Taxes--They're Landis' Fault

!@#damn Commies Taxin' Everythin'! I Oughta Go Off the Grid and Live Off Shootin' Squirrels for Dinner!: yep, if you didn't think blaming poor Floyd Landis for the entire downfall of the previously pure and drug-free sport of cycling was enough, and as if the boy weren't already having a crappy enough week being blamed for the breakup of antidoping program honchos ACE right before he has his last-ditch appeal at CAS, now there's a brand new outrage to stick on him: he alone is sucking up your precious tax dollars that could be used to fill deserving potholes in your own neighborhood with his malicious selfish whining about "Justice this!" and "Fair play that!" Leaving aside that no-one's been crying about using tax dollars to exonerate a pack of couch-glomming overpaid baseball players whose necks and biceps clearly increased in size from toothpicks to actual redwoods over the suspicious span of about a week, and that I actually have no idea how much the agency at issue is publicly or privately funded, it's a public body, assclowns, just like the same court that I help pay for that your !@# gets dragged into for OUI after your four-hour tailgate before a Pats game or the schools that educate your kids on collective civic responsibility in commie socialist criminal-coddling high-school government class. You want a nice fast cheap club-wielding private vigilante squad instead of pesky expensive due process rights? You go convince Pat "Dick" McQuaid and the same self-righteous teams that engage their athletes in systemic doping to personally pony up for one! AP newsflash: Landis also to blame for Pat "Dick" McQuaid's hemorrhoids, Dick "Dick" Pounds scrofula, the high price of gasoline, the subprime market collapse, that infernal hangnail Bjarne Riis just can't shake...

Rebel(lin) With a Cause: moving on to riders who haven't had the prime of their careers mangled so badly it no longer matters in practical terms whether they actually doped or not, quiet 36-year-old veteran Davide Rebellin slaps away the surging jailbait and holds on to the slimmest of leads and an onslaught of frantic challenges to keep the win at Paris-Nice as fine former Contador teammate/emerging Classics specialist Luis Leon Sanchez snags the stage after a brutal series of attacks in the last few kilometers. Yeeeee-haaaaah! The Italian tifosi, however, are left wondering, "what the hell is wrong with Cunego?" As Gilberto Simoni said, you can't milk that Piccolo Principe baby-prodigy rep forever! Meantime, road warrior Kristin Armstrong utterly demolished an impressive international field at the Exeter time trial, and, in body-count news, poor Linus Gerdemann snapped his femur at Tirreno and is off the bike for six weeks, bad news for young but high-caliber High Road. Get better soon Linus!

Punk-Ass Move of the Year Award: yep, it's early in the season, but I'm fairly confident that disgusting as this beautiful sport can be--and it's been pretty damn disgusting of late, let's face it--nothing can match the sheer low-rent bottom-dwelling scumsuckery of accosting grieving father Kevin Van Impe for a submit-or-be-banned doping control as he fills out the paperwork for his lost infant son's funeral arrangements. Of course, it must have made sense at the time, because naturally the first thing a parent thinks of when they lose a child is to run to the bathroom to jam an EPO-loaded syringe into their !@# to soothe their loss and prepare for the upcoming spring Classics. The riders, in response, showed handsome solidarity for once by delaying the start of Paris-Nice a few minutes in protest. What the hell were those soulless amoral freaks even thinking?

A Note from the Racejunkie Marketing-and-Raging-Insecurity Department: okay, so I've been asked to add some links and stuff and I've added 'em. And I'm happy to do it, but frankly, I'm still something of a tech nit, and this does take a bit of time. Now I need feedback from both my faithful readers--you want me to keep it up, or not? Either way is good by me--though I must admit, anything that gives me an excuse to screw around on the computer looking at Roberto Heras videos for two hours is worth it, and I've got you to thank for that. So what's the word, (both of you) folks?

This Is the Dawning of the Age of...

...Yep, Cycling Protests, as all those lame social revolutions of the past give way to the noblest purpose of civil disobedience--busting Danilo Di Luca out of past and future doping suspensions. The circumstances of this history-making stand for civil rights? Four train-cars full of "Il Killer Fans Club"--a good three hundred tifosi by at least one count--descended on CONI HQ in Rome on Monday, pleading for his freedom and chanting "Hands off Di Luca!" Luckily, despite the simmering passionate crowd and a heavy preponderance of jack-booted order-keeping thugs, disaster was averted as a besotted and acid-tripping Di Luca stalwart bravely approached a truncheon-bearing goon and offered him a flower the color of a maglia rosa, which defused tensions beautifully until nearby goons accidentally mistook the flower for a wielded weapon and clubbed the poor sod into the pavement. Wait, maybe I'm translating this wrong...

Days of Thunder: and, as Petacchi gets set for his showdown with CAS on April 1 over his little salbutamol OD, Ale-Jet fans are sure to freak as he admits in an interview that, at thirty-four years of age, if he's disqualified, he's done racing for good. As to his current season, he may well skip the Giro for the upcoming birth of little Alessandro (if a boy), particularly as there's little there this year for sprinters, which will would allow him to focus on taking out Sanremo Paris-Tours Ghent and the Tour de France green jersey. His nearest rivals? Not up-and-coming sprint godlet Daniele Bennati by his measure, as he names damn near every serious sprinter on earth including Freire (damn right!) Bettini Boonen McEwen Hushovd (damn right!) and even junior threats Cavendish and Ciolek, but not his smug smack-talkin' self-proclaimed rival. Oh, snap!

Mea Culpa Roundup: as we love Oscar Freire takes a win at Tirreno, youngster Gesink gets rightly if discreetly pissed as Cadel wheel-sucks his way to the win on Ventoux, and disgraced Di Luca gets to ride Tirreno and Milano-Sanremo (which oughta really be making poor Stefano Garzelli, screwed out of those races plus the Giro for no apparent reason whatsoever, quite apoplectic), over in the If-I'm-Sorry-Enough-Will-You-Still-Pay-Me-500,000-Euros Department Ivan Basso seems just one comely lip-pout away from the Worlds as the head of Italian cycling fed compliments him lushly for serving his punishment with honor and spending this time in humble dedication to charitable efforts, saying he must still fill out his full suspension but likely in serious physical danger from thousands of enraged tifosi should he fail to ultimately clear the boy in time to hit the road in Varese. Patrik Sinkewitz, meantime, is rushing to throw some raw meat at Andreas Kloden's legal Dobies, swearing he hasn't sold him or anyone to the cops and totally coincidentally hoping to find himself a nice team he swears he would never ever ever rat out to the narcs no matter what systemic doping scheme they push, I mean, no matter what some utterly betraying rogue cyclist might come up with the team docs absolutely on his own with no help from anyone management-related at all. And, as even Santi Botero is cleared to ride the Olympics by the Colombians despite repeated whispers of his link to some minor Spanish cycling brouhaha, is anyone else thinking that Jorg Jaksche, repentant as he's been and open about the entire sport's flaws as he's been, is completely and irredeemably !@#$%& no matter whether his suspension's up before he retires or not?

He Who Laughs Last, Laughs His Shorts Off: Finally, as the season heats up and the victors salute the sky in triumph again and again as they cross the line, I offer a cautionary note for those folks newer to winning as they learn to control their steed:

il Miglior ciclista
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Sturm und Drang

Sturm: well, it's a crappy start for the cyclists but a smashing one for the fans (specifically, me) at Paris-Nice, as, after the teams actually put their held-back riders back into the start list in surprisingly cohesive defiance of UCI, we love ever-underrated Thor Hushovd snags the prologue under then-improving but still miserable rain and wind at Paris-Nice. And, while after today's even more disgusting conditions the weather's apparently forecast to improve, I fully expect further carnage, if not on the actual tarmac then over at UCI headquarters, as Pat "Dick" McQuaid must be searching desperately for some way to soothe his humiliation over the teams' winning last-minute throwdown over the race and presumably is about to take aim yet again at whatever poor random bastard strikes his nasty fancy. Come to think of it though, is there *anyone* left in the peloton that this guy hasn't irrationally targeted yet? Well, everybody seems to like...forget it, I better stop right there!

Drang: and, speaking of lousy conditions, Jan Ullrich's apparently been offered a near-irresistable deal by the voracious German prosecutors, who have kindly suggested they might be willing to drop their terrifying contract-fraud investigation if he'll only confess to being a client of Dr. Fuentes and pony up a piddling fine of 1 million euros. Um, leaving aside the distinct unlikelihood that T-Mobile had no idea what if anything their discarded cash-cow was doing, get back on that bike at those charity events and start mugging for the cameras, Jan--with a little luck and, say, a half-assed non-admission, you might yet be able to pull a Basso on this one and if not return to the actual ranks, at least get a nice new gig as a manager!

Old Friends: or maybe not so much these days for ex-teammates Patrik Sinkewitz and Andreas Kloden, as former T-Mobile poz Sinkewitz deals to suck up his ban and avoid jail time but be back on the market by mid-summer in exchange for pimping we-still-love-the-incredibly-luckless-and-besides-he's-innocent-til-proven-guilty (and let's face it, even if he is, he ain't much guiltier'n anyone else) Kloden and fellow ex-Vino flotsam Matthias Kessler to the narcs. Unsurprisingly, Klodi has taken issue with Patrik's accusation, to the positive if slightly cautious support of Astana (who, in a cautionary note, offered the same in an earlier incarnation to professed innocent Ivan Basso before tossing him out the window of the team car like a cigarette butt), continuing a fruitless season of endless victimhood as Klodi helplessly watches his prep for his key target races the entire season slip away. Surely, in any case, the boy was as clean as anyone else at T-Mobile, which clearly proves that...ummmm...next question please!

These Dreams: as poor Stefano Garzelli resigns himself (albeit at the top of his lungs) to watching Tirreno-Adriatico and Milan-Sanremo (not to mention the Giro) on TV this year, and the CONI prosecutors remain hell-bent on smacking Danilo DiLuca and half the other Italian cyclists who matter out of the Corsa Rosa, Mario Cipollini has nonetheless given us a tantalizing glimpse into the future of Italian cycling: he dreams of having Ivan Basso and emergent sprint god Daniele Bennati on Rock Racing next year. Now, if it were anyone else, I'd say Bennati ought to choose his future teammates more carefully, at least if he wants to keep riding the races he's looking to win. But really, if the annoying St. David Millar's constant preening contrition can win such sympathy, can anyone doubt that Basso's smashing (if wholly inadvertent I'm sure) PR rehab (in combination with Mario's own personal extreme chicness, per the photo) will score Rock wildcards for any damn race they want?

Go Ask Tammy: as the rest of the peloton seeks the latest in IV innovations to improve their performance, some folks are apparently still forced to rely on the cheap stuff, as fed prosecutors claim "overwhelming" proof Olympian Tammy Thomas perjured herself during the BALCO investigation when she denied using steroids. The evidence? Her dealer apparently kept a high-end LeMond that Thomas traded for drugs when she was down on cash. Prosecutors will also rely on "body changes" purportedly resulting from the steroids, including Peter Brady vocal troubles and that she had to shave a full beard, which sure means I'll never bitch about shaving my legs again. Y'know, putting aside the perfect irony that she exchanged one of Landis-affair cleanster witness' Greg LeMond's bikes for doping products, I know women cyclists are paid absolute squat, but I think I'm in sympathy with many gear-obsessed amateurs when I say to Tammy, "you traded your !@#$&^% *bike* for a couple lousy cheap-@#$ syringes of easily detectable drugs?" At least give it (the bike, not the drugs) to some hard-up humble road freak who really deserves it instead of some skankball alleyway dope-pusher for heck's sake!

Tick, Tock: finally, loathe as I am to kick a peacefully sleeping animal in an uncomfortable area, I cannot help but wonder, where the hell is Iban Mayo's CAS ruling on how completely grotesquely the vindictive cornered rabid snarling raccoons at UCI have chewed him to pieces by ignoring their own rules on B-sample results, I mean, on his perfectly objectively fact-driven prosecution goddammit?

No More Mr. (Paris) Nice Guy...

No More Mr. Clee-ee-ee-an!: As the clock ticks down rapidly to an uncertain Paris-Nice, and the cycling world continues to eat its young as Pat "Dick" McQuaid refuses the helpful offer of the French sports minister to meet to resolve the issues at hand, it seems to me that in order to fairly (well, as fairly as I get) assess the situation, we ought to take stock of the key players--and the interests and motives--involved:

ASO: bitter selfish profiteering style-over-substance image-obsessed press-cowed narcissists who, coincidentally, organize some of the most beautiful races on Earth (our beloved Giro and Vuelta excepted). Sympathy Factor: 1.

UCI: vicious arrogant selfish egomaniacal power-hungry arbitrary vindictive narcissists who, coincidentally, control by fear and coarse knee-capping threats participation in some of the most beautiful races on Earth. Sympathy Factor: Absolute zero. You bite, McQuaid!

Teams Association: spineless ineffectual waffling disorganized simps incapable of acting together for the betterment of the sport or, God forbid, their own riders. Nonetheless, impossibly caught between snarling packs of astonishingly nasty rabid wolverines, and have sensibly appealed for CAS intervention. Sympathy Factor: would be 2, but I'm really irked they're pulling boys like Gilbert out rather'n simply back 'em. Free the riders!

National Cycling Feds: unreasonable finger-pointing obstructionist hypocrites alone, and as a unified body, too gutless to take on McQuaid's ridiculous warmongering. Still, gotta fake respect for the ProTour if their local heroes are gonna ride. Sympathy Factor: .5, except I continue to admire the Spanish fed's ruthless protectionism of Alejandro Valverde in a Machiavellian sort of way.

Riders: everybody's helpless dope-slapped whipping boys, punished for doping, fired for not winning clean against armies of drug-stoked comrades, forced to ride in crappy conditions, told to choose between this season's key goals and their future livelihoods, and oft sold down the river like cargo on the Yangtze. Sympathy Factor: endless. Can't any of you low-rent lunch-money-extorting swaggering schoolyard bullies let these nice hard-working boys do their jobs?

Tifosi: dog-loyal enthusiasts, treated like fleas. Sympathy Factor: not so much as the riders of course, but cycling, we've stuck by you through some pretty disgusting behavior, so throw us a bone whydontcha!

Paris-Nice Itself: Jacques Anquetil (a lot). Eddy Merckx. Miguel Indurain. Sean Kelly (an incredible lot). Laurent Jalabert. More recently, Andreas Kloden, Bobby Julich, Floyd Landis. 75 years of smashing beauty and intermittent tragedy. Sympathy Factor: how dare any of you soulless self-absorbed tools even mildly seek to screw around with this beautiful race?!

Frankly, I'm voting that all the riders show up at the Paris-Nice start line ready to go with a couple extra gels and water bottles shoved down their jerseys, reclaim this gorgeous storied race for themselves and the worshipful masses, and tell the cowardly teams, self-besotted organizers, witchhunting federations and useless national bodies to !@#$ off. On to the Race to the Sun!

Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurnage

Bettini On Ice, Bettini So Nice: well, the Belgian classics are off again, with the body count already rising to impressive levels in the first two biggies of the year as craptasticallly unlucky world road god Paolo Bettini manages to hit the deck both at Omloop Het Volk and, the very next day no less, at Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne. Luckily, our boy, pissed though he appeared at Het Volk and temporarily stunned as he seemed at Kuurne (leading to his precautionary trip to hospital), was merely scraped and bruised up and immediately expressed greater sympathy for the more damaged ragazzi, though on return to the bike this afternoon, suffered continued pain in his shoulder and leg and is going to test it out tomorrow to see if he's still in shape for this weekend's Montepaschi Eroica. Vai Paolo--what a class act all 'round!

I Forgive You, In the "Drop Dead You Cheating Pig" Sense: so after duly serving his time for being a dope-addled supernaturally-powerful freak, and having happily pulled himself out of his truly grim downward mental spiral, Frank Vandenbroucke now finds his team welcome in the peloton--specifically, the ProTour races--so long as he doesn't show up with them. Needless to say, our (mildly) penitent hero is already appealing the decision, though why one ought to complain about having a totally unexpected punishment piled on one without notice or reason is beyond me. What the @##$%, UCI--is a two-year ban a two-year ban, or not? If you want a "one strike and you're out" policy, you disgusting hypocrites, show some stones and institute one openly already! Not that these guys deserve a ticker-tape parade or nuthin' (unless they sob to the press all the time about how bad they feel about getting busted, in which case they apparently deserve not only a parade but also to be bodily gilded and glued to a marble !@#$ing pedestal), but do we mean this !@#$ or not?

Paris-dise Lost: and, lest anyone think that UCI's been humiliated *again* by the wholesale bailing of the ProTour teams for the inconsequential little meander that is Paris-Nice, our fave head honcho has come out snarling that not *all* the teams are truly on board with the race, contrary to the lying disengenuous weasels that comprise the ASO and the teams' association, and are actually somewhat wary of contract provisions that demand their death-by-drawing-and-quartering if there's even a whisper of any sort of any controversy no matter how ludicrous about the squad or its boys anytime anywhere ever. Meantime, Het Volk winner Philippe Gilbert is already being held out of the race by cautious team management, at least until they see who, among all the whining organizational contenders for studly supremacy, comes out on top. Hell, at least ASO gets points for honestly admitting they're just pissed about how they look when a scandal breaks--like UCI really gives a rat's !@# whether a rider has genuinely been proven guilty of anything before they toss him into the flames like a fallen ash-covered marshmallow?

Smackdown o' the Week: finally, I bring you the slap fight we've all been waiting for (courtesy of italiaciclismo) between the fearsome gladiators Pat "Dick" McQuaid and Christian Prudhomme (or just a coupla agitated roadies, whichever)--as the caption says, these boys seem to have mistaken the genteel pasttime of cycling for the base grunting slugfest of boxing. Hey, why worry about some pesky boring road race when you can indulge in the petty selfish ego wars that *really* define this sport?

Paris-Nice Knowin' Ya, Chumps!

Team Effort: in a remarkable reversal of their usual spinelessness, the habitually meek and impotent teams association has marvelously struck a blow for actual riders, bravely informing UCI that, notwithstanding its terrifying threats of unspecified misery, they're telling the organization to blow and happily planning to ride the beautiful and eternal Paris-Nice. Pat "Dick" McQuaid's hilarious response? Yes, race organizer ASO and their disgusting employees are evil scumly anti-rider dirtballs who will lose no opportunity to destroy the innocent cyclists and their even more cherubic team managers on the most slender of unsubstantiated unkind doping-related rumors in heinous disregard of the truth, in contrast to UCI of course, which always has the very best interests of the poor riders at heart and has shown them nothing, as their exemplary track record will clearly show, but compassion, kindness, understanding, and, most of all, justice. Um, aren't we talking about the same pack of soulless rider-whoring vicious bitter bastards who left Iban Mayo wallowing on his couch like a slop-stuffed pig over their nasty refusal to accept his unpositive Z sample and bonfired Floyd Landis as the loathesome example of all that is wrong with cycling to every press outlet on earth before the boy even had the chance to get his boxers on the morning the scandal broke? What a sparkling little snowglobe of a fantasyland you live in, Pat "Dick"!

Lover's Quarrel: and, the bloom seems to be distinctly off the rose for Rock Racing's Mario Cipollini and Michael Ball, as the former appears to realize that not only does he remain a living god amongst the besotted tifosi on his home turf, but even the lumpen cycling-ignorant Americans know and adore him and, if Ball doesn't give Cipo the power and control he so clearly deserves, plus keeps embarrassing him by having a pack of convicted or even merely implicated declining dopers running after the team car at races like slobbering tire-nipping hounds, he's gonna take his pearly whites smashing wardrobe and general suavity back to Europe where he's duly appreciated. Surely a nice box of chocolates or perhaps some roses would patch things up--turn down the ego and turn on that charm, Ball, he's already proven he's a keeper!

Daniloh, Crap, Is There Gonna Be *Anyone* Left to Ride the Giro?: meantime, our friends at CONI, still strangely displeased by Il Killer's amusingly toddlerish hormone levels post-Zoncolan at last year's Giro, have now decided to press for a two-year ban for DiLuca, leaving his lawyer to sputter outrage, his team to stoutly proclaim its faith, his fans to demand not only exoneration but also immediate fair-play tar-and-feathering of certain suspect Spanish cyclists, and the head of the Italian cycling fed to pay a sympathetic visit to the bewildered champion at the sanctuary of his home. Okay, I make no bones about the fact that I hope Paolo Savoldelli kicks his !@#, or at least leaves him whimpering at the back of the autobus like a baby on a couple of descents. But really, how fun is that if he doesn't even get the chance to bushwhack DiLuca fair and square? Plus, just look what the stress of the last few days has done to poor Danilo! (photo from tuttobici):



Basso Amongst the Bambini: lest anyone think Ivan Basso's been forgotten in all his comely glory, gazzetta dello sport's got a gusher of an article on his continued good works for the children's charity Intervista, particularly charmed by his irresistible urge to buy the local waifs some bicycles, as a soul-touched, humbled Ivan swears to return to the peloton not a better cyclist, but a better man, all thanks to the blessing in disguise that was his two-year ban. Not to disparage the truly laudable work he's doing, nor doubt the sincerity of his dedication as a parent himself to helping the children of others, but given his constant St. David Millar-esque protestations of unwanted (yet somehow perpetually press-paraded) martyrdom, is anyone else starting to wish someone'd just cut off the end of his sentence and get the boy back on a damn bike already?

Dick Clark On Wheels: finally, though I know I'm supposed to revile Erik Zabel for his repulsive one-time 90s doping slip-up (and I'm quite certain that's all he did), I can't help but be delighted by our ageless warhorse's recent sprint triumph at the Valencia Tour over a peloton's worth of far younger also-rans. Allez allez Erik--I mean, bad, bad, bad, bad cyclist!

The Silence of the Soigneurs

...Yeah, Kayle Leogrande *wishes*, as ex-Saturn pro/Rock Racing soigneur Suzanne Soyne sez our hero 'fessed up to ingesting truly T-Mobile-worthy quantities of doping products, including EPO and a bucket of other reprehensible no-nos, during the past Superweek. Y'know, I'm no evidence maven, but I'm pretty sure that, intimate though the relationship can get (at least according to the bone-chilling chamois-cream-spreading scene from "Hell on Wheels"), there's yet no "soigneur-cyclist privilege." Kayle, what were you *thinking*--do the words "shut the hell up and use your masking agents in silence" mean nothing to you?! Now, before I get accused of supporting doping *again*, let me make clear that I hope every cheating scuzzbag has the lack of self-restraint and, frankly, sheer stupidity to hire an airplane to sky-write their doping plans above UCI headquarters. But man, can't anyone speak out against the plague of moronity besmirching this sport? Anyhoo, Rock Racing immediately issued a press release assuring all doubters that they take such accusations quite seriously, thank you, and there will be severe consequences if he's proven guilty, such as, presumably, pulling guys like Vinokorouv Kessler Heras and Bjarne out of retirement signing 'em to lucrative contracts and pimping them proudly for the cameras at every event. Allez allez Michael Ball!

I Know What You Did Last Summer (Or the Summer of 2006, Anyway): yep, not content with the prospect of poor Patrik Sinkewitz dessicating in an isolated Viennese jail cell for a crappy little year, yip-yappy anti-doping ankle-biter Dr. Werner Franke, in an apparent attempt to have the boy consigned to the clink for a far more pleasing "all eternity," has chosen this very moment to regurgitate tired allegations that a good six-pack of riders from T-Mobile besides the aforementioned cheating lying hear-no-evil-see-no-evil drug skank were also blood doping at the team docs' Freiburg clinic during the Tour de France. Damn, Werner, I'm sorry you failed to get Jan Ullrich actively stampeded by a herd of raging wildebeests in addition to merely making him retire, but must you take out your thwarted dreams on an entirely unrelated cyclist?

V for Vendetta: and, as ASO utterly validates Vino's ridiculous charge that Astana's the hapless victim of a Vast Anti-Kazakh Conspiracy by blocking a team from the Tour de France that has nothing in common from last year's drug-stuffed outfit except its check-writing sponsor (though I suppose punishing Levi Leipheimer and Andreas Kloden for Johan Bruyneel's boys' taking 8 of the last 9 Tours is a perfectly fair reason, as well), UCI announces its own sweet revenge for ASO's treachery by threatening any team that dares to ride ASO darling Paris-Nice with dire, if still rather unspecified, consequences. Heck, how could removing the best cyclists in the world from the road and leaving one of the most storied and beautiful races on earth to a few careening no-name neophytes *not* improve "the image and stability" of the sport, which loss Pat McQuaid so eloquently bemoans?

Cipo's Run: in actual race news, colossal kudos to aging chick magnet/Re Leone Mario Cipollini, who not only pulled off a perfectly respectable time trial and a third-place finish in a key sprint at the Tour of California after two years out of the saddle, but also came in an admirable 58th in the overall. Next up? He dreams of Sanremo, with the adoring tifosi skeptical of his actual chances but absolutely dewy-eyed over his passion. Meantime, over in the World Cup, Geelong goddess Katheryn Mattis has, despite her smashing win, been sadly hosed out of the US team for the Beijing Olympics due to rules that unfortunately don't count this race this year towards her chances for the squad. You still kick @#$ Katheryn!


Photo o'the Week: finally, this handsome photo of Pat "Dick" McQuaid and Dick "Dick" Pound getting ready to pick over the roadkill that is pro cycling these days at the recent Tour of California:



(Image by Getty Images, caption by racejunkie)

Love Stinks! (Yeah, Yeah)

Smile Like You Mean It: as Levi Leipheimer valiantly continues his quiet effort to humiliate ASO into allowing Astana into the Tour de France by kicking as much @#$ as humanly possible in the Tour of California time trial and overall, baby savant/defending (stolen from Rasmussen) champ Alberto Contador has grimly taken to the airwaves in a decidedly more defeatist fashion, candidly admitting that signing with Astana was "a mistake," but since he's got a contract he can't get out of even though he wants to, he's not gonna be able to bail to another team to ride the Tour no matter how much it upsets his fans. A spurned Johan Bruyneel, of course, confirmed his deathgrip on his now-reluctant young paramour, cheerfully noting Contador's unassailable two-year contract but promising that, while he won't tolerate the boy sneaking off into the bushes with some other squad for the Grand Boucle, he'll make "every effort" to see he gets to ride it with Astana. Hell, between ASO's love for Johan, and their equally likely appreciation of UCI's recent threats to sue on Contador's behalf, I'm confident they'll let 'em in, aren't you?

Remain Calm! All is Well!: and, I see the expected mob of cyclists eager to accept the Spanish courts' generous offer to let 'em compare their DNA to that in Fuentes' formidable stash of blood bags to prove their innocence in the Op Puerto affair has shockingly failed to materialize, leaving the poor phlebotomists to twiddle their thumbs as the implicated boys and their agents, I imagine, scramble to write up some yip-yapping b.s. press release about outrageous violations of human rights and insults to riderly dignity in a desperate effort to divert ASO and the other Grand Tour gatekeepers' attention from the actual point so they can continue to ride in blissful security. Hey, it worked for Andrei Kashechkin, right? Oh, wait....

Prison Break: and, the rewards continue to mount for repentant cyclists who courageously admit their wrongdoing in an effort to selflessly clean up the sport, at least if you're David Millar or Ivan Basso, as confessed T-Mobile doping poz Patrik Sinkewitz, already thwapped with a one-year ban for his noble honesty, now faces the friendly offer of a year in prison if he doesn't cough up the names of all his teammates who similarly spent a relaxing evening under the care of the tender loving care of the T-Mobile team docs during a rather recent Tour de France. Um, not to excuse Sinkewitz' egregious wrongdoing and all, but out of the entire freakin' peloton, is he *really* the only one the authorities can think of who should communing with the rats in some dank dungeon at this point?

Robbie McEwen is A Wuss: finally, a cycling smackdown for your viewing pleasure that outweighs even our head-butting Pocket Rocket in sheer gore 'n' guts violence:

The First Annual Racejunkie Telethon for Cycling.tv

Alms! Alms for the Poor!: so just as I was about to blast cycling.tv yet *again* for massive technical screwups that randomly jerked the video and/or audio coverage of the opening stage of the Tour of California to first a sporadic then finally a near-continuous halt--causing me to miss Dave Zabriskie's inaugural 2008 time trial debut to my extreme irritation, dammit--I came to a startling realization: it's not their fault. Why? Yep, despite charging desperate pathetic tifosi like myself 100 freakin' bucks this season to watch the Vuelta (and I'll be damn glad to pay it, like a sap, since US coverage utterly blows), it's clear the poor things are broke! There I am, fruitlessly checking in again and again in the diminishing hope they'll fix the prob, when what should pop on the screen but a reminder that their Norton AntiVirus protection has expired! And did cycling.tv take this inexpensive chance to protect themselves from such nefarious threats to website integrity? No! An arrow discreetly crawled across the screen and clicked on "Remind Me Later." Surely, nothing but the most dire financial straits could cause their tech lords to ignore that essential mantra, "Viruses Bad." Thus, in sympathy for their obvious destitution, I humbly begin my First Annual Racejunkie Telethon for Cycling.tv. Now, I don't know where to send donations, tho' I'm sure the network could be of help in that area. And I'm desperately in need of has-been talent to hype our piteous appeals for aid, so if someone could kindly get me in touch with the reps for some of our more beloved ex-dopers for example, that'd be a big boost to the cause. But a cherished if occasionally, well, broadcast-challenged member of the cycling community needs our aid--Help Cycling.tv Renew Its AntiVirus Protection today!

The Return of the King: speaking of the Tour of California (and putting aside the question, what the hell is going on with Dave Zabriskie?! in the hope that he's merely pacing his form for an attack on the Grand Tours later this season), the Italian press is all a-swoon over the return of Lion King Mario Cipollini, charging in an extremely respectable 44th (for a sprinter, no less) after 3 years out of the saddle to the all-caps adulation of the gazzetta tifosi, despite lingering snarks that, legend o' the bike tho' he is, he's really only doing it to pay off those pesky gazillions recently assessed in back taxes. Then again, who really cares--hell, 100,000 euros to ride your bike sure as hell beats 20 years at the overnight shift at the 7-11, don't it?

Necessity is the Mother of Invention: and, with Dr. Eufemiano Fuentes' lab long dismantled, and glum cyclists everywhere in a hasty scramble for their next hit of completely legal vitamin injections, the Viennese authorities are putting the heat again on a local blood-doping lab, alleged home of such Mafia Nation names as loyal ex-Levi lieutenant Georg Totschnig, Michael "Can My Crappy Year Get Any Worse?" Rasmussen, Michael Boogerd, Peter Weening and, not least, 2008 Tour de France GC aspirant Denis "Give Heras Back His Vuelta If You're Just As Big a Skank, You Skank!" Menchov. Well, that's about 5 seconds' worth of press coverage to give the Spaniards a breather--oops, time's up you-know-who, it's back to Op Puerto again!

Oh, Snap!: finally, I see that Rock Racing has taken its sweet revenge on the Tour of California, tarting up its excluded stars Hamilton Sevilla and Botero in even more garish barbed-wire-and-skull team kit than the boys in the race--and even more frightening, having them walk around in public like this amongst the innocent defenseless crowd--in a showdown-by-spandex guaranteed to leave the Amgen race organizers quivering in their prissy little Gucci loafers. Next up: Riccardo Ricco's Saunier Duval encrusts its feed-zone musettes with Swarovski crystals at the Giro in an attempt to intimidate LPR's DiLuca and Savoldelli ahead of the Dolomites. Oh, God, the pressure!

And We're Off!

Territorial Pissings: well, it looks like the Amgen EPO Tour of California's won this round, as Michael Ball's predictably egomaniacal press-conference blustering--accompanied by Floyd Landis lawyer Maurice Suh, no less--about the horrors of excluding Op-Puerto implicated Tyler Hamilton, Santi Botero and Oscar Sevilla from the race, when he knew damn well it would piss off the race organizers to even bring it up the day before but would, totally coincidentally I'm sure, generate enormous publicity--yields in the end to AEG, letting in its 'original' five, including last-minute change to Mario "the Chest" Cipollini from Kayle "John Doe" Leogrande (already a deliberate poke in the eye), rather'n pull Rock from the race entirely, a decision apparently made after a chatty and ultimately fruitless bike ride between Ball and the head of the race. Oh well, Ball, you got your picture all over the news--not to discount the honorable yapping about giving poor mistaken underdogs a second chance and all, but wasn't that really your point?

The Ick Factor: Floyd, I deeply admire your own willingness to endanger yourself by supporting such innocent victims as Hamilton & co. And I strongly believe that every one, even that tiresome self-promoting screw-you preener Michael Ball, deserves the best legal advice possible ('cause let's face it, with some of the boys on his team, he's gonna need it). And not that you have or should have any control over what Maurice Suh does on his own time, since after all he ought to be lauded for taking on, well, perhaps less sympathetic clients than yourself. But can it really help your case to have your very own lawyer up there at yesterday's press conference whispering sweet counsel in Ball's ear for the entire cycling disciplinary planet to see mere weeks before the same guy presents your defense at your CAS appeal? Not that it would have any effect on the fine objective folks who'll be deciding both your place in history and your immediate fate--but, aaaaiiigggghhh!

Free Levi!: finally, uber-diplomat Levi Leipheimer is still expressing his misery over Astana's exclusion from the Tour in the politest manner humanly possible, delicately introducing his LetLeviRide e-petition and gently encouraging folks to help ASO see the light. Me, I have no such sense of decorum, so I'm perfectly content to call out ASO as being the most self-destructive self-serving whining bitter arbitrary tools on earth for smacking around Astana, especially considering the unreformed skankmaster squads still allowed in their noble race. Free Levi!

All right, enough of this ridiculous sideshow. Leipheimer, Julich, Hincapie, Zabriskie, Bettini, Boonen, Freire--what a smashing crew we've got for the actual race--allez allez Levi!

Degenerate Hospital

Luck o' the Spanish: so I'm guessing a good half of the peloton's got its chamois in a twist over the Spanish court's decision yesterday to reopen the Op Puerto investigation, at least with regard to blood doc Manuel Batres and Nobel prize aspirant Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes (because I know every time *I've* got a medical problem, I, as a woman, run straight to a prostate specialist). Lucky for at least a few of the boys, it's not yet being reopened as to Liberty Seguros mastermind Manolo "Briefcase" Saiz, who, having contented himself with blaming Roberto Heras's voracious drug-snorting appetite for all the team's problems, is likely off amusing himself at a luxe beachfront villa somewhere at least until his bank account hits the skids & he's obliged to pen a sordid tell-all to ease the cash crunch. Not so lucky: the Spanish investigators *are* interested in the contents of Manuel Batres' hard drive, reposing happily undisturbed to date in an evidence locker. To this news, the Basso faithful have responded with delirious joy, nearly tearful with happiness over the possibility of actual Spaniards being busted for a Spanish doping scandal involving Spanish teams, and the pure cycling nuts thrilled to finally see, as is rumored, a pack of coddled crappy soccer players also take a hit. The big question? Whether Fuentes, who has revealed of late a decidedly disconcerting tendency to show up at various public events proudly extolling all the wonderful work he's done on behalf of his health-conscious stable of cyclists, is going to go so far into wingnut territory that, if his own stupid coded documents don't sink him, and the Spaniards ever bother to ask, he's gonna start naming names, or retreat into ethical doctorly confidentiality and refuse to sell 'em out. Good luck on that one boys!

Can I Get You More Salt for that Wound?: and, adding insult to dope-slap, I see the Giro d'Italia has decided that Team High Road appreciates the beauty of the race enough (and is committed to riding clean enough) after all, letting it back in to the delight of managers and riders alike but still pointedly excluding the rude ungrateful drug fiends over at Astana. Is there anything *else* the Grand Tours can do to humiliate Johan Bruyneel? Not that I'm gonna particularly weep over that, tho' I do wish him well and all--but why take Andreas Kloden and Levi Leipheimer down with him?! Thinking of other morally righteous squads, I see scorched-earth bridge-burner Michael Ball over at Rock Racing has announced his 5-man team roster for this weekend (woo-hoo!)'s Tour of California, leaving in we love Fast Freddy Rodriguez and Victor Hugo Pena--and, in an apparent attempt to get them all ignominiously kicked out of the race, recent John Doe Kayle Leogrande--but inexplicably leaving out marquee alleged ex-dope-hounds Oscar Sevilla, Tyler Hamilton, and Santi Botero, whose big names he's seemingly happy to pimp so long as they don't actually ride. Didn't Tinkoff pull that exact same weaselly publicity stunt last season between cutting its imploding stars loose?

Question o' the Week: so, pondering the return of convicted perps like Hamilton, and merely sanctioned suspects like DiLuca and Petacchi, to this season's peloton, and the ensuing shock and outrage that tends to result, I'm a'wondering: do folks really mean it when they say "he's paid his dues, we should welcome him back" even if, like Tyler, they've adamantly denied their guilt? Or is it only when someone's copped to their evil deeds in a perfectly orchestrated humble dewy-eyed ongoing public wah-wah (you know who you are), or even a terse'n'surly one-time interview (and we all saw how far that got Sinkewitz), that we'll take 'em back with open arms? Everyone about to get their !@# kicked in Op Puerto needs to know!

Clash of the Titans

Or Maybe Just the Petty Preening Selfish Egomaniacal !@#holes: as everyone who's not actually clinically dead (and perhaps a few who are) now knows, in an incredible triumph of hypocrisy, showmanship, and contempt for both riders and fans over common sense, fair play, and merit, the chest-thumping weenies over at ASO officially announced today that not only is Astana is out of the Tour this year because of a completely unrelated team's scumly tactics last year, but Alberto Contador is welcome to pop by anytime and defend his title should he only have the courtesy to tell Johan Bruyneel to screw and sign up with a new squad in time for this year's start line. Among the pure and shining stars in the antidoping sky the boy has to choose from? Yep, none other than clean Team Rabobank, largely unchanged themselves from last year after their gross protectionism of Rasmussen's evasions ended in a crumpled pile of dream-dashed riders sobbing in the team bus right before their presumptive victory laps on the Champs-Elysees. (Sure, Contador stole the Tour from Rasmussen, who if knowingly allowed to ride by those clowns at ASO and UCI when everyone knew he was off evading doping controls should've been allowed to ride til the end, but it wasn't *his* fault.) Oddly, Christian Prudhomme seems to have no problem excluding Levi Leipheimer, who's never been tied to anything, or we love Andreas Kloden, whose greatest crime seems to be playing hapless gun moll to a series of ill-chosen dope-snarfing goon amores, while welcoming baby Contador to the race after a passel of Liberty Seguros teammates testified to the Op Puerto investigators that Manolo Saiz whacked mystery skin patches on his unquestioning proteges like badges on Girl Scouts, nor allowing in, say, Caisse d'Epargne, particularly since he spent the last two years bitching about Alejandro Valverde's foul unwanted presence in his race. I'm so glad Prudhomme's committed to clean sport, at least where he arbitrarily likes the teams who are at least bothering with an attempt to achieve it! Still and all, there's plenty of time for ASO to change its mind if duly appeased, so it's entirely possible that once the snowball fight is over and Mom calls in everyone for hot cocoa, tempers will soothe and everyone'll be friends again. Lookin' forward to it ASO!

The Fallout: I can't imagine what poor Kloden is doing at the moment, unless it's drinking himself into a disbelieving stupor, but Levi Leipheimer has (still politely) expressed his shock and sorrow, promising to justify the fans' faith in himself and the team elsewhere if he has to this season, and Contador is already planning to take on the Vuelta, as the squad's at least found a home there (and not to bite the hand that feeds me, but can everyone !@#$%$' *stop* using the Vuelta as an also-ran dumping ground for faded dreams?). And the ever-vocal faithful over at gazzetta? Generously bemoaning Contador's blameless hosing, still ticked that the only riders taking the hit for a Spanish doping scandal are Italians, and, in further nationalist fervor, snarking that ASO's only pulling this stunt so that finally a French guy has a chance of winning the Tour. Keep on waiting there Prudhomme--it really ain't gonna help you that much!

PS Woo-hoo Thor Hushovd on his first win of the season--green jersey again in '08!

Smells Like Team Spirit

Fight Club: as the teams grow increasingly twitchy over the upcoming team-roster release for Paris-Nice--likely a grim crystal ball view of the teams for the upcoming Tour--and UCI, WADA, the Grand Tours, the rider's association, and the national cycling feds continue to rip out at each other's throats like rabid foaming wolverines, a slew of disgruntled ProTour teams like Astana, High Road, CSC, Milram, Quick Step, Lampre, Liquigas, and Rabobank have wisely ratcheted up the hostility index by insisting upon meeting with the Grand Tour/"monument" race bosses right this very minute in order to make a righteous "it's all of us, or none of us" demand. Um, not to question the wisdom of such a fine alliance, or the sincerity of a proclamation like "we respect that they don't want teams that could hurt their image," but leaving aside the merely mild tint of scandal associated with teams like Milram (Petacchi & Zabel), Liquigas (lately of DiLuca), and Quick Step ("LEFEVERE: THIRTY YEARS OF DOPING"), if Astana and High Road are so eager to prove their commitment to purity and their complete break with the disgusting doping practices of their forebears as a reason to let 'em into the races, is joining forces with a team like Rabo "Of Course We Knew Rasmussen Was a Lying Sack of !@#$! When We Let Him Destroy Your Tour de France This Year!" bank *really* the way into ASO's heart? (And no, I'm not counting coalition member Saunier Duval on the original sin list. Rehire Iban goddammit!) Meantime, UCI has also announced the wildcard teams, including such notables as we love Gilberto Simoni (and reformed or at least returned dope fiend Danilo Hondo)'s Diquigiovanni and natch climbing god Maurizio Soler's Barloworld, but not, interestingly, Paolo Savoldelli and Danilo DiLuca's new gig LPR. Oh well, what do they care, the Giro and the Classics are still theirs--I'm sure the loss of whatever Tour de Who Gives a Rat's !@# that's still left in the ProTour stable ain't keeping them up at night!

Revenge of the Nerds: so as the Giro dope-slaps Bouyges Telecom and Credit Agricole out of the race for lack of devotion to the sport (since they really can't pin much of last year's doping hoo-ha on those boys, unlike...well, actually, none of the other ProTour teams they're keeping out can fairly be excluded on that basis, either), one can't help but notice they've been confirming their obvious ennui by winning half the races so far this season, including a stage at Etoile des Besseges and a bucket o'stuff, including sustained race leadership, at Langkawi. Now, I *love* the Giro, and am loathe to criticize anything they do, but I gotta say, targeting these two teams for ejection just seems stupid. Sure, they largely bit last year in 'most everything. But isn't half the beauty and power of this sport the delight of redemption from humiliating season tanks past? Free Thor Hushovd, I say--*someone's* gotta be around to take a sprint if Petacchi gets kicked out of the 2008 Giro over his, well, overenthusiastic Salbutamol intake last year!

Reading Is Fundamental: finally, I see an Italian journalist has a lengthy new book out on Marco Pantani, "He Was My Son," or, more accurately, "Blame the B!@#$$!", as, amidst an exhaustive review with family and friends of every detail of Pantani's life, Marco's bereaved papa' reveals that Marco's Danish fiance, Christine, became pregnant in 2002, Marco was happy, a child of his own would have changed his life--but she wanted to finish her studies, and for some utterly unclear reason the baby was never born. Lest we miss the point: had this not happened, Marco would still be here. The still-devastated tifosi over at gazzetta, of course, posted tribute after tribute to their hero in response, and I must say I'm inclined to agree--whatever he did or didn't do, and whatever did or didn't undo him, wouldn't it be kindest if the poor boy--and his fiance, while we're freakin' at it--were finally left in peace?

Let's Go!

Off to the Races: so the season's plans are on for the two Italian World Champions, with Paolo Bettini having already shed the extra kilos he packed on during his winter hibernation and starting out at the upcoming GP Etruschi (and still breaking my heart with his apparent plan to skip the lovely Giro) along with Petacchi, Napolitano & Cunego (but not Petacchi-dissing nemesis Daniele Bennati, already ominously hampered by a knee problem), and fellow road god Marta Bastianelli aiming, like Bettini, both for the Olympics and to defend her title at the Worlds in Varese. Swoon. Can the Italians even *get* any better than they are right now? Forza Il Grillo and Marta!

Dangerous Liaisons: as the Splenda-sweetly humble Ivan Basso now enjoys the beginning of a welcome-back from a cautious peloton, poor Bjorn Leukemans by contrast laments he's been distinctly frozen out of the in-crowd, saying that not only is Lotto utterly ignoring his pleas for his job back should his upcoming appeal in Belgium clear him of his inadvertent testosterone ingestion at the hands of his dopus team doctor, but that dear friends like Nick Nuyens won't even deign to talk to him at all anymore. (Wah, wah, Iban Mayo's similarly !@#$ed, and his B sample didn't even come up poz, you baby!) Oh Bjorn. Perhaps if you'd only continued to lay the blame on your interactions with your lady friend, the commiserating male-bonding sympathy factor of all your amorous colleagues might've saved you! Crap, if the infighting between the UCI, WADA, the teams and the race organizers doesn't take down the sport, the paranoiac "sell out thy fellows/speak up for no-one" mentality of the riders eventually will...

Woe Is Me (And Garzelli)!: meantime, poor Stefano Garzelli is both outraged and heartbroken over Acqua e Sapone's inexcusable boot from the Giro, telling Tuttobici how he had just returned from a grueling 5 1/2 hour training ride when he called his agent and learned that his team had been cruelly excluded from what, as he nears 35 years old, is highly likely to be his last farewell to the race. In fact, he was so distraught that he almost quit cycling entirely on hearing the news, but--and damned good for the rest of us it is--decided to suck it up and keep training for Tirreno at least if nothing else. As he justifiably cried, "Give me back my Giro!" Free Garzelli and A&S already--like they love the Giro any less than freakin' Tinkoff? And, as the race organizers continue to roll out their team choices, the teams panic over who's going to be left out of the "monument" races as well as the Grand Tours, Contador prepares for life beyond the Tour de France, UCI gadfly Pat "Dick" McQuaid proclaims that Astana should absolutely be in the Giro (damn, Pat, do you want to kill their chances off entirely? stay out of it you nit!), and Giro organizer RCS kindly clarifies that it wasn't the old Astana's doping problems but the new Astana's lack of emotional commitment to the race that's keeping the boys off the corsa rosa, Johan Bruyneel's gamely pointed out that there's still time to convince RCS otherwise, though it'd really be pretty skanky if Johan used his 8000 Tour victories to muscle out a squad of, say, innocent Continental boys already thrilled beyond measure by the previously unexpected chance to take on the gorgeous fearsome Giro. !@#$, if appreciation of the races is gonna be the driving issue, this season is gonna flat-out blow. Sure, the Classics'll still be packed with ProTour squads who loudly claim their burning desire for the prestigious additions to their palmares (palmareses?), but my beautiful Vuelta--fortunate as it will be to retain the rabid orange-clad fanatics and peerless climbing masters of my beloved Euskaltel and an impressive passel of Spanish Continental squads--will be *completely* decimated. Empty, I tells ya, empty as a Bud Light keg after a frat party!

Peanuts and Cracker Jacks: finally, in baseball-yet-still-instructive-for-cycling news, I see that Roger Clemens' former trainer, in the face of stout denials of wrongdoing by his famous client, now sez he has "corroborative physical evidence" for the delectation of Congress that proves Clemens in fact did imbibe performance-enhancing drugs. Now, in light of various allegations by outraged or merely book-pimping cyclist associates that have recently come to light, it seems to me that here is a valuable teachable moment for the riders: if you don't want to get caught--and of course, you oughta be, you soulless amoral stage-stealers--for heck's sake, *don't* enlist the help of, or share the existence or details of your stupid scheme with, some low-ranking minion who not only is gonna inevitably end up taking the fall for whatever sleazeball tactics you use to pad your legacy, but gets paid so little for the privilege of being your scapegoat that there's no incentive whatsoever for that person not to immediately sell your disgusting lurid story to the highest (or in the case of cycling authorities, most threatening) bidder. Didn't you dopes learn *any* practical survival skills in Scumbag Cyclist Cheating 101?

Every Time Basso Bats His Eyelashes, An Angel Gets His Wings

...Or Perhaps a Devil Gets Its Twitching Tail, Instead: amid rumors that certain bedazzled authorities are considering knocking three months of Ivan Basso's "attempted doping" sentence in order to let him race the Worlds in his hometown of Varese (to which report Gilberto Simoni naturally went bull!@#$, snarling "I do not agree with this amnesty...it is we who are paying for his errors"), and Danilo DiLuca's open courting of Basso for future teammateship despite the former's newly-stated desire to take the Tour, Gazzetta dello Sport also posts a smashing interview with our humble talent-packed saintly man-candy. The upshot: He will return to the peloton in 2009 and not before. He has no reason to expect that the tifosi will ever feel the same way about him again. He is the last person to talk about the state of cycling, preferring to stay quiet, work, and serve his penalty. He confessed his guilt for the sake of his young daughter Domitilla, who turned his blood to ice as he realized how it affected her and also his forgiving wife. He has not yet chosen a team, but will probably decide at the beginning of March, and already has an idea of what riders he wants to work with. And he has trained on an unmarked bike in the jersey of his beloved charity Intervita to remain anonymous, but will gladly tell of his work for them. Workin' on the link and a better translation folks!

I must say, I find myself truly caught on this one. Has Basso--who to be honest is gorgeous to watching on a bike, smooth and self-contained--really ditched the traditional business-like European approach to doping for genuine regret at the damage he's done not only to this beautiful sport but also to his own integrity, as opposed to merely his own career and Ferrari fund? Or is this simply the same savvy, focused Basso who so cooly brushed aside the tifosi's out-thrust pens at the '06 Giro in favor of a full-on press corps seduction as the more gregarious Jan Ullrich and even some of the more retiring CSC boys amiably autographed anything that was desperately shoved at them? The tifosi, it appears from the comments page, have largely chosen the former, embracing his soul-stricken remorse and eagerly awaiting his triumphant return to the peloton, particularly if it's in the immediate company of DiLuca. Should we be heartless cynics on this point, or accept his deathbed conversion as true regret? The naive idealist and eye-rolling pragmatist in me are at war!

Oh Heras. If only you'd ditched your customary reticence, cried your penitence for everything Manolo Saiz "attempted" to pump you full of, put in some charity miles for the tots, and even better gone back to quietly sucking in your time trial training results, you could have a nicely-paying gig riding or even just DSing for a Spanish continental squad right now. Tears, dammit, where were the tears (and the half-@#$ed admissions to boot?)!

One Day You Are In, the Next Day, You Are Out: so ASO/Tour director Christian Prudhomme is speaking out to Velonews, and the topic du jour is "you clowns better not give me another doping scandal this year, or I'll personally light the pyre they're building for you in Hell." What's interesting, though, is that he professes to have no problem whatsoever with baby Contador, who after all has been implicated in Op Puerto along with several other Liberty Seguros teammates, which I assume means he either genuinely thinks the allegations against Contador are true crap, or deep in his heart of hearts--and perhaps not wrongly, at that--he's giving the boy a pass for all those "mystery skin patches" for his sheer youth and powerlessness under the relentless control-freak manhandling of Manolo Saiz. And since Prudhomme's also saying no individual riders will be excluded--either he thinks your whole team is honorable enough to be in, or not--this, in all fairness, should actually favor Astana, as, with the exception of a few harmless leftover Kazakh domestiques and, perhaps more problematically from Prudhomme's perspective, the ever-jacked Andreas Kloden, it really is a completely different squad with not only a different philosophy (if you accept the proposition that all Johan's Postal refugees only went bad *after* they left the nest), but a completely different cult of personality from that of insular rock-star Vinokorouv as well. However, the ASO king *has* in the past expressed his discomfort with Valverde coming out to play, which leaves open the distinctly lousy possibility that guys like hapless victim-o'-circumstance Oscar Pereiro and the exceedingly fine Luis Leon Sanchez at the endlessly talented Caisse d'Epargne will be left out of the big show as well. And what of Rabobank, now that Max van Heeswijk said of course the riders knew ahead of the Tour de France that Rasmussen wasn't where he said he'd be--can anyone really believe now that team management was (or should have been) as egregiously oblivious as they've continued to claim? If so, crap luck for poor disillusioned Menchov--but you better not "settle" for contesting the beautiful Vuelta as a lame consolation prize, you ungrateful Tour-whoring twerp!

Welcome Back, Horner: finally, thanks again to Velonews for their dandy chat with we love Chris Horner, rightly confident in his worth and abilities as usual but, unlike say half the sprinters, able to talk straight without being an arrogant !@# about it. He's been happy with each of his team-hops, is blown away that Lotto decided to let him go, delighted with his new gig at Astana as he's old enough to put the brakes on too much training and while not guaranteed a Tour slot, his salary and program sure make him think it's heading that way, and, best of all, is gonna aim for Pais Vasco, support Levi in CA, and really, really try to take Amstel Gold, Fleche-Wallone, or Liege. Allez Chris, and thank heaven there's some halfway pleasant news out there for once!

Giro d' !@#$% You, UCI!

But What Did A&S Ever Do To You?: so, the shock and hoo-ha over the Giro d'Italia start list continues, and while I must admire the sheer evil genius of making Pat "Dick" McQuaid pay for his years of vicious empire-grabbing self-centered stupidity by spurning his new darlings Astana and High Road in a spectacularly backhanded dope-slap, I gotta wonder--what's exactly being gained here (besides gratuitous humiliation of the French, itself a worthy enough goal I suppose) by excluding poor Bouyges Telecom, which let's face it hasn't the palmares to threaten or even mildly annoy *anyone* these days? And while of course I'm delighted to see we love flawless smack-talkin' Gilberto Simoni get one last marvelous crack at a farewell stage win thanks to the invite for Diquigiovanni, and certainly appreciate the welcome for Slipstream so Zabriskie can take the time trial, I must in all fairness call bull!@#$--what the hell are you people thinking excluding Acqua e Sapone with Stefano freakin' Garzelli on board?! He's a long-ago taker of the whole show, itself enough to merit a nostalgia welcome. What's more, even without the staggering budget of a ProTour squad to domestique his aging carcass up the Dolomites, the boy blasted the peloton absolutely apart in the last week and a half with the most limited of support to beautiful and triumphant effect this very race past. Explain to me exactly why--particularly since, if doping is the snit du jour you're claiming for the exclusions, you're letting in Petacchi DiLuca Piepoli (all with disconcerting drug or hormone levels last year) and Cunego (see below)--Garzelli is not only the utterly inexplicable fall guy for these shmoes, but also for the second explanation you've given, that Astana and particularly those openly-Tour-de-France-prepping ungrateful twerps Levi & Contador just don't appreciate the race enough? I stand firmly with you that the Giro (and Vuelta of course) outrageously gets no respect--but you're absolutely making the wrong guy pay for it. Meantime, the tifosi over at Gazzetta dello Sport, never shy about expressing their emotions, are in seriously imminent riot mode over the dissing of their hero, except for Damiano Cunego's roaring supporters, who are naturally delighted to see one less excuse for Il Piccolo Principe to choke again in 2008. Free Garzelli dammit--and let him liven up the mountains for one more year!

Midnight Espresso: speaking of Cunego, the outrage continues over Lampre's late-night wake-up by the narc squad, with the Italian cycling press buzzing over the news that not only could he and Ballan be barred from the peloton for up to a year for unforgivably sneaking out the window down the trellis and off to dinner without telling their parents, but that CONI prosecutor Ettore Torri is now justifying the attack by alleging a possible link between the cherubic innocent and Oil for Drugs. The amiable Cunego, meanwhile, has appealed for calm, noting that while he did indeed commit the egregious sin of going out for a nice dinner after a lively evening with the fan club, he zipped right back to the hotel when they called him on his cell phone, and he'd neither the inclination nor even the opportunity to dope himself into a stupor over antipasti anyway. Y'know, I think it's fine to ascertain that, say, you're not reclining in a team doctor's university medical clinic over the border with an IV in your arm when you're supposed to be peacefully resting up for the next day's stage under the DS's noble and watchful eye, but doesn't the second booth at your local Chili's seem a rather less likely site for syringe-snarfing than, for example, the privacy of one's own hotel room? Then again, who'd be stupid enough to stash performance-enhancing drugs smack dab in the middle of their own luggage--right, Millar?

Guess Who's Hosing Landis for Dinner?: yep, none other than leakmaster Landis-lambasting accusation-pimping WADA ex-honcho Dick "Dick" Pound, now aiming for the leadership of the Court of Arbitration for Sport just in time for his new minions to hear Floyd Landis' utterly fair and unbiased March doping appeal. I, for one, think the boy has nothing to worry about. After all, not only has he already been kindly forced to serve his entire ban anyway whether he did the dirty deed or not, but who can possibly fault the impartiality of a man who openly excoriated the morals, ethics, talent and cleanliness of a winner of the Tour de France before the poor thing even had time to get his boxers on straight, much less to prepare for and defend himself in court?

Rock Me Gently, Rock Me Slowly (Not!): as ex-manager Frankie Andreu acknowledges his pre-split discomfort with the Kayle Leogrande situation, only to have Michael Ball reflexively label USADA a pack of tattoo-fearin' Wonder-Bread-eatin' ultrasquare Pat Boone weenies, rumors abound that Rock has predictably decided to ratchet up its knee-jerk "!@#$ you!" response to any perceived challenge by not only naming every Op Puerto-linked rider on earth (save Valvderde of course) to its Tour of California team, but yep, Kayle himself, if our head-stitched USADA-suin' rebel-without-a-cause manages not to knock his own head off on the tarmac entirely beforehand (listen to your mother and wear your helmet from now on, alright?). Touchingly, Rock remains "deeply committed" to "racing clean," which point may be moot even if--as I'm absolutely certain it is--entirely sincere, as the Amgen EPO Tour organizer AEG renews its vow that no rider with an open doping case can ride their race, and it looks forward to speaking with UCI and WADA to nail down who exactly, in their learned and perfectly fair opinions, that is. Who's apparently *not* named to the ToC Rock Racing squad to date? Bizarrely, none other'n Lion King Mario Cipollini, whose gig is said to be already on the rocks but which gossip the Italian press--perhaps because of their current preoccupation with Cunego, or perhaps because it's just plain crap--has for some reason completely ignored. Now, not to be superstitious here, but let's see...Andreu bails, Leogrande gets named, Cipo's uncertain, Leogrande cracks his head open days before the team debut...Fast Freddie, get the hell out of this sinking ship before it disappears in the salty deep for good!

Down But Not Out: finally, speedy recovery wishes to big Maggy Backstedt, now nursing a broken collarbone after his lousy crack-up in Qatar but already cheerfully planning to put the hurt back into the peloton at his beloved Paris-Roubaix. Allez allez Maggy!

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

Tour de Contador: so I see Tour director Christian Prudhomme has finally put some substance to the rumors floating that perpetual suspects Alberto Contador and Alejandro "Piti" Valverde won't be allowed to play at the Tour de France this year, clarifying though that it's their entire teams he's considering barring, not just the individual renegades in question. The rationale? Yep, it's the Italians' decision to reopen the Op Puerto investigation, prompted of course by the fact that out of the 100 or so Spaniards named in the file and linked to Fearless Defender of Riders' Health Dr. Eufemiano Fuentes, it was only two Italians plus some no-name German guy who ever took a hit for it. Can anyone explain to me again why (1) these boys, whose purported hijinks were thoroughly publicized right off the bat in 2006, are being barred *now* after one of 'em's already got a maillot jaune in his closet; (2) say, UCI isn't pressing to bar *everyone* implicated in the OP file it refuses to read from the race, if indeed mere implication is the disqualification standard; and (3)Levi, Kloden, & poor Oscar Pereiro have to get !@#$ed over at the Tour *again* for some wank teammate's possible (not even proven) doping violation? Yeah, keep up the good fight, you indiscriminate slash-and-burn disingenuous enabler weasels!

Good Morning, Starshine!: meantime, the Italian riders' association's got its chamois in an extreme twist over last night's visit by the vampires to the Lampre boys, completely supporting the necessity and fairness of doping controls in general but enraged in particular that, after calling the teams at 11:30pm to tell 'em they were coming, the narcs didn't even bother to show up at the sleepy cyclists' hotel rooms to take blood and urine samples til 3:30am, and how the hell any rider is supposed to prepare for an actual race under such circumstances is completely beyond them. Leaving aside the fact that that sort of notice densely gives quite a window for a rider with something to hide to try to mitigate the problem, right on ACCPI!

Here Comes the Bride: and, as High Road celebrates its surprising victory in the Tour Down Under (McEwen sez incidentally, since someone asked, that he's not aiming for peak form til later this season, and woo-hoo returning recuperated crash victim O'Grady for snagging 10th overall!), they're apparently ditching their spankin' new evil-villain black team kits for more appropriate white-knight outfits. My, how subtle--shall we just pin a scarlet "D" on all the other teams' uniforms while we're at it? Over at Slipstream, meanwhile, the squad's already proven its worth for a Tour wild card even without we love Dave Zabriskie to propel 'em in the team time trial, taking a respectable 2nd to Quick Step and sending a clear warning that Millar, classics monster big Maggy Backstedt, and ex-Hushovd-leadout Julian Dean are, despite their absence from the more prestigious (more flush, anyway) ProTour scene, not to be trifled with this season. Thinking of riders coming back from injury, Olympic gold medalist track goddess Anna Meares, splintered quite badly in Los Angeles last week just as cycling held a huge conference on jacking up women's presence in the sport, is now up or at least about, so best wishes to her for a speedy and hopefully pre-Beijing recovery. Allez allez!

Fry Him, I Say!: finally, those of you deeply irked by pesky due process concerns are sure to go completely postal over Tuttobici's fawning little interview with repugnant lone-ranger amoral scumbag Jan Ullrich, in which our fallen hero is lauded as a wonderful father to his charming tykes (the gall!), compliments Ivan Basso for sucking it up and confessing his sins (yep, I was *dyin'*), diplomatically declines to comment on the specific outrage of Op Puerto's nailing Scarponi and Basso alone over the clearly filthier and more numerous Spaniards but does suggest that selective prosecution is not justice (that bastard!), and opines that, having been "demonized" by the German press and authorities with no way of proving his innocence (I know, I know), he's just as glad to get out of the peloton for good anyway (off with his head!), which happily works out fine because, as a busy full-time dad, he's hardly got the time or energy to stay on form in any case (no joking around, you cheating pig!). Putting aside the prevailing view on Jan's likely purity, can we at least give the boy some points for amiability (never!)? Anyhoo, if anyone wants the link or a translation (no guarantees as to quality, accuracy, or coherence), let me know!

IF'n Can't Believe How Cool They Are!

Team You Go, Boys!: Tired of hearing about the latest UCI/Grand Tour organizer ego smackdown, the Lamborghini travails of the peloton's rich and famous, the latest dope-snorting embarrassment, or the nascent ProTour standings of the cash-cow squads? Or perhaps just lonely for your long-lost rose-colored glasses, cruelly stomped into shards by the years of disgusting revelations in this beautiful sport? Then here's a pleasant break for once: Sunday night I had the privilege of attending Independent Fabrications' team presentation, and a more enthusiastic, friendly, and bitchin' group of young riders (including at least one former member of the USA cycling team) and general IF bike gods (Jon Bruno among them) you just won't meet. More, one could admire close-up (and get a first-hand design-and-construction play-by-play of) their smashing new SSR 953, a sexy corrosion-resistant stainless steel racing machine. (No, they're not paying me, you cynics, but I will consider swag bribes if anyone's offering...) And, by their dandy slide show, IF's team-building camp--on Thompson Island, a forbidding trek across the frigid, filthy, cod-infested waters of Boston Harbor--looked only slightly less dangerous than Bjarne Riis' famed CSC deathmarches, with the twin bonuses of looking actually fun, and without the CSC camp's notorious if accidental soigneur body count. Even better, the team's a nonprofit, so your contribution may be tax-deductible (consult your tax adviser, don't sue my @#$), so look for these lords o' the future at a road race near you--and pony up already, cycling fans!

I Want to Take You Higher

That's the Sound of the (Wo)Men/Working on the Chain Gaaa-aaaaang: due to the irksome necessity of a day job, I've been unable to do much more of late than sneak an illicit glance or two at cycling.tv when I'm supposed to be working, but it's been a lively week and I'm both grateful for your kind words and rarin' to get back to whining about anything in this smashing sport that catches my jaded yet still romantic eye. Which brings us to:

Tour of...Um, Germany?: Yep, team High Road is starting off its martyrly season of morally superior drug-free play with a truckload of wins by hard-charging youngster Andre Greipel, taking the overall lead as well as the slightly dispirited Aussies lose one of their own to a distinctly nasty head-butt by a disgruntled Italian over at Milram that took our fallen Rabobank hero firmly to the tarmac and then the hospital with a broken collarbone and made even Robbie "Road Rage" McEwen, himself inclined to whack innocent riders out of his way like a crazed croquet mallet, suddenly look sweet'n'cuddly as a Mon-chi-chi. C'mon Robbie, are you really gonna let that spoilsport embarrass both you and your country and show you up like you're some kind of wimp--where's your national pride already?

How Many Riders Can Johan Bruyneel !@#$* in a Season?: so far, it's looking at least 3, as he's already declared his intention to viciously hose both Leipheimer and Kloden, and golden-boy ex-Liberty Seguros Tour-snatcher Alberto Contador remains under investigation by the vengeful Italian prosecutors over the extremely unlikely possibility that the "AC" in a thoroughly-outlined doping program in the Op Puerto files might refer to him, right as both the Amgen EPO Tour of California and the Tour de France vow not to let any rider or perhaps even team participate if there's an open investigation with their name on it. Great, that leaves us with a pack of sixth-graders on crumbling crappy Huffys to hit the ProTour this season! Y'know, I've got nothing against zealous anti-doping enforcement; hell, I'd even appreciate it if the poor soigneurs didn't have to pump themselves full of amphetamines just to keep up with their turbo-charged masters. But jeez louise Manolo, you couldn't even have given your protege a puppy for a plausible pseudonym to hide behind like Basso and V--oh, no one!

He Drugs Me, He Drugs Me Not: so, I see the Belgian authorities, having sensibly chosen to ignore the claims of a current Quick Step rider that the team's rife with systemic management-driven dope-snarfing, got right on the case again by--yes, going over to Tom Boonen's poor mom's house just as he's packing up for the Tour of Qatar and demanding to know whether her son was dealing coke at a party to a top Belgian cyclo-cross god, who says reports he gave up Boonen to the cops were entirely crap, as, though he did foolishly imbibe one evening, he and the swoon-worthy babe-magnet have only had a few pints--of beer, that's all--together. That's the sort of crack investigation that'll clean up the sport, gentlemen! Perhaps we ought to bust into Iban Mayo's grandmother's house with a battering ram and a pack of gun-toting body-armored thugs next time...that'll send the right message to those renegade cheating enabler rider relatives....

Barloworld, Here I Come: and, in actual riding (though not race) news, Ivan Basso continues both his charity work and his ban-end training by doing yet another fundraising ride for the bambini as his race buddies vie for form in Qatar, raising the question of, if Barloworld really is courting Basso as passionately and so far as successfully as they suggest, is baby King of the Mountains Maurizio Soler really going to be inclined to domestique Ivan up the Alps next year when, if he can improve his time-trialling a bit, this revelation of a climber could have a shot at the Tour podium himself a year or two hence. Add to that the rumors that they're interested in DiLuca as well when his LPR gig runs out, and we could have quite the T-Mobile Vino-Klodi-Ullrich bushwhacking rivalry here--but much as I do admire the two Italians, on this one, venga wee upstart Soler!

Suit o' the Week: finally, as both Alessandro Petacchi (March 12) and Floyd Landis (when hell freezes over) await their dates with destiny over at the Court of Arbitration for Sport, and Leukemans vows to fight his cruelly unjust two-year testosterone ban on the theory he shouldn't have to pay for either his team doc's relentless stupidity or his own manly wiles (whichever excuse you prefer), UCI finally finds an even greater rival in the governing-body sleaze-tactics race to the bottom as an anonymous US pro rider has to borrow Landis' legal team to sue USADA for trying to test the B of an already-negative A urine sample. USADA, however, remains defiant, noting that any number of things could raise the suspicions of the all-knowing narcs, including trafficking or administering drugs to others, and intentional test evasion, none of which of course are remotely related to the cleanliness or even existence of one's own negative A-sample. !@#$, you clowns, why not just openly shoot a tranquilizer dart into the !@# of whatever rider you're displeased with at the start line if you can't even be bothered to make up a reason to target somebody? Free Anonymous (and please, please, please, don't let it be Levi...)!

Mortifyingly Necessary Update: as the far-smarter-than-I Anonymous has kindly pointed out, the culprit's apparently not Levi thank goodness but Rock Racing alterna-badass Kayle Leogrande, whom Michael Ball, owner of perhaps the most impressive stable of doping thoroughbreds since Astana, immediately leapt to defend on the utterly dense grounds that those pansies at USADA are just afraid of Leogrande's tats. To be fair, it's a better excuse for going after a rider on unsubstantiated doping charges than most of those coming out of, say, UCI these days...

Climb Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

Well, More Like a Raging Nest o' Scorpions: either Floyd Landis' lawyer finally let the boy off the leash (to blunt the impact of CAS' inevitable springtime @!@#-over, perhaps?), or more likely Floyd's gone rabid and chewed his way through it, which I find delightful as a cycling fan, but if he were my client, you'd have to jolt me back from the dead after my massive heart attack with enough juice to power Los Angeles. The cause of such joy and horror? Yep, it's Landis' post-Steve-Johnson-email-smackdown interview with Velonews, which I believe the wiser-than-I folks over trustbutverify may have mentioned ages ago, but which only came to my doofus attention today. Among his tender spots? Well, he sure didn't appreciate USA Cycling and Steve Johnson collecting his dues for years only to completely hose him later by declining to back him in any way--unlike their sister federation over in Spain, he notes, which actually had the stones to decline to prosecute Iban Mayo after his tests were botched--and while we're at it, in addition to Johnson looking like a complete ass (not least a moron) for saying he didn't even pay attention to some trivial '06 post-Tour Landis fiasco he's just now heard of, he outright "lied" by claiming that USA Cycling had no power to help him whatsoever. And while he "respects" Steve (as much as one can respect a spineless cowardly agent o' nefarious backstabbing treachery, I suppose), and his natural interest in preserving his position in the "crock of shit" Olympics, he's paid to look out for freakin' cyclists, at which he has not, Landis opines, lately proven successful. Lest anyone think it's just USA Cycling he's irked at, Floyd's not much impressed with the antidoping trumpeting of "Team High Horse" or Slipstream, either, because to say you don't care about winning and are happy just to finish a race without doping is just a loser's way of "crying like a bitch" by implying that everyone who beats your @#$ only did so by cheating. Would anyone else besides me love to get him and David Millar in a room together? As to Landis' gig with Rock Racing, he would've liked one, but while we're on-topic, lay off Ball because, though perhaps brash, he's only hiring folks who've at least actually paid their dues. Finally, it would be nice if everyone--the narcs, the cycling feds, the broader governing bodies, *and* the cyclists--followed the rules, sucked it up when they failed to prove someone guilty, and at least made some pretense of fairness and integrity. Holy crap Floyd, with this kind of righteous rampage, you could've taken the '06 Tour even with Basso Ullrich and Vino on hand--but please, please, for the love of my profession and the pre-appeal sanity of your innocent advocates, promise you'll call your poor lawyer first next time!

Pagare Le Tasse, You Cheapskate!: speaking of Rock Racing, Lion King Mario Cipollini has, after weeks of dithering and correspondingly breathless minute-by-minute rumormongering in the Italian press, finally signed on as both a manager and rider, with his first goal the Tour of California and, after that, using the pleasing fact that the team's given him "carte blanche" to do what he will with it, ramping up awareness of cycling (and Rock in particular) in the U.S. by endlessly promoting the suave "Mario brand." And the tifosi? According to the clamor over on the comments pages at Gazzetta, delighted to see their beloved icon back for entertainment value, impressed by the Americans' wily score, convinced he can't actually race worth half a neo-pro any longer, and in universal agreement that he's just pimping himself to feed his ego and to collect the money, which, by the way, he ought to pay up to the tax authorities already, since they themselves can't get out of it. Can anyone doubt that, even assuming that Americans continue to focus bizarrely on the Golf Channel and an excess of shows featuring guys sitting in a boat drinking beer and nominally fishing, he'll at least electrify a troubled sport? Vai Mario!

Do You Come From a Tour Down Under?: finally, in welcome relief from the endless run of sleazy doping scandals, booze-fueled off-season car wrecks, and relentless judicial farces, it's back in the saddle, baby, as the Tour Down Under starts with a stellar cast of Aussies including Robbie McEwen, Allan Davis (brought down by Op Puerto at Liberty Seguros, and lately defended by UCI of all people, who hardly came to Beloki's defense, those !@$%^^%$), Graeme Brown, and, best of all, a finally mended Stuart O'Grady, and Team Slipstream--reviled above but having nonetheless a hell of a team including we love stage winner Dave Zabriskie--has successfully scored its first grand-tour invite to the beautiful Giro. Enjoy the ride boys--but I still hope the Italians kick your !@#!