloton, because while I imagine, say, Carlos Sastre couldn't take Kohl in a fist-fight, and we all know Cadel's incapable of attacking anyone, I bet that cagey little !@#$%$^ Denis Menchov could do him some pretty serious bodily damage. But wait! He didn't actually say this after all! He was misquoted entirely! Somehow, kid, I don't think that's gonna save you from either your all-star beatdown *or* the lawyers nipping at your heels. Hmmmmm....you can't bike anymore...I doubt other pro athletes would welcome you either...I suppose knitting always makes a nice harmless hobby, right?

Island of the Blue Dauphins: and my, our stolid Cadel is on fine form, taking 2nd in the time trial to Bert Grabsch, while Shameless St. Millar Defender's boy came in a handsome third. Valverde, of course, gacked up an entire 1 minute 31 seconds back at Cadel (which, for certain reasons, paradoxically makes him look better to me at least), and with Contador at 40-odd seconds back and the death march up Mt. Ventoux to come tomorrow, he could, if Cadel's notoriously tick-like wheelsucking ability should somehow fail him, easily make that up and then some. But since there's no way in hell Silence-Lotto can possibly support its star enough in July, and in harmony with my lifelong habit of backing losing causes, I'm rather hoping Cadel takes this one and perhaps even the whole Dauphine. Allez allez Cadel--you're gonna need it!

I Imply Nothing, Nothing!: because I am absolutely certain that Ivan Basso's radical change in time trial performance between, oh, 2006 and 2009 is 100% the result of (1) being out of competition so long and (2) total and complete coincidence. Oh, Ivan, I *do* like you better this way...just don't start getting *too* nostalgic for all those trophies press-slobbering enablers and podium babes, you hear?

Welcome to the Jungle: finally, it's a warm welcome back to the Tour de France for leather-skirted stud-machine Tom Boonen--if not by the French sports minister-- whose charming antics, cute little vials of nose candy, and wholly irrelevant enormous cash-cow potential have convinced the UCI and ASO that even so clean a race as the Tour won't be unduly besmirched if he participates. Alejandro Valverde, however, is not so lucky, as Christian Prudhomme says his !!@# is out, apparently not because the French just now found out about his scandalous involvement in some obscure "Operacion Puerto" thingy, but because the more foreigners ASO can keep out entirely, the greater the chance an actual French cyclist will get within lougie-hocking distance of a podium sometime before Bernard Hinault's great-great-great-grandchildren are unearthed in some far-off Planet of the Apes archeological dig. Don't give up quite yet, Alejandro--maybe you could offer to do a few extra loops up the Galibier to make up the kilometers everyone else'll be riding in Italy?

It's the Dauphine-Libere, Baby!

Get Down On It: yes, with the Giro behind and the Tour ahead, the Grand Boucle faves are scoping each other out at the Dauphine this week, with Contador cagey about his form as usual and keeping an eye on Alejandro "I Guess I Better Aim for the Vuelta" Valverde, Cadel "Forget It, I'm Hosed in July" Evans, and St. Ivan of Varese, who, despite some admitted "mistakes" in the Giro (like riding clean) is going to the race to win. However, what truly impresses me about Contador these days is his near-perfect praise of rival team-god (and let's face it, no matter what Johan says, if Lance decides he wants the kingship at the Tour, he's gonna get it, and after winning 7 straight I'm betting he'd rather have Bruyneel intentionally run over his legs with the freakin' team bus to give him an excuse to bail than have to suffer the ignominy of being some upstart rugrat's water-!@#$%), including such over-the-top homage as "we've not seen each other much since the start of the season" and "our relationship is correct and normal." So long as you're not in the same country, that is--should be an exciting 3 weeks in July!

I'm Bringing Schlecksyback: and, I'll humbly ask that you indulge my complete denial over the hideously blasphemous and clearly-untrue-so-bite-me-you-yellowbellied-muckraker Frank Schleck doping allegations, as baby savant Andy takes an early stage and big bro takes GC control and one heck of a hilly leg at the Tour of Luxembourg. Just keep your head down and Bjarne on your side, Frank, and you'll be all set to go at the start line 4 weeks from now--hell, you can't be any worse than anyone else who'll be up there, right?

Fred Garvin, Male Prostitute: meantime, Tour-protester-tackling legend Bernard Hinault is back in action, smacking around everyone from the disgusting lazy French riders, who shouldn't be paid unless and until they win a race, to lame-!@# race radios, ("just a Game Boy that has a gigolo attached at the end telling the racer when to take a piss"), to Greg Lemond's lack of tactical sense, to, most gratifyingly (if predictably), Lance, who has no business coming back to the Tour and to whom he hopes Contador "gives...a beating." The reaction from the twit(ter)sphere, of course, was swift, with Johan embracing his ho-dom and Lance dismissing his old BFF as a "wanker." Aw, Bernard, you're warming my heart--it's almost like having the real Simoni back!

Woo-Hoo!: and, it's a delighted welcome back to smashing (and oft-smashed) modest Aussie we love Stuey O'Grady, at last recovered from his latest lung-puncture, lavishing praise on everyone from teammates to team-docs, and ready to hit the road again (hopefully not literally, for once). Bring it on Stuey, and don't forget, you can stomp half the guys you domestique for if only you manage to stay upright! Back too, after escapades rather less heroic: yes, our big blowzy beloved party-hound Tom Boonen, who the Tour's gonna let in after all if UCI lays off him as seems likely. Assign this boy a handler at the disco, and Cav may actually have some serious sprint rivals in July!

Banned Cyclist Activity Watch: finally, with an outraged Lampre denying rumors that they're in talks with disgraced scum-doper Riccardo Ricco, and with quite some time left to go on his ban, it appears the boy has moved on from his initial gig as a spin-class instructor to the field of "artistic cycling", the "rhythmic gymnastics" of the cycling world:

The 2009 Giro d'Italia Awards

All right, folks, the 100th Giro d'Italia has come to a close, and I have a whole year to remember this year's glorious corsa rosa, simmer with loathing and resentment recalling the stuff that ticked me off, and ponder what sordid surprises await us next year. 'Til then, here's one last, loving look at the Best Race On The Planet Except Maybe The Vuelta:

Catastrophic Commentary Loss Award: okay, universalsports. I know it's a !@#damn miracle that anyone's even broadcasting the Giro in the US, so you do get points for that. But if I'm doomed to a race w/o Phil and Paul, kindly remind the oafs you hire that by day 21 they should have at least have figured out the basic identifying details of the riders they're looking at when they are absolutely alone in the start house. Big hint: the guys in Disney-princess turquoise and pink are NOT LIQUIGAS. Jeez, do you clowns even know who won the race?

All-Freakin'-Right-Already Prize: I hear ya. He's riding. Honest. We are now fully and nauseatingly aware of the single least important issue in Giro d'Italia history. A big shout-out to anyone who can surmise who we're talking about!

Step Away From the Microphone Award: I get it, Cav. Garmin's argyle army bet the farm on the team time trial, and lost. To you. HA-HA! Classy. Your bailing after !@#$-slapping every other rider at the Giro for 'dishonoring' it unlike you: even classier. Can't someone read this squalling baby a story and put him to bed already?

Mountain Mama/Take Me Home Prize: what else is there to say about the more, well, pulchritudinous stages that both my faithful readers haven't listened to me whine about 'til their ears bled already? Aiiiiggggghhhhhhh!

Sissy-boy Media Slap-Fight o' the Giro: Lance protests race. Press excoriates Lance. Lance cuts off press. Press stops covering Lance Armstrong's Twitter feed. Nyeah nyeah, nyeah nyeah nyeah! Next salvo: Lance deliberately smacks scoop of gelato off Gazzetta dello Sport reporter's ice-cream cone. Oh, snap!

Best Media Insult (And Sadly, It's True): Cristiano Gatti in Il Giornale: Di Luca is Menchov's "most faithful and precious domestique." Ouch!

And Speaking of Whom, the Rabid Chihuahua Anklebiter Award: grrrr...grrrr...yip yip yip....grrrr...yip! Down, Danilo, down--ow, that latest tiny attack *hurts*!

Crash o'the Race: hands down, Pedro Horrillo's hideous flyer down the Body-Crunching Ravine of Rock-Laden Doom. You cyclists are masochists, man. Get well soon, Pedro!

You Get What You Pay For (Or Not) Prize: oh yeah, baby, this one's for Liquigas. Um, not to discount the fact that St. Ivan of Varese promises to kick !@# in a Vuelta the Italians have no interest in even watching, or that it's vastly preferable that the boy lose clean than win dirty, but oughtn't you maybe have invested all that dough and all those scarce domestique resources in the curly-locked Adonis who actually podiumed?

The Where-Is-He-Now Golden File Cabinet Trophy: no, not Gibo, go to hell--Damiano Cunego. More than one of these stages suited him fine--where *was* he?

Magical Mystery Tour Award: it's the end of the entire race, and no doping scandal yet? Don't tell me that just because no-one's dimwitted enough to use CERA this season that certain riders weren't one with a passel of medical equipment that'd make a fully equipped ER look like a punk-!@# toddler's toy doctor kit. Guesses, anyone?

Gratuitous We Love Carlos Sastre Holler o' the Race: okay, I couldn't really think of an award for him. Maybe that he's not a petty wank like Cavendish?...but that doesn't seem to personally reflect our hero. Still, nice stages there Carlos--woo-hoo!

Jump-Out-Of-Your-Seat-Screaming Moment o' the Race: boy, poor Pedro Horrillo had this one nailed, but if you freaked like I freaked, then who but Denis Menchov should grab it definitively only 900 meters from the end of the entire corsa rosa? Here's the Rabobank boys losing it (thanks Velonews!):


And Finally, Primal Scream Therapy Award: Menchov, of course, just after he crosses the line. Anyone else think he was gonna bite the head off a live chicken like Ozzy Osbourne and spit it out onto Pat "Dick" McQuaid in triumph? Talk about missed opportunities!

Well Giro fans, that's about all I'm sure any of us can take for this year, which means there's only one, count 'em one, full month before we have to watch Lance completely screw over Alberto Contador, Levi Leipheimer, *and* Andreas Kloden in the Tour. Enjoy the respite while it lasts, and remember--only 11 more months til May!

Break Out the Champagne and Podium Babes, Baby!

Bas-so Close, But Yet, So Far: yep, it was a valiant if ultimately fruitless try up Vesuvio today by our humble dreamboat, who promises to be in winning form for the Vuelta but better not even think about upstaging Samuel Sanchez or anyone else from Euskaltel incidentally, but what I did not predict, though was certainly happy with, was that we love dear little Sastre would take the stage again. And to our valued and thought-provoking Anonymous who suggested that Cunego tanked this Giro because he's clean, please tell me you're not by extension suggesting that Sastre's winning because he isn't--there's gotta be *someone* left in the peloton I can respect. Plus, I'll, well, cry. Allez allez Carlos--unaided, thank you very much!

Robbie Baron: okay, I think Robbie "Head-Butt" McEwen is a coarse, rude, obnoxious, egomaniacal sprinter-pig. And from a purely entertainment perspective, particularly with the doubtlessly-retiring smack-talker-of-the-gods Gilberto Simoni on some twisted diplomacy binge and the outspoken Danilo Di Luca lacking the finesse to rise above the merely bitchy, I admit, that's often appealing. But I gotta say, I'm awfully sorry to see this storied speed demon end his Tour hopes--though he sez certainly not his career--with his sucktastic crash and miserable injuries at the Tour of Belgium. Get well soon, Robbie--I mean, if Boonen gets left out and Petacchi can't scam his way in, we're gonna be left with just Thor and Bennati to duke it out every day, and where's the satisfaction in that?

Armstrong Wakes Up In the Morning, Brushes Teeth: y'know, when a legal website is breathlessly reporting mid-stage that Lance fell off his bike, was perfectly fine, calmly changed his wheel, and got back on his bike, you *know* this whack-job Dear Leader zombie-eyed cult-worshipper bull!@#$ has gotten out of control. What's next, imminent-commie-nuclear-death air-raid sirens and blaring amplified shout-outs from low-flying armored helicopters that Lance just breathed in and out? Holy crap, July is gonna be a freakin' nightmare...

Some, Someday/We'll Be Together (Yes We Will): meanwhile, UCI,irked that Bernhard Kohl dared to compliment their bio passport as a smashing aid to well-planned doping, has gone on the offensive, decrying Kohl as full of it and promising, yet again, that they will come up with some really, really cool positive results on some really, really big names just about the time the sun implodes into a black hole and sucks their impotent organization and the pulverized remnants of our planet into another dimension. And, they might even say Valverde is a very, very bad boy by then. Oh, the deterrent!

French Letters: over in the Would-You-Wanks-Just-Let-It-Rest Department, I see the French are about to go all Interpol on Floyd Landis if he doesn't show up and testify about the ancient-history leak of their lab chimps' screwups in his sample analysis, apparently because, far worse than destroying someone's career and livelihood on tainted incompetent ergo dubious evidence is other people actually finding out that you woofed it. Not to get all irrelevant, here, guys, but mightn't you more profitably spend your energy making sure your employees can, say, read and write?

Hats Off!: finally, as the 100th Tour of Italy comes (almost) to a close, and as we reflect upon the lame-ified mountain stages behind us, let's take a moment to salute the flag and listen to the national anthem of the country whose denizens clearly designed said stages this year:

National Anthem of France-La Marseillaise
Uploaded by rott48

He's Got It/Yeah Baby He's Got It

If the Narcs Don't Get Him First, That Is: Okay, so Franco "Farrah Fawcett" Pellizotti is 2 minutes back, which he's not gonna get, and there's no way in hell Danilo's gonna get the 80 or so seconds he needs on Menchov ahead of Sunday to cover the 20-odd seconds he's behind now, any time bonuses Denis may go for, and the 40-plus he's gonna lose on Sunday's crono. So unless Denis Menchov has some hideous mechanical on the climb or, particularly in light of the high level of interest today in his association with scuzzbucketian ex-teammate Rasmussen, suddenly falls unfortunate victim to that special kind of "stomach virus" riders only get when they're about turn up poz in a doping scandal, this Giro's in the bag. Still, the boy gets points for not complaining when the cheap-shot fans in Abruzzo hissed at him, which, incidentally, sent half the fans into a mortified mea culpa on behalf of a chagrined nation (y'know, the French might try that next time they whine when their boys get smoked on their turf, like every single freakin' day in July), though if he in fact *is* a dope fiend, and if Kohl is right you can't win clean then there's no reason to think he isn't tho' I still hope Jens Voigt was right !@#$-slapping Bernhard as a sore-loser dreams-of-grandeur rock-star wannabe, he can either take Heras' Vuelta win and hand it over nicely, or he can shov--I mean, I would be very, very disappointed. Anyway, nice work hosing over your *entire country*, RCS!

Italy's Next Top Model Roundup: speaking of Franco of the Euromullet, I know the boy tanked on a few earlier climbs, but am I the only one thinkin' that if he weren't half-handholding the newly-reborn St. Ivan of Varese the whole race, and if the team hadn't been so desperate to wring out a return on their obscenely enormous investment from Basso at any cost, we might've had a serious GC contender on our hands?

It's Too Darn Hot: meantime, a disconsolate Team Diquigiovanni is blaming the ludicrous Vueltaesque heat in the mountains for we still love Gilberto Simoni's spectacular failure, in which case I sincerely wish our aging hero a cool restorative shower and a nice tall glass of lemonade, but more interesting, while they're updating the team website with Giro news, they *don't* have Bertagnolli and *do* have Rebellin on the corridori list. So are they just too broke or cheap to fix it, or are they planning to get back their Classics meal ticket for one more year?

Ves, Ves-su-vio/Oh, Oh: so writing tomorrow off entirely as irrelevant, let's look ahead to Friday, shall we? Gibo needs it to reclaim his dignity, though this dinkmaster stage is not, but for a few steep sections, his terrain. Ivan wants it to prove he wasn't a drug-stuffed back-alley addict in '06. Garzelli wants it as icing on the cake of his maglia verde. Di Luca's pissed he didn't get it today and no doubt agrees with the low-class hissing of his fans, and wants to pluck that bloodsucking leech Menchov off his wheel. And as for Levi, well, Lance having worked for another rider for the first ten seconds of his entire career in cycling, I imagine Johan's gonna subject him to an all-squad bike-tool beatdown if he doesn't pony up the goods. And me? I love you Levi, but I still hope Gibo makes you all cry like Ricco' behind his mama's skirts!

I Want a New Drug: in non-cycling news,as UCI and WADA continue their highly effective "we only ban you if we hate you" antidoping campaigneven the NFL and MLB, for heck's sake, are starting to give out research grants to the tune of half a mil for labs to discover new methods of detecting banned steroids in urine. Might we persuade our own governing bods to try the same, since, according to Kohl, the Biological Crap-port is apparently only good for helping the cheaters to calibrate their precise doping needs (and thanks especially, natch, to their giving the boys a good year's notice they needed to amp up their baselines)? Of course, the first million or so UCI & WADA spend might have to be on "Remedial Sample Labeling" or "Testing Protocols for Lower-Order Primates", but it'd get 'em there someday, right?

Finally, Gratuitous Thor Hushovd Rocks Clip o' the Week (be patient!):

Giro d'Italia 2009: Stuff I Like and Stuff I Don't

Okay. It's no secret that I think that wanker Lance Armstrong has, with his insatiable ego and supreme publicity-whoredom, utterly wrecked what should have been a near-perfect centenary Giro. And I guess (and it's lucky for the lot of you) that between Captain !@#clown and Simoni's total nonexistence, that it's rather put a damper on what's normally a frantic and incoherent amount of posts during the corsa rosa. That said, today was the first day that got me actually interested in this beautiful race again (spoiler), so I might as well spit out what I'm liking and what I don't:

1. Thank you ever so much, Lance, for completely bamboozling the simp star-blinded race organizers into wussifying every single one of the climbing stages from brutal spikes o' gradient death into long low Italian-hostile yawners just precisely for you. If I want to watch the !@#$in' Tour de France, I'll watch it in July you punk!

2. Nonetheless, Simoni better have ripped an actual entire limb off in a crash or been 24/7 projectile yakking at the roadside to justify this week's craptastic performance. What the hell Gibo, have you no pride?!

3. By contrast, a noble if fruitless attempt today by Damiano Cunego. Honey, I hate to break it to you yet *again*, and I know you are having a tough time exiting the closet on this one, but you're really a Classics man. Embrace it, and your tifosi will understand, and someday, you will even be at peace.

4. Simoni was right, and having cheered the boy in Milan in '06 along with the rest of the swooning champagne-soaked throngs it does still rather sting to say it: Basso was an "extraterrestri" then, and he's just a plain ol' uomo, if indeed still a strong one, now. On the plus side, his gilded crusader-o'-purity wings and pretty, pretty apologetic visage surely remain intact!

5. Woo-hoo dear little Sastre! I thought he was cooked on the second-to-last-climb, and what a fool I was! Mild heartbreaker, if I still weren't in major annoyance mode with all of Lance's little acolytes: Popo just limply shaking his head as Sastre cruised on by.

6. Race commentary without Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen is like an entire night of stone-cold-sober karaoke with a tone-deaf 5-year-old shrieking halfway-memorized Disney tunes at the mic. Except less fun.

7. As both my faithful readers may disgustedly recall, I still have a wholly unjust irrational resentment of the innocent Denis Menchov for a giant bucket o' stuff he never did to Roberto Heras. But if Di Luca can't step up, he's gonna take it, he's gonna deserve it, and the Italians will never, ever, ever live it down. Anyone else see a new Italian-narc witchhunt against a randomly-targeted foreigner on the horizon?

8. Y'know, ex- maglia bianca Thomas Lokvist is really, really underrated. So can we please cut the constant pointless camera-action of Lance meandering along in the gruppo picking his nose or taking a drink for once, and focus on someone who matters in this race already?

9. Sprinters are just unbearable, aren't they? Except Thor of course. I mean, here Cav was, lamming into the riders left and right for disrespecting the Giro, 'til he gets the last stage *he* feels any interest in and heads for home. Ahem!

10. Beyond the full-throttle screaming Basque Euskaltel-Euskadi fanatics at the Vuelta, there are just no better tifosi than the Giro's. Anyone else notice how the riders were angrily smacking away the fans tossing water on their heads, until a nicely-dressed elderly lady was doing it and they all just meekly submitted as they passed?

All right, I suppose I'm feeling better now. Too bad about your lousy mechanical Levi, but at least you've got tomorrow's rest day to plan your attack up Vesuvio!

Levi Leipheimer is Scr#wed!

Road Rage: all right, I've been phenomenally lame in keeping our dear newbies in particular up to speed on this year's Giro, unlike, say, for my brothers, who are force-fed humungous updates and previews every morning like geese on the fast-track to fine pate'. And because I love our newbies so, I will stop pointing out for the next whole thirty seconds that the mountain stages of this race have been utterly Tourified and ergo wussified for Lance Armstrong's selfish piglike undeserving sake. So let's review the state of play: yes, the great Levi Leipheimer is completely screwed. First, superdomestique-o'-the-gods Chris Horner pops a muscle after a crash that takes him--and likely Levi's maglia rosa hopes--out of the Giro. Second, some nimrod drops a water bottle right in front of our boy at the feed zone and leaves him half-skinned for the time trial tomorrow--not deadly, and certainly nothing new for these boys, but hardly optimal. Sure, Levi's got the hideous ego-on-wheels that is Lance, who (1) has barely ridden for anyone else in his life and (2) until yesterday could barely even keep the pace much less set it for someone else consistently, and there's Chechu, who of course can do no wrong--but am I the only one besides Cadel Evans who remembers the colossal disappointment that was Popovych in last year's Tour? Speaking of which, we all know you're completely jacked for that, especially if they have one less !@#$% for Lance with Klodi's probs, and if you think Contador's not gonna all of a sudden want the Vuelta after that debacle, you've already taken too many narcotics to dull the pain. Oh, Levi, how could you have ever trusted that wank Johan after the first time he jacked you over for Basso?

Angel Is the Centrifuge: and, no word yet as to who the lucky riders are who got to play with esteemed drug freaks Bernard Kohl and Michael Rasmussen's handy blood-doping centrifuge, though I imagine, if the boys had any sense, that they at least wouldn't've helped stoke their immediate rivals. Then again, perhaps I'm giving 'em too much credit. Of course, at least the cyclists get credit for dignity, tho' not for their superior scumlordliness, as I see a bunch of Belgian bodybuilders scattered like teens from open beer cans from *their* narcs, whereas at least the cyclists'll at least stick around for the test then run crying to their lawyers afterwards. Geez, you guys are supposed to be so big and tough--*must* you be such scaredycats?

Pink/It Was Love At First Sight: okay. Il Killer is good. Very good. But he's also got a disconcerting history cavorting with suspect doctors, being caught on audio discussing dope, and, most surprisingly, of turning up at post-stage doping controls with the testosterone levels of Strawberry Shortcake. Not to cast any aspersions on the boy, but be honest--am I the only one thinkin' Danilo Di Luca's doing just a little *too* well this race? Don't take my miserable jaded word for it--look at this photo of him crossing the line yesterday, and judge for yerself!

And dammit Simoni--I know this whole course blows for you--suck it up and get it together already! Oh, well, at least you won't lose *too* much time at the crono tomorrow--damn, now I've gone and cursed him!

The Days of Aude Lang Syne: meantime, is there any top racer in the world who *isn't* at the Tour de l'Aude? Teutenberg, Vos, Armstrong, Cooke, all whomping on each other like drunken soccer hooligans--aside from, well, the near-total lack of media coverage, and the fact that they get paid less than the disgruntled dropout who spits in your fries on the overnight shift at the local ScuzzBurger, what's not to like?

Enjoy It While It Lasts, Honey: finally, yes, I *did* notice that we love Thor Hushovd kicked !@# for the second straight year in a row at the time trial at the Volta a Cataluyna (woo-hoo!), and yes, I *do* hope smug dog-defaming narc-evading weasel (and all-around good guy) Alejandro "Piti" Valverde doesn't mind stickin' around the home front, because it's still theoretically possible anyway that despite UCI's notorious spinelessness and inability to read an Op Puerto file they've had for three years now they really will get around to, as they promise, mildly objecting to his presence in every race on the planet sometime before the boy not only retires from the sport but before he's 4 million years fossilized into a spindly skeleton with a plastic IV port still stickin' out of the rock. Somehow, Alejandro, I think that so long as you stay the hell out of Italy, you've got nothing to fear!