Frozen Eyeballs! Chain-Ring Chest-Rippage! Yep, It's Classics Season All Right

Omloop-de-loop: first, a big bucket o' well-earned beer to Brit Ian Stannard (tho' it rather broke my heart that Greg Van Avermaet didn't win) for his (and Britain's!) first Omloop Het Volk, and congratulations to the rest of the survivors, including Thor Hushovd, who first suckered some of us (ahem) with sordid rumors of a broken arm (though I was thinkin' collarbone when I first saw him) then fortunately turned to have been not dented quite enough to threaten the rest of his Classics, Tom Boonen, who doffed his rain-gear just in time to get uncharacteristically bamfoozled by downpour 'n' cold, and some poor bastid who apparently suffered a "frozen eyeball." Ow, !@#$! For the women: Giant's Amy Pieters, beating out Lizzie Armistead and previous repeat winner Emma Johannson, and a whole lot less blood 'n' gore from the lot of 'em. Well, count your blessings most of you--you don't have to fear the race for a whole 'nother year!

To Every Thing, Kuurne, Kuurne, Kuurne: and, a narrow and thrilling triumph of experience over exuberant youth over at Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne, with a redemptive if fruitless ride for yesterday's-crash-out Luca Paolini, and a gnarly if ultimately not crushing chomp to the chest with a chain-ring and some hospital-room stitches for a still-perfectly-coiffed Taylor Phinney, as big Tom Boonen bagged a record third Kuurne with a perfectly-timed bike throw and a Miley Cyrus tongue-thrust over Belkin whippersnapper Moreno Hofland, who Tommeke sure better assume is gonna plan for that same trick next year, even if Boonen *is* still gonna kick his !@# again anyway. Plus, you get booze and a donkey for winning it! Woo-hoo Tom--and no offense to his great Classics rival Fabian Cancellara, but eat it, buddy, this is only the beginning this season!

Breakin' the Law/Breakin' the Law: finally, speaking of cobbles, apparently UCI is intent on enforcing Rule No. Screw You You Weaselly Wussies, which bars riders from--as they often do--hopping off the cobbles or any other frightening surface to a softer, steadier, 'n' generally less bone-snappin' adjacent path. Well, there goes half the field at Flanders--boys, buttress your collarbones, you ain't getting off that easy this year!

Omloop! Kuurne! The Belgian Races Begin! 'N' What to Look For

Yeah, break out the beer 'n' frites, babes, 'cause now that the peloton's broken in its legs a bit, it's time for the start of the bad-!@# Belgian cobbled Classics season, where the hard men face off, the GC contenders cower like whimpering wussbags, and the rest o' the pack just tries to escape the race intact. Woo-hoo! So what's up this weekend? This:

Omloop Het Nieuwsblad: Men's: Luca Paolini's defending it, Thor Hushovd needs it, Tom Boonen wants it, and the Muur-Kapelmuur's gonna make 'em all pay for it. The course 'n' other news flashes:here. And this, a truly bangin' recap of 2013:
Women's: a 127k o' bone-rattling sufferfest. 2013 was Tiffany Cromwell, but 2012 champ Loes Gunnewijk is there too--on the same team with repeat winner Emma Johannson!--and word is Wiggle-Honda is out for blood and podium. Just get the hell outta their way and you'll all be juuuuuuuust fine! Last year's:

Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne: the twitchy legs! the likelihood of carnage! the bitchin' name! oh right, and did we mention last year was cancelled due to freakin' snow? Yep, from Edvald Boassen-Haagen-Dazs to Nick Nuyens Zdenek Stybar Sep Vanmarcke and, damn, pretty much anyone on Lotto-Belisol, it's a lively--and hopefully not frostbitten--race this go-round, with a likely fast bunch finish and a whole lotta recriminations from those caught out afterwards. The weather forecast: better'n last year! Still, stay upright, hope for no mechanicals, and for heck's sake, directeur sportifs, if it turns nippy out there, put some nice hot cocoa in these boys' water bottles so they don't just freeze to death!

Sink(ewitz) or Swim: Ban Avoidance 'n' Minimization Tips for Pros

Hey, You Sink My Battleship (Well, Career): yes, former T-Mobile rider Patrik Sinkewitz, who'd landed a pretty sweet comeback gig with Meridiana-Kamen and just rode to a strong second in the Trofeo Laigueglia to boot, has been slammed with a career-killing 8-year ban by CAS for being a serial cheating dirt-weasel. Why, when so many other admitted repeat offenders have gotten off much less painfully? *Rules*, Patrik--you ignored the *rules.* And while it's beyond me why I should wanna help *any* of you miscreant doping scumbags, I'm still gonna give you yer Ban Avoidance And Minimization Tips for Pro Cyclists:

1. Network. Don't dope (or get caught, anyway) unless you're doing it for such a colossal sport-screwing !@#hole that every narc on earth'd give you a pass so long as you help hand 'em the big guy you've sworn eternal subservience to for years. There's a reason why brown-nosers get ahead!

2. The Devil's in the Details. Which is what you give 'em, pal--no "I never saw anyone else do it," or "I acted on my own" bull!@#$--they want details, and they *don't* want 'em about some half-!@#ssed first-year soigneur drug-courier. Caveat: if it's someone who's been publicly supported by the current sporting or anti-doping head, give 'em someone else!

3. Go to Charm School. Cultivate (a) an adorably eccentric habit or (b) excessive humility. Collect action figures? Amuse your fans with yer ever-changing facial hair? Ride pretty well but don't make a big yap out of it to journalists? If your answer is "no", no legion of devoted fans, self-named gran fondo, hugely lucrative clothing line, or highly respected development squad for you!

4. Pick Your Battles: you want to take Mont Ventoux over a pack of genius-climber cat-fighting GC contenders? Fine, anyone can have a good day. But don't take the next two mountain stages too, you nimrod!

5. Cool Yer Jets: And while you're taking Ventoux, don't, for heck's sake, take it by ten minutes when you've spent the vast majority of your career as water-bottle-carrying pack fodder. Slow, steady, and a few hundred gasping grimacing meters' advantage wins the race--*and* deflects the critics!

6. Choose Yer Specialty: remember when Stefan Schumacher suddenly started kicking Fabian Cancellara's !@# in Tour de France time trials? Yeah, the anti-doping authorities noticed it too. For !@#$'s sake, pick something you're already plausibly that good at!

7. Get Smart. People can forgive a doper; what they *can't* forgive is an eejit. Do you really think the narcs--and the all-important public--would've been half so hard on Danilo "Low-T" DiLuca or Riccardo "Refrigerator" Ricco' if they hadn't been such egregious ostentatious morons?

Alright, you ungrateful skanks, hear me now and believe me later--or we'll all just see you in court!

In Which Contador Lowers the Bar, Valverde Continues to Creep Us Out, and VeloNews Cheers Up All the Guys Who Can't Dope Anymore

Well, I Might Annoy You, Anyway: yep, he's come a long way from those pre-ban days when with a bat of those pretty eyelashes he could conquer a Grand Tour when he'd barely even clipped into his pedals and smoke the time trials he now all but concedes are unwinnable, but Alberto Contador hasn't quite given up yet, sort of: even though Froomey's pretty well unbeatable for the Tour de France, our boy vows he's at least gonna bug the hell outta him while he's getting there. Now *that's* the ol' fighting spirit, Alberto! Aw, come on, tell me this is one of your long-ago canny stealth moves where you sigh your legs are feeling "okay" then you leave the whole field crying in the valley while you're already up Mount Ventoux....

The Green Bullet Returns!: and, in a disconcerting nod to our final news bite below, former naughty-boy Alejandro Valverde is already skeeving us out this season, grabbing two stages, including the opening time trial, in the Ruta del Sol and threatening, as always, to post even more disturbingly successful results in the bigger, later races of 2014. I'm sure it's just that bangin' new diet you've been on, Alejandro! Or your change in training methods. Or that aero new Movistar kit. Or--well, I better stop while I'm ahead, I guess!

Like Still Being High Years After You Embarrassed Yourself Gacking On That Joint in High School, But More Lucrative: Dead sorry you stopped doping in 2006, like everyone else totally coincidentally did? Still pissed you're now forced to compete clean against the chumps you were beating the chamois off before? Well rest easy, (ex) scumbag, because Velonews has learned that the benefits of doping last looooong after that handy masking agent has left you with the apparent testosterone levels of a My Little Pony doll! Oh, come *back* dear darling Vino, come *back*--according to this, it's not like your performance will have dropped since you left the peloton anyway!

It's Cycling's Greatest Romances (Pretty Darn Recent Edition)!

Oh, sure, Valentine's Day is long over, but you know what isn't? That's right, haters--the deep and abiding love within members of the peloton, ties drawn tight by long, lonely hours of training, the brother-or-sisterhood of shared exhaustion after a day's hard pursuit of a common goal, the exhausting, clandestine midnight road-trips to a magical, faraway clin--y'know, love of pure sport, I say! Anyway, for the secret chick-flick watcher that dwells deep within each one of you--and you know, however shamefully, o studly bike jockey, it's in there--I bring you some of Cycling's Greatest Loves:

1. Alberto Contador and Johan Bruyneel: He was the puppy-eyed Next Lance, a peerless climber with an impressive time-trial and the apparently seamless ability to turn them both into Grand Tour gold. The other he was the heartbroken hit-maker searching for his next little gleaming comet. And oh, was it beautiful for the like three months it lasted!

2. Alberto Contador and Lance Armstrong: What happens when the star-struck Next Lance meets the fading resentful Current Lance? In the immortal words of Bette Davis, "fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night!" Yep, that was one delightfully ugly Tour de France all right...

3. Alberto Contador and Oleg Tinkov: Dang, this kid gets around! So y'know when you've saved up for a really nice romantic dinner with your sweetie and one member of the couple two tables over is having an epic screaming public meltdown while the other one just sort of tries to calm things down by melting cringing into the tablecloth? Yeah, that. But they're getting along famously now--'til that damn Oleg started throwing new crush Sagan in Alberto's face the last couple of weeks, anyway!

4. Mark Cavendish and Roberto Ferrari: oh, sure, he's dallied with Andre and and Bernie and Marcel and Peter--but nothing's quite set off the sparks like the instant attraction between Mark Cavendish and Roberto Ferrari at the 2012 Giro. Yeah, Ferrari's bike was attracted right across the entire road into poor Cav's, that is! "

5. Rui Costa and Carlos Barredo: yes, tots, it's been relentlessly drilled into you since nursery school--be nice, and share. And what's nicer than sharing an expensive pro-level wheelset with a needy competitor's brain case? Carlos Barredo (whanger) and reigning World Champion Rui Costa (whangee), this one's for you!

6. And, Last But Not Least, Chris Froome and Brad Wiggins: Tracy and Hepburn, Bogie and Bacall, Kardashian and West--history is replete with examples of enduring love between formidable (or embarrassingly dimwitted) equals. Which is what protected Tour de France rider/eventual winner Brad Wiggins thought, anyway, 'til wingman Chris Froome attacked his own darling leader during the race whined about his own obvious superiority to the press and openly declared he'd'a won if he hadn't had to shepherd Brad around like a smart dog with a dumb sheep. Classy!

Well, there's certainly buckets more, but them's mine for now, and the rest of you, keep the lovers' quarrels under wraps next time--on the other hand, maybe don't!

My Fantasy Mark Cavendish Press Conference

Good morning, arseholes. I've called you here today because you won't quit bitching that that arrogant pile of hair and styling mousse Marcel Kittel is the new sprint king of the peloton and I'm some sorry left-over has-been. First, I'd like to say, !@#$ off! Now, I'll take questions from the audience.

Q. Mark, your teammate Tony Martin hasn't been seen in public since he choked your lead-out at the Tour of Dubai last week. Where is he?

A. (Digs out piece of black spandex from teeth, spits it out onto table): Haven't got the faintest idea, mate.

Q. You are one of the winningest sprinters in all of cycling history. How do you handle the pressure of that impressive legacy at such a young age?

A. Are you saying I don't?

Q. No, it was a compliment. I mean--

A. 'Cause you can go to bloody hell if you think you have half the balls to get on a bike and try to ride against me yourself you !@#$%ing !@#$%. In fact, why don't we--

Q. Uh, let's talk about your experience at Team Sky. Despite the differences you had with management, did it help you grow as a rider?

A. It helped me grow when I called Brad Wiggins a !@#$ing !@#$% and told Brailsford to !@#$ himself if he couldn't appreciate everything I did for him.

Q. How's your experience been so far at OPQS?

A. Great. I've got my right-hand lead-out man back, I've got the full support of the squad, this is gonna be a fantastic year. In fact, I owe it all to them. When I win.

Q. You've actually been really gracious and almost charming in the wake of last week's unfortunate outcomes, even tweeting self-deprecatingly to Marcel Kittel and being up for playing some video games. Is this a sign of the professional regard you have for him?

A. Of course. He's a great rider, a great bloke, I was hoping to spend some friendly time with him. Especially if I could grab his video game controller and wham it into his--(handler leans over, whispers in ear)

Q. Mark, if you have a weakness--

A. (Leaps up) Are you saying I do?

Q. Um, one of your lesser enormous strengths, as with many other phenomenal sprinters such as yourself, is your climbing ability. Do you see that as a particular problem in the race for the green jersey against Peter Sagan at the Tour de France this season?

A. That snotty little show-off piece of !@#$ couldn't sprint his way out of a paper bag, so what if he can climb, I'll show him a !@#$ing green jersey winner that puffed up overpaid--

Q. You've been known to go off in a rage and blame everybody but yourself when you lose a sprint. How do you respond to that criticism?

A: (Lunging across table, restrained by team reps): I'll mother!@#$ing kill you you ignorant piece of !@#$! If I mother!@#$ing lose a sprint it's because I got boxed in by some incompetent !@#$ing moron or my stupid !@#ing train leaped too soon or some mother!@#$ing idiot changed his line with no warning and cut me off like a !@#damn psycho! I'll roll right over you you !@#$ing bastard! I'll chew your piece of !@#$ car to !@@##$ing pieces, I'll ram this microphone down your !@#$ing throat! I'll--(dragged off by security still screaming)

What Can You Get For One Peter Sagan? Let's See!

So after ex-road god/former squadra azzurra commissario tecnico/new Alonso bigshot Paolo Bettini scoffed at the idea of 2015's hot new squad shelling out 3.2 million euro a year (that's about 4.3 mil to us Americans) on the grounds you could buy like three other top-flight riders for the price, I couldn't help but wonder, what *else* can you get in exchange for the kid? Well:

1 Lamborghini Veneno (!@#$, was this what Tom Boonen was wrapping around a frickin' tree? good thing Peter's still got 300k left over to fix it)

16 Ferrari 458 Spiders

353 Chevy Sparks

2.15 Alejandro Valverdes

323 Cannondale SuperSix Evo Black Incs

25,294 GMC Denali 700cc Men's Road Bikes (at Wal-Mart)

107.5 years of doping supplies and treatment (2006 prices)

157 Sets of All the Stuff in the Song "Twelve Days of Christmas"

270,440 Team Cannondale Elite Corsa Water Bottles

(This one's for you, Chris Horner!) 930,736 Big Macs;

And, for you Sagan swooners out there (oh, and you *know* you want one): 179,541 Peter Sagan "Tourminator" T-Shirts

Well folks, you tell me if he's worth it--and either way, Peter, with all that dough you got, get shoppin'!

Woo-Hoo BMC--Samu's Got a Sweet New Ride! And, It's 1/21th of a Tour de France for the Women!

Like I Didn't Love You Enough for Signing Thor Hushovd: now you've got my eternal loyalty, as BMC steps up (per, no doubt, my January 22 obsequious beg-fest and of course the rest of the internet's lobbying), takes advantage of the spot left by the fired Alessandro Ballan, and--despite the fact that it's expressly a support role, which, thank you very much, I expect him to fully settle out on the road--signed we love desperately jobless and incredibly talented 2008 Olympic champ we still horridly miss Euskaltel's Samuel Sanchez. Well anyway, them gold accents looks awful nice with red and black, Samu'--and get ready for August after you superdomestique in May or July, because Lampre can keep cheeseburgering Horner all they want, but I still see a Grand Tour captaincy in your future come August!

They Are the Champs-ions, My Friends: and, allez allez to the women's peloton, who finally get 1/21th of the Tour de France they deserve with a earlier-day sprint to the boys' celebratory victory lap on the Champs-Elysees, which Giorgia Bronzini will win and which should be, say, next year dammit, filled out with the rest of the damn race. Still, it's a start--and Marianne Vos, since you're already hanging up your 'cross bike for the season after demolishing the field yesterday, I say you just sneak on one of the early-DNFing gentlemen's team kits slip in to some unsuspecting team and ride the whole damn men's Tour anyway!

Samuel Sanchez Sez He's Gonna Retire! Someone Hire 'Im! Aiiiggghhhhhhhhh!

You Suck Oleg Tinkov!: all right, I've offered repeatedly to chip in to buy dear Samu' a new gig (sure, I've got like five bucks, but still it's a start), and have been met with absolute ennui, so now that a despondent Samuel Sanchez is giving it 10 or 12 days to find a new team before he hangs up his wheels for good--because he doesn't seem inclined to, say, have to take a year off the bike then see if he still score a space with Alonso--I'm making a general plea to everyone in the universe: someone hire Samuel Sanchez, dammit! Anyone! I'll sell my Euskaltel hat to raise cash! I'll hold a bake sale--and you folks *really* do not want to have to eat my baking! I mean, jeez, ProTour, even if your roster's filled with superstars and pack fodder you can at least find him a job as a really, really, really fast coffee-getter, right? And to everyone who contributed to we're still crushed by darling Euskaltel's downfall, which has left a whole 'nother group of very fine riders without jobs--screw you you !@##$ing !@^%$wads! Here, look at Samu cooking down the Galibier in 2011:

Uh-oh, *Someone's* in the Dog-House: in news about folks who already *have* contracts, all of whom except Jens I irrationally resent right at this moment, beloved big lug Thor Hushovd's conceded he's gotta pull in some serious results at BMC or else he's gonna have a beastly time staying with them or anyone else--I still believe in you Thor!--and Philippe Gilbert's outright saying that if he chokes this season after his difficult World-Champ year he's gonna bail outta the peloton entirely even if he's otherwise got options. I admire you as an athlete for wanting to retire when you've still got something in the tank--but I still think you'll cause everyone a lot of pain this year at the Ardennes!

Please Don't Eat the Daisies: and, UCI's finally conceded defeat on the issue of clenbuterol, warning riders of the risk of genuinely accidental guiltless positives from beef in China and Mexico, which, unfortunately, still leaves poor Alberto Contador down a Tour de France. So, we letting Mick Rogers off the hook now or what?

Team "If We Can't Beat You, We'll Beat You Down"; and, Quit Pickin' On Nairo You Damn Sponsors!

Like a School-room In Summertime--No Class: well, I wasn't planning on an awards show for the Tour de San Luis, but I guess at least one is due for Thugs o' the Race--after one of their boys already sucker-punched the harmless Kenny Dehaes during a sprint, now Team Buenos Aires Provincia's whacked (purely idiotically, but still) poor Tyler Farrar with their team car, leaving Tyler, already screwed for the whole season out of a lead-out by Garmin's new focus on GC, with a pile o' abrasions and some bruised or possibly even busted ribs. Jaysus, guys, you're supposed to win by *out-riding* the competition, not *eliminating* it! What's next, sneakin' in while the mechanics are asleep and slashing the tires? Better not give 'em any ideas, I guess...

San Luis Luis/Whoah-Oh/We Gotta Go!: meantime, as Nairo beats everyone else up the mountain by approximately 6 days 4 hours and 37 minutes, then puts in a bangin' time trial and locks up the GC, our baby superstar is also feeling just a bit beseiged by everyone fighting over whether he's gonna race the Giro or the Tour, which, aside from the relative merits of the arguments and the distinctly unnecessary psychological pressure it must be putting on the boy, at least has the minor benefit of surely driving Grand-Tour-lusting teammate Alejandro Valverde absolutely insane. So leave little Nairo alone everyone--do you *want* him to crack like a walnut before he even decides which leader's jersey he's gonna target? Here, he wraps up the whole show on stage 4:

A Man Down Under: and, despite a very encouraging performance by the Giro-targeting Cadel Evans, congrats to Orica-Greenedge's unbeatable Simon Gerrans for winning his third Tour Down Under, which will henceforth, according to a press release from the riders' association, be known as the "Screw Riding Around In All This Heat For Nothin' Guys, Let's All Go Get a Cold Beer While Simon Takes It Anyway Tour." Way to go Simon--next stop, whoever bothers to race against you at the Sun Tour!

Danilo Di Luca Feels the Love; Froome Feels the Burn; and Hey BMC, Hire Samu'!

If "Scumbag," "!@#hole," and "Bastard" Are Terms of Endearment, That Is: yep, the peloton's sure taken kindly to Danilo Di Luca coming clean about doping in the sport, with Andrew Talansky in the early lead for Tweet-o'-the-Year for sayin' he feels "genuine hatred" for him and he's a "worthless lying scumbag" who is clearly "delusional," damned-by-implication defending Giro champ Vincenzo Nibali kindly suggesting he's perhaps "a bit brain-damaged," and his few defenders--Dr. Eufemiano Fuentes and assorted miscreants who think it's a good thing to break omerta again apparently among them--getting blocked, unfollowed, dope-smacked, turbo-noogied and generally humiliated in the ihateyourgutsosphere. Who *is* gettin' the love outta this fiasco? That's right, 2008 CERA disgrace Riccardo Ricco', whose ever-loyal fans, as the Cobra's own proud retweets indicate, figure if what Danilo is saying is halfway true, Ricco' should be able to come back and join his equally dirty peers in the races right this very minute. Me, I think anyone who damn near kills himself with a bag o' blood left to sour in the fridge next to the week-old pizza leftovers oughta be banned for life just for stupidity, but if they're gonna ease up on that whole no-doping thing, well so be it. Just check the expiration dates on that !@#$ before you use it this season, moron!

It's a Glamour "Don't"!: oh sure, those Sky 'n' Trek mesh skinsuits were hot'n'sexy (well, actually just plain creepy) in theory, but in practice, they're a slather-you-in-hot-sauce-n'-throw-you-on-the-barbecue disaster, as reigning Tour de France king/fashion faux-pas lab-rat Chris Froome apparently had a baaaaaaaad experience with the scorching sun at the Tour de San Luis today. Now fix this mess before you take we love Cancellara out--and like Andy Schleck's not a crybaby enough *already*, now you wanna turn the poor kid into a piece o' toast?

Horner My !@#: and fine, Lampre's still all game to have Horner sign on, but have you fair-weather freaks forgotten about dear Euskaltel's we love Samuel Sanchez? Well, I haven't, and here's my solution--if Oleg Tinkov didn't love Alberto Contador enough to take 'im on, I see BMC's recently got a big hole in its roster and budget now that it's fired poor ozone-doper Alessandro Ballan. Wah, wah, you got Cadel for the Giro and Tejay for the Tour, but who better to shine for you at the beautiful Vuelta than Samu? And it's not like Lampre don't already have too many cooks in the kitchen, either--c'mon, BMC, take out that checkbook and Give Samu a Ride!

"Tattoo Tom" Comes Along: finally, nice to see Tom Boonen threatening some 2012-era form already at the Tour de San Luis today, and, according to the swooning local press, he's got some bangin' new ink to boot. Watch out, Pippo--dashing new bike-short tats or no, Tommeke's catching up with you!

Now *That's* a Gnarly Doping Control; the Season Takes Off; and, Carnage Report!

If You Have an Erection Lasting Longer Than Four Hours, Tell Your Team Doctor He !@#$ed You Up: so, thought you'd mercifully heard the last of serial eejit/banned for life ex-cyclist Danilo DiLuca? Nope, he's back honey, and--with the exception of having enough politesse, or at least self-preservation, not to name names--ready to squawk about doping in the peloton. First up: 90% of the peloton is doping, as are all the top 10 finishers in the Giro d'Italia, so quit pickin' on him you meanies! Second, as an EPO aficionado--and an inept one at that--he's completely calling bull!@#$ on the idea that you can ingest that stuff unintentionally, particularly (and he does make sense here) if the best way to take it is to stick a needle in your !@#. As for other designer drugs? Well, Viagra, as a vasodilator, is apparently useful when it's cold out, but *he* sure as hell wouldn't take it--I mean, the guy has standards! Uh, am I the only one feeling exceedingly sorry for the poor bastard asked to check for evidence of Viagra ingestion at the post-race doping control? I swear, they can't pay those guys enough...

And We're Off!: Before we get to actual results, let's all howl at the top of our lungs how a peloton without our dear orange-and-black Euskaltel completely sucks eggs, shall we? There! But still, the season's finally kicked off, and while Saxo boss Oleg Tinkov can pity impoverished Garmin impresario Jonathan Vaughters all he wants, he sure oughta envy his results: approximately ten minutes into the season, Vaughters protege Phil Gaimon has already bagged his first win with the big boys in the Tour de San Luis. Well done, whippersnapper! And has anyone yet explained how Simon Gerrans--brilliant a rider as he is--actually kicked Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel to the curb in a sprint at the Tour Down Under? Here, the San Luis recap, with a great beat to boot: Welcome back peloton--it's been a loooooooong off-season!

Carnage Report!: sadly, with the start of the season comes also the start of the destruction, with poor Tommy "the Grimace" Voeckler crashed out before he even leaves team camp with a crap re-break of his just-healed collarbone, philosophical Movistar good-guy Giovanni Visconti mourning the lonely 5-week road back from a snapped tibia, and both valued Cav lead-out Ale-jet Petacchi and inevitable-future-Tour-winner Nairo Quintana both whacked with stomach ailments at San Luis. Hey, I thought you only got a "stomach ailment" when you were about to test poz for something! Well, better to hear it's just some lousy bug, if it has to be anything, I guess...anyway, get well soon boys, and Alessandro, with Cav's beloved Renshaw back in his train, you sure don't want him getting too used to your absence!

So That's How He's Getting Rid of Contador; and, Oleg, Giver of Alms

Color Me Badd: yep, the same week that Team SaxoTinkoff busts out its bright new team kit, goes on an all-out PR offensive that YES ALBERTO IS TOO THE SAME UNBEATABLE CHAMPION HE WAS BEFORE HIS TDF WAS STRIPPED, and publishes an all's-well kissy-fest between Bjarne Riis and his--uh, his team's--new owner, nutwhack oligarch Oleg Tinkov unveils his secret back-up plan: if he doesn't think that little twerp Alberto'll get 'im results, he'll have the team boycott the Tour de France if the race organizers don't pony up big dough to keep 'im in it! Also, he's sorry Garmin boss Jonathan Vaughters is a broke-!@# sponsor-bitch, and has kindly offered him gruel for life. Aw, who said the 1% don't share?

Giro Dreams of Nairo: meantime, way to blow about the Tour GC by stickin' in one lousy section of pave', as 2013 baby podium revelations Nairo Quintana wisely aims to hone his craft at the cobble-less Giro instead, which, unfortunately for Movistar, leaves it to luckless Alejandro Valverde to (1) pick up some freak tropical infection that only attacks the leg muscles (2) drop his chain two yards from the summit of the queen stage or (3) personally spontaneously combust into a shower of smoke and ashes come July. Well, at least y'all still got Nairo for the Vuelta, too!

Nipple Wars: in other news, congrats to Fabian Cancellara's Team Trek for joining Froomey's Sky in the see-through skinsuit craze, which not only means a bonanza for the lucky European sunscreen industry, but also means that sheer mesh catsuits are gonna replace speedos and neon banana-hammocks as the screaming camera-whore fan's running-wear of choice next to the pissed-off stars on the Alpe d'Huez. Not to be outdone, cover-boy Pippo Pozzato has defiantly announced that instead of wearing *any* team kit in 2014, he's simply gonna tattoo the image of some bike shorts and a saddle right on his !@# and ride the season that way. Let the fashion wars begin!

A Humble Offer: finally, I see Movement for Credible Cycling has got out its latest weapon in the neverending war on doping that hasn't happened anyway since 2006: peloton, show your pride with these spiffy new sky-blue I'm Clean! bracelets! Yeah, well, I *personally* offer--I swear--100 euros to the first active ProTour cyclist who wears a black "I'm a !@#Damn Dirty Doper" bracelet at a race this season. C'mon, you know who you are--hell, the bans you've served (or are gonna), you could probably use the money anyway!

Pretty In Pink: Horner Finds a Home?

He Wore Blue....Spandex: so after weeks of speculation, a harsh diss against Christina Watches for hell at least half giving him a lifetime, Vuelta champ Chris Horner, whose most recent likely gig looked like the freakin' unemployment line, has apparently snagged a serious ProTour gig with...stylin' princelings Cunego and Pozzato at Lampre? Me, I'm thinking it's a little like throwing in a snortling stumpy drooling bulldog amidst a pampered pack of diamond-collared high-strung poodles, but then, maybe he'll shake 'em all out of their obsession with flash and bring some actual bang to the squad. Anyway, Rui Costa, remember *you're* World Champion so don't take any crap, Chris, good luck, if this isn't some colossal wise-!@# January Fool's joke, *now* can somebody please Samuel Sanchez because this is clearly *complete* bull!@#$ if he remains hosed--and damn Horner, I know Baden Cooke's working for you for free, but you owe him some *serious* schwag if he signs you this job!

It's the 2014 Vuelta a Espana, Beeyotches (Unless You're Chris Horner, That Is)!

Whoa nellie, viciously-underappreciated Grand Tour fans, the fabulous Vuelta a Espana route is out, and it's a humdinger! Out: 4 of the 12 mountaintop finishes at last year's brutally entertaining route, for a mere sprinter-friendly total o' 8, the Euskaltel-lovin' (oh! I still can't stand it!) Pyrenees, !@#$-me-I'm-the-reigning-Vuelta-champ-and-I-can't-even-score-an-invite-to-the-presentation-much-less-a-team-for-the-damn-party Chris Horner. In: I-better-at-least-save-my-rep-with-this-one-if-I-choke-on-the-Tour Contador, I-will-break-your-domestiques'-kneecaps-to-grab-this-sucker-if-I-can't-win-the-Giro Purito Rodriguez, 1 team time trial, 2 individual team trials, 5 medium/rolling stages, 5 freakin' sprint finishes (and what the Tour de France hell is that about?) and, despite its less extravagant sadism than before, really a quite leg-nipping final 10 days that oughtn't decide the final podium 'til even wee Contador is crying in his muesli. And damn, a pile a' heretical *sprints* just when dear Euskaltel even got a credible fast-man on its squad last year! Anyway, we still love you Vuelta--and riders, quit usin' it as a late-season consolation prize for your blowin' the Tour!

Back to Business (School): meantime, the symbiotic brothers Schleck are back in action, with Frank, who actually can ride alone (albeit with a little, well, help), inexplicably stuck changing diapers for Andy *again* so the baby brother can crawl away, and, just to show they're done with their season-long casual-Friday-attitude bull!@#$, Trek's put 'em in somber banker businessy pinstripes, with a witty white shoulder for a little wacky cyclist pizzaz. That oughta make up for Andy's inability to descend--maybe someone in the pack'll mistake him for the tarmac and inadvertently give 'im a little push. Oh, it's enough to make one long for the hot-pink Telekom days--at least we've got the riotous Yellow-Fluo to be able to pick *some* guys out in the peloton! And in the interests of ladylike delicacy, I'll spare you today's lurid twit-fest o' revealing Astana'n'Thor Hushovd photos, at least unless y'all ask--after all, isn't that what Pippo Pozzato is for?

Leave Phil Liggett Alone (Again), !@&dammit!

Fine, Phil Liggett said today he thinks the young peloton is clean, and of course, now everyone's piling on him for it and for his years of denial about everyone else. Let's get this straight--!@#$ off! Lookit. Phil is the sweet innocent kid whose sadistic smug bastard of a big brother just told him there's no Santa Claus. (Okay, like ten years ago, but still.) He has heard the words, he has seen the proof, he has seen the fake beard and cheap red suit in his parents' closet, and nonetheless he believes. He is marshalling every bit of evidence in his favor. There are presents under the tree. The milk and cookies left for him have objectively been nibbled at. He has personally sat on his lap at the mall. There are whole Christmas specials about the man. You can send him letters, even e-mail him. NORAD tracks him by satellite every year for Chrissakes--the government wouldn't lie! And whether you like Phil or not, we still need him. He is credulous--yes, he is a flat-out naif. But all arguments (and not all unfair or unreasonable) to the contrary, he is not the, or even really a, problem with this sport. He reminds us, with every breathless broadcast, with every unquestioning cheer, with every visceral memory of a particular local wine and particular local cheese in a particular local bar that calls up a particular stage that he talks about, that the fantastic, however unlikely--and however brief if it is likely--can still occur. That years of relentless dedication can lead to one perfect suspended moment, that eight people with completely different interests and skills and egos and desires can yet unite for a few short hours in a single goal, that physical effort and achievement--so far from those of us who can't bike out of our own driveways without gasping for a water bottle and power bar--can be its own kind of art, that one stupid random millimeter can snap a life's work to pieces in an instant, that the fleeting fragile beauty of this sport, however flawed and worldly and conflicted and dirty and downright mean it can be, is nonetheless something worth cherishing. Otherwise, why do any of us care about any of this? Every dream needs its dreamers--don't blame him, even now, for not being the cleanup crew. We still love you Phil!

Froomey In the Sky Mesh Skinsuit: Dang, I Shoulda Made His New Year's Resolution "Cover Up"

Yes, the intrepid team kit designers are out to confuse again for a new season, so how to spot yer fave rider in the pack (or lead group)? Here's your roundup:

Sky: If you see skin, you see Sky. Thank god for privacy panels!

Ag2R: brown may be the color of chocolate, but on Ag2R, it's the color of bugly. Bad enough they don't win, you gotta punish 'em by putting them in this?

Lampre: less sparkly 'n' more reserved blue, but still some sparkly pink. Come back, original garish princess Lampre!

It's Still Liquigas Dammit/Cannondale: no official word yet, but reportedly, ever-shy Peter Sagan again blasts the floodlights. CAN YOU SEE ME? CAN YOU SEE ME? CAN YOU SEE ME?

Omega Pharma Quick Step: what, it's not just enough that Cav's the one at the front? Oh, right, that Kittel guy!

Astana: not as much sunny yellow or (even worse) no giant pic of Vino's face on the front, but they'll still kick your !@# anyway. We love you Vino!

Garmin: Aw, it's got a panda on it. Vaughters, you coy cynical manipulator!

Trek Factory Racing: officially unveiled January 10, but from all indicators, black black black black black. Geez, we get you're in mourning hiring Andy Schleck and all, but can you at least not demoralize 'im right off the bat?

Euskaltel-Euskadi: what else? Orange and--waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

All right, you got your party outfits on, and Bronzini's already bagged her first race--the rest of you, get *moving*!

It's Your Cyclist Video Roundup Part Un--Musical Edition!

Look, except for 'cross, which I am grossly unqualified to comment on except to note that Tim Johnson is a hometown god, ain't nobody racing at the moment, so let's start the New Year off with a bang with a Cyclist Video Roundup, Musical Edition! Here:











Happy 2014 to All--now get on your boogie shoes!

It's Yer New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton!

Yes, it's been another shameful, glorious year of wallowing in our filthy cesspools o' sin, and now it's time for our annual promises, however insincere, to clean up our dirty, disgusting acts, so without further ado--and especially because these clowns are never gonna do it on their own--I bring you Yer New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton!

Tom Boonen: Remember my 2012 Classics season? Yeah, me too. Eat my dust, Fabian!

Fabian Cancellara: Two words, Boonen: You. !@#$in'. Wish!

Peter Sagan: I won't ever, *ever* grab anyone without their consent again. Except maybe I'll grab Mark Cavendish in a headlock and noogie 'im.

Chris Froome: I'll quit whining about all those doping insinuations that piss me off so much. My positi--uh, my palmares will speak for itself!

Brad Wiggins: I'll give up faking I'll ever win--or want to win--a Grand Tour again. But boy, wasn't it fun ticking off Froomey with all that press frenzy!

Vincenzo Nibali: I will win the Tour de France. Even though I know the Giro's really better.

Oleg Tinkov: I will be polite, even friendly, to Alberto Contador. Because come 2015, that lazy overpaid crybaby princess is Alonso's problem!

Alberto Contador: I will be polite, even friendly, to Oleg Tinkov. Because come 2015, I'm Alonso's problem!

Alejandro Valverde: Next freakin' mechanical I get, my domestiques can relax. I'm gonna whack the first poor sonofa!@#$% I see off his bike and take it!

Andy Schleck: Okay, I *won't* learn to ride without my big brother Frank. But I promise not to actually clutch his neck screaming with my eyes screwed shut on all the descents at least!

Andre Greipel: I'll demand a better nickname. I mean, who the hell's gonna root for "the Gorilla"?

Jens Voigt: I'll attack. Of course, I always attack. In fact, I'll attack right now. And later today. And tomorrow. And...

Samuel Sanchez: I'll bag a ProTour contract. Or else poor little racejunkie will cry.

Mauro Santambrogio: I'll never use EPO again. I'll join the big-boy dopers, and start using AICAR.

Filippo Pozzato: I'll stop posting gorgeous bronzed photos of myself on Twitter and start winning races. Ooooooooo, look....I can see my reflection on the back of Cunego's helmet!

Jonathan Vaughters: I'll quit yappin' on about anti-doping and just let my work speak for itself, like David Millar. Oh, wait...

Tour of California: We'll reschedule it. Because we're really, *really* sorry for screwing over the dear Giro.

Tifosi: we'll give *all* the riders beer on a hot climb. Hell, Contador fans, Froomey weighs like six ounces, do you *know* how quick he'll get loaded and stagger himself outta contention at the Tour?

Finally, Johan Bruyneel: I'm gonna write a tell-all, beeyotches! Hey kids, is that fear I smell, or just the foul miasma of your sweaty testosterone nut-patch?

All right you peninents--now shake off that hangover, get on yer team kit, and get to work being all moral for 2014!

It's Yer 2014 Year in Preview (Yeah, You Read Right)!

Oh sure, we know all about what happened in 2013--like that we love SAMUEL SANCHEZ FROM EUSKALTEL STILL DOESN'T HAVE A FREAKIN' CONTRACT, THANKS OLEG TINKOV YOU GOON!--but what's ahead for 2014? Here, in keeping with our ages-old grand tradition of 100% accuracy in predicting the year to come, yer Year In Preview:

January: Last-minute team camp tune-ups! Bjarne Riis preps Contador for July with relentless all-caps social media assault; 3/4 of peloton coincidentally retires to "spend more time with their families" on same day results of Johan Bruyneel arbitration hearing revealed; unknown fan assailant spray-paints Movistar squad's team kits black-and-orange, Movistar declared missing from ProTour as new "Euskaltel" squad steps in. Yay!

February: And, we're off! Kittel thrusts enormous hairdo past Mark Cavendish's wheel on final stage of Tour of Qatar, pips Cav for overall at line, crazed Cav punches Marcel off bike, shaves head; Pippo Pozzato blows crucial pre-Classics prep time by posting record 897 consecutive half-naked selfies on Instagram.

March: Time for the Classics, baby! Tom Boonen wins Milano-Sanremo after Sagan relegated when pops wheelie, accidentally squashes Brian Cookson; Quintana figures "I can so do that cobblestone !@#$", inadvertently propelled into outer space bouncing off first block of pave'; resurgent Thor Hushovd grabs Gent-Wevelgem because "damn, BMC's gotta win *something* this year."

April: It's the Hell o' the North, *and* the Ardennes! Boonen bags record fifth Paris-Roubaix after Fabian Cancellara mistakes race for day he's supposed to do hour record, burns self out in 59 minutes; Sagan evades new rule against riding on dirt paths adjacent to cobblestones by bunny-hopping entire Forest of Arenberg; Andy Schleck announces intent to win Liege-Bastogne-Liege, sets 3-season personal best making it to back of team bus for morning espresso before quitting.

May: What else, it's the fabulous Giro! Basso, Evans, Scarponi DQ'd on first day when delayed arguing with hotel front desk over applicability of senior-citizen discount; Wiggo bails in dejection after learning "Giro" isn't Italian for "21-day Time Trial"; Rodriguez takes new "more humane" Giro/first Grand Tour win by wrapping self up in squirming angry polar bears to survive absolute-zero degree stage up Zoncolan.

June: Run-up to the Tour!: Marianne Vos rides entire 2014 Tour de France route in 3 days, 14 hours, 12 minutes and 8 seconds in protest, ASO chief pats arm, tells her to get him some coffee; Sky attributes record-smashing training performances to just "being way way cleaner than everybody else;" Tinkov claims threat to pitch Alberto Contador off Alpe d'Huez if he doesn't win is just "friendly encouragement."

July: It's the Tour de France, baby! Ted King awarded first maillot jaune because "man, we were !@#holes to kick him out last year over that 7-second time cut"; Vincenzo "the Shark" Nibali knocks at Chris Froome's hotel-room door, mutters "Land Shark," unsuccessful, sez "Candygram!", admitted entry, chomps Froomey, default Tour de France champ: Nibali!

August: Woo-hoo, time for the bangin' Vuelta a Espana! "Alberto Contador" goes for first Grand Tour win since clenbuterol ban when stocky bald guy in bad dark wig with American accent shows up at start line, Oleg Tinkov swears muffled yells coming from team-car trunk for three weeks is "just a bad muffler"; Wiggins sez he "always wanted to ride up 18 consecutive mountain stages with no domestique support," unfortunately forced to retire early due to catastrophic bit-of-popcorn-stuck-in-teeth injury; enraged Euskaltel fans pound entire Pyrenees to sea level with bare fists when Orange Army fails to ride by.

September: It's the World Championships! "Contador" defen--uh, wraps up Vuelta title, hits Spanish McDonalds for huge celebration; Marianne Vos wins Worlds in brutal conditions over all-star field, UCI congratulates, tells her how cute she looks in her little "pro rider team kit" costume; Rui Costa takes men's race again when Purito Rodriguez accidentally smashes Valverde's bike to smithereens in three-hour attack with ball peen hammer.

October: Time for final rider transfers! Contador to new Team Alonso, 2015 bikes revealed, media claims they look suspiciously like Formula 1 racecars 'til Alonso helpfully points out little brake levers on steering wheel; Jens Voigt claims legs won't shut up, forms own one-man squad, signs self til 2043; Andy Schleck swears he'll never ride again without Frank, Frank mysteriously fails to find new team.

November: Ready for a little R&R! Team Sky all vacations at same hosp--uh, "luxury resort"; Alexander Vinokourov sues newspaper over story he paid millions of euros for doping during his career, angrily protests "I always got that !@#$ for free"; Sagan constructs 86-foot monument to self out of sand on beach with little plastic pail and shovel, cries bitterly when learns even he can't order God to stop those silly "tides" from washing it away.

December: Back to work, boys and girls! Lampre determines 2015 team strategy will be to blind rest of peloton with glaring team kit, breaks out blue-and-pink Disney glitter pens, Swarovski crystals for crafty riders; Sky abandons wind-tunnel testing when star riders Wiggins, Froome sucked into fans, dissipated in building HVAC system; Lance Armstrong is--aw, who gives a !@#$!

Well, as my spot-on 2013 predictions clearly proved, 2014 promises to be a thrilling year indeed, so practice those cobbles, save yer places at the "Dutch corner" to hand out those frothy cold ones to the race leaders, grab yer neon mankinis and idiotic Viking hats for yer shameless TV time, and get ready for an exciting 2014!

Merry Christmas, Happy Festivus, Bangin' Solstice, and Buon Natale a Tutti!

Next up--Yer Year In Preview, and Yer New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton. 'Til then, let's break out the egg nog, and Merry Everything to you and yours!

It's the 2013 Racejunkie Awards!

The Velo D'Or? Eh. The Paris-Roubaix cobblestone? Yawn. That big giant trophy you get for winning the Tour de France? Shrug. Yes, now it's time for the big awards show of the cycling season, the incredibly prestigious, highly anticipated (and universally ignored) 2013 Racejunkie Awards! Winners: if you claim it, enjoy a bitchin' custom racejunkie cap, as well as the eternal glory you've earned. Losers: well, you're probably better off not winning here anyway. Therefore, without further ado:

Cyclist o' 2013: Let's cut right to the chase: look, Nibali's bangin'. Froome's fab (okay, well Fabian's fab, but anyway). And Cav of course is awesome. But on road, mountain, cross, and trike, Marianne Vos is simply the best rider in the peloton today. Or yesterday. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Bow, bow before the Vos!

Kick In the Nuts/Punch In the Face/Wedgie of All Time Award: dear we love Euskaltel-Euskadi, really gone, brilliant wee climbers, unique Basque identity, smashing team kit, and fanatic Orange Army, and all. Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Good Deeds Never Go Unpunished Award: so impassioned (if ill-timed) Lance defender Chris Horner wins the Vuelta at age Moses, is immediately surrounded by doping suspicions, and what does he do? Yep, proudly releases his blood values. And what happens then? Nope, it sure wasn't pretty! Shoulda just hidden in your hotel room with a pile o' McNuggets 'til it all blew over, I guess...

Dope(r) of the Year: yep, Giro poz Mauro Santambrogio had this one in the bag, at least til Mick Rogers got taken out by a tainted Chinese cow not a week ago. Dammit, can't we at least keep it to riders I don't *like* for heck's sake?

Fan Antics o' 2013 Prize: yeah, there was that panda guy, and the usual contingent of screaming half-nekkid mankini banana-hammocks getting in the riders' way at the Tour, but this year, it was the rowdy beer-swillin'--and sharin'!--fans at the Dutch corner on the Alpe d'Huez. Here, Adam Hansen grabs a cold one:

TMI Award: Sure, dopers have pulled a lot of disgusting stunts in order to gain an edge. But what we *really* didn't need to hear was Michael "the Chicken" Rasmussen's claim that a then-Rabobank bus driver nestled a buncha EPO right up against his nuttal region to evade the narcs. Needless to say, successor squad Belkin quickly put the kibosh on to any further investigation into the matter. Thankfully!

Comeback o' the Year (Not) Award: Well, Wiggins was the 2012 Tour champ, so he didn't really have anything to come back from, which is good, because he didn't. But Andy Schleck? Oh, he was *so* taking the Tour! Or a stage. Or a one-day race. Or at least finishing one. Or maybe just getting to the start line sometime...

Over/Under, Over/Under Prize: oh, Orica-Greenedge. At the Tour de France, the team bus goes *under* the finish-line banner, not *over* it. D'oh!

Total Organizer !@#$up of 2013 Corollary Award: they're going to the original finish line. No, it's 2k back. No, it's the original finish again. The completely befoozled race organizers at the Tour. Make up your freakin' minds and convey it clearly to the teams already, so these boys even know if or when they're supposed to sprint!

Portrait of Dorian Grey Award: his dashing hipster facade belied the haggard, tortured trainwreck within. Brad Wiggins, this one's for you!

Icicle, Icicle, Icicle Race Award: Okay, we're used to the occasional freezefest in the Giro, even the Tour. But half the GC dropping out of the beautiful Vuelta coated in ice like grisly popsicles? I'm just glad any o' these guys survived!

PR Disaster of 2013: jeez, Lance, I didn't think it was *possible* for you to be more of an unctuous, self-serving tool than you already were. But then, you blabbed on Oprah. My bad!

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar: Women's cycling is *done* taking any !@#$, honey, and now, they demand the Tour de France, and every other race--from sponsorship to paychecks to organization to sheer kilometers--they deserve. Women's Cycling Association, this one's for you!

My Boss is a Bigger Nutwhack Than Your Boss Award: sure, Vino's crazy, which is why, among many other reasons, we still love him. But Oleg Tinkov, man--that's a whole 'nother level of wingnut. Am I the only one really psyched for 2014?

Crap Mechanical of All Time Award: Alejandro Valverde, absolutely blown outta the water on a crosswindy stage at the Tour. Still, he does get major class-act points for subsequently throwing his considerable power behind young untested Nairo Quintana. At least 'til he bushwhacked Purito Rodriguez at the Worlds!

Ride o' the Year (Thrill o' Victory Edition): yes, Fabian Cancellara's win at Paris-Roubaix was a beautiful--if almost inevitable--thing. But for sheer passion and love of the sport--even if he did have a huge crash near the line to partially thank for it--John Degenkolb's stage 5 win at the Giro, and subsequent collapse, was a jump-outta-yer-seater. Complimenti!

Ride o' the Year (Agony of Defeat Edition): a desperate Tony Martin, caught seconds before the line at stage 6 of the Vuelta. Valiant--but *so* agonizing to watch!

And, Last But Not Least, Lovable Legal Nitpick o' 2013 Prize: no, not that dissembling wanker Lance--it's our swoonworthy wreck-on-wheels Alexander Vinokourov, not so much taking issue with the allegations that he bribed himself his 2010 Liege-Bastogne-Liege win from Kolobnev, but pissed as hell that some thieving amoral jackwagon apparently hacked his personal e-mail to get the proof. Oh Vino--I don't know if you're best or worst thing to happen to cycling in this generation, but dang, you are by far the most fun!

Well, them's mine, and if I missed anything that ought've been include, feel free to write it in. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to the hijinks of 2014--the new season's sure got a lot to aspire to!

It's a Very Merry Festivus Gift List For the Peloton!

Yes, dear reader(s), no matter what holiday(s) we may celebrate, it's that beautiful time o' year when we set aside our own selfish, petty desires and set ourselves instead to fulfilling those of others, and let's face it, after the year they've had, our beloved riders need all the good things they can get. Ergo, it's Yer Very Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!

Chris Horner: a WorldTour contract. Because otherwise, those Masters guys who keep gettin' popped will have to start doping a hell of a lot harder!

Samuel Sanchez: ditto: a WorldTour contract. Yeah, I heard the rumors too, but I mean a real, announced, signed, dated, chiseled-in-stone contract. Damn, he's like fifty years younger than Horner, ain't he?

Johan Bruyneel: a prayer. 'Cause right now, he ain't got one!

Chris Froome: a good light set. Because if Brad Wiggins quits playing nice, and decides to bushwhack 'im, Froomey better be able to see it coming!

Alberto Contador: the Tour de France. Because Oleg Tinkov is gonna do a lot more than tweet at 'im if he !@#$s it up this year!

Vincenzo Nibali: the Tour de France. Because Alexandre Vinokourov is gonna do a lot more than yell at 'im if he !@#$s it up this year!

Alberto Contador Auxiliary Stocking Stuffer: Wings. 'Cause judging by his 2013, "pedals" sure ain't working for him!

Purito Rodriguez: a Grand Tour. *Any* Grand Tour. Just because we love him.

Tom Boonen: Paris-Roubaix. Our gun-shy boy needs his confidence back!

Fabian Cancellara: the hour record. One, because he's Spartacus, and two, because it'll make him feel better when Tommeke takes back Roubaix. See, now everyone's happy!

Peter Sagan: A pretty pair of red yarn mittens. So from now on he can keep his filthy mitts to himself!

Lance Armstrong: a year of total media silence. For *our* sakes as much as his!

Andy Schleck: a magic, unbreakable, indestructible chain. Geez, I can't believe you were at it *again* today. *Now* will you finally stop whinging about the 2010 Tour?

UCI: nothin'. We already *got* our wish for you--how're you enjoying retirement, Pat "Dick" McQuaid?

Alexander Vinokourov: the title, powers, and all attendant trappings of Supreme Ruler of the Universe. It's only a matter of time before it happens anyway. Vino4Ever!

Marianne Vos: Yep, again this year, she already *has* everything. Maybe a day off, if only to give someone else a chance next season?

Mick Rogers (and it kicks me in the nuts to say this): a lump of coal. Naughty, naughty, naughty cyclist!

And Last But Not Ever Ever Least, Dear Reader(s): may your road rides be ever sunny, smooth, and dry, unless you're Belgian, in which case may they be ever rainy, muddy, and cobbly. May your saddle never sore, your tire never flat, your chain never suck, and your bidon be ever full. And no matter the vagaries of this wonderful, messed-up sport, may your joy in its glories never fail--Merry Festivus to all!

We Are the Knights Who Say (I) Ni(ver Want to Win the Tour Again)!; Tinkov Makes Amends; and, Yay, It's Euskistar!

That's *Sir* Brad, You Serf!: hearty congrats to 2012 Tour de France champ Brad Wiggins, knighted today by Queen Elizabeth and, with the newfound gallantry appropriate to his rank, all kindsa "I Heart Froomey" and "Nope, Still Don't Want the Tour Again." Froome, for his part, graciously allowed that the hatchet is indeed buried between the two, not only, he swears, because Brad can now have him beheaded. Brad, from your former rabble subjects across the pond, we doff our hats--now *don't* diss the beautiful Giro d'Italia again by claiming you really want that win either!

I'm Sorry, You Lazy Hack!: in other olive-branch news, enjoyably unstable cycling oligarch Oleg Tinkov has sorta apologized to Alberto Contador for last Tour's blizzard of humiliation tweets, offering that he was only doing it to "provoke" the demoralized boy into some positive action. Next up--Tinkov throws our hero's !@# into 10 years of hard labor in some miserable rock-breaking hellhole to "encourage" him. Awww, that's sweet he cares so much!

That's *Eye*-gor!: last but not least, much as I've admittedly hated team Movistar's fat-cat thieving Euskaltel-poaching guts for contributing to the downfall of the squad by persisting snatching some of their best talent, now that our beloved Carrots are indeed no more (except for the new development team--in five years, watch out suckers!), I gotta concede I'm pretty stoked that frighteningly jobless erstwhile Igor Anton has been signed by the team, along with the previously-snagged alums climber-duo Ion and Gorka Izaguirre and sprinter Juanjo Lobato. All right, the hell with Valverde, you *seen* these boys in the high passes?--change those blue jerseys to orange already, and make Piti fight for it next year!

It's Yer 2013 Year in Review!

Yep, we've still got a sweet 3 weeks for some ludicrous scandal to enliven the sleepy end of the year, but still, it's been a bangin' 2013, with enough scandal, sleaze, and yes, even racing, to delight and horrify the most dedicated cycling freak. Ergo, yer Year in Review:

January: Pat "Dick" McQuaid shuts down UCI Independent Commission on Why We're Scumbags; Wiggo really, honestly doesn't want the Tour, delusionally targets Giro; Lance cluelessly blows ratings-busting Oprah wah-wah. But I'm *sorry* I called Betsy Andreu a !@# !@#$%!

February: Rabobank shocked that everyone on squad doped when team told them to; Wiggo still really, honestly doesn't want the Tour; Thor redeems crap 2012 with win at Haut Var; Andy Schleck vows return. Uh huh, still waitin'!

March: It's the Classics, baby! Tom Boonen crashes out of suck Flanders, Classics !@#$ed; Sagan grabs Gent-Wevelgem; pig Sagan acts like, and grabs, an !@#; enraged Mark Cavendish blasts teammates for Tirreno-Adriatico loss. Nice to have your real personality back, Cav!

April: Dan Martin takes his first--and Ireland's second!--Liege-Waffle-Liege--slainte Dan!; frustrated Wiggo still really, honestly doesn't want the Tour, makes Wussiest Bike Toss Ever at Trentino; Fabian Cancellara takes Roubaix. Dammit I still miss Tommeke!

May: What else? It's the fabulous Giro, baby! Vincenzo "the Shark" Nibali slaughters the competition; Wiggo really, honestly doesn't want the Tour--and can't win the Giro, either; gutted John Degenkolb collapses after spectacular stage win. Now *that* is cycling!

June: It's the Tour de France, baby? Greenedge driver jams bus under finish-line banner, entire peloton crashes hard as dipwad race organizers confuse sprinters by repeatedly changing finish line; dopus Santambrogio a doping poz at Giro; the Giro Rosa is *on*, honey!

July: The Tour continues! Euskaltel announces they're goners, who gives about the stupid race?!; Froome slaughters rivals on Mont Ventoux, game over; Oleg Tinkov twitter-crushes demoralized Contador; Marcel Kittel dethrones Cav as sprint king. Better luck next year!

August: It's the smashing Vuelta a Espana, baby! Some old "Horner" guy ridiculously aims for podium; miserable Boonen's miserable season over with epic saddlesore; record-smashing Giorgia Bronzini takes 5--5!--consecutive sprints at Giro Rosa; new Women's Cycling Union demands Tour de France. Damn, haven't they earned it already?

September: More Vuelta, *and* the Worlds! poor wee Euskies mostly jobless; Horner wins Vuelta at age 94 on diet of Big Macs and McRibs; Vos takes Worlds and everything else all year Bronzini didn't win this year; Rui Costa bags men's race in controversial finish as defiant Valverde screws bitter Purito Rodriguez outta silver. Well there goes *that* bromance I guess!

October: Cleansters at Team Sky wants opioid its gives its own boys banned for everyone else; LL Cool Sanchez outta RaboBelkin; outraged jobless Horner goes nutwhack on Twitter. Not helping the cause, kiddo!

November: whistleblower Landis seeks the big bucks, but Lance already said he's SORRY gosh darn it; Samuel Sanchez, Igor Anton still teamless; Contador changes training regimen, optimistically plans return. Good luck with that Alberto!

December: Oleg Tinkov buys out Bjarne Riis at Saxo Bank, Contador cries self to sleep; desperate riders scramble for jobs on Pro-Kindergarten squads; Lance Armstrong sez he's gonna--oh, who gives a !@#$!

Well cycling fans, them's mine, and for every amazing incident I choked and didn't put in, apologies. Now can we *get* through the rest of the year without some epic nightmare screwup? Nope, I don't think so either!

The Lament of Alberto Contador

Once I was a rising star,
Heralded both near and far,
As they said, in bike parlance,
"I think that kid is the next Lance."
For several years I proved it true,
Bagging wins upon Ventoux,
Taking Vuelta, Tour, and Giro,
Spanish cycling's doe-eyed hero.
Then came my turn with Johan Bruyneel,
That duplicitous deceptive eel,
Ripping off my captain's pants,
And handing them straight off to Lance.
Tho' I then smacked him down and all,
I got popped for clenbuterol,
Which I quickly blamed, for all to hear,
On some stoked-up crackhead steer.
So I was banned, if not for long,
Soon I rejoined the cycling throng,
Tried my best in all the races,
And put my body through its paces.
I could not ride as once I had,
My Grand Tours, once great, were bad,
Pounded by some gangly geek,
Like a two-bit last-chance domestique.
I still enjoyed my job with Riis,
Sure, I bit, but rode with peace,
And knew deep down in my heart,
I'd once more play the winner's part.
But boss Tinkov was not impressed,
Even though I did my best,
Tweeting I was overpaid and lazy,
(Which frankly beats just bat-!@#$ crazy)
Ensuring with every dope-slap tweet,
I was both in mind and body beat.
So here I am at this event,
With Oleg on World Tour domination bent,
Standing stock-still like some frightened schmo,
Cowed by Oleg Tinkov's dough.
Now I'm stuck here til 2015,
When my bud Alonso starts his team,
Til then I better freakin' win,
And turn Oleg's wrath into a grin!

Cycling Things I'm Thankful For This Year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Ode To Pro-Team Cycling Staff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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