Still blissfully zoning out to beautiful Spanish landscapes, when you don't even live there? Waking up breathless from suspenseful dreams about a Carapaz-Roglic showdown? Confused, but still discombobulated, at mourning the end of the Vuelta a Espana and the entire cycling season in November? Well it ain't over quite yet, honey, because we've still got a few things to tie up before the cyclists hang up their cleats and head home for the offseason--namely, Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2020 Vuelta a Espana racejunkie awards! Prizes--and I swear on my Holy Once-Eroski Cap o' Destiny I'm good for 'em--for anyone so freakishly attuned to random fan sites, or so desperate for attention that they'll take even the most embarrassing accolade they can get: (1) a stylin' custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap; (2) a passel of very spiffy racejunkie stickers to pop on your helmet, that crappy ancient bike you're about to leave on the sidewalk for the garbageman, or to cover up Froome's name on that offensive 2011 Vuelta trophy, and 3) a genuine sports-related statue thingy to memoralize your outstanding, or outstandingly horrible, achievement. So without further ado, let's relive the glory of the 2020 Vuelta a Espana!
Domestique o' the Vuelta: now, normally, this would be a clear and convincing win for the incredible Sepp Kuss, whose indefatigable work at the head of the Murder Hornets' bizarro-world Classics-riders mountain train was so relentless that, when Rogla finally struggled on the decisive last climb of the penultimate day, Kuss had to pull over to a virtual dead stop 3 different times to wait for his boss to stagger up to his wheel--reminiscent of Michele Scarponi, who once did the same thing for his team leader, Nibali, back in their Astana days. But, this is 2020, and the award goes to Team Movistar, who helpfully dragged a grateful Rogla to the overall win ahead of Richard Carapaz, who absolutely slaughtered the climb to la Covatilla and would otherwise have gotten back all of his 40-odd-second deficit and the final red jersey in Madrid without Movistar's inscrutable tactics. Sure, they managed to self-destruct their own squad--but boy, have they got contract offers from Jumbo-Visma for next year!
Total !@#$ing Bull!@#$ Award: WHAT THE !#$% DO YOU MEAN EUSKALTEL WASN'T INVITED TO THE VUELTA A ESPANA WHEN THEY'RE THE !#$DAMN GREATEST CLIMBERS ON THE PLANET?! Yes, 2020 was !#$%ed. But *that* completely !#$%ed it worse--race organizers, don't ever, ever let this happen again!
Punk-!@# Move o' the Race: oh, there was some argy-bargy in the sprint finishes this Vuelta--I mean, they're sprints. But it's a damn miracle that Sam Bennett, beloved by all for his incredible prowess this season, didn't smash anybody into the tarmac when he first bumped away Emils Liepens, then outright slammed directly into fair-playing Bora-Hansgrohe's Pascal Ackermann to take the win--then immediately lose it by relegation--on stage 9. Well, that's all that good will evaporated in an instant--I'd still be a little careful at the start of next season in case anybody's holding a grudge there, Sam!
Corollary Smack Talk of the Vuelta Prize: geez, hell hath no fury like Deceuninck-QuickStep boss Patrick Lefevere scorned, who immediately took to Twitter to screech his outrage at the injustice of his protege being rightly relegated, only to extend the fight when Bora reasonably pointed out that Lefevere was, well, being a giant, petty, and epically wrong total jerk. Wah, wah, wah--lucky this got settled with merely a keyboard war, you baby!
Like Hell You Saw That Coming Award: Hugh Carthy. And not just him, with his spectacular stage win and podium finish--all of EF was absolutely on fire, surging in every kind of terrain and grabbing 3 stage wins in total just when you'd most have expected them to be on their last legs, literally, after a largely disappointing Tour and Giro. Well done--looking forward to seeing what Carthy pulls off next year!
Go Gently Into That Good Night Award: No, he's not leaving the peloton just yet--he's merely been discarded like a spit-covered gel packet by the Ineos whose entire fortune he made for the quieter Israel Cycling Academy next year. And while it pains me to give a damn thing to Chris Froome, he did, to his credit, work his unimpressive butt off in the service of his teammates no matter how ignominiously far behind he schlepped in each day. More, he stuck it out without complaint and indeed with admirable humility to the bitter end. Now give Cobo back his Vuelta dammit!
Corollary Weird-!@# News o' the Vuelta: speaking of whom, UCI once again struck a righteous blow for clean sport by, near the very end of this year's race, stripping Juan Jose Cobo of his 2011 Vuelta and awarding it to second-place finisher Chris Froome who, IIRC, both started and completed his amazing transformation from blase' donkey to Triple Crown racehorse that very year. That oughta teach the next generation--that you're likely to be long retired before anyone punishes your !@# for being a cheat-weasel. Fine, neither one of them deserved it--but I stand by my assessment that this was as bull!@#$ as handing Heras' final Vuelta win over to Denis Menchov!
Class Act o' the Race: Rogla, man. Second at the Tour, and one imagines pretty darn tired to boot, all he had to do was take his podium lion and kick back for a long, relaxing break til spring. So what does he do? That's right, heads right for the most mountainous Grand Tour this year when nobody's body is prepared for it, blitzes the time trials, stomps the stages, nearly loses the red jersey for good just two days from Madrid, then grinds back to take and keep the win--only to be scrupulous in noting Sepp Kuss' superior strength and obvious sacrifice on a very bad day, and to compliment Richard Carapaz on his terrifying near-victory with calm and class. It's hard not to root for this kid, amirite?
Corollary Near-Catastrophe Award: okay, Dan Martin might reasonably have disagreed with me there, when a narrow bend before the line on Stage 5 caused Primoz Roglic to touch a wheel ahead of him, take down a dear Izagirre !@#dammit, and nearly take out GC threat Martin, who happily emerged unscathed, gorgeously captured a redemptive mountain stage, and grittily hung on for fourth overall. Well done Dan--and lucky for you there Rogla!
Forever Young Prize: Sure, he didn't win a stage--this time. But with 28 Grand Tour starts, 20 Grand Tour top 10s, and an actual Vuelta overall victory to his name, whether you love 'im or hate 'im, Alejandro Valverde's !@#$ performance at age 40 is most other riders' I-wish-to-hell-I-could-do-that at 25. Hmmm....I'll have what he's having!
Fan !@#$wit Award: Amazingly, not a single rider got taken out by a wandering dog, face-smacked by a selfie-stick, crashed with an oblivious pedestrian, or smoke-flared by some eejit thinking that's just a great thing to do on the final climb of the queen stage. Then again, people were largely forbidden from the roadside. And where they weren't, they were pretty much all wearing masks. For the first time ever in all the years of the racejunkie Awards: congrats to everybody, and shame on nobody!
Duck Season! Classics Season! Prize: Pity the poor delicate climbers of the 2020 Vuelta, who, rather than ascending happily on dry roads day after day under blistering sunshine as usual only to leave the hardier Classics boys in the dust, instead ended up getting slammed for a good half by the kind of freezing rain, impenetrably blinding fog, and sketchy as hell torrential descents that the couchpeloton only wishes happened every year at Paris Roubaix. Notably chattering with cold after his victory at least: Jasper Philipsen on Stage 15. Get that man a blanky and some animal slippers, stat!
Miracle o' 2020: Last but not least, let's take a moment to appreciate the good things (for once, I know, shut up!) The Tour was beset by fear over the prospect of running a GT during a rising pandemic. The Giro was roundly criticized for endangering the riders, leading to positive Covid tests, team desertions, and threats of retribution on all sides. But who got the job done without a single freakin' positive test or terrified rider flip-out? That's right, the ever-underappreciated Vuelta! Amazing. Whatever the hell the Spanish equivalent of "chapeau" to the race organizers is--that!
Okay, this was short but sweet--just like this year's 18-stage Vuelta, which I hope to heck never ever happens again. Now unpack those suitcases, chill out at home, claim yer prizes--and if we're lucky, we'll see you summer of next year, withering heat and screaming Basque fans and Euskaltel orange among you and all!
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