It's Your Giro d'Italia Rest Day Due (and ATOC) Roundup! and, Enter to Win! #giro

Yep, the Giro boys got a day to chill, spin, and nurse their aching bloody carcasses, so let's catch up before we hit the road again!

1. Quit asking Cadel Evans if he feels bad about missing the Tour. What's the !@#$in' maglia rosa anyway, chopped liver?

2. Agony Update: Angel Vicioso, the worst-hit from the tarmac with a busted femur, is already standing. Meantime, Purito's got a coupla pins in his thumb. Forza ragazzi--ci vediamo alla bellissima Vuelta!

3. Tweet o' the Week: "Bling" Matthews apologizing "Sorry about showing my ass to the world today #pinkjersey to #pinkass." Now *that's* a rider with an excuse for slurping some Tramadol!

4. Ivan Basso. Lookin' better'n you thought he would, right?

5. FDJ--I don't think you can afford Nacer Bouhanni any more!

6. Really, he looked promising--but who the hell saw Diego Ulissi coming? Well, now everyone will!

7. Under new rules, anyone running alongside the racers in those hideous Borat banana-slings can now have it nut-crackingly snapped by the nearest aesthetically-offended GC contender. Thanks, UCI!

8. Am I the only one who expected Elia Viviani to bag a stage or two by now? *One* lil puppy's in the Cannondale doghouse, I bet!

9. Quit *whinin'*, Scarponi!

10. Uran did well not to cut off *all* his hair. As for Quintana, bruised or not, if he had a good day today, I wouldn't count him out. C'mon, at least don't leave this *whole* race a foregone conclusion!

11. No freakin' way is Wiggo gonna voluntarily domestique for Froomey at the Tour de France. At least not without trying to bushwhack 'im outta contention first!

12. If *I* were Floyd Landis, listening to Christian Vande Velde get a sweet-payin' commentator gig at the ATOC after watching Landis twist in the wind for years knowing the whole time the guy was telling the truth while enjoying a full career with a no-punishment post-retirement ban, I'd probably be bull!@#$. Pays to go to charm school, I guess!

13. Enter our Giro contest here, and win stuff! Why? Because if you love the Giro, you deserve it!

Well, onto a coupla days of relative relaxation--then back to the mountains again, woo-hoo!

It's Your GC-Wreckin' Giro Carnage Roundup! That's "Sir" Taylor to You, Pal! And, You Broke Pozzato's Heart, Lampre You Bums! #giro

Oh, No, Purito!: well, the pile o' wounded road warriors is in from Thursday's disastrous Giro stage, and aside from basically everybody in the entire not in the first 8 riders at the base of the final climb ending up on the floor with at least a bucket of scrapes and bruises, we love dear GC hope Purito Rodriguez was knocked completely out with coupla busted ribs to match the ones he was just healing up from earlier in the season and a broken bone in his hand, Michele Scarponi was held up (and seemed quite on the fence today as to whether he should be in a snit at Cadel for not sitting up for everyone), and Purito lieutenant Angel Vicioso, who was quite scarily near-immobile on the ground for a while, seems to have gotten by far the worst of it, with a multiply-broken femur and contradictory reports in the international press as to whether, at age 37, he's just gonna flat-out retire rather'n struggle to heal and get back to top level. What a !@#$ty way to end a fine career--Katusha, surely this talented boy's gotten "DS" written all over him for the future?!

Watch Out Wiggo: yeah Bradley, you got the title, but Taylor Phinney's got the class-- check out his most elegant bow across the line after his gorgeous downhill attack at the Amgen EPO TOC this week! And is anyone *really* buying Sky's delusional crap about how Brad's gonna be a happy little domestique for Froomey at the Tour, despite their implied suggestion that he might not make the team if he ain't? Yeah, me neither!

Pippo in Exile: look, half-clothed peloton selfie-king Pippo Pozzato's been most gracious about riding that nice race in Japan, but luckily, I don't have to be: you *suck*, Lampre! Wah, wah, "results," wah--Pippo was still the highest-placed Italian at the Classics this year (ok, like 50th at Paris-Roubaix, but still!), and, in a sport that's hardly shied away from style over substance, you gotta admit that he's more fun for the tifosi & everybody else than some grim lumbering drudge, plus maybe even prettier than, like, Kittel or Basso, so why the hell didn't you let him ride his darling Giro d'Italia--what, you expect that Simoni-backstabber Cunego to bring it home? On the other hand, with the field down to about 5 guys and a bunch of lucky roleurs, maybe he will...Anyhow, Free Pippo For Giro 2015!

Enter to Win! finally, it's our Giro contest again, so because Samuel Sanchez is bitchin' and he's riding it, enter here and earn eternal glory, and free stuff!

We Have a Winner! And, It's Yer 2014 Racejunkie Giro d'Italia Win Free Stuff Contest Part Due! #giro

Yes, the entries are in, the winner's been drawn (no peekin', just like I said!) from the Holy Once-Eroski Cap o' Destiny, and yer week one winner of the 2014 Racejunkie Giro d'Italia Win Free Stuff Contest Part Uno is: Conor! Grazie to all for playing, and Conor, complimenti on yer win--check yer email to claim yer prizes and to name the lucky beneficiary of yer Two Week Rider Insult Moratorium! So now, on to Week Due:

The rules, when, wheres, hows 'n' whys are all in my May 9th post. In short--we love the Giro, baby, so guess the right answer to the Giro-related question, get yer entry drawn from the other poindexters' from the We Still Love Euskaltel Cap o' Perpetual Mourning, and win three bangin' prizes, including a really spiffy custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap by Walz caps, some dashing racejunkie stickers to show yer pride (or shame!), and a two-week moratorium on me insulting yer chosen rider, no matter how easy a target they are. So join in here and good luck to all of you!

He's Got Le-e-e-e-gs/He Knows How to Use Them! Where's the Beef? and, Enter to Win! #Giro

Lookin' Good, Purito!: yep, the slick bloody carnage of the early Giro sprint days are over, and it's time for the *real* purpose o' the race, the hills! First, anyone who sez we love Samuel Sanchez lost time today for anything but the sole reason of his selfless service to Cadel Evans is a lying sack of hell-bound crap who oughta be power-noogied into total abject apologetic submission, *and* thwapped upside the head with a loaded musette. Second, leaving aside the fact that Purito's still gotta make up 1:32 already through no fault whatsoever of his own, he showed today he's feeling *strong*, baby! Third, while anyone who makes it clear they're riding the beautiful Giro only reluctantly because their bosses won't give 'em the Tour should be banned from cycling for life, Cadel Evans does at least work like a dog to honor any race he's in and does look great for the top spot in Milan. Nice work BMC, but pedala, pedala Purito--like some winky little 8-hour time deficit is gonna hold *you* back once we hit the serious mountains? Here, whippersnapper Diego Ulissi shows the Italians who they're gonna root for on GC a few years down the line: Tomorrow: somethin' about having to divert around a landslide. Which still sounds a hell of a lot easier than gettin' over the Gavia's gonna be, if today's any indication!

Well, At Least He Ain't No Shrinking Violet: and, Contador boss Oleg Tinkov, in what can only be reasonably construed as a giant "!@#$ you" to the noble guards o' virtue over at UCI, has actually signed on a beef sponsor for the squad. And yes, it's heck funny. But why is this even controversial--Amgen EPO Tour of California, anyone? Next year: Floyd Landis' new UCI Pro Continental Team Steaming Testosterone Nut-Patch. Put 'em all together, and you rogue old-generation dopers've got yerselves a paaaar-*tay*!

Enter to Win!: What? every week, answer the question right, be drawn from the Holy Once-Eroski Cap o' Destiny, and win bitchin' stuff! Why? it's the Giro for chrissakes! Where? enter here--and in bocca al lupo, the lot of you!

It's Yer Giro d'Italia Day 2 GC Carnage Parade o' the Euskies Win Free Stuff Roundup! #giro

The (Crap) Luck o' the Irish: y'know, I was thinkin' it would be kinda dangerous out there, but I gotta say--particularly because our man we love Purito is completely !@#$ed over a few rainclouds--opening a Grand Tour with a TTT and deciding half the GC before Marcel Kittel's mousse has even dried is total bull!@#$. Why not just smash their bikes to pieces with a ball peen hammer and save 'em the miserable trouble of a half-hour in the cold and rain so they can just stay warm 'til they catch their flights home the next day? Anyway, to Garmin's credit, this disaster hasn't cowed them, who're vowing to struggle on even after Irishman Dan Martin's awful manhole-cover collarbone spin-out and Euskaltel refugee's Koldo Fernandez's broken collarbone too (though, in typical masochist cyclist fashion, he even managed to finish the stage). Tomorrow: another stage for the fastmen, another day of relentless ignoring by the freakin' announcers of anyone but Marcel Kittel. Jeez, think of, say, Viviani's feelings a little, whydontcha!

Orange *Should* Be the New Black !@#dammit: Speaking of whom, it was a pretty impressive ride on opening day by the rest of the ex-(and always!) Carrots, with we love Samuel Sanchez of Cadel's (and Samu's!) BMC, Mikel Landa of Scarponi's Astana, and Igor Anton Gorka Izaguirre and Jonathan Castroviejo of Quintana's Movistar, except, as noted, for poor Koldo, which oughta save the lot of them a little bit of stress in the GC battle until Purito comes outta nowhere to kick their sorry leaders' collective !@#. Me, I'm freakin' out for Samu or Gorka to take a stage win, so FREE THE EUSKALTEL CLIMBERS YOU SELFISH GC NAVEL-GAZERS!

Jane-of-All-Terrain: finally, congrats to Marianne Vos for winning today's sprint at the Tour o' Britain, just proving that, should she ever get constantly tired of winning mountains, rolling stages, sprints, time trials, cross, or mountain bike, she could always do something else she also presumably excels at, like downhill, zip-lining, dog-catching, bricklaying, nuclear engineering, catering, astronauting, or Impressionist painting. Forza Marianne--but maybe give someone else a shot every so often?

Oh, and show yer Giro prowess and Enter to Win Stuff Here!

It's the 2014 Racejunkie Giro d'Italia Win Free Stuff Contest!

Why?: Like I'm gonna run this thing during the Tour?

What?: You answer the question o' the week correctly by my standards, I put yer name along with the other poindexters' into either the Holy Once-Eroski Cap o' Destiny, the We Still Love Euskaltel Cap o' Perpetual Mourning, or the I Still Keep Calling Them Liquigas Cannondale Cap o' Confusion, I pick a name without peekin' (honest!), and you win! I email you to find out where the send the prize, I don't pimp your info to anyone else like a goon, you gain eternal glory, and I send you yer prizes--that's it!

The Rules: Yeah, yeah, there's the legalese on the site--basically, I can change whatever I want whenever I want, which I really don't plan to do barring some eejit catastrophe on my part, and you're nice and sportsmanlike about it if that happens or I otherwise screw up. And if the cap isn't here yet right when you win, cut me some slack buddy they're a-comin'!

The Prizes: A smashing custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap, one of only 3 of its kind on the planet! A passel o' spiffy racejunkie stickers to flaunt yer pride (or shame)! And, for the sensitive tifosi among you--and believe me, this is a toughie for me every freakin' year--an incredibly long and totally sincere two-week rider insult moratorium on yer fave peloton studpup!

Where: Enter here, fellow Giro freaks--and good luck!

It's the Amgen EPO Tour of Screw You UCI For Scheduling This Opposite the Giro! California! And the Women's Tour! And the Giro!! #giro

Holy Crap It's the Girooooooooooooo! Woo-hoo, it's finally the fabulous Giro d'Italia, and yes, the first two stages are Irish, baby! Tomorrow (or hell, today, depending on where you are!): a 21.7k pretty darn flat team time trial, with Garmin and OPQS out for flamingo-pink glory. Saturday: 219k of flat Belfast-to-Belfast sprinters' delight. Problem: the latest forecast is !@#$ for Saturday, and that's baaaaaad news this early in the race for a twitchy pack still gettin' their legs--GC contenders, watch yer collarbones!

We're Going Back To Cali, To Cali, To Cali: and, if you're not at the superior Giro, or hiding out "training," uh, training, ahead of the Tour, I guess you are at the Amgen EPO You Suck UCI For Scheduling This Opposite the Giro! California. And it's really, despite these riders' clear heresy--which according to Dante, plops 'em right into the 6th circle o' hell--a smashing field. There: we love Tom Boonen, we love Jens, Mark Cavendish, archrival Peter Sagan, Taylor Phinney, Fast Freddie, and, of course, go-to-hell-he-can-so-too-win-a-stage-either we still love Thor Hushovd. Oh right, and that Wiggins guy. Watch out for: perpetual numbnuts Riccardo Ricco', schmoozin' up the Amgen reps for free samples. Now apologize, all of you, for skipping the Giro, and *maybe* we'll wish you all luck!

Holy Crap It's a Women's Tour!: no, not a three-week Grand Tour, but still, it's a solid 5 days o' British bitchin'ness, with huge crowds turning out for the likes of Lizzie Armistead, Marianne Vos, Giorgia Bronzini, Hannah Barnes, and pretty well everyone worth watchin'. Allez allez Giorgia--Marianne, you're already gonna win somethin' anyway!

Next Up: it's your 2014 Racejunkie Giro d'Italia Win Free Stuff Contest!

It's Yer Giro d'Italia in Preview, Part Tre: The Sprinters!

Look, generally, I have zero use for sprints at the Giro. But there's a truly obscene 6 or 8 of 'em this year (depending on yer view), and as a result, there's actually some competition. So what to expect? Here's yer guys:

1. Roberto Ferrari. Strengths: Remember that !@#hole who crashed Cav at the 2012 Giro by careening across the entire road and takin' half the rest of the peloton with him? Yep, that's Roberto! He's selfish, unapologetic, and even--if he can knock the other guys off their bikes first--fast enough to win. Minuses: who the !@#$'s gonna do anything to help--hell, not actively hurt--this guy? In bocca al lupo Roberto--if the other squads don't preemptively bushwhack you first! Here, Captain Sportsmanship takes his line:

2. Elia Viviani. Strengths: Italy's hot young sprint hope, he beat Mark Cavendish two times last week at the Tour of Turkey. Weakness: Cav ain't riding the Giro. And just hope Ivan Basso doesn't show Cannondale the legs to pull rank!

3. Alessandro Petacchi: Strengths: with Cav saving his energy for the Tour de France by riding the Amgen EPO Tour of Screw You UCI For Scheduling This Opposite the Giro! California, Petacchi can ride this race for himself. He's got experience, he's got tactics, he loves the race, and he's got incentive at likely his last-ever Giro. Weaknesses: at 40, he's lost some power. But he's still banking wins, so don't count this Fassa Bortolo veteran out!

4. Marcel Kittel: Strengths: let's be honest--it's basically between Kittel, and everyone else. And his hair alone will demoralize half his competitors. Weaknesses: no way is he going to screw the rest of his season sticking it out through the mountains. At least someone else can take the points jersey in Milano!

5. Nacer Bouhanni: Strengths: He's had a great season, but still ain't number one on the watchlist. Really, has anyone been paying attention to FDJ? Weaknesses: there's great, and there's winning-a-sprint-at-a-Grand-Tour great. We'll see!

6. Michael "Bling" Matthews and Ben "Swifty" Swift: Strengths: oh come on, you know it's their nicknames. That, and they do have a kick. Love to see one of 'em take a stage!

7. Tyler Farrar: Strengths: I am convinced, despite all evidence, that the old Tyler's still in there somewhere. Weaknesses: a crap few seasons, and resulting squat for team support. He needs luck, timing, and luck. Forza Tyler!

Well, them's yer thoroughbreds. If I missed anyone, let me know--and boys, watch out for you-know-who!

It's Your Giro d'Italia in Preview, Part Due: the Maglia Rosa Contenders!

Yep, it's just five days to the fabulous Giro d'Italia, and now that we've covered the course, the jerseys, and the fan basics, it's time to look at the likely candidates for the maglia rosa! Exciting new UCI rule: anyone riding the Giro d'Italia for the sole reason that they think they can't win the Tour de France will be nut-kicked daily immediately upon sign-in each morning. That'll force you to genuflect to the superior Giro, unworthy swine! So, Your General Classification Contenders:

Defending champ Vincenzo Nibali: not here. Of course, *why* one would save oneself for July as opposed to peaking now is an annoying mystery, but then, he's clearly got a little more work to do anyway. It'll still be here for next year, Vincenzo!

Cadel Evans (BMC): sure, he's older than the actual Dolomites, but for a primordial fossil, he's sure got legs. Strengths: rides well in extremely foul conditions, including rain, sleet, snow, mud, dust, and plague of locusts; time trials well, and there's actually quite a bit of that this year. He's also got the strongest team of all the GC contenders, which is absolutely going to matter in the bone-deep grind of the third week, including, of course, Euskaltel team captain/former Olympic gold medalist Samuel Sanchez, who, as we've already seen by his service in the Classics for Philippe Gilbert, is willing and able to tank himself blasting apart the field on a climb. Cadel, you *better* be nice to 'im! Weaknesses: how dare you suggest that anyone with Sanchez on his team has "weaknesses," you faithless heretic weasel!

Purito Rodriguez (Katusha): he's been *so* close to the top of the podium at *so* many (well, several, which is more than most people without the benefits of a Tramadol line permanently implanted in his butt) Grand Tours, and Purito, as long as Samu gets a stage win, I hope this one is yours. Strengths: damn, can he climb, and just when you think he's cracked for good, he claws his way back again every single time. Weaknesses: hates the cold, and usually, you can count on one GC-busting blizzard in this race. Bundle him *up*, Katusha--and keep some extra warm gloves in the team car!

Nairo Quintana (Movistar): you saw him at the Tour last year. 'Nuff said! Strengths: inexhaustible climber, and with so many mountaintop finishes, that gives him plenty of opportunity to jump on a rival's moment o' crisis. Weaknesses: aside from one or two freak efforts, like other pure climbers he can't time trial for !@#$. Plus, he's made it clear he's only riding the Giro because Movistar's making him to get him a little more seasoning (tho' to be fair, Cadel's been clear he'd rather be up for the fight in July). If someone else wants it more--and there are people that do--those two things could knock him back on the podium.

Yer Outsiders: yes, Dan Martin and a few other guys could do well on their own and step up if there's some misfortune. But even so, it's mostly:

Michele Scarponi (Astana). Oh, he'll probably podium, with all the Valverdean intestinal discomfort that'll naturally induce in the rest of us, but he does have a tendency to attack rashly then blow up when someone else counters. Might keep the narcs distracted though if Scarponi has the sense to fly a bit under the radar, which certainly can't hurt!

Ivan Basso (Cannondale): some rehab job, right? Like Cadel, gettin' a little old for this sort of thing, and no, he won't win by the disconcerting margins of the past, but a top-five likelihood nonetheless. Strength and Weakness: Cannondale is bringing blooming youngster Elia Viviani for the sprints, and given his repeated ass-whuppin' of Cavendish this week, the Giro's wholly over-the-top number of sprint stages, and depending on Ivan's legs, they might be tempted to throw just a wee bit too much of their resources behind Elia. But Basso's a two-time champ, and suave as hell, so don't count out the combination of passion and style!

Rigoberto Uran (OPQS): Strengths: stays upbeat under all kinds of pressure, like Samson his flowing locks give immortal powers, and he rhymes with the greatest band of the 80s. Weaknesses: hasn't quite proven himself up to the other GC contenders over the long haul yet, hasn't got as strong a team behind 'im, and again like Samson, if anyone cuts off his hair in the middle of the night, he'll crumble. Forza Rigoberto!

Well, them's mine, and as usual I'm probably wrong so you can all place yer opposing bets with utter confidence. I guess I oughta cover the sprinters next--but geez,this *is* the Giro, after all!

Oh, I Can't Wait One More Minute: It's Your 2014 Giro d'Italia in Preview, Part Uno!

All right, screw Romandie--it's a mere 8 days 'til the fabulous Giro d'Italia, so get yer pink on!

The Course: one word--mountains, beeyotches! You ever seen Monte Zoncolan? You need a !@#damn Batman setup to climb the thing! Three days in smashing Ireland before a rest day to get back home. And oh, yeah, an opening team time trial to put someone in rosa and scare the hell outta probably at least one squad's GC contender, 2 individual time trials to unnerve 'em even more, 8 stages for Marcel Kittel--uh, sprinters. The rest are mountains, 5 medium agony, 5 major agony replete with summit finishes, including the Queen with Zoncolan. Cadel Purito Uran Uran and Nairo sure are tough, but these just might be even tougher!

The Jerseys: Here: Rosa: the leader's jersey, natch. Don't bag this too soon Purito! Blue/Azzurra: king of the mountains, honey--c'mon, Cadel, Samu's already won it at the Tour, surely you can let 'im off the leash to at least get a day in this at the Giro as a reward for all his work for you, right? Red/Rossa: Points Classification! Special new rule for 2014: bonus points will be awarded for the first rider to whack the fan running screaming next to him in an idiotic hat and a neon Speedo upside the head with a full bidon. Break my line I'll break yer face, you TV-whoring road-hog! Bianca/White: young riders. If they're young now, they'll sure have aged a few years by the time they hit Milano. Get yer future maglia rosa contenders here!

The Tifosi: expect heavy turnout from the ever-loyal Fans Club Cunego, a pile o' Aussies rooting for Cadel for the win, and pretty much everyone having way better wine 'n' food than we have at home. And as always, I expect the Devil--the fan, not that dopey little !@#$ Riccardo Ricco!

Next up--Part Due: the Contenders!

It's Yer 2014 Classics Awards!; And, Yer Bonus 2014 Classics Mystery

1. Best Classics Rider of the Season: Watch out Sagan, there's a new kid in town, and with this boy towards the front of damn near everything this spring, he's already blitzed these races more'n you: baby phenom Michal Kwiatkowski. You better quit poppin' wheelies and start poppin', well, many dedicated training hours, kid!

2. Being Clean Is the Best Revenge Award: Okay, Alejandro Valverde's got punch, he can climb, he's one smart tactical s.o.b., hell, he can even sprint if he has to. But c'mon, man--7 years *after* the bloodbagathon of Operacion Puerto and the guy's *now* on the form of his life? F!@#$in' good espresso, is all I can say. And I hope, against all odds, that's all ever I have to!

3. No Guts No Glory Prize: his breakaway mates fell off like wilting leaves, but at Liege, only Giampaolo Caruso clung on, to the very last second no less. Not a win, but clearly a victory--bravo Giampaolo!

4. Shut Up! Could've Too So Either! Prize: oh Thor Hushovd. Now that BMC's actually got Philippe Gilbert outta his funk and back to some results, maybe they could do the same for you too? Ok, they're not gonna give a crap about you 'til at least after the Giro, but there's still time left in the season then!

5. Crash o' the Season: no, it didn't break the most bones or derail the whole campaign or even, well, happen 'til the last moments of the last spring Classic of the year. But was I the only one who leapt outta my chair screaming at the video stream when it happened? Yep, Dan Martin's agonizingly pointless slide-out just a few hundred meters from victory at Liege. Suck, suck, suck!

6. Holy Crap It's Not Just Hyperbole Award: y'know, I think Vincenzo Nibali is actually right calling bull!@#$ on the teams' safe'n'sound race tactics. Except for the last kilometer of every race, has there ever been a more cautious, measured, even dull Classics season than this one?

7. Domestique o' the Classics: yes, Tom Boonen nut-whackingly earned it for a time propelling--however inadvertently--Niki Terpstra to his Paris-Roubaix win. But we love Samuel Sanchez, with your leg-rippin' work for Gilbert, this puppy's for you. So c'mon, BMC, you gonna let Samu ride for himself--and get someone else serious to ride for him--at the Vuelta at least?

8. I (Don't) Got You, Babe Prize: jeez, it's been depressing watch Andy Schleck fall down the pit o' sub-mediocrity and despair--I don't think the poor sod's even finished a race all season, much less ones he used to dominate or at least enliven. Remember when Frank used to ride for Andy? Yeah, hindsight is 20/20--what a freakin' disaster for poor Frank!

9. Magic Marker Award: Fabian Cancellara, you nailed it in Tour of Flanders, but whoa moly, you couldn't catch a break 'notherwise this whole season. You're just too damn marked by everyone--but don't worry, they'll be preoccupied with Tommeke again next year!

10. Save a Prayer for (the Giro) Now Prize: aw, I guess even Purito Rodriguez needs to be able to breathe to win a race. But he's tranquillo for the Giro d'Italia--and with 10 days to go and an estimated 4-5 days needed to heal, Cadel Evans, don't get too comfy!

And Finally, Yer Bonus 2014 Classics Mystery: if Sky is scarfin' all this Tramadol, and if it really does enhance performance, why has Sky sucked all year?

All right, it's been bitchin'--now on to the fabulous Giro d'Italia! C'mon, it's the official song (again)--sing!

All Hail the Queen (Doyenne, Whatever): It's the 100th Liege-Waffle-Liege, Baby!

The Fuss: the 100th Happy Birthday of the final Classic of the noblest season, when desperation is high for the season's so-far winless, the legs are shot, and your enraged short-sheeted sponsor's gonna beat you over the head with their iconic product if you don't bring home a podium. If your boss is Oleg Tinkov and he compliments you on Twitter, get the hell out, out, out!

The Course: Climb, dammit, climb! But don't be so good at it that you don't have power. And don't puncture. Or forget to eat. Or get caught behind some nit making a last-second date with the road furniture. Or be a tactical eejit. He who's on the !@#-end of the peloton on the Cote de la Roche-aux-Faucons is lost! The whole hog: here. The profile: HOLY #$%! WHEN IS THIS AGONY GONNA STOP?

The Contenders: Last year's stealth champ Dan Martin is a marked man. Chris Froome's lookin' to scare Alberto outta his smug tranquility and calm everyone down about that alarming pic of his legs he twitted this week. 2013 runner-up Purito Rodriguez' ribs still kill from crashing at Fleche, but then, who needs "air"--he apparently has that weird Wolverine thing that still lets you pound everybody when some clown's dropped a tank on your head. Nibali's not on his best game yet, but since you're all a pack o' power-meter-watching simps, he will crush you with his sheer manliness. Gilbert probably wants and needs it more'n anybody. And who's been creepin' *everybody* out all season? That's right, inexplicably likeable Alejandro Valverde! Either way, with too many other likely suspects to list, I'm wrong by this time tomorrow anyway--so Roman Kreuziger, wanna grab some glory before you give it all to Contador in July?

The Missing: Why the heck isn't there a women's Liege already? I mean, the race is nicknamed after a lady! Marianne Vos, just go there tomorrow with some cheesy hipster moustache disguise glued on yer face and take them all out anyway!

The Gee-I-Hope-They-Don't-Ignominiously-Suck-Tomorrows: okay, basically I mean Andy Schleck, who still holds the World Record for Non-Stop Whining After a Mechanical Despite Making a Cheap Shot Attack Against The Same Guy Too but is starting to garner even my sympathy--like we love Joseba Beloki after his spectacular Tour de France leg-snap driving his wheel into melting tarmac, poor Andy's never been the same since his own fall. Damn underdog-savior complex! Here, Dan-Martin-Who-Didn't-Choke brings it home last year:
Allez allez, and may the luckiest s.o.b. win!

I Rode for Lance For 7 Years, And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt (And Millions of Dollars. And a TdF Stage Win. And...)

Jive Talkin': He denied doping. He said some awfully ungentlemanly things about former teammate/betraying rat Floyd Landis. And as one of the bulletproof riders of USPostalDiscovery and Armstrong's most loyal lieutenant, he profited hugely off an unquestioningly adoring press corps and fan base of his own, only to skate off with a ridiculous 6-month post-retirement ban for a career's worth of cheating and pretty much the same level of adoration and success he enjoyed in the first place. Yep, George Hincapie's ready to 'fess up now, and he wants your dough! Jaysus, am I the *only* one who's willing to pay people who already profited so handsomely from omerta' to shut the hell *up* already at this point?

Walk Like a Cav, Talk Like a Cav, Dress Like a Cav My So-o-o-on: Can't sprint as fast as the Manx Missile, but want to look like you could, without all the blindingly expensive dental work it'd take to get his killer choppers? Well, now you can: Mark Cavendish's got his own dashing new clothing line here! Next up: Marcel Kittel's Hair Club for Men. Oh, the glorious mane you'll have--it's the next thing to being on the podium, without that annoying 200km of riding to get you there!

Holy Crap It's Two Weeks to the Giro and It's Already Shaping Up!: finally, Cadel Evans has already dope-smacked the Dolomites and atomic-wedgied his competitors for the Giro d'Italia at the leg-grinding Giro del Trentino this week, and with unwilling Giro competitor Nairo Quintana already presumptively screwed by the last-minute suck cancellation of his training race the Tour of Asturias, oldie-but-goodie Cadel's chances are looking increasingly good. More bad news for Italian cycling: Pippo Pozzato's Classics season was such a downer Lampre's apparently going to keep him out of the Giro d'Italia. Irrelevant Trentino bonus: former Euskie mountain goat Mikel Landa grabbing a monster stage win. Aupa Euskalteeeeeeeeeel--uh, Astana, whatever!

My Fantasy (Condensed!) Johan Bruyneel Press Conference; Nibali Calls Bull$%^&; and, It's the Mur de Wheeeee!

Newsflash!: Good morning. I've called you all here today to address USADA's ridiculous 10-year ban of me from pro cycling. First, let me say that of course I did it. All of it. And a whole buncha 'nother stuff they couldn't even nail me for, either. Second, I'd like to say, who gives a !@#$? I'm already richer than God, *and* I get to stay that way. Third, waaaaaaah! other people got less sanctions than me! Waaaaaaaa! Finally--you lack jurisdiction, and you can't get me. Neener neener neener!

Vincenzo Nibali Just Called You a Cowardly Bean-Counting Wiener: oh, yeah, numbers-crunching sponsor-brownnosing quivering-jello-molds of the peloton, Vincenzo "the Shark" Nibali's got a message for you: with the possible exception of Fabian Cancellara, everyone else is a beat-down wuss-on-wheels, riding for ProTour points and scuttling for intermediate sprints and top-ten placements instead of for glorious victory, like him. Geez, Vincenzo, it may be true, but you're really not looking to build relationships with guys who can help you out in a pinch, are you--you might want to rethink that 'tude come July!

Fleche and Bones: yep, with Philippe Gilbert finally having shrugged off his rainbow-cursed funk of 2013 and tucked Amstel Gold under his belt (and I *hope* you bowed before Samuel Sanchez for blowing up the race on the Cauberg!), it's time for the fair Fleche-Wallone and, of course, an entire race full of top climbers, puncheurs, and rolleurs crying like babies from the bottom to top of the max-19%-gradient Mur de Huy. Absent from the men's race: uh-huh, Andy Schleck, knee-thwapped at Amstel Gold. But come on, you weren't calling him, right? Contenders: Kwiatkowski, lookin' for revenge; defending champ Dani Moreno; Alejandro Valverde, desperate to grab an Ardennes; and last week's surprise Jelle Vanendaert. For the women: well, Marianne Vos has barely road-ridden this year, but she's still liable to kick your !@#, and Elisa Longo Borghini, Emma Johansson and Flanders champ Ellen Van Dijk are ready to suffer. Here, last year's men's Fleche finale: Go Gilbert--and give Samu' your prize money!

Mystery Pills! Gilbert Gets His Groove Back! Brotherly Love at Sky! Yer Random Peloton Roundup

Uh, They're Tic-Tacs! Yeah, That's the Ticket: well, there's clearly more than one way to crash out of a race, or a career: some tarmac-diving dimwit at Paris-Roubaix apparently ripped his jersey enough that a vial o' pills fell out and skidded across the roadside, only to be studiously ignored by the riders and soigneurs carefully picking up all the crash detritus from the course. Holy crap, that's even a better roadside souvenir than a spit-swilled discarded superstar bidon--maybe if you twit another pic of it, the rightful owner'll come and autograph it for you! That, or maybe he figures his thumbprint's enough of a gift for the narcs...

Speaking of Pijls: welcome back from your year-long funk, Philippe Gilbert!

We'll Always Have Paris (Roubaix): so, thinkin' about the tiresome hype over Brad Wiggins' performance at Paris-Roubaix this weekend, here's my q: with a top 10 in one of the hardest races on the planet in his pocket, and his distinct hostility towards eclipsing sun Chris Froome at last year's Tour de France, *how* happy exactly is Wiggo gonna be being Chris Froome's water-bottle wind-breaker beeyotch at the Tour *this* year? Yeah, didn't think so--but Brad, don't you even *think* about riding the beautiful Giro like a half-hearted consolation prize again, so just suck it up and fake nice in France, !@#dammit!

I Love Rocky Road(s): finally, the thorough Alberto Contador ain't missing a trick, skipping the risk of injury at the upcoming Ardennes Classics to recon the actual Tour de France cobbles instead, following Alejandro Valverde's earlier racing test-drive and leaving Vincenzo Nibali scrambling for the sage assistance of former cobbled bad-!@# Peter Van Petegem. One sour note: expected to go on vacation after his trip, Contador apparently hit his miniscule race weight a little too soon, and got lodged chest-deep between the stones of the Forest of Arenberg instead. Well, they'll pry 'im out eventually--they got until July 'til Froomey comes by and rides over his head, anyway!

It's Yer 2014 Paris-Roubaix Racejunkie Awards!

Cobblestone, schmobblestone: the Queen of the Monuments is behind us, so let's get on to the *really* prestigious festivities, mine. Therefore, without further ado:

1. Crash o' the Race: wow, considering what a slasher-movie mangle-fest the Hell o' the North usually is, the surprise is rather that there wasn't one. Nonetheless, Luca Paolini's spectacular pratfall takes it for sheer "holy crap!"ness. Good thing he had that Duck Dynasty beard to cushion 'im!

2. Crash o' the Race (Game-Changer Edition): No, none of the favorites got badly taken down themselves, and that'd've been a right suck way to lose the race. But Cancellara, already down a Devolder, sure didn't need his teammate to ricochet off the curb right in front of him and cost Fabian that wee bit of wasted energy getting back to the front. Bet he had enough wattage to thwap the guy upside the head after the race in the discreet environs of the team-bus, though!

3. Domestique of Paris-Roubaix: Go to hell, this is killin' me! Yep, it's Tom Boonen. Oh Tommeke, I *know* you were pissed--but what the hell did that serve *repeatedly* futilely taking off, with Niki on your wheel no less? Anyway, Terpstra did ride beautifully--and he coulda done worse than having you as a launching-pad!

4. Sigh o' Relief o' the Season: yeah, bite me, haters, Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen could sit there reciting the action while a wall o' paint dries, and they'd *still* be worth listening to all day. Welcome back at last Phil and Paul--I was starting to get a bit nervous there!

5. Peter Peter Pave-Eater Award: Sagan, that was a valiant effort, but yet again, time--and next year's sponsorship dough--is ticking by. A little less goofballery, a little more whup-!@#, maybe?

6. Lone Wolf Prize: Y'know, even Fabian Cancellara can't do it alone. Once in a while!

7. Thooooooooooooooooooooooooor! Award: that was him all right, resplendent in national champion colors, and however briefly, pulling hard at the front of the race. Thoooooooooooooooor!

8. Weight of a Nation Prize: Yeah, that was the ever-maligned Pippo Pozzato coming in first among all the Italians in the race, baby! In 50th, 6:44 down, but seriously, oughtn't he get some nice compliments for that?

9. Two Towers Award: Niki Terpstra's solo surge--and triumph--was great. But was there ever a happier podium runner-up than the bangin' John Degenkolb? Tell me, you soulless cynic, that wasn't just sweet to behold!

10. All *Right* Already! Hype o' the Race: yes, 10th in Paris-Roubaix is amazing. But jeez, was I the only one who felt it was a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle overdone on the whole Wiggo thing? Wake me up when he whines about the Giro again!

11. A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words Prize: what else?

Well, whatever I missed--and I admit I was distractedly crestfallen over the Tom Boonen situation--feel free to fill in. Now, time to root for Gilbert's redemption at the Ardennes Classics!

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh-way to Hell: It's Yer Paris-Roubaix in Preview, Honey!

Yes, it's time for the most glorious Monument of all, the riveting Hell o' the North! Why "the Hell of the North?" Well, it's north. The hell: bone-jarring dream-destroying cobblestones, the ever-chance of freak wet weather to make the pave' that much more slippery, and pain, pain, pain, PAIN, baby! And that's on a *good* race day. This year's deal:

Out: Suck! We love Sylvain Chavanel with asthmatic bronchitis. Also missing: Flanders-crunched trusty Cancellara lieutenant Stijn Devolder, replaced by the very-fine-but-not-so-tested Boy Van Poppel. You *doubly* can't afford to screw this up tactically now, Trekies! To see how Quick Step is feeling about it, let's check out their course recon: And yes, the ones who make it like three feet past the start line before bagging out in wailing agony tomorrow are *still* the bad-!@#$edest road-beasties on the planet. Bow, bow before the riders of Roubaix, o spindly unworthy wimpmeister peons!

In: Yep, it's Cancellara, Sagan, Vanmarcke again, and yep, we all know who'll probably get it, tho' if an overconfident Sagan tries to pop a wheelie on the pave for the Beliebers--I mean, Sagan fans--I bet *that'll* cause some fun for the gruppo. On their heels, if they don't end up on the ground: Boassen-Hagen-Dazs, coif-master Taylor Phinney, Degenkolb, Stybar, Terpstra, and Pippo. But dammit, I *so* want Tom Boonen to win it. And what the !@#$ is all this hype about Brad Wiggins for !@#$'s sake--is *everyone* so high on tramadol these days they're seeing this?

The Forecast: the good news: no rain! The bad news: it's a blinding retina-scratchin' dust-bowl! Wait--*who* just attacked me?

The Course: oh, sweetie, I know you know it. And if you're new now, you'll be in love with it by tomorrow. 28 cobbled sections, with the dangerous Arenberg a mere 18 sectors in and the potentially race-deciding Carrefour near the end. How you're gonna feel afterwards: yeah, well this is how Tony Martin looked after the Tour of the Basque country today, and there ain't even no rock-ridin' *there*: And if you think you're getting off easy cruising the roadside, they're plowing it up with farm machinery. In sum: allez allez, suckers--see you at the post-race podium 'n' kiss-n-cry!

Alberto Contador: Wheel-Sucking Punk-#$%, Or Just a Guy Ridin' His Race?

Basque Company: so, as the fabulous Tour of the Basque Country plows on--and be honest, is there *anything* more heartbreaking this cycling season than just seeing a nostalgic smattering of orange shirts amidst the formerly insanely sardine-packed Euskaltel fanatics as their old squad goes by in jerseys from random teams?--there seems to be a bit o' controversy over whether Contador clinging to Valverde's wheel as the latter labored up the final climb before shooting around him like--well, a 2009 Alberto--was a punk-!@# wheel-slurpin' cheap-shot, or just an all's-fair-in-love-and-cycling fake-out tactic, or, even more kindly, just a strugglin' guy who got his legs back at just the right moment. Me, I think Valverde was *way* diplomatic, but considering some of the !@#$ Piti's pulled on the peloton, and the freakish success he's been exhibiting lately, he's probably better off keepin' his yap shut! Either way, great ride Alberto--and Froomey, you better *hope* he and Kreuziger are burning themselves out too early ahead of July!

Scheldenfreude: and, it's time for the sprinters to come out and play at the exciting Scheldeprijs, except there's only like two of them left at all in the peloton who aren't at home either hurling their guts out or held together with titanium plates, which means that (1) Marcel Kittel's got a damn good chance; and so (2) he won't get any real credit even if he wins, poor guy. Me, I hope *both* Andre "the Gorilla" and Cav get better really soon--what fun is it crushing someone in a sprint if it's not a bloodbath of the very very best? Well, probably pretty fun, but still!

Tales of the Truly Disgusting (Cheat-Weasel Edition): finally, many thanks to the Secret Pro, who took the cake, and my appetite, this week with his truly gnarly recaps of old-skool doping mishaps, including (1) Vino and Kashechkin getting their blood bags mixed-up, and luckily not killing themselves since they had the same blood type--those wacky kids!--and (2)we-still-love-so-stuff-it Giro bad!@#--uh, somebody who shall not be named--only tested poz for coke not because *he* was using it, but because the cousin whose blood he was transfusing to boost his own--ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!--was secretly on blow. *Damn*, whatsyerface--all the work, all the damage control, and none of the cokey fun--no *wonder* you were pissed! Now, can we just get back to more wholesome pursuits like "training at altitude"--sure beats being some nasty fly-by-night vampire bat!

It's Your 2014 Tour of Flanders Awards!

Hardman of the Race: holy !#$, are they holding Stijn Devolder's shattered carcass together with duct tape at this point? About 38 hard, *hard* crashes, the man looks like a rotting arm-dropping zombie outta the Living Dead, and still he just keeps on coming back. No, he didn't "win"--but yeah, he *won*!

Newbie o' Flanders Award: I can't believe this is Taylor Phinney's first time here. A Ronde of applause for his stellar ride with Darryl Impey!

Crash of the Race (Fear o' God Edition): half of Saxo-Tinkoff goes down all at once in a perplexing, slow-to-fix tangle. If they didn't break any bones *in* the crash, Oleg Tinkov's gonna do it for 'em!

Crash of the Race (Aw, Suck Edition): The great-hearted MTN-Qhubeka, an African squad's first broken collarbone (anyway, sure looked it) in their first ever Flanders. Get well soon kid!

Panic at the Roadside Award: OH MY GOD NIKI TERPSTRA'S DOWN! THIS IS A CATASTROPHE FOR OMEGA PHARMA QUICKSTEP! WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAVE--oh, he's just peeing. Um, look, over there--cows grazing!

What the !@#$ Is He Doing There? Prize: really. Wiggins?

Cha-Ching! (In Reverse) Award: Peter Sagan, you rakish, *very* youngster, *you* may not be feeling the Classics pressure--but trust me, come 4-million-euro contract time, your price, and your commission-hungry agent, will be. You better start thinking about next weekend, pal!

The Player's Club Prize: Bjorn "I Only Tested Poz for Testosterone Because I Was Just This Very Minute Doing My Girlfriend" Leukemans' failed attack at 23k. Yep, this obnoxious joke is just too easy, even for me!

Insult-to-Injury Award: oh, there was a women's Ronde Van Vlaanderen all right--not that we'd know it from the guttural footnote to the breathless high-pitched coverage of the menfolk's. And Ellen Van Dijk soloed to win it. BROADCAST WOMEN'S CYCLING DAMMIT--LIKE THE SAME FREAKIN' CENTURY IT HAPPENS!

The Decline and Fall of the American Empire Prize: why the !@#$ can't we get contemporaneous non-!@#$ coverage in the US without blacked-out screens pop-up porno 2-pixel visuals and a stream that jerks like a--well, let's just leave that there? *This*, this is why this country is going to hell in a handbasket, I say!

Now *Them's* Fightin' Words Award: the BEIN Sports commentator who cheerily sent us "back to Magnus Baxter." TWICE. Right, along with "Bernard Hiny" and "Eddy Mertz", you insufferable twit!

Layoff Tommeke You Bastards!: okay, not a prize exactly, but nonetheless, a mandate. You just wait--he'll be 100% at Paris-Roubaix!

And Finally, Debbie Downer of the Race: yeah, I mean Spartacus winning it. I know, I know, he's amazing--but I didn't want the predictable to happen. And really, while that was a bit of a scare there at 2.6k to go, it was over at 13k when Cancellara took off. And the last k's damn-near track-standing--annoying!

Well, them's mine--it was a predictably twitchy start, it was unpredictably sunny, and sincere best wishes to all who were hurt. Now, it's on to the Vuelta a Pais Vasco, and next week's Hell o' the North!

You Down With O.P.P. (Other People's Pave')?: It's Yer Flanders in Preview, Baby!

Oh yeah, we're down to serious business, baby, because there's both the men's and women's Ronde van Vlaanderen are this weekend, and there's already drama by the buckets! The score:

The Gossip: Belgian cops totally coincidentally kick Peter Sagan off the Kwaremont while he's reconning the course today, link here. Nothing personal! Next up: authorities bust into every non-Belgian team and rider's hotel rooms at 3 a.m. on Sunday with battering rams, billy clubs, bullhorns, stun guns, cattle prods, smoke grenades, and those spazzy little hand-buzzers you buy at the joke shop. Oops, wrong room--nighty-night, sorry to disturb you!

The Cobbles: fans love 'em, riders fear 'em, and Tom Boonen picks 'em out from between his teeth after a leisurely lunch. You know it: Molenberg, Kwaremont, Paterberg. Why the !@#$ won't a profile pic load? A close-up view of the pain on the Kwaremont: And beyond-bangin' preview of the women's race on Velofocus. Yep, it's gonna be just as vicious out there!

The Forecast: lookin' like rain. Oh, man, I can almost *hear* the sound of hitting the stones...

The Contenders: Nairo Quintana. Alberto Contador. Chris Froome. Just kidding! Tho' Alejandro Valverde's already reconned some cobbles ahead of his Tour de France bid. Tom Boonen vs. Fabian Cancellara, both downplaying their chances but ready to rumble. Peter Sagan, under heavy sponsor pressure to giddyap with a major Monument this season. Critic's darling Sep Vanmarcke. One thing's for sure: if you give Cancellara a single bike length ahead of the pack, he's gone for good, and all you're fighting for is a podium place. Eyes open, Tommeke! For the women: geez, can we get a definitive start list? Defending champ is Marianne Vos. Elisa Longo Borghini. Podiums Emma Johansson and Ellen Van Dijk. Last year's women's roundup:

The Dark Horses: who *doesn't* love ponies? We love Sylvain Chavanel. Pippo Pozzato. Luca Paolini. Niki Terpstra and Stijn Devolder. And a host of other Belgian badasses waiting to grit it out and take advantage if the favorites over-mark. Oh, like Pippo wouldn't look just *adorbs* with that trophy!

The Absentees: Nick Nuyens, gobsmacked by flu. Ian Stannard, stuffed into a back brace. There'll be a lot more before Sunday's over though, honey!

The Fans: beer, beer, and beer. And if you can see through the gorgeous Flandrian flags smothering the sidelines, you might even see some bikes go by. Wait, *who* just ran into me when I stumbled into the course?

Well, time to place yer bets--and for you undecideds, look who got it last year!

Sure, He Mighta Doped, But at Least He Didn't Dope and *Still* Suck at Descending

Not That I Have Anyone In Particular In Mind: tho' there is of course news from the Planet of Totally Pointless Non-Penalties, as ex-Lance lieutenant/descender par excellence Paolo "Il Falco" Savoldelli gets popped with, and vows to appeal, a two-year post-career ban for his interactions with helpful trainer-to-the-stars Dr. Michele Ferrari, who, an indignant Paolo proclaims, he would bring his own kids to for treatment. So would I, if I wanted 'em to be successful pro cyclists! Still, I'm inclined to cut Paolo a little slack here, because okay, maybe he was part of the repugnant poisoning and stinking maggot-ridden corruption of our beloved cycling that nearly flushed the whole sport down the toilette, but hey, at least he had some serious down-mountain bike-handling chops, unlike A--Achoo! I thought I was about to sneeze! Yes, yes, Il Falco's very very bad, I know...

DePanne-ic at the Finish Line: meantime, I'm calling bull!@#$ on this entire controversy over whether Peter Sagan intentionally grabbed the first stage from loyal teammate Oscar Gatto over at the Three Days of DePanne, when from my crappy eyesight, it sure looks to me like Sagan actually put his hands on the brakes and tried *not* to win in hopes Gatto--a very fine rider himself--would snag the win from Peter's lead-out. Look, he may be a pig and a show-off, but a stage thief the boy ain't! See for yourself:

Love Hurts: on a related note, here's speedy get-well wishes for the good half the peloton that's already been clobbered out for a huge chunk o' the season by the cobblestones, including Sky-boy Ian Stannard with a broken (well, pretty darned cracked) back, Andre Griepel, who just upgraded his mortal hardware to a titanium collarbone, and countless others damn near mummified with tapes and wraps (even fair Pippo's delicate hand!) Not even counted: poor guys like Mark Cavendish, Giro captain Richie Porte, and hosts of others, absolutely flattened by assorted disgusting body-wrecking stomach ailments. Doesn't anybody just get a *cold* anymore?

Yer Disturbing Pro-Cyclist Tweet o' the Day: finally, I don't know *what* the !@#$ this is that AG2R's Carlos Betancur's tweeting, but I'm sure *praying* it's for his CPR certification class. Like this sport doesn't already have enough freaks?

The Sky Is Falling (A Lot)! Gorilla Glue! Tom Thumb! Purito! Degen-kold-stone-killer! A Danged Mess for the Roadies

Carnage on the Cobbles! Well, it was a crash-filled finish--and a crash-filled road to get there--at the venerable men's Gent-Wevelgem this morning, as Sky boys were flying into ditches or into concrete all over the road, the race kept stopping dead around mid-group pile-ups, and Cancellara and half the other strongmen who looked to thrash it out for an incredible sprint were caught behind a road-diving Tyler Farrar and his collateral damage Andre Greipel, who remarked thoughtfully of his likely broken collarbone and certain screw outta the rest of the Classics, "It's not normal. Fuck." A man of few yet effective words, that Gorilla! Already riding wounded but nonetheless grabbing an impressive fifth: thumb-smarting big Tom Boonen. Triumphant or at least still standing: a victorious and always-underrated John Degenkolb (and a very lively reaction from his team car), Demare, and a really bummed (for the second time this week alone) Peter Sagan. On the women's side (and only the third edition of the race for them at all): an upright finale, so you gents might want to take some stability tips from the ladies, and a road-rippin' finish for US's Lauren Hall. Woo-hoo Hall and Degenkolb--and Sky, whatever the hell happened to Ian Stannard and the rest of you, I hope you're taped up pieced back together pain-medsed and back in action soon! No video of the women's finish as usual, but at least we got the podium, and where those guys with high heels tiny skirts and lots of lipstick are is beyond me: And here's the men's action:

*Now* Can They Get Some Hot Cocoa?: meantime, over at the Volta a Catalunya, the half-frozen Grand Tour contenders finally made their way in over a nasty 8 circuits, with Purito Rodriguez takin' the whole show despite a desperate final attack by Contador while Alberto and Chris Froome still enjoyed the lion's share of the attention, Alberto got the reassurance of clutchin' his few extra seconds over Froomey, and Froomey still gets to lord his 2013 win over Alberto ahead of July. I'm callin' that just about even! Now, the trippy tribute to last-stage winner Liuwe Westra:

Screw You, UCI!: and, a giant "bite me!" to UCI for bamfoozling poor Pippo Pozzato, still confused by UCI's picky new rules over when you can and can't evade the cobbles for the nice smooth roadside, which might've come in handy, say, today if he and the furry Luca Paolini hadn't gotten jerked to a stop behind a mass pile-up at Gent-Wevelgem. What's next UCI, no more sneakin'in a forbidden late-race bidon or hoping your aero position hides you from the helicopter cameras while you draft for twenty minutes behind someone else's team car? Oh, just rip the very spirit of sportsmanship outta the sport, whyndontcha...

And, Yer I'm-Gonna-Regret-Puttin'-This-Up-On-The-Internet-Someday Pic o' the Race: Fran Ventoso, a tad scraped(but luckily not a bit broken) after Gent. Dang, I hope it's legal for this guy to take an aspirin!

Cobbles! Mountains! The Giro d'Italia Sings! and, Xtreme Warming Methods: Yer Cycling Roundup

It's the Pave', Beeyotches!: yep, it's time for the E3 Harelbeke, with 3x winner Fabian Cancellara, 5x champ Tom Boonen, just coming back from an awful personal tragedy, and Peter Sagan, hungry for a win after a disappointing few weeks, all lookin' to put the fear into the rest of the Classics contenders ahead of Flanders. Also in: Dwars der Vlaanderen bad!@# Niki Terpstra, Sep Vanmarcke, John Degenkolb, and come to think of it, pretty much everyone in Belgium whether they're actually pro cyclists or not. The course: cobbles, baby! 17 climbs, including the Taaienberg, Kapelberg, the fateful Oude Kwaremont, and the Boigneberg, which was even cooler when I thought it was called the "Boingenberg." Yes, we love you Fabian--but c'mon, like you all aren't rooting for Tommeke! Here, Fab's last-year's win:

The Tour Shapes Up at the Volta!: and, it was survival-of-the-fittest carnage again today at the freezing queen stage of the Volta a Catalunya, with Teejay van Garderen grabbing the stage after a pounding attack, Purito Rodriguez in the GC lead, and Alberto Contador dragging yet another few precious seconds--though I bet he wishes it were more, for psychological warfare purposes--out of Chris Froome. Also making it in: Nairo Quintana, coolly responding to a question about the performance of the other Colombians by suggesting the press'd have to ask 'em how they did when they actually get here. Ouch, Nairo!

Warming Tips of the Pros: Which talk of cold weather brings us to a distinctly gnarly revelation: forget "gloves," Saxo domestique Chris Jull-Jensen's description of how he had to pee on his own hands to keep warm at Milano-Sanremo. Geez, I know they're called "pack fodder," but for !@#$'s sake, DSes--take that nice hot cup of non-urine *coffee* you're suckin' on in the cozy comfort of the team car, blow on it so it won't scald, and let yer boys pour *that* on their hands instead! And while we're on the disgusting subject, can we please call a moratorium on the Tinkoff pix of Alberto Contador getting a balancing hand from a teammate while he wees on the go? I mean, I admire the teamwork and all, but it's sorta like holding your friend's long hair back out of the way while she's hurling from drinking too much in college--expected good sportsmanship, but not a visual you want to record for posterity!

Song Sung Pink: sure, the race don't actually start 'til May, but the official theme song and hilarious video to the glorious 2014 Giro d'Italia is already out, so honey, come get your Giro on--what, you never heard Italian rap before? Well, enjoy!

Milano-Sanremo Was Great--But Get Yer Euskaltel On Now, "Cuz Samu' Sanchez is Riding Cataluyna!

Jesus, Kristoff, Superstar!: whoa moly, what a bangin' Milano-Sanremo, with a grimacing Gorilla and really strong Cav gamely gritting it out over the climbs, a demoralized Sagan coming in around 10th, Vincenzo Nibali with an inadvertently-solo attack on the Cipressa and a post-race twit to the peloton to grow some tennis balls, a magnificent freakin' ride by Martin "My Name Is So Much Cooler Than Yours" Tjallingi, Cancellara's 10th or 11th straight Monument podium, and holy crap wasn't no-one peggin' Swifty for third so cheers to the not-even-considered-an-underdogs and congrats Kristoff for stompin' your way into glorious history! So dazzling as it was, what's next? That's right, Euskaltel-Euskadi captain Samuel Sanchez--in still extremely upsetting black-and-red, but of course we now love BMC beyond all reason for hiring him and even forgive them for impossibly tanking Gilbert and Hushovd in the same year--takes the reins at the Volta a Catalunya! Oh, right, and a buncha guys who wanna win the Tour. Like, who cares--go Samuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

The Course: stick around, we've got seven stages and climbing hell (or heaven, since I ain't climbin' it) to match! 14 category 3s, 3 cat. 2s, 6 cat. 1s, and if you haven't got your masochism on yet you perv, 2 hors categories to ice the cupcake. Tho' there's sorta a flat finish on Stages 5 and 6, if you aren't already too blinded by your own tears to make it over the climbs to get there. As they say in Spanish, "Ow, !@#$!"

The Contenders: yep, Wiggo bailed on this, too, to "train at altitude"--lookin' great to help you !@# at the Tour there, Froomey. But it's an on-form-and-in-fear-o'-Tinkoff Contador and just-comin'-off-a-bad-back Chris Froome's first pre-Tour showdown, plus Purito Rodriguez, Nairo Quintana, and Rigoberto Duran Duran. There too: last year's winner Dan Martin and Chris "That's The Last Time I Get Dissed for a Press Conference, You !@#$ers" Horner. And much as I *do* love Tejay Van Garderen, can the !@#$in' press stop acting like he and not Samuel Sanchez is BMC's team leader for the race? !@#dammit people!

The First Stage: hilly but not too deadly, with a little cat 1 to stretch the legs out, so it might give us some sense as to form, at least coming in to the race. Forecast: a comfy 60 degrees Fahrenheit (sorry dear non-American readers, I suck at translating into Celsius, they stopped fakin' we were gonna adopt that system in like 3rd grade), and partly cloudy. Sure as hell beats MSR, right? Here, nice guy Dan takes the trophy home: So good luck gentlemen--may the climbs begin!

It's Yer Milano-Sanremo In Preview!

All right, baby, now it's time for the Monuments--so let Milano-Sanremo begin!

The Route: it's flat! no, it's hilly! !@#$, let's just throw in the Alpe d'Huez! Sure, the course has been changing every six minutes, due to landslides, weather concerns, and drunken beer-pong whims, but *something's* sure happening this weekend, and at the moment, it looks like this: Damn, can you guys at least straighten this out before the sprint teams set up their lead-outs towards the finish? Which brings us to...

The Contenders: yes, with the GT contenders largely opting out after the recent route changes (Vincenzo Nibali, intriguingly, excluded), Peter Sagan's the overwhelming fave, particularly if he decides to just bunny-hop the last kilometer to get to that ginormous pile o' dough aspirational 2015 boss Fernando Alonso's already got dangling for him at the finish line. But despite the withdrawals of folks like Phinney and Boonen, there's also a hot'n'formidable mix of pure sprinters, Classics stalwarts, and combo-fastmen, including Mark Cavendish, know-it-all-journo's dark-horse darling John Degenkolb, 2012 rainbow jersey Philippe Gilbert, Andre Greipel, and surprise defending champ Ciolek, which can still be thrown into total chaos depending on...

The Weather: forecast: crap! Rain? Check. Wind? Oh yeah. General misery? On tap! The good news: it oughta be slightly less cold than last year's sub-arctic hypothermiafest, in which, you'll recall, Taylor Phinney's frozen jersey had to be blow-torched off his body apres-race on the team bus. This was fun, right? So count yer blessings in advance the whole lot of you, and quit yer whinin'! So what's...

The Upshot: The Cipressa. The Poggio. Not, to the dismay of climbier sorts and the joy of La Classicissima purists, the Pompeiana. The last k: a downhill throw before the final argy-bargy to the line. And forget who *will* win--for my money, and I'm not not a swooning fan-crush here, though I am highly respectful--Fabian Cancellara *should* win, because, merit aside (and merit is already huge, let's face it), as you can see here, the man is a complete class act from start to finish when it comes to appraising his rivals. Forza Fabs--but either way, I expect a thrilla!

And just in case you forgot, last year's finale: It's time for one of the best races of the entire year--bring it *on*!

It's Yer Tirreno-Adriatico In Review!

Yes, it's over, for this year. And there's a loooong season to come. But aside from being beautiful in its own right, it's still a hell of a bellwether, and there's valuable lessons to be learned ahead of the Classics and Grand Tours, so let's review!

1. Not to impugn Alberto Contador's hard off-season training or his impeccable purity in any way whatsoever, but comparing last season to this, if I were the narcs, I'd be pokin' that kid fuller of holes than a Sky mesh skinsuit. Jeez, Bjarne, at least stop the ostentatious braggin' for Chrissakes!

2. Speaking of whom, watching Alberto blaze up that 30% incline and bust open the race has got to be making Andy Schleck *nuts*.

3. If pure climber Nairo Quintana can keep time trialing as well as he did today, some other folks better start training a hell of a lot harder for the Giro.

4. Nice to see Cav win, eh? 'Course, we all know what he'd've done to Renshaw and Petacchi if he hadn't!

5. Adam Hansen and Ben King. *Damn!*

6. Roman Kreuziger is clearly capable of winning a Grand Tour. So what's Oleg gonna do about it?

7. Michal Kwiatkowski. *Damn*!

8. The whole fur-meister beard thing. Am I the only one worried for these boys that in that a sport where multi-day stage races can be won or lost in seconds, those things seem just a *wee* bit too un-aerodynamic?

Anyway, congrats Alberto, watch out Kittel 'cause Cavendish ain't dead yet, and Froomey, you might quite rightly be the overwhelming fave for July, but just in case, get your !@# in *gear*!

Contador Hits His Target! Breaking Schleck News! and, Women's Cycling Dissed *Again*

Shootin' At the Walls of Heartache, Bang! Bang!: well, *that's* both a relief and a throwdown: on the first major test of his legs since Oleg Tinkov threatened to break 'em last week, Alberto Contador has proven after a wholly bleak year that his elusive form is finally reemerging with a fine, if not perhaps as blazing as of old, win at Tirreno-Adriatico yesterday, and a brilliant--and frankly, classically Contadorian--attack for the ages on the slopes today that left even peerless Nairo Quintana in the dust and poor valiant maglia azzurra Michael Kwiatkowski wincing in several minutes behind. And holy crap, what's with Adam Hansen managing to even hang on to Contador's wheel for more'n ten seconds, and Ben King's brave go in the last 1.5k just as the ramps were hitting 30% and everyone else left was weaving all over the road like St. Pat's was at the critical drunken-hurling point a day early? So good job with whatever you're doing to, well, motivate Alberto, Oleg, and take *that* !@#$, Froomey--and no, your lame show-offy trainin' while painin' this week don't count! Here, yesterday's last k:

Holy Schleck!: and, as Paris-Nice increasingly becomes simply a race of body-count who-survives-upright attrition, Andy Schleck has truly thrown it down at Paris-Nice this week, threatening to--oh wait, he *still* blows. Oh Andy, getting back to your brother-n-mentor comfort-zone was supposed to change your riding for the *better* this year--it's just *too* easy at this point, I'm starting to feel sorry for you again, why don't you go home and have a nice hot toddy and a nap?!

If You're *Really* Good, You Get A Feather-Duster, Too: and, congrats to Lizzie Armitstead for winning a chilly Ronde van Drenthe this weekend, whose prizes, according to this photo, appear to include (and not to diss such fine appliances) a toaster and a vacuum cleaner. Jaysus, 1000-odd euros for a race featuring some of the world's best riders is harsh enough--but rub it in whydontcha, do you really think Tom Boonen has to go home and kick-start the ol' Hoover after a win? Here, the final few k--Lizzie, enjoy your troph--uh, apron!

Races! Prizes! Crazy-$%^ Team Leaders! It's Yer Tirreno-Adriatico in Preview! Plus, Pippo Shows the Love

Yes, it's time for the glorious Race of the Two Seas--and Contador, with Froomey out with a back injury, and defending champ Vincenzo Nibali sittin' it out, this one's on *you*!

In: Giro/Tour GC contenders Quintana, Cadel, Contador, Uran, Purito Rodriguez, Richie "Boy, Did I Just Piss Off Paris-Nice" Porte. Not In: Alejandro Valverde, who's already creepin' the hell outta everybody with a record-breaking 86 victories so far this nascent season. Thank god!

In: Fabian Cancellara vs. world speed champ Tony Martin and Brad "I Never Wanted the Tour in the First Place" Wiggins for the time trial. Unless, say, some freak comes outta nowhere to take it--Stefan Schumacher, is that you?

In: Cav's teeth and Kittel's hair face off for the sprinters. Oh, and Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel. Me, I'm bankin' on--damn, do I wanna be chomped to death, or choked from mousse fumes?

The Prize: If you're Alberto Contador, Oleg Tinkov doesn't beat you to death with his seat post. If you're anyone else, you get this *really* cool trident thing, which is even better than the Paris-Roubaix cobblestone, the Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne donkey, or the Tour de France xenon-gas inhaler-canister. Just don't tick off the guy who wins it!

Unrelated Pippo Pozzato Lovefest: finally, yes, it's completely irrelevant to this discussion, but huge points to rakish peloton stud-pup Pippo Pozzato, not only for impossibly making the already fabulous Lampre-Merida team kit even more dazzling, but especially for twitting a late-nite pic and heartfelt "grazie!" to those unsung heroes of cycling, the mechanics, who, even more more impossibly, keep the riders' bikes lookin' even prettier than Pippo is. Forza, ragazzi--hey, *you* want a job where Andy Schleck can still be bitchin' about a chain that dropped like half a decade later, punk?

Get the Hell Outta There, Alberto! Wiggo Plays Nice! Lance Plays Dirty! and, It's the Strade Bianche, Baby!

Ole' Ole', Ole' Oleg!: Okay, Alberto, you greedy little prima donna, you've got wingnut team boss Oleg Tinkov's cool approval for now: he ain't makin' any calls about your performance in the Tour de France, he *is* optimistic for yer chances at Tirreno-Adriatico. Take what you can get at this point, honey! Unfortunately, despite the outraged denials of a certain rider's agent, and Luca Paolini's descriptive emoji twit-dismissal of recent rumor-mongering, Tinkov seems a lot hotter on 4 million euro prospect Peter Sagan, which means if he *is* gonna pony up to break all kindsa contractual hoo-ha, you can effectively call your team supremacy--hell, relevance--at Tinkoff goodbye. If you can't pound Froomey at the Tour Alberto, you better get out while the getting's good--and perhaps be ready to get out after Tirreno!

Wiggo Plays Nice: well, nice-ish, anyway, as admits to some post-Tour discombobulation and vows to "help" Chris Froome all he can this year. Uh, I don't know if you remember, Froomey, but if Brad is going by *your* definition of "help" during *his* winning year, I think you're pretty well !@#$ed. Unless attacking your own team leader, openly deriding him in the press, and generally acting like a total impatient backstabbing wanker are "helpful"--well, don't say you weren't warned!

Ugh, Lance, *Again*: yep, even besides the usual charges of disgusting cheating 'n' extreme toolishness which have surrounded our hero of late, there's even more scandal a-risin' with the latest wave of Lance Armstrong books, with good-guy Wheelmen author/intrepid journalist Reed Albergotti reportedly saying that Lance or his minions contacted his bosses at the Wall Street Journal to try to get his !@# fired, apparently over some bothersome "truth" that got in the way of Lance's image and, even worse, his own dazzling self-worship. !@#$, Armstrong, where's your class--you coulda just gone to the WSJ offices and personally cornered 'im outside the toilet like you did with ol' Tyler Hamilton!

It's the Strade Bianche, Woo-hoo!: and finally, there's lots of actual racing going on this weekend, with the beautiful Strade Bianche and the beginning of unsung super-domestique-but-leader-in-his-own-right Richie Porte's defense of Paris Nice. What to see on the white roads in Italy: not freakin' much, thanks to the damn (yet hallowed) dust, but it'll be a bangin' race, with we love BMC's (omigod! BMC???) Samuel Sanchez, Cadel, Sagan, Wiggo, Cav, Valverde, Cancellara, and defending champ Moreno Moser all on hand. Me, I'm actually just stoked to Samu' back in action again, especially since I'm traumatized enough as it is by wishful thinking every time I see Wiggle-Honda's Euskaltelian orange-and-black team kit. Good luck gents--and Peter, you can start proving yourself and your salary demands to Tinkov now!

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!