It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Un: The Course!

Let's get this right outta the way: the 2017 Tour de France course sucks. Now, I understand the Tour has always been more of a sprinter's playground than--until recently anyway--the infinitely superior Giro and Vuelta. But if I wanted to watch eleven--11!-- flat stages (okay, they're saying 9, but that's only if the sprinters' squads completely jack them up), I'd !@#$in' re-load that stupid sprint stage that Froome took like 20 minutes in GC on last year and watch that insane !@#$ 4000 times. But who needs mountains in a Grand Tour anyway, except maybe that flyweight also-ran nobodysville Quintana? Anyway, here's the !@#damn deal:

The Sprints: Be honest, this crap is gonna be 5 1/2 hours a day praying that some !@#$wit doesn't touch wheels with Alberto Contador while he's peacefully minding his own business and hoping he doesn't get taken out by the second stage with two broken femurs eighteen cracked ribs a busted collarbone all-body road-rash and a pinky injury, followed by 5k of slugging an energy drink in the hopes you'll wake up enough to catch the finish in time, then 1 k cringing while certain riders careen across the field like drunken sailors while Sagan loses his sprint train then 20 seconds of anticipation while he slingshots off the 13th wheel of some FDJ shmuck and wins the whole thing by eight bike lengths anyway. So anyhoo, there's as I said 11 of the eejit things--Stages 2, 4, 6, 7, 10, 11, 16, 19, and, of course, the final day of glory in Paris on Stage 21. Peter, you get 8 (sorry, 6) of 'em. Andre, you should have at least two. Cav--well, it's nice to see you back on the mend. Bouhanni, I'm sorry to say you !@#$ed it up *again* when you punched a commentator in the face for questioning your tactics, and unfortunately picked the notoriously scrappy Robbie McEwen, who immediately tore you to pieces and spit you out all over the tarmac like a tiny rabid wolverine. Jaysus, can we *please* climb a mountain already?

The Rollers: fortunately, the TdF gods *did* see fit to pack in a handful of breakaway-friendly stages for the desperate to show off their sponsors' logos in hopes of keeping their contracts next year *and* the perennially tenacious and very occasionally winning roleur specialists, so while we transition to the two--sorry, incredibly numerous *four*--real mountain stages, here's Stages 3, 5, 8--a neat little Cat 3, 2, then 1 leg-nipper *just* before the Stage 9 first big mountain day to Chambery--14 and 15. Enjoy, breakaway artists--may the bunch miscalculate, the GC contenders let you off the leash in exhausted repose, and a truly career-changing win be yours!

The Time Trials: Oh, go home everybody, none of you are gonna take out Tony Martin anyway. But on the off chance that you might, we start the Grand Boucle off in Dusseldorf with a quite technical, twisty-turny--but, with the exception of two minor hills outta the way by halfway through the course, classically flat--14k power-push for the prestigious inaugural maillot jaune. Then, on the 22k Stage 20, you start and end in the Velodrome, you have a coupla quite sharp little hills there which will keep you up in knots the night before over your bike setup, and you got *one* more shot to either make up a final few seconds and crush someone else's dreams on GC, or wipe out with accumulated nerves and adrenaline and crush your own. But no pressure!

Finally, the Mountains: yes folks, this is what we've *all* been waiting *so very patiently* for--shrieking nimwits in dangerously skimpy cut-off jean shorts running next to Alberto Contador and wrecking his line *right* when he's about to make a substantive attack, the quick-succession jump-and-fade of Quintana as he tries to shake Froome's 26 remaining robot teammates on the last 2 k of Alpe d'Huez, and the ever-loyal Alejandro Valverde accidentally ripping his earpiece out of his head and tossing it under the wheel of an adjacent roadside camper *just* as his little buddy Nairo calls for help and wholly mistakenly shooting up the mountain as if mysteriously propelled by a rocket, when we all know it's really just adrenaline and do--that Nutella sandwich he scarfed from his feedbag back down the hill. Stage 9--hey, who *doesn't* love the Colombiere or look forward to a thrilla up Mont du Chat, but what the everlasting !@#$ is it with making these poor shmoes rip their legs off climbing halfway to Mars only to have it all get decided by who doesn't simp out on the downhill finish? Then, mercifully, you can rest for a day before the one-two punch of Stage 12 to Peyragude (and a naughty little 16% percent gradient to really torment you in the last k, after you've already been kicked in the, um, calves, by the HC Port de Bales and the Cat 1-but-seems-harder legendary Col de Peyresourde and the extremely short-but-sweet 100k tactical playground of Stage 13, where any wishy-washy screwing around to save energy will be richly rewarded by significant time gaps in favor of the gutsy. But it ain't over yet--you can still save yourself on Stage 17 with--hooray! the Croix de la Fer *and* the smashing Galibier (tho downhill again for the finish), then a long cold drink at the Last Chance Saloon Stage 18 with what is sure to be an epic final battle for GC glory or, in the case of Chris Froome, a *still* methodically boring if disappointingly effective unseemly relationship with his power meter on the fabulous Col d'Izoard. Oh, at last--*this* is why we watch the Tour de France!

Well folks, them's your Tour de France Course in Review--may the best man, and for heck's sake not the best motor or medical team--win. Next up--and I confess the delay is entirely caused by my full-body loathing of having to say anything nice about Chris Froome--the GC Contenders!