Pat "Dick" McQuaid, Cowardly Tool: so, having successfully emasculated its own "Independent Commission" looking at UCI links to the Lance Armstrong doping affair, UCI has now managed to use its own sabotage as an excuse to shut the thing down entirely, saying since unfortunately USADA and WADA no longer have faith in the inquiry, they'll just have to form a general Truth and Reconciliation Commission instead, which, sadly, won't see the light of day til at least the end of the year. Pat, I'm so *glad* you're part of cycling's New Clean Era--at least, I sure bet Armstrong is!
Man, When Jens Calls You Out, You *Know* You !@#$ed Up: meanwhile, as cool arch-rival Contador nailed a hilly stage win at the Tour de San Luis, and just days after a charmingly optimistic Andy Schleck waxed poetic about his return to the peloton after his disastrous 2012 season--raising hopes he was not only physically but, for once, mentally ready for the challenges ahead at the Tour--Andy not only DNFd at the Tour Down Under on the final day's circuit due to a mechanical problem, but also flew into a petulant snit and unsportingly skipped the podium for the team classification, which RadioSkank, thanks to Jens being a god, actually won. Anyone else concerned that at this rate, if Andy don't get his *exactly* his way in July, he's gonna pull an Armstrong and be a petty little beeyotch to Contador on the podium? Here, not to rub it in or nothin', but Alberto goes for the win:
Now *That's* a Post-Racing Career: Can't quite score one of those rare-yet-lucrative DS gigs, haven't got the mad skills to be a ProTour mechanic, and don't want to be a lowly also-ran drug-mule for the cycling starts of today? Well, then, ex-riders, follow the ultra-cool example of former Lion King lead-outPaolo Fornaciari, who not only opened his own gourmet gelato shop after retirement, but also just won the World Championships in the discipline. For those of you (okay, us) with gelato fetishes, his winning concoction, "Macho Macho" (named after the ingredients, not, surprisingly, Cipollini's chest hair) was an almond gelato base with ribbons of bitter-orange marmalade and chocolate fondant, covered with slightly caramelized toasted almonds. Complimenti Paolo--and Landis, *see* what you could've become instead?!
Now, That's Just Embarrassing: yes, in the latest CYA salvo, UCI ex-honcho/present PR nightmare Hein Verbruggen is defending its dirtbag-enabler practice of warning drug cheats that they were in serious danger of being busted, now on the grounds on that it was all nobly meant to "protect clean riders," because apparently, you "protect clean riders" by giving the dopers a heads-up to manipulate their blood values and snort those masking agents a little more carefully next time. Gee, *thanks*, Hein--why not protect the clean riders by actively sticking a giant drug-stuffed needle in the dopers' !@#es at the start line next time? *That'd* help the clean guys! Or, you could just slash their tires while they're waiting for the peloton to head off. Or, you could toss a coupla 50-pound lead weights in their musettes at the bottom of a climb. Or...
Money (That's What I Want): meanwhile, I see the FBI's sent out letters to the sweetly innocent donor-victims of the Floyd Fairness Fund informing 'em of their rights, but for my money, even better'n restitution--particularly if Floyd should run outta cash--would be some good ol' fashioned labor: y'know, he could come to your house and fix that leaky faucet, grout the bathtub, clean out your basement, all sorts of useful stuff. Hmmm, maybe I oughta call Armstrong about those posters I need framed--seems like he did a pretty good job with those seven yellow jerseys he posed under in his man-cave!
Brad Wiggins, Seeker of Anonymity: and, it seems Brad "I Hate the Press! Hey, Where Are You Guys Going?!" Wiggins has come back to earth about his chances to defend his Tour de France and decided to focus his energies on the perfect Giro, and, as I particularly hate to see anyone use either the superior Giro d'Italia or the Vuelta a Espana as a runner-up-!@#$% race for the Tour, I thought he just might want to take a peek at primo GC threat Vincenzo Nibali, who is apparently working hard to hone his time trial form: Better watch out for him, Wiggo--'cause you ain't gonna have Froomey to balance 'im out in the mountains come May!
Speed Racer: last but not least, a big happy shout-out to Andre Greipel and Mark Cavendish, both starting off the Tour Down Under and Tour de San Luis with some respectable wins, and for Cav, anyway, laying waste to any doubts whatsoever about his spankin' new lead-out train. I got my own opinions on the sprint finishes, but I'm 100% sure Cav can take Andre in the smack-talk insult wars, so Andre, you might want to step it up on that front before the Manx Missile really puts on the hurt!
Woo-Hoo, Let's All Go Out for a Pint Instead!: yes, in their strongest effort yet to clean up and keep clean the sport we love, the UCI independent commission on Fixing This Whole !@#damn Mortifying Mess is really putting the hammer down on a petrified peloton--they're...uh, well, it's flurrying out today, so they're not gonna meet at all. Y'know, when Pat "Dick" McQuaid was a whippersnapper, he had to trudge to and from UCI headquarters uphill, in both directions, barefoot, through 3 feet of snow, a blinding blizzard, a howling nor'easter, biting sleet, beating sun, two tornadoes, three hurricanes and an earthquake, and he *still* managed to protect and enable every single cash-cow doper-celebrity cheater-dirtbag in the entire peloton, you quivering cowering whimpering weenies! Oh, man, better just draft a buncha Belgian hardmen to get the job done instead...
Injury Alert!: and holy cow (hmm, I should've saved that for some ancient-history Contador crack), best wishes for a speedy recovery for Classics god Tom Boonen, whose innocuous scrape on the elbow during a mountain-bike ride apparently turned into a swollen season-threatening mess and was just operated on in Belgium. Get *well*, Tommeke--if Fabian or any of those guys are gonna try to take you down on the cobbles, it's only fair they have to beat you at your best!
And We're Off!: finally, as Alberto Contador contemplates the hopeless Giro-Tour double--what, you *trying* to give Andy Schleck some false hope for July, you wisenheimer?--the indomitable Jens has started off the season in grand fashion at the Tour Down Under pre-crit, figuring "I may as well do something stupid and get it going.” Not to be outdone, Cav, Petacchi, Rodriguez (still tragically stuck with Katusha), Tejay, Thor (come back, Thor!) and Nibali test the legs, try the new lead-outs, and size up the competition at the Tour de San Luis. Please, dear peloton, *anything* to purge the last two weeks outta every lovin' cycling fan's head--now get on the road, get crackin', and remind us why we keep watching you clowns! Here, Saxo-Tinkoff gets its groove on:
Yes folks, I usually don't throw a huge glitzy Oscar-esque awards show just for a one-off (well, two-off) event, but this slutfest debacle was so very special it more'n deserves one of its own. Prizes: seven dirt-black swill-covered jerseys, and Lance gets twenty minutes alone and defenseless in a dark room with Frankie, Betsy, Emma, Floyd, Tyler, Simeoni, and...damn, who *doesn't* this goon deserves twenty minutes with? Anyhoo, here they are....
Understatement o' the Century: "I am an arrogant prick." Even better than "I am not the most credible guy in the world right now!"
What the !@#$...Hey, Why Me?! Award: *really*? All the people he coulda thrown under the bus, and he calls Christian Vande Velde a liar for saying he was pressured to dope? I mean, okay, CVV cheated and profited handsomely by it, the guy's no saint, but geez, throw the freakin' Easter Bunny under the bus whydontcha?
I Am the World's Most Colossal !@#hole Award: I destroyed so many people for telling the truth about me I don't even *remember* 'em anymore--ha ha! Gee, Lance, I bet Emma--y'know, the one you basically called a drunken whore whose entire life you wrecked--remembers it pretty well! *What* a wanker...
Corollary Sensitive New Age Guy Statuette: sure, I called Betsy Andreu a crazy, lying bitch--but hey, at least I didn't say she was fat! Oh, Lance, the hits just keep on comin'...
My Handlers Went Over This Veeeery Thoroughly With Me Prize: I did not dope or perjure myself within the statute of limitations. I did not dope or perjure myself within the statute of limitations. I did not dope or perjure myself within the statute of limitations. Because spending 3 tranquillo years outta the peloton just about guarantees a guy a Tour podium, you weasel!
Holy Crap, the Poor Boy is Delusional Award: All the !@#$ you did and you still think you were on a "level playing field" with the other dimwit hotel-fridge internet-supplement dope fiends? See, Jan, forget the power, the money, the payoffs, the team of superhuman minions, the cutting edge technology, the warnings about doping controls...he'd'a beat you all along anyway...
Is That Violins Playing? Prize: Wah, wah, wah. So how come every child of a single mom isn't a ruthless lying cheating scumwad?
Weren't You Listening, You Morons?! Award: that was *UCI* I bought off, not USADA! Learn your acronyms you ignorant twits...
Let Them Eat Cake Clueless Whine o' the Interview: oh, he's sorry all right--sorry he lost a sweet $75 mil, that is. Phew, good thing he can still afford to sprinkle diamonds on his Wheaties for breakfast!
And the Moral Of the Story Is Smarmy Wrap-Up o' 2013: the truth shall set you free, baby. And I *still* ain't saying the half of it--suckers!
Well, dear readers, them's mine, and if I missed any awards he should've gotten, I hope you'll award 'em for me. Now let's all take a loooooooooooooooong hot shower 'til we finally feel clean again, remember why we still all love this sordid sport, and get ready for the Tour Down Under, baby!
Voice-Over: Cancer survivor. Icon. Inspiration to millions. Seven-time winner of the Tour de France. And now, shadowed by controversy. Today, my candid, no-holds-barred interview with the one and only Lance Armstrong.
Oprah Winfrey: Lance, I understand you had a difficult childhood. Tell us what that was like.
Lance Armstrong: It was awful. (Tries to cry; rubs chili pepper in corner of eye instead)
OW: Mine, too. And like you, I triumphed over terrible adversity. Tell us what that was like.
LA: Well, I found solace in sports. And I triumphed over terrible adversity.
OW: That's so inspiring. What happened next?
LA: I found out that I was good at cycling.
OW: Now, "cycling," what is that?
LA: It's when a bunch of snotty Europeans with foreign accents wear stupid spandex outfits and stuff themselves with illegal drugs biking all over socialist countries for money.
OW: That sounds terrible.
LA: It is. Then, I discovered I was sick.
OW: And thankfully, you triumphed over that.
LA: Yes. And I set out to become an even better cyclist than I had been.
OW: That's so inspiring. And how did you do that?
LA: Well, I worked hard, which is the American way. Also, I did what I had to do, but only because a guy named Johan Bruyneel made me do it.
OW: That name sounds European. It must have been very difficult for you.
LA: It was. And I told my teammates that if they didn't do what I had do too, I would crush them like vermin and they would be consigned to the dustbin of history.
OW: That must have been so inspiring for them. Then what?
LA: Well, I donated a bunch of money to organizations who could bust me for just trying to compete equally with everyone else. Just so they could buy nice new lab equipment though.
OW: That's so generous of you. So what happened next?
LA: Well, I kept on beating Europeans. And I'm American. So that's, like, better.
OW: So you inspired millions of young Americans to become cyclists. That's so inspiring. Now, there's something you're not telling us.
LA: Well, I didn't want to make a big deal out of it...
OW: That's so humble of you. But you started an incredibly successful organization dedicating to fighting cancer that inspired millions of people, didn't you?
LA: Well, yes. And I used that to shut up my critics. Who were Europeans, and a bunch of European-lovers, who also wear stupid spandex clothes, ride their bikes on the roads where there are supposed to be pickup trucks, and eat, like, these ridiculous tiny "energy gels" instead of barbecue.
OW: I love my yellow bracelet. But while you were inspiring millions, something was terribly wrong, wasn't it?
LA: Yes. Some of my teammates tried to have their own careers. With Europeans.
OW: That must have been heartbreaking.
LA: Yes (rubs chili pepper into eye again). Then, a bunch of other guys got busted for doping.
OW: Now, "doping," what is that?
LA: It's what I did better than anyone else. Because I'm American.
OW: That's fantastic. So why was that bad?
LA: Well, a bunch of bitter has-beens were out to get me. Just because I tried to destroy their lives for telling the truth about me.
OW: That must have been horrible for you.
LA: Yes. And then, I called Floyd Landis, Tyler Hamilton and Greg LeMond to apologize even though I hadn't done anything wrong, and they were totally mean to me.
OW: Who?
LA: Well, they're--
OW: So you apologize for nothing to some people we've never heard of, and they were mean to you. How selfish and uncaring of them.
LA: It was.
OW: And yet you triumphed over that pain. That's so inspiring. Lance, let's lay it on the line for all the world to hear: is there anything else you want to tell us?
LA: Yes. I did this all for me. Me, ME, M--(Rolex-clad forearm appears from off-camera, whacks Lance upside the head)--my children. And my fans. And for America.
OW: Lance, thank you for sharing your story with us. It's very inspiring. And if you look under your chair, you'll find the keys to a BRAND NEW PRIUS!
LA: (Shrieks with delight and jumps up and down clapping his hands as credits roll)
Yep, We're Slammin' Johan Instead: so the verdict is in (and out) on Team RadioSkank: Johan Bruyneel !@#$ed over the riders *and* the team in 2012, and they're all a whoooooooooole lot happier now. So does this mean we get to seem some results from Fabian Cancellara, Andy Schleck, (we know we'll see results from Jens), and spankin' new Astana signee Jakob "No ProTour Races for You!" Fuglsang? Well, I gotta say, I'm still a little skeptical about Baby Schleck, but if Fabian stays upright as he's usually inclined to do, and Fuglsang (who's got a highly entertaining assessment of Johan's past-n-present management style) doesn't mess with big-star Nibali, we're gonna be lookin' at some pretty exciting Classics and Grand Tours this year. Allez Fabian--and Jakob, time to prove up to your hype, unless you *want* to see what Vinokourov looks like when he's pissed!
Son of Kong (McQuaid, Whatever): and, for those of you (and I know there are many) who just can't get enough of UCI head tool Pat "Dick" McQuaid, now there's more:David McQuaid, Son of Pat, has taken a management gig for the first, and very fine, Pro Continental squad in Azerbaijan. Hey, that's great news--and it'd be even *better* news if you could find a nice new job for yer dad! Aw, c'mon, Pat, surely you're ready (if not about to be forced) to move on from that dull ol' UCI by now...forza Synergy Baku Cycling Project!
Cadel Throws Down the Gauntlet: all right, he had a crap Tour de France--hell, a whole crap season, thanks to a bum virus--but Cadel Evans is back, baby, and aiming for the podium in 2013. I'll admit, I used to scorn Cadel as a dull wheelsucker, but the last few years he's proved himself one of the toughest damn guys in the peloton *and* someone who's not afraid to take charge and destroy the field. More, how can you *not* love a man who'll threaten to pulverize a journalist who !@#$s with his dog? Go Cadel--and bring Thor Hushovd back along with you, I beg!
It's the Vuelta a Espana, Baby!: finally, get ready for the official presentation tomorrow of the fabulous Vuelta a Espana, with Alberto, we love Samuel Sanchez, and a host of wannabes in rapt attendance, and a course that's reputed to be even more sadistic than last year's. Aupa Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel--eat their dust, Valverde!
Which can only mean one thing, dear reader(s): he's going for the I-couldn't-help-it-everyone-else-was-doing-it-I-was-just-trying-to-inspire-others-after-a-terrifying-illness-and-remarkable-comeback-so-now-you-can't-criticize-me-without-looking-like-a-colossal-!@#$wad-tearjerker-martyr-hero-gullible-fanboy-who-doesn't-give-a-rat's-!@#-about-cycling sympathy vote. Am I the only one who's just about two seconds and a strong personal sense of ladylike restraint away from hurling right now? Thought not! Still, it's gotta be tough faking your first human emotions, especially for the cameras, so in order to help Lance connect with the intended audience, I think he could use a few tips:
1. "I had a tough childhood." Who doesn't love kids?
2. "I discovered something I was good at." Self-esteem blossoms!
3. "Someone else believed in me." Validation!
4. "I worked really hard." He's grateful!
5. "I started winning, like, out of nowhere." Success!
6. "I hit the lowest of low points." Yes, and everyone, even everyone who hates you, is genuinely glad you're okay.
7. "I had to prove to myself I could do it." Yes, and everyone, even everyone who hates you, is genuinely glad you could.
8. "But I found out it wasn't so easy." Obstacles!
9. "Everyone else was doing it." Amoral European socialists!
10. "I trusted Johan." Vulnerability!
11. "He guided me." Lack of personal responsibility!
12. "It was the only way for a level playing field." Justification!
13. "I still beat them anyway." Proof you deserved it!
14. "I am so, so deeply sorry." Remorse!
15. "I've learned a precious lesson." Self-awareness!
16. "I hope to start anew." Redemption!
17. "For my family, for my fans, and all of cycling." Selflessness!
Well, Lance, that oughta tide you over, unless someone actually asks you to explain your years of vindictiveness, how it could possibly have been a level playing field with all your money power influence and doped-up superdomestiques, and your totally callous exploitation of others' sympathy for personal gain. And as you've surely considered carefully, that ain't gonna happen on Oprah. 'Til then, try not calling anyone a "liar" or a "whore," keep that $250,000 you offered to USADA in the bank, and you'll do juuuuuuuuuuuuust fine!
You suck, UCI!: as if there weren't already enough reasons to loathe narc-supremos UCI, woo-hoo! now, there's even more, as UCI gives a pointless and gigantic hosing to cool new South African Pro Continental squad MTN-Qhubeka, which helps give bikes to children in rural areas in return for work done to help their environment and their communities. How'd UCI screw 'em? Well, if UCI don't sanction races, a Pro Conti squad can't race in anything but its own national championships, and that just really sticks it to a squad. Y'know, I get--heck, I downright admire--UCI's wholesome rule on refusing to ok races sponsored by organizations promoting cigs, porno, or beverages with an alcohol-by-volume percentage over 15. So it might almost make sense, in the interests of protecting grown-up human beings from the nefarious, nay, near-criminal influence of South Africa's Tour of Richelieu--named for, and sponsored by, a brandy company--for UCI not let it be a UCI-sanctioned gig. Until you think o' this: why, then, do you schmoes sanction the Amgen "EPO" Tour o' California every year? No doubt, Amgen is a fine and noble company, and EPO, used for its intended purposes, has greatly helped the lives of many people. But the very same UCI rule also prohibits sponsorships promoting "any other products that might damage the image of UCI or the sport of cycling in general." Uh, I don't know if y'all at UCI have heard, but illicit use of EPO has actually been linked to some preeeeeeeeeeettttty major damage to the sport (and you clowns, too) of late. I guess the devil liquor is the real danger to the sport, all right! Next up: UCI sanctions the Dr. Michele Ferrari "Dope Your Blood Up" Tour o' Chem Labs. You suck, UCI--free MTN-Qhubeka!
Oh, and Lance is reportedly considering admitting to his doping. Because he feels guil--uh, because he wants to be able to compete in triathlons again. Glad to see his "conscience" is kickin' in!
Yes, the beauty, misery, glory, and serious skankdom of 2012 is past, and a brand spankin' New Year is about to begin! So, in the spirit of self-improvement with which we all begin the year, I helpfully offer these New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton:
Mark Cavendish: I am gonna beat that upstart little snot Peter Sagan *down.* *I'm* supposed to be the upstart little snot!
Tom Boonen: holy crap, I *can* win without partying. Honey--I'm running off to become a monk!
Pat "Dick" McQuaid: I'm gonna resign from UCI. *After* I nail every last mother!@#$er who's criticized me.
Brad Wiggins: I resolve to back Froomey at the Tour de France. *Without* fruitlessly knocking myself out at the Giro.
Chris Froome: I'm gonna man up and say it: I think I was better than Wiggo, I think I deserved it more'n Wiggo, and it completely pissed me off to have to bow to Wiggo. Happy New Year, Brad--this year, you're *my* beeyotch!
Alberto Contador: I resolve not to test positive. Not that I have any reason to. Aw, !@#$in' dope-snorting vegetables!
Joaquim Rodriguez: I resolve to sign with Movistar. Try beating me for the podium *now*, Valverde you punk!
Andy Schleck: I'll learn to ride without Frank. Because I'm sure as hell scr$wed if I don't!
The Tifosi: We resolve not to go for a stroll, set up a nice lunch, or let our dog go for a walk just as the peloton is going by at 50 kph. Bonus points if we don't let our clueless little rugrat hold a plastic bag right out next to your handlebars!
Marianne Vos: I resolve to take a few days off during the season, just to give someone else a chance. Considering the wins I've racked up already, they'll barely even be noticed!
Jens Voigt: I will ride in the ProTour through at least 2036. And probably like 100 years after I'm dead. Can I go yet? Can I go yet? Can I go yet?
Alexandre Vinokourov: Resolve? I resolve NOTHING! YOU will resolve to obey ME, you weakling worthless maggot!
Johan Bruyneel: I resolve to apologize. From my uncharted desert island, by untraceable message in a bottle, after I've cleaned out my extensive Swiss bank accounts. Suckers!
USADA: The next bull!@#$ artist who swears they stopped doping "in 2006", we're gonna ban for *life.* *And* thwap 'em upside the head with a copy of the Reasoned Decision. Dang, that's gonna hurt!
Team Sky: After we lose our first 637 races this season, we'll resolve to let ex-dopers who really, really feel bad about it be coaches again. Bobby, you got a new gig yet? We were just kidding, we promise!
Now get to self-improvin', I'll try to catch anyone I missed, and I'll see you when you fall off the wagon!
Sure, Lance went down, Tom Boonen came back up, and Brad "I Hate Publicity" Wiggins played guitar on stage with Oasis--by golly, it's been a bitchin' 2012. But what will *2013* bring the riders, journalists, and ever-lovin' fans of this fabulous sport? Well, dear and curious reader(s), here it is: yer 100% accurate, 200% disreputable 2013 Year In Preview!
January: team-camp windup! Andy Schleck hones time-trial form by folding into energy-gel-sized packet, tucking into Fabian Cancellara's jersey pocket; Wiggo & Froomey in mano-a-mano combat for Tour supremacy; Astana, ex-Rabobank, Lampre join Movement for Credible Cycling, ban outside testing, promise to monitor own guys "real good."
February: Arbitration time! Johan Bruyneel rats out Armstrong, makes millions with new book "Douchebags: It's All Vaughters' Fault"; Peter Sagan loses Tour of Qatar to Cav when stops mid-sprint to mug for cameras with adoring fans.
March: Time for the Classics, baby! Cav takes Milano-Sanremo as Sagan distracted admiring own reflection in metal barrier; Boonen bags Gent-Wevelgem while actually at home taking nap; UCI "Truth and Reconciliation" Commission formed, issues lifetime ban against Greg LeMond.
April: It's the Hell of the North, honey! Thor Hushovd takes Paris-Roubaix as field marks Tom Boonen, shocked BMC says "dang, even *we* didn't realize he was riding"; Andy Schleck sweeps Ardennes Classics, credits Frank for "training advice," immediately surrounded by narcs for 367 contemporaneous drug tests.
May: what else, Il Grande Giro! Wiggins drops Giro bid, didn't realize there were "all these big mountain thingies in it"; Hesjedal misses key break politely helping chief rival change flat tire; Nibali takes maglia rosa after inspiring pep talk in which Vinokourov threatens to break Vincenzo's kneecaps if he blows it.
June: Tour de France prep time! UCI drops testing, sez "bio passport's already got it covered," peloton overwhelms flights, hotel rooms in Spain; RadioSkank team doctor successfully releases Andy Schleck's deathgrip on Frank's ankles, drags him screeching on flight to Paris; Alberto Contador packs on 18 kilos chowing on chips, soda since no one can beat him anyway.
July: Tour de France, baby! Guy drops harmless gum wrapper on course, enraged Cadel Evans plows him over with team bus; Froome personally offers to help Wiggins with bike-position adjustment, ride coincidentally disintegrates into carbon dust on stage 13 as Froome too far up road to hear desperate pleas for help; Contador gains 42-minute lead on 1st stage, everyone else just gives up and goes home.
August: it's the fabulous Vuelta! Valverde sets time-trial record, immediately removed from race; Euskaltel climbs wrong mountains, turns around to climb right ones, still takes sprinters' jersey despite extra week and a half in the saddle; Andy Schleck nails Guinness World Record for Post-Tour Whining.
September: It's the World Championships! Purito Rodriguez wraps up Vuelta a Espana as Contador misses start time on penultimate day practicing "pistolero" victory gesture; Marianne Vos takes women's road race, men's time trial, all U-23 events, the Stanley Cup, and two playoff spots in World Series; Paolo Bettini gives up on men's squadra azzurra, wins Worlds road race himself.
October: it's yer season finale, folks! Damiano Cunego shows up for "Race of the Falling Leaves" on wrong day, arrested whanging Pat "Dick" McQuaid over head with spoke wrench for changing the schedule; Tyler Hamilton corners Lance Armstrong outside Aspen restaurant men's room, noogies relentlessly; new Kazakh president Vinokourov buys whole peloton to domestique Nibali with pocket-change scraped up behind couch cushions on enormous yacht.
November: time for meaningless post-season doping bans! Jens admits last 20 years of "coffee" actually viscous liquid EPO, gets 10-minute ban and ticker-tape parade; Contador accidentally contaminated shaking Vinokourov's hand at charity event, gets 20 years breaking rocks on Craphole Island and lifetime exile from human society.
December: team camps again! Sky cancels entire 2014 season when no-one in organization can pass their doping-virginity test without lying through their teeth; Quick Step to Colosseum for gladiator training, Patrick Lefevere fired when Tony Martin eaten by released lions; Fabian Cancellara escapes from RadioSkank hotel by making rope from entire team's stash of bar tape.
Well, let's raise a glass and toast our sport--and hope none of these eejits do anything even worse next year!
Oops, 2012, Whatever: It's been a smashing, exciting, surprising, and periodically squick-inducing year in our beloved cycling, dear readers, and in honor of all our sweet peloton's done to entertain, thrill, and even annoy us, it's time to honor and thank the worthy (and un-)with our Official 2012 Racejunkie Awards! The prizes: glory, immortality, and, as I cannot afford the 40-foot marble statue of a three-horned six-eyed four-clawed forked-tail fire-breathing bike-riding beast-demon that you know who deserves plunked right down flat in the middle o' Texas, I swear if any of these guys even hear of their awards' existence, I'll throw in a beautiful custom-embroidered racejunkie cap to boot, so without further ado, here goes!
The Holy Crap I Think He Just Restored My Faith in Cycling Award: Ryder Hesjedal, taking the beautiful Giro d'Italia--and his country's first Grand Tour win--for noble Canada. Humble, grateful, hard-working, and most of all just obviously so very happy in his shining maglia rosa--Ryder, this one, and hopefully many more, are for you!
Aiiiiggggghhhhh! What the Hell Are You Doing? Oh My God He's Doing It! Ride of the Year: look, with his brilliant snatch of the Vuelta on the verge of stinging defeat, the now-wily veteran Alberto Contador's come a loooooong way tactically since he couldn't find his outta the team bus without a DS, but if your heart wasn't in your throat when Tom Boonen took off solo a bazillion fruitless kilometers from the line at Paris-Roubaix, you were clearly tranquilized like a runaway rhino during the race. Faaaan-tastic, Tommeke!
Comeback Kid of 2012: yes, it's a double for our Belgian studpuppy--everyone, us included, who thought your best days might be behind you were clearly permanent residents in Dumb!@# City. Congratulations--and next year, let's all !root for Thor or Philippe Gilbert to bag this one, shall we?
I Call Bull!@#$ Award: no doubt, Wiggo deserved to win his Tour de France, and a cheery salute to him and the justly-proud Brits for his great accomplishment. But *really*, what's next, o Tour de France organizers--20 straight days of flat time trialling and maybe a speed bump on the Champs Elysees? No, it's not supposed to be the fearsome Giro or Vuelta--but dang, it *is* still the Tour, you guys!
Shut Up Shut Up Shut *Up* Prize: Contador, Valverde--heck, damn near the whole Spanish peloton while we're at it--the less you self-destructive nimrods keep defending Lance Armstrong, the better. You *want* a GPS implanted in your !@# by the narcs all next season? Just keep it up, kids, keep it up!
Doping Excuse of 2012: well, Frank Schleck didn't exactly *claim* monthly lady cramps as the reason for his banned-diuretic use, and frankly there's been rather a dearth of high-profile drug pozes since as we all know only the broke-!@# Masters guys are cheating now, so for once, this 'un was a toughie. Ergo, this year, it's a group award for all o' USPostalDiscoverySkank, with their two-toned mantra of "I Never Saw It!" and "He Made Me Do It!" I mean, don't parents call bull!@#$ on their *toddlers* for this garbage?!
Scandal o' the Year: the late-December Hinault/Lemondesque Wiggo/Froome smackdown over who'll get Sky team leadership at next year's Tour de France. Close, but just kidding--it's you-know-who, and you-know-why!
Punk-!@# Move of the Year (Road): y'know, with their boundless braggadocio, smug smack-talk, and zeppelin-sized egos, sprinters are pretty annoying as it is, but there's a biiiiiiiig difference between the usual adrenaline-fueled argy-bargy at the barriers, and flying across the helpless field like a rubberband-shot spitball, and Roberto Ferrari spectacularly--and obnoxiously--crossed that line, taking the helpless Tyler Farrar and enraged Mark Cavendish right down. Your award? Apologize for real this time, or Cav gets ten minutes alone with you behind the podium!
Punk-!@# Move of the Year (Wussy Little Bureaucrat): really, Pat "Dick" and Hein at UCI? You're gonna threaten a broke-as-dirt true-fan journalist for doing his job with integrity and rightly calling your own disgusting actions and self-serving motives into question? Yeah, hide behind your lawyers' skirts you squalling babies--karma, I say!
Revenge of the Little Boy Who Called Wolf Award: congrats Floyd Landis and Tyler Hamilton, it's a two-fer. Sure, you lied the first ten thousand times you spoke to the press and your trusting fans--but when you finally told the truth, you sure made it count!
Crash of the Year (Dog-Wielding Dimwit): to Philippe Gilbert, stage 18, Tour de France, taken out by a humongous canine whose owners apparently thought it was a dandy idea to let it wander into the road as the peloton passed through. Road Rage o' 2012 Corollary Award: Gilbert goes screaming nutwhack at the owner-dad and his sweet little daughter. Good thing John Lelangue was there to protect the guy!
Crash of the Year (I'm Sorry, Does This Look Like a !@#damn Bistro?): to the surely-well-meaning nice elderly gent who thoughtfully set up his lunch table and chair in the route of the Tour de France. You broke we love Samuel Sanchez' hand *and* made him cry, clueless sir!
Crash of the Year (Season-Screwing): honestly, I think this rightly goes to tough-guy Fabian Cancellars for his season-crushing crash at Tour of Flanders, but because it's Festivus, I'll give poor Andy Schleck the benefit of the doubt that his 'Skank-whipped mental fragility wouldn't have hosed him anyway and give 'im this one for his pure sorry suck of a pelvis-fracturing takedown at the Dauphine. Truly, get and stay strong, Andy--you're gonna need all you got next year!
What the !@#$? Head-Scratcher o' 2012: so lemme get this straight. Vande Velde, Dave Z, Hincapie, Vaughters, and Tommy D doped like fiends for years for their own personal bank accounts and glory, got a slap on the wrist for it--and at least two of 'em built freakin' retail empires thanks to it--and everyone still loves 'em. Meantime, Johan Bruyneel, who if nothing else generously helped make 'em the ill-gotten champs that they are, ends up desperate beleaguered and snarling in a dank mossy cave like a hound-cornered rabid wolverine. Jeez, Johan, maybe you shoulda been nicer to all those "douches" you called out, it mighta gotten you a few extra brownie points!
Rider Tweet o' the Year!: sure, Bruyneel's erratic see-saw of cheer and defiance was a lock--'til righteous (and righteously righteous!) car-victim Andy Jacques-Maines weighed in: "To the chickenshit motherfucker who rammed me from behind with their Black Chevrolet Impala, FUCK OFF. THEN DIE." And that's just him getting started. Oh, and nice work by 5-Hour Energy/Kenda to dump him from your roster via the press you clods--like he said, "I'm too drugged right now to deal with this shit."!
Dirty Dirty Dirty Award o' 2012: Alexander-freakin'-Vinokourov at the Olympics. Oh yeah, baby, cue the gross 70s blue-movie soundtrack, groom that porn-stache, and break out the gold chest-hair medallions. Clean sport, schmean sport--you loved it too, so man up and wallow in it!
I Swear To God I Feel Almost Really, Really Guilty About Being Delighted About This Award: oh, Roberto. As a faithful if slightly self-loathing Heras fan, and a devoted ween who still thinks fondly of Ivan Basso's peerless legal team from 2006, I've been whining for years that that undeserving freak Denis Menchov oughta give you back your Vuelta, and what happens just on the cusp of the New Year? That's right, this one's for the Spanish court that gave it to you--never has an act of technical if not factual justice been so sweet!
Saving Grace o' 2012: in an incredible year on the road for women's cycling, matched only by incredible disregard from the powers that be, Italy comes in to save the day: yep, it looks like the Giro Donne is back on. Thank you, thank you, whoever you are!
And Finally, Redemption Song of the Season: yeah, just *keep* complaining about Greg LeMond being a bitter ol' jealous once-was--aside from the fact that the man came back from a near-fatal gunshot wound back in the day for heck's sake, he was right all along, too, and a *bunch* of folks who ought to've known better were just too greedy, starstruck, glory-wh@ring, and dismissive to listen. Greg, vindication is yours--like you ever needed it!
Well, this year's sought-after and highly prestigious awards are out, the peloton's got the night off, and the champagne's popped--apologies to anyone whose accomplishments I've missed, and let the celebratory debauchery begin!
Y'know, between testifying against Lance Armstrong, slogging through army exercises at team camp, desperately cutting deals with prosecutors, and oh right, riding their bikes, the peloton's worked darned hard this fine 2012, so to thank 'em for all their hard work, and to bring them the effervescent joys of the holidays, I hereby present to Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and anyone else who brings free stuff my Very Merry Festivus Wish List for the Peloton:
Tom Boonen: A fifth. Paris-Roubaix, I mean. Make it a fifth Hell of the North for our daring hardman on his flying machine!
Joaquim Rodriguez: First in the ProTour. Second at the Giro d'Italia. And oh, *so* achingly close at the Vuelta! Purito, a Grand Tour must be yours! Dang, I guess you better get a ProTour contract first though...
Katusha: speaking of whom, a ProTour license. Why should only the dirtbags at Astana and RadioSkank get invited to the party?
Andy Schleck: the 2013 Tour de France. Because heck knows only an imaginary guy in a furry red suit could possibly get it for him at this rate!
Peter Sagan: a big, green jersey with "Tour de France" in huge letters right on the front. Why paint your silly *bike* in podium colors when you can just cut right to the chase with the actual *kit*?
Alberto Contador: duct tape. 'Cause if anyone you ever worked with starts yappin', and you don't slap it on their kissers but quick, you're scr@#ed!
Mark Cavendish: sure, he's still the best sprinter on earth, but Renshaw's still gone, and Cav sure does love him some sprint train. A tough-as-nails domestique with an iron-clad 10 year contract--what better security blanket could he ask for?
Cadel and Thor: drugs, man. Cutting-edge drugs. No, not to dope with--so they don't get knocked out all next season with some crap virus again! Oh, come on, surely all the usual peloton pushers can come up with *something* helpful from their scuzzy sources...
Marianne Vos: !@#$, what *can* you give someone who's already outright taken everything for herself? I hereby invent and bequeath you a Women's Vuelta and a Women's Tour de France next season, so she can try winning a trophy she hasn't already gotten!
Brad Wiggins: you remember that cool invisible plane that Wonder Woman always tooled around in? Yeah, but an invisible suit of armor around his bike--'cause if he rides the Tour de France, he's gonna need it for when Froome tries to bushwhack his wheelset with a flying musette next year!
Phil Liggett: shut up. I still love him. Stuff it! So I can't continue to see him live in pain. Santa, bring this dear man a just *little* cynicism, so he's not so easily hurt by a doper-idol next time!
Chris Horner: so now Lance isn't guilty because he never tested poz? I swear, those weird chemicals in all the fast food he's eatin' must be affecting his brain. An organic diet and a Whole Foods gift card, pronto!
Pat "Dick" McQuaid: nuts. The nuts to step down. The nuts to admit you were a pathetic, star-struck, vindictive, hero-worshipping toady who damn near destroyed the sport you purport to love just to bask in the reflected glow of B-list celebrity for one who didn't deserve an iota of what you or anyone else so eagerly gave him. Nuts for Pat, I say!
Lance Armstrong: A big, fat, lucrative book deal about your career, and the methods you used to make it. The catch: everything you write has to be true, and all the proceeds go to Paul Kimmage. Now grab yer tablet and get to writin'!
Last But Not Least, My Dear Reader(s): May your favorite cyclists win every race they aim for, unless Samuel Sanchez wants it. May your favorite rider be ever-clean. May your favorite squad grab the team classification at every Grand Tour. May Lance block you from his Twitter feed, Sir Wiggo grant you a castle, Cav keep his mojo, Contador go veggie, Cancellara start winning again, Tommeke never stop winning again, and your idol throw an empty spit-covered water-bottle right at you at the Tour of California.
So Happy Festivus to all, and to all a good night!
Yes, beloved reader(s), scarily, there's still a good two weeks left for the peloton to top even the disgusting ridiculous and downright pervy excesses of this year, but, in a preemptive nod to the brilliant work the lads and ladesses have already done, it's time to honor 'em all with our 2012 Year In Review!
January: he's baaaaa-aacccck--Valverde returns from doping ban, disconcertingly expects startling improvement in time-trial; Chloe Hoskins calls Pat "Dick" McQuaid a !@#$; Andre Greipel whomps at Tour Down Under.
February: Andy Schleck sez he'll win the Tour--yep, for sure!; Franco Pellizotti brings his golden locks back to work; Contador gets "two-year"-but-actually-six-months doping ban, Lance celebrates his twerp-nemesis' downfall--enjoy it while you can, buddy!
March: Tommeke out of funk, takes Harelbeke and Gent-Wevelgem--game on, baby!; Cav demands bidon-tossing crash-causing peloton "dickhead" "get a license"; Grand Tour-hopeful carnage at Volta a Catalunya. Allez Allez guys--if you can recover in time!
April: Thor's season in toilet; Cancellara crashes out of Flanders; Boonen bags Roubaix in thrilling breakaway; Samuel Sanchez gets Tour of Basque Country; Schlecks in Suckville, panic at RadioSkank!
May: Holy crap Ryder Hesjedal wins the Giro! back-bacon futures soar; Liquigas controls the peloton to no useful effect; Roberto Ferrari takes out half the sprinters with punk-!@# move, issues snarling !@#$-you non-apology; Schleck crashes as Purito gets his wings.
June: It's the Road to the Tour, honey! Ex-Lance-domestiques Dave Z, Hincapie, Vande Velde "don't feel like" doing Olympics--hmmm, that don't seem good; Horner kisses Johan Bruyneel's butt, gains RadioSkank team leadership; Wiggo strong at Dauphine'; Alberto thanks Bjarne with long-term contract. Now just get that boy some backup!
July: What else? Roadside assclown takes out tearful Samu'; psycho strews tacks on course, Cadel on rampage; Frank Schleck out, and positive for dope!; Chris Froome--uh, Bradley Wiggins wins the Tour; holy crap Vos and Vino take the gold!
August: it's the fabulous Vuelta a Espana, baby!; Lance officially down in flames, millions of delusional fan-boys continue support; Phil Liggett flips out (shut up! bite me! we still love him anyway!).
September: Contador rips Vuelta from Purito with One Great Day; Vaughters outs Dave Z, Vande Velde, Tommy D as dopers, and that ain't the half of it; Gilbert redeems blown season with smashing World Champ win; is there *any* race Vos can't grab when she wants to?
October: Swiss court rules Floyd Landis can't call UCI's Pat McQuaid and Hein Verbruggen "terrorists" "full of !@#$" or "Muammar Gaddafi", but *can* call 'em every other foul name you can think of; scathing USADA report is out, but Lance sez his "conscience is clear"--easy when you ain't got one, I guess; Julich out at Sky as squad demands (1) lie about your doping history or (2) you're fired. And you thought omerta' was out of style!
November: ex-doper and harborer-of-dopers Vaughters is clean cycling's hero-darling, Johan Bruyneel in bunker mode; team camps send riders to special-ops boot camp and underground salt mines; smug Armstrong poses with Tour jerseys in man-cave; disgraced UCI takes the high road as chief enabler McQuaid excoriates Landis and Hamilton as "scumbags." Well, sure beats "wanker," Pat!
December: Greg LeMond saves the sport; Euskaltel, Giro Donne screwed *again*; Tour champ/press-hater Wiggo is British Sports Personality of the Year; Katusha sues for ProTour license. Like they've got any worse morals than Astana, for heck's sake?
Well, my dears, that's it for the year so far--let's hope they don't screw up any worse before New Year's!
Well folks, there's been a lot of controversy in the cycling world the last few months, and sad to say, poor ol' UCI, faithful arbiter of clean sport and benevolent blesser o' squads 'n' races, has cruelly borne the brunt of an awful wunk o' critique. So, in the spirit of love, forgiveness, and charity that characterizes the season, I kindly offer my 7 Friendly Suggestions For UCI This Year:
1. Don't even bother going after Armstrong now. Really. You just look like !@#es.
2. Awarding ProTour licenses so late in the year, after the squads have already blown their entire budgets, is bull!@#$. Just look what you've done to Purito! Of course, *he'll* get an invite to any race he wants. The smaller but still treasured personal ambitions of the poor domestiques who otherwise toil selflessly for him all year--screwed!
3. Okay, you didn't give Katusha a license because ex-Lance lieutenant/loyal apologist Eki fails the morals clause. So you give one to Bjarne Riis instead? For god's sake, man!
4. You wanna talk "4 pillars" of butt-covering snake oil with cycling's "stakeholders?" Include the whistleblowers and journalists you !@#$ed--and no killing the messenger this time!
5. Women's cycling. Lemme get this straight--the women already barely get paid enough to keep themselves in chamois creme and Tampax, much less the high-end designer dope the boys are using, and now you wanna make it so expensive for races to test 'em the only alternative is to cancel them entirely? Wah, wah, exceptions, wah--why not spend the dough *yourself* on someone you might actually bust, you cheapskate enabling freaks? Oh, wait....
6. Ask not what Greg LeMond's done for cycling the last 25 years. Ask what you've done to destroy it. Then, we can maybe get somewhere!
7. Resign. It's too late for rehab, Pat. You've disgraced the organization, the sport, and above all, the people who care about cleaning it up. Just...resign.
Well, them's my suggestions--but I'm sure Pat "Dick"'ll take (well, need, anyway) all the help he can get!
Fine, Just Pimp the Riders Whydontcha!: yep, thanks again UCI you complete points-obsessed team-destroying sport-scr!@ing bean-counting suckwads--your dumb!@# points system has so hosed our darling Euskaltel-Euskadi that the team is down to selling their damn team bus to raise enough cash to pay off their riders through year's end! Great, just great you odious clowns. I'm happy to chip in to buy the Partridge Family Bus and all, if anyone else is game to pony up--if only 'cause it'd be bitchin' careering around the Basque country with it waving to the fans before they realize it there's just some dippy American driving it--but what the hell else are they supposed to sell next, their skivvies? I can't believe the scumlord teams you guys are still allowing to even *exist* in this sport, and *Euskaltel*'s going down? Y'know, home of Samu "Holy Crap He Was the Olympic Gold Medalist! And the Tour de France King of the Mountains! And..." Sanchez, unique squad of phenomenal Basque climbers--uh, okay, like two Basque climbers left now you've already decimated it, lucky beneficiaries of the most impassioned fans on the planet--well, they're all gonna need to scramble for a living now, so if yer lookin' for a deal on some souvenir sweaty 2012 team kit, I'm sure they'll take yer calls!
Cav Gets His Road Rage On: sure, he looks like a sweet elderly gent, but make no mistake: Mark Cavendish swears this guy's an evil reckless rider-hatin' speed-demon who darn near turned him to roadkill, and threatened to call the cops on 'im to boot. Dang, didn't the Brits just bag a whole buncha road glory this year--like, uh, the Tour de France--what gives with their drivers trying to take out half their own talent in the off-season?
Sagan Is Coming For You, Cavendish!: meantime, while Cav wastes his time with stuff like, well, "riding his bike", new Liquigas successor Cannondale isn't messing around--yessir, they've already got sprints-and-Classics challenger Peter Sagan lifting team captains for pre-season strength training. Y'know, I'm no Michele Ferrari--get yer hands outta my pockets, I said I didn't have any drugs!--but you might want to borrow say a Hushovd or a Boonen for that sort of thing instead. I mean, isn't Ivan Basso a bit lightweight to really Thighmaster Sagan up?
Greeegggggg!: just as Johan Bruyneel feared, that big pack o' "douches" who don't want cycling to be an open encouraged cesspool of stinkin' dopers met to talk sport, and, as Jonathan Vaughters made nice with Cofidis' Eric Boyer after Boyer accused Vaughters of not giving a crap as head honcho when the greed-enabler teams immediately snapped up post-ban drug-weasels as soon as Op Puerto was over, a new white knight has emerged: yes, none less than 3-time Tour de France winner Greg LeMond, routinely derided in Lanceville as a bitter, angry nobody (I mean, for !@#$'s sake, people), is gonna challenge impotent rump-kisser Pat "Dick" McQuaid for UCI supremacy. Frankly, clean as his rep is and sincere his desire to fix the sport he loves, LeMond could've beaten Hinault with a two-foot syringe stickin' right outta his shorts and I'd *still* love to see 'im on the job just to piss Lance off. Greg for President--woo-hoo!
A Philosophical Q: Look, I truly think doping's really, really bad. And given how pissed everyone is they couldn't afford to dope half so well as Armstrong force-fed his crew, I mean, how horrible everyone feels about the garbage-pail days and how eager they are to change things now for the young ones, I really think the teams all hoppin' on this Movement for Credible Cycling thing is great. But Rabobank, Lampre, Astana--all these disgusting clowns are now *begging* to join the kids they used to pick on at the nerds' table. Am I *really* the only one at all suspecting that clean new era, yap, yap, yap, this is just a bunch of kum-ba-yah s'mores-makin' campfire-singin' bull!@#$ and five years from now we're all going to be reading some "shocking" new expose' of their cutting-edge test-evading blood-doping practices? Okay you sweet little innocents, I guess it's just me then--at least, I hope so!
Save the Giro Donne, !@#dammit! Okay, the women already get paid squat, their teams dissolve every fifteen minutes, the glorious Giro Donne is under threat--and don't even get me *started* on why there's no women's Vuelta or Tour--and now, hot on the heels of Vino & Co partying with the newly-elected "Miss Ciclismo," a buncha cyclist babes are 'helping' the sport by posing for calendars straddling giant mountain-bike tires with electrical tape on their racks? Oh sure, it's usually Cipo or Pippo takin' it off for the cameras, and Petacchi can pose in a silk man-nightie with a hot model velcroed onto 'im and still retain his peloton cred--but really, can't we just give these women a *raise* and some *races* to ride in? Since the answer, sadly, appears to be "no," I hope you'll all join me in my new campaign, "Randomly Send Gobs o' Money to Marianne Vos, Mara Abbott and Giorgia Bronzini," c/o this post. *Please*, please save this phenomenal race--just *look* at what we'll all be missing!
Smart Thinkin' There, Johan!: yep, as even relentless fan-boy hero-worshipping love-rag Sports Illustrated gives up on a national idol and names Lance Armstrong its "Anti-Sportsman" of the Year, PostalDiscovery cohort-in-slime Johan Bruyneel, in a move seemingly calculated to court even more animosity and suspicion from the relevant governing bodies, has sagely tweeted his own commitment to the new era of clean cycling: "A bunch of douches r gonna meet in London 2 change cycling. But why is @vaughters not on the list? He should be leading that group...". Now *that's* a guy who's showing (1) humble Hincapian remorse and (2) Armstrongian class! Dang, I understand he's pissed that Jonathan Vaughters gets to tattoo "I TOOK TONS OF DOPE" on his forehead hire a pack of silent complicit former Armstrong henchmen still earning tons of money off their drug-wrought fame til forced to confess write a tearful op-ed in the paper apologize profusely change course and be internationally slobbered over as the Mr. Clean Savior o' Cycling and all--and far worse, natch, that Vaughters dissingly blocked Johan on his Twitter feed--but Johan, the solution to *your* personally going down in flames for essentially similar transgressions isn't to get all snitty that Vaughters figured a way out of his mess, but for you to either (1) shut the hell up and get out of the way of, heck, at least *some* small temporary progress in this glorious tainted wreck of a sport or (2) at least shut the hell up enough not to antagonize people who can get you canned for life and make your current travails even worse. Oh, Johan, just shed a few Millaresque tears for the cameras, write a slutty little tell-all for 'cycling's own good', totally coincidentally rake in the obscene loads o' dough and retire already...after all, you still get to keep the credit for your little buddy Contador's 2009 Tour de France win, right?
Frank Rises Again: speaking of RadioSkank, poor innocent Frank Schleck is braving it out in team camp as he awaits his inevitable clearance on banned-diuretic charges, and I gotta say, much as I wish the best for ol' Frank--mainly because I think he really is a better cyclist than even his talented younger brother, at least, y'know, when he's, well, nutritionally up to date--I'm actually kinda worried if this stunt isn't just gonna make it worse for fragile Andy when his brother is torn from him *again.* C'mon, Andy, you know despite this week's sniping that Contador's still gonna get to ride the Tour--between the tenacious likes of him, Cadel, and Froome all physically and mentally poised to stalk you every turn of the pedals, you *really* better toughen up quick!
G.I. Joe is Back: finally, congrats to the fresh meat over at Quick Step for all surviving their special-ops boot camp this week! The big winner: new recruit Mark Cavendish, who as you can see here has decisively beat down Tom Boonen for team-leadership supremacy once and for all: Congrats Cav, and Tommeke, so sorry, but then, all's fair in love and war!
Yep, the brief off-season binge o' blissful relaxation, DS-enraging motor-sports indulging, and desperate squad-seeking is about over, folks, and it's time for the riders to bond, train, and smack down their potential intra-team rivals because it's Team Camp Season, baby! In: live or let die, sucker! Out: that pansy-!@# coddling massage-mani-pedi-and-'stache-grooming spa simpiness that's paid off only in total team implosion for places like Garmin and Lampre. First outta the blocks this year: ever-sadist Bjarne "Survivorman" Riis over at Saxo-Tinkoff, Patrick "You Better Not Screw Over Boonen" Lefevere at Omega Pharma Quick Step, and, in a scrappy little move, the always-underrated Vacansoleil. Here, Bjarne drops his boys into the Hunger Games, Lefevere throws his troops into bootcamp in Slovakia, and Vacansoleil...uh, sends the guys into a salt mine or something?:
Next in line: Purito breaks rocks with Katusha in Tuscany, Euskaltel teaches its managers how to fend off hails of rotten produce from enraged Orange Army fans, and RadioSkank--well, they all just slump in a fleabag-motel conference room somewhere, crying their poor little eyes out. Now drop and give me fifty, you worms, and thank me for signing your worthless carcass to our squad!
Yes, dear reader(s), it's time for Americans to remember the poor starving Pilgrims and express our gratitude for all our blessings by gorging ourselves sick watching hours of steroid-stuffed goons knocking each other over on football fields in a belt-popped stupor and stomping the hell outta each other at midnight for a few bucks off a big-screen TV at Crapmart, and, in due honor of Thanksgiving, here's some Cycling Things I'm Thankful For This Year:
(1) Tom Boonen. I'll admit it--I feared our beloved pin-up party-boy's best days were behind 'im when he got all kinds o' chastened laid off the clubs and blow and sank into a lead-legged funk for two seasons. It's great to be wrong. The Classics King is back--thanks for an amazing 2012 Tommeke!
(2) Mauricio Soler. He survived a near-death crash at the 2011 Tour de Suisse, coming back from a coma and an inability to even speak to a remarkable recovery this year. And yes, this brilliant climber had to retire, but he's o.k. Ditto the other less-seriously injured riders from this year's grim tally in the peloton or training on the road, from Schleck to Brad to Cav. Keep safe everyone!
(3) Ryder-freakin'-Hesjedal. Who knew quiet friendly Canada would absolutely take over proud Italy for its first-ever Giro win? Oh, Canada, you kicked the Giro's !@#!
(4) Marianne Vos. 'Cross. Road. Mountain. World Champion. Olympic gold. Is there *any* race this woman can't win?
(5) Alberto Contador. Whether you think he's a doping little weasel or doe-eyed angel, this kid can sure shake up a race. Really, do you think the Tour's gonna half so boring next year?
(6) Pat "Dick" McQuaid. Why's he on my "thankful" list? Because karma's a beeyotch, baby, and this time next year we can all be thankful when this incompetent butt-kissing jackwagon's been fired, or, y'know, "resigned" from UCI. Tick-tock Pat, you wanker!
(7) Chloe Hoskins. With Nostradamus-like accuracy, and no fear of inevitable retribution whatsoever, this seer-o'-the-peloton openly called out Pat McQuaid as a "dick." Bonus points for the next rider to call 'im a "tool"!
(8) Alexandre Vinokourov. Oh yes, it makes me feel dirty. *Really* dirty. But you *cannot* have watched that Olympic road-race without jumping outta your chair screaming like a 10-year-old at a Bieber concert. Ashamed as I am, we'll miss you Vino!
And a Few I Ain't:
(1) The World Tour. !@#$ you UCI for destroying my perfect Euskaltel and crushing domestiques into dog puckeys with your stupid dream-destroying points system you !@#$%ing !@#$ers!
(2) Lance Armstrong. About the only guy in cycling who could make Floyd "Fairness Fund" Landis look good. You still got all those yellow jerseys in your basement to chill with, though!
(3) Johan Bruyneel. Just...man up already, willya? Come on pal, you can't spend the rest of your life slapping people around for blocking you off their Twitter feed...
Well, that's this year's list o' gratitude, and I'm sure we'll have even bitchiner stuff to be thankful for next year. Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night!
Like Carlos Barredo Whanging Rui Costa Over the Head With a Bike Wheel, Only Bloodier: yes, the blame game for Lance Armstrong's monster--and happily abetted--fraud continues, with WADA tying UCI's Pat "Dick" McQuaid to a chair in a bare concrete cell lit by a single glaring lightbulb a for a two-day "well *we* ain't takin' the heat, you moron" smackdown, and Pat "Dick" shrieking that just because he's the most disgusting obsequious doping-enabler ever known don't mean it's not even worse that Floyd Landis and Tyler Hamilton are "scumbags," and he doesn't even like their haircuts to boot. Meantime, UCI continues to restore its credibility with it's new anti-doping hotline, whereby riders are helpfully encouraged to either (1) turn themselves in and wreck their own careers or (2) rat out other guys who are doping better than they are for slimeballian tactical advantage. Unfortunately, the only calls the hotline has received so far are a reported 253 voice mails from the Spanish peloton proclaiming that "Lance Armstrong is a great champion" and they "still support him 100%." Best of all, in UCI's strongest attempt yet to crack down on cheats, it's just invested over $1 million in cutting-edge lab equipme--uh, spent a huge wad of cash to hire itself a freakin' PR firm. Way to clean up the sport, Pat--damn, why not just *buy* everybody performance-enhancing drugs?
Out Here On My Own: meanwhile, it's a darn good thing Andy Schleck's starting his season extra-early at the Tour Down Under to build his form back and, way more importantly, learn to ride confidently on his own outta the guiding protective slipstream of his elder brother, 'cause Frank's proceeding on his 2012 Tour de France doping poz has been delayed again. If I've said it once, Frank, I've said it a hundred times, if yer gonna use a banned diuretic to ease those, uh, menstrual cramps, at least get a Therapeutic Use Exemption from yer ol' friend Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes first! You *go* Andy, you can do it by yourself--at least til you start blaming Contador for something...
Yer Downright Disconcerting Headline o' the Week: lastly, a huge congrats to Velonews for its hugely squick-inducing story title "Astana finds trainer for Nibali as he aims at the 2013 Giro." Oh, come *on* Vinokourov, Vincenzo Nibali's *such* a nice hardworking kid--I don't care if you hired Santa Claus to help 'im, you *trying* to get him woken up out of his much-needed rest by the narcs for a needle attack at 2 am every night of the race?
Better watch out for him, Wiggo--'cause you ain't gonna have Froomey to balance 'im out in the mountains come May!
Dang, didn't the Brits just bag a whole buncha road glory this year--like, uh, the Tour de France--what gives with their drivers trying to take out half their own talent in the off-season?
Congrats Cav, and Tommeke, so sorry, but then, all's fair in love and war!
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