Yes, it's nigh about Thanksgiving in the US, where we celebrate our shameful colonial past by gorging ourselves with such venerable 17th century feast-staples as sweet potatoes with tiny marshmallows melted on top and a Doritos casserole recipe we found on some health-destroying godforsaken Big Agribusiness website, waiting to see if the giant inflatable emoji balloons soaring over 5th Avenue in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade are gonna break loose and terrorize the elves on the Santa float, quarreling politically with our !@#$wit relatives we have NO CHANCE WHATSOEVER OF CONVINCING EACH OTHER WE'RE RIGHT AND THEY'RE !@#$WITS, watching giant steroid-stuffed Hulks whang into each other painfully in football games for our sick enjoyment for the grotesque enrichment of a privileged few, and, oh right, taking a moment to reflect on what we are truly grateful for this year. So what, in our beloved sport of cycling, merits our love and gratitude this year (and a few what-doesn'ts)? This!
1. Euskaltel rising, again. Right on Mikel Landa!
2. One more year for we love big lug Andre Greipel. Go gooooooooo, Gorilla!
3. The bad-!@# women of the peloton calling bull!@#$--on harassment, abuse, crap wages, and general disrespect--throughout the sport. All Hail the Queens!
4. Team Skineos' house-o'-marginal-gains cards finally starting to fall down. Though it's not like the sport hasn't been spotlessly clean since Operacion Puerto went down!
5. The beautiful men's and women's Giro (well, Giri). Now make the women's race longer dammit!
6. The Vuelta. Arid, gorgeous, and *steep*. Aupa Euskadiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!
7. The continuing tradition of riders raising their arms in triumph only to be pipped at the line by a wily--and dogged--competitor. How else can us armchair strategists feel smugly superior to those who actually *get* their !@#es off the couch and *do* stuff all season?
8. Nairo Quintana to Arkea. Hell, now Valverde doesn't even need an *excuse* to bushwhack 'im at the Tour!
9. Domestiques. No, their job ain't pretty. But every stunning sprint victory, every thrilling GC-deciding mountaintop upset, every dream-destroying echelon split is because of *them*. Thank you, brave and talented souls--you know who you are, even if most cycling fans don't!
10. The ageless Alejandro Valverde. Because I basically have no soul.
11. Cross season. 'Cause how the hell else would we survive the excruciatingly long dry spell between October and January?
And a Few I'm Damn Well Not:
1. Mikel to Bahrain-Merida. !@#DAMMIT, this kid needs a !@#damn break!
2. Paranoid conspiracy theories o' the week. Froome didn't really crash. Froome *did* crash, but really only needed a little Spiderman Band-Aid. When Froome crashed, he got wicked bad road rash, and his true praying-mantis creepy exoskeleton was shockingly revealed to all. Aw hell, I *am* thankful for all this !@#$!
3. The Amgen EPO Tour of California is 'on hiatus'. Forget the damage to US cycling--how else can you repeatedly use the words "EPO" and "cycling" in close proximity without getting sued by a prominent rider, or team?
4. The British Cycling/Team Sky doping scandal. Seriously, did I *need* to see testimony about whatsisface's, well, gentlemanly stamina problems, and his wife's secondhand but forceful denial of same? Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
Well, dear reader(s), them's mine. So Happy Thanksgiving, and I raise a drumstick to you all--that is, if that greedy !@#$ I'm sitting next to doesn't selfishly grab it first, as usual!
Showing posts with label Andre Greipel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andre Greipel. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
Saturday, December 22, 2018
It's Yer Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!
Yes, it's the holidays, that glorious time of year when we wish good will to all our brethren and sistren, except Team Sky who's relentlessly crushed the fun out of all the Grand Tours with their boring lifeless death-by-power-meter approach so they suck but everyone else we'll cut some slack. So who's been naughty or nice this season, and what do we gift 'em? Enjoy, dear peloton--you deserve it!
1. Gianni Moscon: how many racist sucker-punching wankmeisters does it take to change a lightbulb? Who cares, but I'll tell you what that kid *does* need--a damn muzzle. And viewing his latest obscene gestures to the cameras straight from the warm-'n'-fuzzy lovefest that is team camp, we should damn well slap on some mittens, too. Now *don't* take 'em off til you've learned yer lessons, ya little punk!
2. Floyd Landis: All I need are some tasty waves, a cool buzz, and I'm fi--oh wait, that's Jeff Spicoli. Let's just deliver this new team boss, and pleasingly perpetual annoyance to Lance Armstrong, a truckload of Doritos to go with his boatloads of bud!
3. Mikel Landa: the 2019 Giro. Because until you get one, Unzue is *never* gonna 100% back you for the Tour, the new stupid "two team captain" strategy is *still* gonna fail, and you will always, *always* be !@#$ed. We love you Mikel, you can do this--just maybe scarf an extra espresso before all those extra time trials this year and it's yours!
3. John Degenstache: damn, I'd love him to win Paris-Roubaix this coming year!
4. Peter Sagan: impeccable bike-handling skil--no, he got that. A screaming horde of fanboys'n'girls second only to the Beatles--yeah, done and dusted. More moolah in endorsements than god--mmm-hmm, been there already. World cham--no, he has like a million o'those. Aw hell, he doesn't need anything--maybe give the boy a Tour de France mountain stage, just to mix it up a bit!
5. Andre Greipel: a big ol' win on the Champs-Elysees. Eat *that*, Lotto, you faithless goons!
6. Lotto-Whicheverscrewedhimover: a lump of coal. You *suck* for jacking our big lug over!
7. Team Sky: Jiffy bags. Ya gotta be running low by now, amirite?
8. Anna van der Breggen: La Course. Because she was so, *so* close this year!
9. UCI: Salbutamol, or whatever performance-enhancing drug would give you the strength to bust anyone bigger'n some poor Master's racer for doping!
10. Alejandro Valverde: cripes, he's got the World Champion stripes and at least another 80 top years in the legs--I guess just that everyone won't have just ditched bicycles for flying cars and jet-packs by the time he packs it in?
11. Alexandre Vinokourov: Okay I don't really know what to get you Vino so please don't hurt me but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give Mikel Landa a nice contract and 100% Grand Tour backing, and lure that boy the hell outta Dodge!
12. Dave Brailsford: a crack legal team. No reason--just good to have in your back pocket in case you ever need it!
13. Geraint Thomas: like, a nice little "participation" trophy or some such comforting trinket given to the kid who always gets picked last in gym class. 'Cause heck knows Froome ain't gonna let the mere defending Tour de France champion have another crack at it this July!
14. Our Baby Carrots: between Edu Prades, Oscar Rodriguez' stealth triumph, and every darn breakaway in every race you rode in--what more our future superstars need, except to continue on the same flower-strewn path? A case of giant bottles of podium Champagne--you're gonna get 'em anyway, might as well enjoy 'em up front!
15. Marcel Kittel: a buzz cut. I'm serious. It's like a reverse Samson & Delilah thing--shave off the gorgeous pompadour, regain your winning ways. Worth a try, right?
16. Nairo Quintana: his mojo. After Mikel Landa kicks his !@# at the Tour.
17. The Women's Peloton: a TOUR DE FRANCE. Not some bull!@#$ pacifier snoozer-to-watch throwaway circuit race, a REAL FREAKIN' TOUR DE FRANCE. !@#dammit, are you people *trying* to make me doubt the existence of Santa Claus, how much longer do I have to ask for this?!
18. Finally, My Dear Readers (Both of You): look, what with everyone *still* reeling from Alberto Contador's retirement and that catastrophic stick-figure's victory at the Giro, it's been a tough 'ol 2018. May all your cycling dreams, at least those of which I would approve, come true!
All right kids, that's about as much genuine goodwill as I can put out there in one go without passing out. So crank those maudlin tunes, lift that tasty spiked nog, and Merry Festivus and Happy New Year to all of you!
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
Racejunkie's 10 Things I'm Thankful For This Thanksgiving (And a Few I'm !%#$in' Well Not)
Yes, it's almost Thanksgiving, that heartwarming time of year when we Americans celebrate the merciful saving of the Pilgrims from starvation by gorging ourselves into a revolting overprivileged stupor, dashing to watch a football game we hate to avoid doing a monstrous pile of grimy dishes, and trying not to whang our politically-offensive-yet-inescapably-loud relatives upside the head with a 25-pound frozen turkey before we even have a chance to stuff the thing. Oh right, and sit before our resplendent table, clasp our hands over our gleaming heirloom silverware, and ruminate humbly over the many things we have to be grateful for this year. So if you're a cycling fan, what's that? This!
1. #FreeMikel Landa! Oh wait--we did! Word to Movistar: Don't. !@#$. Him. Over!
2. Basque cycling rises again. Yes, they're just getting started, and no, they're not our lovely Carrots. But the rest o' you peloton can just working on those climbing drills now--you're gonna need 'em!
3. Chantal Blaak. Look, everyone knew she was good. Hell, great. But World Freakin' Champion? You *go*, you Amazon!
4. Svein Tuft. If he can take out a charging wolf with a hockey stick, he sure ain't taking any !@#$ from Bouhanni or Moscon next year!
5. Alberto Contador. Not that he's gone, but that he was here. Sure, I've slagged 'im (rightly, natch) over the last ten years--but seriously, has *anyone* else been *half* as fun to watch? Liar!
6. Team Sky. Just kidding! They're horrid.
6. Alexander Vinokourov. The gift that keeps on giving. Until you !@#$ with 'im. Then, watch out!
7. UKAD. Because Sky can sleep peacefully at night knowing that if they drop trou and jam giant needles labeled "THESE ARE PEDs" into their collective !@#es right on UKAD's doorstep, they *still* won't bust those freaks. Now that's trust, my friends!
8. The beautiful Giro. No matter what fraudulent mutant stick figure is threatening to ride it next year.
9. Andre Greipel. Shut up--he was just resting!
10. The Vuelta. No matter what fraudulent mutant stick figure is threatening to ride it next year!
And a few I'm !@#$in' well not:
1. Oh, Samu!
2. La Course. Le Tour to women's peloton: Le!@#$You!
3. Le Tour. Let's face it, it sucked. Next time you're gonna pull *that* boring crap, just hand over the final maillot jaune the first day and save us three weeks of misery already!
Well, fellow celebrants, them's mine. Happy Thanksgiving to all--now pass me the bourb--uh, apple cider--dammit!
1. #FreeMikel Landa! Oh wait--we did! Word to Movistar: Don't. !@#$. Him. Over!
2. Basque cycling rises again. Yes, they're just getting started, and no, they're not our lovely Carrots. But the rest o' you peloton can just working on those climbing drills now--you're gonna need 'em!
3. Chantal Blaak. Look, everyone knew she was good. Hell, great. But World Freakin' Champion? You *go*, you Amazon!
4. Svein Tuft. If he can take out a charging wolf with a hockey stick, he sure ain't taking any !@#$ from Bouhanni or Moscon next year!
5. Alberto Contador. Not that he's gone, but that he was here. Sure, I've slagged 'im (rightly, natch) over the last ten years--but seriously, has *anyone* else been *half* as fun to watch? Liar!
6. Team Sky. Just kidding! They're horrid.
6. Alexander Vinokourov. The gift that keeps on giving. Until you !@#$ with 'im. Then, watch out!
7. UKAD. Because Sky can sleep peacefully at night knowing that if they drop trou and jam giant needles labeled "THESE ARE PEDs" into their collective !@#es right on UKAD's doorstep, they *still* won't bust those freaks. Now that's trust, my friends!
8. The beautiful Giro. No matter what fraudulent mutant stick figure is threatening to ride it next year.
9. Andre Greipel. Shut up--he was just resting!
10. The Vuelta. No matter what fraudulent mutant stick figure is threatening to ride it next year!
And a few I'm !@#$in' well not:
1. Oh, Samu!
2. La Course. Le Tour to women's peloton: Le!@#$You!
3. Le Tour. Let's face it, it sucked. Next time you're gonna pull *that* boring crap, just hand over the final maillot jaune the first day and save us three weeks of misery already!
Well, fellow celebrants, them's mine. Happy Thanksgiving to all--now pass me the bourb--uh, apple cider--dammit!
Monday, July 24, 2017
It's Yer Incredibly Prestigious 2017 Tour de France Racejunkie Awards!
So, missing the Tour de France yet? Yeah, me neither, which is evidenced by the fact that, for the first time in 11 years of this crap blog, I haven't even been able to be bothered to write about it more'n twice since it began. But still and all, it did occur, it *is* the biggest, gaudiest show on the racing calendar, and, for reasons that defy explanation, some guys are *still* willing to ride the thing in the--and it pains me like appendicitis to call it this--Chris Froome era. And, miraculously, a few things *did* manage to happen to keep it from being like dutifully reading a 10,000 page stack of blank paper. Whaddya get if you've won--or lost--one of cycling's most coveted, if completely unknown and totally disregarded, awards? Well, if you're so desperate as to ask for it, you get--I swear to God--a custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap; some kind of cheap-but-shiny trophy-like tchtotchke (possibly personalized, but depending on what I find at the junk store, almost certainly with someone else's name on it); a passel o' glam racejunkie stickers to emblazon your bike, your car, or your garbage can; and, best of all, eternal internet notoriety! So, without further ado, let's get on to this year's Hall of Fame (or Shame):
1. Road to Nowhere Award: well done, ASO--you've managed to design the single dullest Tour de France course in over a century. Endless flat stages? Check. A coupla one-day races with hills in 'em--without the interest or tension of the cobbles, or hell, anything else? Check. Brutal mountain stages without y'know, *mountain top finishes* that could actually mean anything? Bingo. Even worse, you preceded three weeks' worth of sleeping pills with the most disastrous prologue in years, apparently believing that wiping out anyone of any interest with any ambition by sticking 'em on a squirrely time trial bike on a squirrely course in a monsoon was a good way to ensure that *no-one* was around to light up the race in the two high-top finishes that *might've* coughed up some drama. Okay, maybe two stages out of 21 didn't suck. Well done, !@#$wits--next time, can we make the *women's* race three weeks long, and you can just let the guys chill at home and save their energy?
2. Pointless Self-Destructive Bender Award--no, it's not Oleg Tinkov--he sold his team when he got bored of mugging for the cameras with Peter "just a world champion" Sagan! But in a related shoot-yerself-in-the-foot move, this one's to ASO too, for taking one of the few riders absolutely guaranteed to put on a spectacular, crowd-pleasing, media-friendly party-on-wheels for the whole time, and kicking Peter Sagan completely out of the Tour for the astonishingly weak rationale that Mark Cavendish tried to squeeze himself into an aperture more suited for a preternaturally flexible weasel than a human cyclist hooked himself under Sagan's armpit and brought his own self down into a painful pile against the barriers. Are you !@#$ing *nuts*? Not only was it not even a relegation-worthy offense, much less a kick-out one, it wasn't even an *offense*, you eejits. Even worse, now he's gone and shaved his head, which the twitverse is convinced is a direct reaction to ASO's stupidity. Next time, watch the replay, suck up your petulant pride, and do the right thing, you crybabies!
3. Punk-!@# Move of the Race (Team): Congratulations, Team Sky, you've managed to beat out both Nacer Bouhanni's unjustified smack to Quick Step's Jack Bauer for *no* reason, *and* your own team leader's gratuitous bash of Fabio Aru into the crowd for the *!@#$* reason of daring to pursue his own GC ambitions: in a race where the rest of you looked like wheeled grandfather clocks as you clicked dully along, you decided to completely kill any joy or intrigue in the Tour by chasing down your (bushwhacking, disloyal, so what?) teammate Mikel Landa every time he showed *any* signs of independent life. God, I can't wait til he's out of that clone craphole!
4. Punk-!@# Move(s) o' the Race (Individual): The way he has a mechanical exactly at the steepest part of the climb, so the GC'll be too shamed to attack him. Or the way he needs a pee break right at the bottom of every mountain, to destroy everybody's momentum. Or the way he lifts his arm up to "call for the team car" and slow the group down for no reason--unless, best as we can discern, it's just to smell his own armpit. !@#$ you Froome, not only are you a total whinging two-bit cheap-trick punk, you're gonna get all my awards this year, you flyweight glory hog!
5. Punk-!@# Move o'the Race (Fan): look, France. We all think Froome's a doping little !@#$, as well as an abomination against the cycling gods for his hideous position on the bike. But he ain't the only reason you haven't won your own Grand Tour in a generation. Booing the maillot jaune. Understandable? Hell yeah! Class? Well, not so much!
6. The Fast and the Furio--No, Just !@#$in' Boring Prize: Never has a rider made one of the world's most difficult, dramatic, and spectacular sporting events seem *so* like a flavorless three-week-long bowl o' bottomless gruel. Way to go, Froomey, you achieved the impossible! Now come collect your--no, take your eyes off your--hey, you've already won the--!@#$, no-one can get his eyes off that damn power meter for *anything*!
7. Crash-o-the-Race (Jaysus H. CHRIST, not *again*! Edition): Can Alberto Contador's luck *be* any more !@#$ the last few years? Before Trek can even fail to stand up to Sky's hideous mountain onslaught, and the commentators 6iscount our wee hero on account of his being the approximate age of a new-discovered dinosaur fossil (but still a good milennium younger than Valverde), Alberto's chance at a farewell Tour get wrecked once again by a series of idiotic yet painful crashes, including one at the wheel of an exhausted Nairo Quintana, who to be fair was so knackered by his lousy Giro that he may not have actually been conscious he was riding a bike race at all. Just, *please*--can this guy stay upright at least at the Giro next year so we'll know if he could win fair and square?
8. Crash-o-the-Race (Magical Mystery Tour Edition): *Would* BMC's Richie Porte--having only recently learned that best-bro/not-a-teammate Chris Froome might work *against* him sometimes--have tossed his friendship to the wind and gone all-in against Froome for Tour de France GC--and possibly even seriously challenged him for actual victory, or would he have yielded to temptation and superdomestiqued his own rival to the win in Paris, *again*? Welp, we'll never know, because poor Richie crashed out. Richie, when you've recovered from your wins, do pick up your prize--and *promise* you'll really ride against him next year!
9. Crash-o-the-Race (Didn't Make a !@#damn Bit of Difference Edition): y'know, I'm very sorry for Geraint Thomas, and I truly wish him a swift, smooth, and complete recovery. But really, when you've got !@#$in' 10 other next-generation Terminators decimating every other team in their path, did Froome even *need* him there, except perhaps for constant ego-stroking? Nope. Anyhow, get well soon Geraint!
10. Domestique o' the Tour: Michal Kwiatkowski, hands damn down. Sky, time to give that guy a ginormous raise--move it, or lose it to another squad!
11. The Power of Love (And Threats) Award: Oh, Rogue Mikel. You openly resented it, and you even attacked a few (okay, a buncha) times to show that you could, but *something*--pride, etiquette, bodily threats from Brailsford-- drove you to eventually fall in line behind your team captain (a hell of a lot more gracefully than that asshat did for Wiggins, by the way). But you sure don't have to put up with that crap next year!
12. Good, Good, Good, Good Vibrations Prize: Aw, who *didn't* join in podium finisher Rigoberto Uran's obvious delight at standing on the second step in Paris? Better luck next year--or whenever someone gets popped and you get awarded the whole shebang retroactively!
13. Total Freakin' Ripoff o' the Race: y'know, I wanted Andre Greipel to win *every* *single* *stage*--and if you've got any other explanation to suggest other'n "he was just intentionally resting," you can leave my happy island of plausible deniability and shut yer piehole--and Bling put on a super show, but man, Marcel Kittel *deserved* that green jersey, and even I was gutted for him when he climbed into the back of the team car in bruised defeat. Oh, all right, probably Sagan would've had it--but thanks to ASO, we'll never know, will we?
14. Nail-Nipper Moment o' the Race Award: 10 seconds to the line. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Is he gonna--no he's not abou--holy crap he's done it! Romain Bardet pipping Mikel Landa by one lousy second to hold his podium on the penultimate day. Finally, some drama--even if the result sucked!
15. You Spin Me Right Round Baby/Right Round Like a Motor Baby Prize: okay, let's hit this face on: despite my liberal-arts education, I get "inertia." What I don't get is some grasping half-dead guy gacking his way up a hill and weaving like a punch-drunk boxer while his brand-new wheel suddenly starts whizzing up the Alps at 8 million RPM. Or have I missed some valid marginal gains here? You know who you are--either get yer prize, or get lost, you weasel!
16. The Dog Ate My Homework Statuette: we know, Nairo--you couldn't win the Tour this year, but you had a darn good excuse for not doing it. Maybe if Valverde gets back to nip at your heels one last time, you'll be the pup that wins the race next year!
And Finally, Yer Class Act o' the Tour: As a three-time Tour de France champ--and nine-time Grand Tour legend--he could've, in all honesty, just packed up and gone home without anyone blaming him. But what does he do when his GC is shot and his body's too bashed for even a stage win? *That's* right, he !@#damn gets on his bike every morning, attacks his heart out til his legs explode, and honors the Tour de France *every* *single* *pedalstroke* *into* *Paris.* This doesn't change a whit of every word I've written since your jailbait days-but Alberto Contador, you are the winner in guts if not in glory!
Well folks, them's my awards--next year, let's hope Landa gets the big one, and we've got more interesting !@#$ to write about!
1. Road to Nowhere Award: well done, ASO--you've managed to design the single dullest Tour de France course in over a century. Endless flat stages? Check. A coupla one-day races with hills in 'em--without the interest or tension of the cobbles, or hell, anything else? Check. Brutal mountain stages without y'know, *mountain top finishes* that could actually mean anything? Bingo. Even worse, you preceded three weeks' worth of sleeping pills with the most disastrous prologue in years, apparently believing that wiping out anyone of any interest with any ambition by sticking 'em on a squirrely time trial bike on a squirrely course in a monsoon was a good way to ensure that *no-one* was around to light up the race in the two high-top finishes that *might've* coughed up some drama. Okay, maybe two stages out of 21 didn't suck. Well done, !@#$wits--next time, can we make the *women's* race three weeks long, and you can just let the guys chill at home and save their energy?
2. Pointless Self-Destructive Bender Award--no, it's not Oleg Tinkov--he sold his team when he got bored of mugging for the cameras with Peter "just a world champion" Sagan! But in a related shoot-yerself-in-the-foot move, this one's to ASO too, for taking one of the few riders absolutely guaranteed to put on a spectacular, crowd-pleasing, media-friendly party-on-wheels for the whole time, and kicking Peter Sagan completely out of the Tour for the astonishingly weak rationale that Mark Cavendish tried to squeeze himself into an aperture more suited for a preternaturally flexible weasel than a human cyclist hooked himself under Sagan's armpit and brought his own self down into a painful pile against the barriers. Are you !@#$ing *nuts*? Not only was it not even a relegation-worthy offense, much less a kick-out one, it wasn't even an *offense*, you eejits. Even worse, now he's gone and shaved his head, which the twitverse is convinced is a direct reaction to ASO's stupidity. Next time, watch the replay, suck up your petulant pride, and do the right thing, you crybabies!
3. Punk-!@# Move of the Race (Team): Congratulations, Team Sky, you've managed to beat out both Nacer Bouhanni's unjustified smack to Quick Step's Jack Bauer for *no* reason, *and* your own team leader's gratuitous bash of Fabio Aru into the crowd for the *!@#$* reason of daring to pursue his own GC ambitions: in a race where the rest of you looked like wheeled grandfather clocks as you clicked dully along, you decided to completely kill any joy or intrigue in the Tour by chasing down your (bushwhacking, disloyal, so what?) teammate Mikel Landa every time he showed *any* signs of independent life. God, I can't wait til he's out of that clone craphole!
4. Punk-!@# Move(s) o' the Race (Individual): The way he has a mechanical exactly at the steepest part of the climb, so the GC'll be too shamed to attack him. Or the way he needs a pee break right at the bottom of every mountain, to destroy everybody's momentum. Or the way he lifts his arm up to "call for the team car" and slow the group down for no reason--unless, best as we can discern, it's just to smell his own armpit. !@#$ you Froome, not only are you a total whinging two-bit cheap-trick punk, you're gonna get all my awards this year, you flyweight glory hog!
5. Punk-!@# Move o'the Race (Fan): look, France. We all think Froome's a doping little !@#$, as well as an abomination against the cycling gods for his hideous position on the bike. But he ain't the only reason you haven't won your own Grand Tour in a generation. Booing the maillot jaune. Understandable? Hell yeah! Class? Well, not so much!
6. The Fast and the Furio--No, Just !@#$in' Boring Prize: Never has a rider made one of the world's most difficult, dramatic, and spectacular sporting events seem *so* like a flavorless three-week-long bowl o' bottomless gruel. Way to go, Froomey, you achieved the impossible! Now come collect your--no, take your eyes off your--hey, you've already won the--!@#$, no-one can get his eyes off that damn power meter for *anything*!
7. Crash-o-the-Race (Jaysus H. CHRIST, not *again*! Edition): Can Alberto Contador's luck *be* any more !@#$ the last few years? Before Trek can even fail to stand up to Sky's hideous mountain onslaught, and the commentators 6iscount our wee hero on account of his being the approximate age of a new-discovered dinosaur fossil (but still a good milennium younger than Valverde), Alberto's chance at a farewell Tour get wrecked once again by a series of idiotic yet painful crashes, including one at the wheel of an exhausted Nairo Quintana, who to be fair was so knackered by his lousy Giro that he may not have actually been conscious he was riding a bike race at all. Just, *please*--can this guy stay upright at least at the Giro next year so we'll know if he could win fair and square?
8. Crash-o-the-Race (Magical Mystery Tour Edition): *Would* BMC's Richie Porte--having only recently learned that best-bro/not-a-teammate Chris Froome might work *against* him sometimes--have tossed his friendship to the wind and gone all-in against Froome for Tour de France GC--and possibly even seriously challenged him for actual victory, or would he have yielded to temptation and superdomestiqued his own rival to the win in Paris, *again*? Welp, we'll never know, because poor Richie crashed out. Richie, when you've recovered from your wins, do pick up your prize--and *promise* you'll really ride against him next year!
9. Crash-o-the-Race (Didn't Make a !@#damn Bit of Difference Edition): y'know, I'm very sorry for Geraint Thomas, and I truly wish him a swift, smooth, and complete recovery. But really, when you've got !@#$in' 10 other next-generation Terminators decimating every other team in their path, did Froome even *need* him there, except perhaps for constant ego-stroking? Nope. Anyhow, get well soon Geraint!
10. Domestique o' the Tour: Michal Kwiatkowski, hands damn down. Sky, time to give that guy a ginormous raise--move it, or lose it to another squad!
11. The Power of Love (And Threats) Award: Oh, Rogue Mikel. You openly resented it, and you even attacked a few (okay, a buncha) times to show that you could, but *something*--pride, etiquette, bodily threats from Brailsford-- drove you to eventually fall in line behind your team captain (a hell of a lot more gracefully than that asshat did for Wiggins, by the way). But you sure don't have to put up with that crap next year!
12. Good, Good, Good, Good Vibrations Prize: Aw, who *didn't* join in podium finisher Rigoberto Uran's obvious delight at standing on the second step in Paris? Better luck next year--or whenever someone gets popped and you get awarded the whole shebang retroactively!
13. Total Freakin' Ripoff o' the Race: y'know, I wanted Andre Greipel to win *every* *single* *stage*--and if you've got any other explanation to suggest other'n "he was just intentionally resting," you can leave my happy island of plausible deniability and shut yer piehole--and Bling put on a super show, but man, Marcel Kittel *deserved* that green jersey, and even I was gutted for him when he climbed into the back of the team car in bruised defeat. Oh, all right, probably Sagan would've had it--but thanks to ASO, we'll never know, will we?
14. Nail-Nipper Moment o' the Race Award: 10 seconds to the line. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Is he gonna--no he's not abou--holy crap he's done it! Romain Bardet pipping Mikel Landa by one lousy second to hold his podium on the penultimate day. Finally, some drama--even if the result sucked!
15. You Spin Me Right Round Baby/Right Round Like a Motor Baby Prize: okay, let's hit this face on: despite my liberal-arts education, I get "inertia." What I don't get is some grasping half-dead guy gacking his way up a hill and weaving like a punch-drunk boxer while his brand-new wheel suddenly starts whizzing up the Alps at 8 million RPM. Or have I missed some valid marginal gains here? You know who you are--either get yer prize, or get lost, you weasel!
16. The Dog Ate My Homework Statuette: we know, Nairo--you couldn't win the Tour this year, but you had a darn good excuse for not doing it. Maybe if Valverde gets back to nip at your heels one last time, you'll be the pup that wins the race next year!
And Finally, Yer Class Act o' the Tour: As a three-time Tour de France champ--and nine-time Grand Tour legend--he could've, in all honesty, just packed up and gone home without anyone blaming him. But what does he do when his GC is shot and his body's too bashed for even a stage win? *That's* right, he !@#damn gets on his bike every morning, attacks his heart out til his legs explode, and honors the Tour de France *every* *single* *pedalstroke* *into* *Paris.* This doesn't change a whit of every word I've written since your jailbait days-but Alberto Contador, you are the winner in guts if not in glory!
Well folks, them's my awards--next year, let's hope Landa gets the big one, and we've got more interesting !@#$ to write about!
Sunday, July 09, 2017
It's Yer 2017 Tour de France Rest-Day Week-One-in-Review!
Well, with the dullest course in living memory on the books, the Tour de France's been surprisingly (if daaaaaaarn intermittently) sprightly the last few days, so as Team "You Suck!" Sky dodges the traditional rest-day press conference like a bunny fleeing a wolf-pack, what've we learned so far, fellow tifosi? This stuff!
1. Shut it Froome. I don't even know what you just said. In fact, I don't even know if you've actually been interviewed. Just shut it!
2. Now, reasonable people can differ reasonably--even on the brutish playing field of a pot of tea and crumpets in the parlor--as to the etiquette of a rider attacking the race leader when he's got a mechanical or, if you're one of Froome's GC rivals apparently, ever, under any circumstances, at all. But if Sagan deserved to get his !@# kicked outta the Tour for the sin of Cav riding up under his handlebars from behind and crashing himself out, Froome absolutely sure as hell deserves to get his !@# kicked out of the Tour for intentionally plowing Aru into the spectators with his spiky insect exoskeleton. A punk move I get--deliberate revenge is bull!@#$. Is it me, or are ASO's tender feelings too hurt from the Sagan backlash to play fair enough to punish an !@#wipe who *really* deserves it?
3. Mark Cavendish may have a long and glorious history of being a petty, whinging wanker, and I get the deep and actually rational sense of injustice of the swooning Saganator fan-base over what happened, but anyone who aims their ire--and for !@#$'s sake, even death wishes!--at Cav's wife and kids is a total despicable scumlord. Perspective, you vicious freaks!
4. Trek-Segafredo--you're lovely for buying up Contador with a nice contract, and I do believe you mean so well by him--as evidenced by, if nothing else, the fact that his own teammates aren't openly trying their damnedest to throw their own team captain to the wolves in their own self-interest. But totally aside from Contador's own legs and creeping age, to beat those soldered-together nuclear-powered robots at Sky you *have* to have an *entire* team 100% climbing-ready to escort him in the mountains. What, you need more money--I've got the $50 bucks I couldn't give away to crowdfund Euskaltel burning a hole in my pocket, anyone else in?
5. It was nice to see the remaining GC contenders stepping up to superdomestique Chris Froome for his 2017 maillot jaune today. At least you know Contador, however and whyever hampered, will try to attack when he's got the legs no matter what. Really, WTF was *that*?
6. ASO, any bike race is always dangerous, but this Tour is *carnage*. Valverde. Porte. Thomas. About a dozen other guys so far. Can you *please* try to minimize the inch-wide descents, unpadded corners, and curlicue finishing "straights" for next year, for safety's sake? Honestly, we *don't* need or want the 'spectacle' of people getting hurt and wins-by-attrition! What is this, !@#$in' "Rollerball"?
7. Oh, FDJ. Such fine and deserving talent, but *four* riders outside the time cut today! Maybe you could call Dave Brailsford and talk, y'know, nutrition or something?
8. Speaking of whom, !@#$ you Sky for screwing Mikel Landa for the Vuelta! He looks like a sullen toddler stuck in his "time-out" corner out there. Can you *please* let the guy off the leash and give him a cookie or something?
9. Andre Greipel will so either. He's just, y'know, conserving energy and nicely giving fellow countryman Kittel a few stages to shine. Is too! PS Class for setting things to rights with Sagan after the incidente!
10. Two Grand Tour career starts, two Grand Tour career stages--the Vuelta first, of course. Who *doesn't* like to say "Calmejane"?
11. White shorts. Just--no.
12. Yes, Robbie, the mechanics of on-the-fly nature breaks are fascinating. Can we *please* stop discussing them now?
12. Where the !@#$ is our TV coverage of the Giro Rosa?! *Tell* me what sponsor !@#$ you want me to buy to make this possible!
13. Oh Nairo. Even without Valverde around to bushwhack you, you should've known this was an exercise in total futility before you started. Be honest--is this why you rode the noble Giro, to give yourself an out here?
14. I've said it before, and I'll say it again (which is why it's lucky no-one reads this rag anyway): high mountain stages with downhill finishes are a *total* *!@#$in'* waste. We *know* who can descend--even if they run into trouble. What I want to know is, outside of Froome and his mo--uh, "mojo"--who the hell on a stage can climb to victory?
Well, them's my sum-up. Landa, plot your escape, Nairo, plot--well, *something*, for chrissakes, and Alberto, whatever's gone sour, we trust you'll be back to smack down your rivals and remind them who *earned* 9 Grand Tours another day!
1. Shut it Froome. I don't even know what you just said. In fact, I don't even know if you've actually been interviewed. Just shut it!
2. Now, reasonable people can differ reasonably--even on the brutish playing field of a pot of tea and crumpets in the parlor--as to the etiquette of a rider attacking the race leader when he's got a mechanical or, if you're one of Froome's GC rivals apparently, ever, under any circumstances, at all. But if Sagan deserved to get his !@# kicked outta the Tour for the sin of Cav riding up under his handlebars from behind and crashing himself out, Froome absolutely sure as hell deserves to get his !@# kicked out of the Tour for intentionally plowing Aru into the spectators with his spiky insect exoskeleton. A punk move I get--deliberate revenge is bull!@#$. Is it me, or are ASO's tender feelings too hurt from the Sagan backlash to play fair enough to punish an !@#wipe who *really* deserves it?
3. Mark Cavendish may have a long and glorious history of being a petty, whinging wanker, and I get the deep and actually rational sense of injustice of the swooning Saganator fan-base over what happened, but anyone who aims their ire--and for !@#$'s sake, even death wishes!--at Cav's wife and kids is a total despicable scumlord. Perspective, you vicious freaks!
4. Trek-Segafredo--you're lovely for buying up Contador with a nice contract, and I do believe you mean so well by him--as evidenced by, if nothing else, the fact that his own teammates aren't openly trying their damnedest to throw their own team captain to the wolves in their own self-interest. But totally aside from Contador's own legs and creeping age, to beat those soldered-together nuclear-powered robots at Sky you *have* to have an *entire* team 100% climbing-ready to escort him in the mountains. What, you need more money--I've got the $50 bucks I couldn't give away to crowdfund Euskaltel burning a hole in my pocket, anyone else in?
5. It was nice to see the remaining GC contenders stepping up to superdomestique Chris Froome for his 2017 maillot jaune today. At least you know Contador, however and whyever hampered, will try to attack when he's got the legs no matter what. Really, WTF was *that*?
6. ASO, any bike race is always dangerous, but this Tour is *carnage*. Valverde. Porte. Thomas. About a dozen other guys so far. Can you *please* try to minimize the inch-wide descents, unpadded corners, and curlicue finishing "straights" for next year, for safety's sake? Honestly, we *don't* need or want the 'spectacle' of people getting hurt and wins-by-attrition! What is this, !@#$in' "Rollerball"?
7. Oh, FDJ. Such fine and deserving talent, but *four* riders outside the time cut today! Maybe you could call Dave Brailsford and talk, y'know, nutrition or something?
8. Speaking of whom, !@#$ you Sky for screwing Mikel Landa for the Vuelta! He looks like a sullen toddler stuck in his "time-out" corner out there. Can you *please* let the guy off the leash and give him a cookie or something?
9. Andre Greipel will so either. He's just, y'know, conserving energy and nicely giving fellow countryman Kittel a few stages to shine. Is too! PS Class for setting things to rights with Sagan after the incidente!
10. Two Grand Tour career starts, two Grand Tour career stages--the Vuelta first, of course. Who *doesn't* like to say "Calmejane"?
11. White shorts. Just--no.
12. Yes, Robbie, the mechanics of on-the-fly nature breaks are fascinating. Can we *please* stop discussing them now?
12. Where the !@#$ is our TV coverage of the Giro Rosa?! *Tell* me what sponsor !@#$ you want me to buy to make this possible!
13. Oh Nairo. Even without Valverde around to bushwhack you, you should've known this was an exercise in total futility before you started. Be honest--is this why you rode the noble Giro, to give yourself an out here?
14. I've said it before, and I'll say it again (which is why it's lucky no-one reads this rag anyway): high mountain stages with downhill finishes are a *total* *!@#$in'* waste. We *know* who can descend--even if they run into trouble. What I want to know is, outside of Froome and his mo--uh, "mojo"--who the hell on a stage can climb to victory?
Well, them's my sum-up. Landa, plot your escape, Nairo, plot--well, *something*, for chrissakes, and Alberto, whatever's gone sour, we trust you'll be back to smack down your rivals and remind them who *earned* 9 Grand Tours another day!
Thursday, June 29, 2017
It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Trois: the 'Nother Contenders! #TdF
You got yer course, you got yer maillots jaune, *now* what do you need? That's right, yer climbers, (yawn) sprinters, and yer adorably-doomed breakaway artistes and general stage hunters! So who to look for:
Sprinters: if you ain't here, your mama probably is! Sagan. Kittel. Bouhanni. Cav, if, despite Cav's wholly unwarranted recent-smack talk, will be lucky if Mark Renshaw don't accidentally outshoot his own captain. Best of all, woot woot woot--Gorilla's in the hooooooouse! Dang, isn't it *enough* that Sagan's gonna win the green jersey for more consecutive years than he's actually been alive, he's gotta take like 10 stage victories too? We're running outta goofy stage-win dances for this kid--Andre Greipel, primarily because of your general awesomeness but also just to give Peter time to re-choreograph, I'm *really* rooting for you here!
Climbers: bizarrely, despite the obscene lack of, y'know, MOUNTAIN STAGES at this year's Tour, there's a bunch of 'em, if the poor wee lightweights don't get blown off the course somewhere in Dusseldorf never to be seen again. Anyhoo, aside from the GC, who've we got? Yep, lots of team-captain's superdomestiques who'll have to wait til and only their GC boy cracks before they'll be let off the leash, and a handful who've already been granted their own chances at bat. Landa and Nieve, both hopefully looking to screw over Froome to save their own careers for 2019. Wee darling Esteban Chaves, who'll so enrapture his competitors with his aw-shucks adorability they won't even notice he's beat them til he's 45 k up the mountain. Our smashing ex-Carrot Izagirres, rumored to be riding together again next year. The Yates brothers. Alejandro Valverde, whose loyalty, one suspects, is just one deep breath from Nairo away from ditching his twee boss entirely and leaving him at the !@#-end of the Hautacam before Quintana's even got his chamois straight. Hell, even that much-hyped-but-oft-dismissed Carlos Betancur, who seemed to reach a crucial epiphany when he *just* heard for the *very first time* last week that an all-donut diet and giant tractor-tire of a beer gut *isn't* in fact the winning formula for flyweight climber success. You go Carlos--no, we mean it, now that you can, try *going*!
The Breakaways and Stage Hunters: frankly, who *isn't* her whom we love? Sure, sweetly hopeful newbies and the regular denizens of the (cycling) Atlas Obscura'll all be here, but we've also got such experienced wheelmen as the ageless Sylvain Chavanel--armed, I hear, with a Taser for the next !@#$wit who lets his dog plow into his wheel--Phil-Gil, and Tommy "the Tongue" Voeckler, particularly looking for glory in his last (!) Tour de France, everybody's favorite stoner little buddy Taylor Phinney, Cannondale teammie Andrew Talansky, Greg "!@#$ You I'm Not a Wheelsucker" van Avermaet, and, of course, the mighty Degenstache, who better shut the hell up buckle down get over himself and ride himself ragged for Alberto Contador in the mountains and on every other stage, you hear me?! So go forth and break away, or at least surprise the pack with a 3k-leap to the finish line a la' the wily Gilbert--just don't start !@#$ing around looking at your companions the last 300 meters before the line like you nimrods usually d--they're coming you fools, I tell you!--just stop i--stop it!--aw, *!@#dammit!*
Look, there's a looooooooot of non-GC talent out there, but one of those stages could be yours, boys--so keep your dope at undetectable levels, don't say anything moronic and embarrass the sponsors on the eve of the race, and for !@##'s sake, Nacer, wear a glove if you're gonna sock anybody!
PS Goriiiiillllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Sprinters: if you ain't here, your mama probably is! Sagan. Kittel. Bouhanni. Cav, if, despite Cav's wholly unwarranted recent-smack talk, will be lucky if Mark Renshaw don't accidentally outshoot his own captain. Best of all, woot woot woot--Gorilla's in the hooooooouse! Dang, isn't it *enough* that Sagan's gonna win the green jersey for more consecutive years than he's actually been alive, he's gotta take like 10 stage victories too? We're running outta goofy stage-win dances for this kid--Andre Greipel, primarily because of your general awesomeness but also just to give Peter time to re-choreograph, I'm *really* rooting for you here!
Climbers: bizarrely, despite the obscene lack of, y'know, MOUNTAIN STAGES at this year's Tour, there's a bunch of 'em, if the poor wee lightweights don't get blown off the course somewhere in Dusseldorf never to be seen again. Anyhoo, aside from the GC, who've we got? Yep, lots of team-captain's superdomestiques who'll have to wait til and only their GC boy cracks before they'll be let off the leash, and a handful who've already been granted their own chances at bat. Landa and Nieve, both hopefully looking to screw over Froome to save their own careers for 2019. Wee darling Esteban Chaves, who'll so enrapture his competitors with his aw-shucks adorability they won't even notice he's beat them til he's 45 k up the mountain. Our smashing ex-Carrot Izagirres, rumored to be riding together again next year. The Yates brothers. Alejandro Valverde, whose loyalty, one suspects, is just one deep breath from Nairo away from ditching his twee boss entirely and leaving him at the !@#-end of the Hautacam before Quintana's even got his chamois straight. Hell, even that much-hyped-but-oft-dismissed Carlos Betancur, who seemed to reach a crucial epiphany when he *just* heard for the *very first time* last week that an all-donut diet and giant tractor-tire of a beer gut *isn't* in fact the winning formula for flyweight climber success. You go Carlos--no, we mean it, now that you can, try *going*!
The Breakaways and Stage Hunters: frankly, who *isn't* her whom we love? Sure, sweetly hopeful newbies and the regular denizens of the (cycling) Atlas Obscura'll all be here, but we've also got such experienced wheelmen as the ageless Sylvain Chavanel--armed, I hear, with a Taser for the next !@#$wit who lets his dog plow into his wheel--Phil-Gil, and Tommy "the Tongue" Voeckler, particularly looking for glory in his last (!) Tour de France, everybody's favorite stoner little buddy Taylor Phinney, Cannondale teammie Andrew Talansky, Greg "!@#$ You I'm Not a Wheelsucker" van Avermaet, and, of course, the mighty Degenstache, who better shut the hell up buckle down get over himself and ride himself ragged for Alberto Contador in the mountains and on every other stage, you hear me?! So go forth and break away, or at least surprise the pack with a 3k-leap to the finish line a la' the wily Gilbert--just don't start !@#$ing around looking at your companions the last 300 meters before the line like you nimrods usually d--they're coming you fools, I tell you!--just stop i--stop it!--aw, *!@#dammit!*
Look, there's a looooooooot of non-GC talent out there, but one of those stages could be yours, boys--so keep your dope at undetectable levels, don't say anything moronic and embarrass the sponsors on the eve of the race, and for !@##'s sake, Nacer, wear a glove if you're gonna sock anybody!
PS Goriiiiillllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Saturday, May 13, 2017
Jailbait! Pink Gorillas! Disturbing Analogies! Slap-Fights!: It's Yer Giro d'Italia Week One in Review!
Okay, the first week of this year's monumental 100th Giro d'Italia has been accused, in some circles--as in, say, the legendary Mario "the Lion King" Cipollini's--as being a bit of a snoozer. But whaddaya expect--they gotta throw the few sprinters at the race *some* kind of a bone before they send 'em home crying like Cavendish when he loses, right? And you actually missed, if you weren't paying attention or, frankly, just laid a little too hard into the Aperol, quite a bit. So before we hit the serious mountains with tomorrow's hopefully GC-awakening slog up to Blockhaus, let's review!
Hijinks!: Yes, sincere congrats to the first two twits (Stefano Perazzi and Nicola Ruffoni, both of Bardiani-CSF) to get popped for doping before the race even it made it to the pre-show press conferences. Well, *that* restores the public faith in clean sport! Bonus points to Team Bardiani management for immediately throwing the riders under the bus (they wish literally!) as the usual "rogue elements" with the squad staff "completely unaware of the drugs we personally provided them (wait, did I translate that right?) and, of course, for UCI for immediately clamping down on this disgusting scourge by--uh, yeah, letting the team ride the race anyway. Bets on which Bardiani innocent gets busted next!
Jailbait!: look, if you *remotely* saw anyone from Bora-Hansgrohe coming--which, to be honest, has been primarily known as "Peter Sagan's squad"--much less their actual sprinter's lead out guy who happened to be riding his first stage in his first Grand Tour ever when his sprinter lost his wheel and his whole purpose in riding the Giro vanished in a second, you are a lying lying lying liar, or else the actual and direct hand of God reaching down and propelling an entirely surprised youngster Lukas Postlberger across the line and into the holy maglia rosa on Stage 1. Even better, the kid showed more tactical sense and cool under insta-pressure as some serious GC riders a good decade his senior. Best of all, the RAI commentator's endless delight since that fateful day in yelling "Postlberger!" at completely irrelevant times during the race ever since. A sweet start to an illustrious career, Lukas!
Pink Gorillas!: Meantime, big friendly lug Andre Greipel, who looks like he could kill you merely by thinking in your personal direction but who never misses an opportunity to warmly thank and congratulate his competitors, his teammates, his soigneur, the podium babes, or any rider who manages to stay upright during an on-the-fly nature-break, also took a smashing sprint and spent a lovely day in pink, generously allowing Caleb Ewan to take a stage as well, along with an astonishingly fast Fernando Gaviria. You're just so *nice*, Andre--*please* don't bail, the race organizers *swore* there's another sprint day in there somewhere!
Disturbing Analogies!: Speaking of Gaviria, who's already bagged *two* wins so far this race and donned the newly-returned maglia ciclamino, I gotta say he's an early lead contender for the 2017 Giro d'Italia racejunkie award for quote o' the Giro: "I think getting to Milan will turn Fernando the boy into Fernando the man." Y'know, um...yeah...no, there's just *no* commentary on that that *wouldn't* be disconcerting. Anyway, nice to see you riding so well, kid!
Lava Lumps!: naturally, the *biggest* disappointment for the tifosi this week was the vaunted Stage 4 hike up Mount Etna, not only because the volcano didn't explode and bury the Team Sky bus under a cloud of caustic ash and lava, but because the GC riders completely wussed out of *any* kind of move and that little weasel Thomas still managed to grab 4 bonus seconds over his team's rightful GC captain, Mikel Landa. Good little attack on today's stage though, Mikel--you'll have plenty of time on tomorrow's ginormous climb to stomp him tomorrow!
Slap-Fights!: Back in the peloton, an epic slap-fight between key Nibali domestique Javi Moreno and demon-squad Sky's Diego Rosa ensued after Rosa started it by giving Javi a shove and a startled Moreno reasonably responded, leading to the obvious result of the race organizers kicking out Moreno on account of Rosa being a total ass. Stop it, guys. Just--stop it. With most of you, it's like watching a unicorn and Tinkerbell getting into a to-the-death cage-fight in front of a howling bloodthirsty crowd of dew-drunk wood-sprites. It's *embarrassing.* Now hash it out like *real* cyclists, by surreptitiously lowering the other guy's saddle by a millimeter and freaking him out for 200 kilometers! Anyhoo, here's the Thrilla in Manila (Etna, whatever):
Fan Failures!: Finally, endless curses to the dimwit fan with either an overextended arm or a moron freakin' selfie stick who apparently thought it would be a good idea to steal DiData hardworking nice-guy Kristian Sbaragli's liver right off 'im and try to sell it on the black market, 'cause the eejit damn near succeeded, and as the wounded victim helpfully pointed out, it could've caused a hell of a nasty crash in the peloton, as well as the marginally lesser problem of personal disembowelment. !@#dammit, do I *have* to do yet *another* "Etiquette for Tifosi" post *every* Grand Tour--because I can only say "JAYSUS GET YOURSELF AND YOUR APPENDAGES OFF THE COURSE YOU !@#$WITS" so diplomatically!
Well, that--and the fact that an Italian astonishingly hasn't won a single stage yet this Giro, which the Moreno-less Nibali still better pull off tomorrow or he's gonna look vulnerable--was the week that was. Onto Week 2, and the *real* start of some major GC slugfests!
Hijinks!: Yes, sincere congrats to the first two twits (Stefano Perazzi and Nicola Ruffoni, both of Bardiani-CSF) to get popped for doping before the race even it made it to the pre-show press conferences. Well, *that* restores the public faith in clean sport! Bonus points to Team Bardiani management for immediately throwing the riders under the bus (they wish literally!) as the usual "rogue elements" with the squad staff "completely unaware of the drugs we personally provided them (wait, did I translate that right?) and, of course, for UCI for immediately clamping down on this disgusting scourge by--uh, yeah, letting the team ride the race anyway. Bets on which Bardiani innocent gets busted next!
Jailbait!: look, if you *remotely* saw anyone from Bora-Hansgrohe coming--which, to be honest, has been primarily known as "Peter Sagan's squad"--much less their actual sprinter's lead out guy who happened to be riding his first stage in his first Grand Tour ever when his sprinter lost his wheel and his whole purpose in riding the Giro vanished in a second, you are a lying lying lying liar, or else the actual and direct hand of God reaching down and propelling an entirely surprised youngster Lukas Postlberger across the line and into the holy maglia rosa on Stage 1. Even better, the kid showed more tactical sense and cool under insta-pressure as some serious GC riders a good decade his senior. Best of all, the RAI commentator's endless delight since that fateful day in yelling "Postlberger!" at completely irrelevant times during the race ever since. A sweet start to an illustrious career, Lukas!
Pink Gorillas!: Meantime, big friendly lug Andre Greipel, who looks like he could kill you merely by thinking in your personal direction but who never misses an opportunity to warmly thank and congratulate his competitors, his teammates, his soigneur, the podium babes, or any rider who manages to stay upright during an on-the-fly nature-break, also took a smashing sprint and spent a lovely day in pink, generously allowing Caleb Ewan to take a stage as well, along with an astonishingly fast Fernando Gaviria. You're just so *nice*, Andre--*please* don't bail, the race organizers *swore* there's another sprint day in there somewhere!
Disturbing Analogies!: Speaking of Gaviria, who's already bagged *two* wins so far this race and donned the newly-returned maglia ciclamino, I gotta say he's an early lead contender for the 2017 Giro d'Italia racejunkie award for quote o' the Giro: "I think getting to Milan will turn Fernando the boy into Fernando the man." Y'know, um...yeah...no, there's just *no* commentary on that that *wouldn't* be disconcerting. Anyway, nice to see you riding so well, kid!
Lava Lumps!: naturally, the *biggest* disappointment for the tifosi this week was the vaunted Stage 4 hike up Mount Etna, not only because the volcano didn't explode and bury the Team Sky bus under a cloud of caustic ash and lava, but because the GC riders completely wussed out of *any* kind of move and that little weasel Thomas still managed to grab 4 bonus seconds over his team's rightful GC captain, Mikel Landa. Good little attack on today's stage though, Mikel--you'll have plenty of time on tomorrow's ginormous climb to stomp him tomorrow!
Slap-Fights!: Back in the peloton, an epic slap-fight between key Nibali domestique Javi Moreno and demon-squad Sky's Diego Rosa ensued after Rosa started it by giving Javi a shove and a startled Moreno reasonably responded, leading to the obvious result of the race organizers kicking out Moreno on account of Rosa being a total ass. Stop it, guys. Just--stop it. With most of you, it's like watching a unicorn and Tinkerbell getting into a to-the-death cage-fight in front of a howling bloodthirsty crowd of dew-drunk wood-sprites. It's *embarrassing.* Now hash it out like *real* cyclists, by surreptitiously lowering the other guy's saddle by a millimeter and freaking him out for 200 kilometers! Anyhoo, here's the Thrilla in Manila (Etna, whatever):
Fan Failures!: Finally, endless curses to the dimwit fan with either an overextended arm or a moron freakin' selfie stick who apparently thought it would be a good idea to steal DiData hardworking nice-guy Kristian Sbaragli's liver right off 'im and try to sell it on the black market, 'cause the eejit damn near succeeded, and as the wounded victim helpfully pointed out, it could've caused a hell of a nasty crash in the peloton, as well as the marginally lesser problem of personal disembowelment. !@#dammit, do I *have* to do yet *another* "Etiquette for Tifosi" post *every* Grand Tour--because I can only say "JAYSUS GET YOURSELF AND YOUR APPENDAGES OFF THE COURSE YOU !@#$WITS" so diplomatically!
Well, that--and the fact that an Italian astonishingly hasn't won a single stage yet this Giro, which the Moreno-less Nibali still better pull off tomorrow or he's gonna look vulnerable--was the week that was. Onto Week 2, and the *real* start of some major GC slugfests!
Sunday, July 24, 2016
It's Yer 2016 Tour de France Racejunkie Awards (Because I Can't Deal With the Tour After Today) #TDF2016
All right cycling fans, the circus has ended, the clowns've gone home, and it's time for our incredibly prestigious 2016 Tour de France Racejunkie Awards (Because I Can't !@#$ing Deal With the Tour After Today)! Prizes for the winners, should any be so desperate as to claim them: a fine custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap, whatever cheap tacky statuette I can find in a local thrift shop, a lifetime's worth of shameful notoriety on the Internets, and, most important of all, a warm and heartfelt congrats for a job well (or incredibly horridly) done. On to the show!
Dumb-!@# Move of the Race (Pre-Race): People are *drunk*? And disturbing my precious *beauty sleep*? By speaking outside in a *common hallway*? At a hotel with a *bar* in it? On their *holiday,* the outrageous disrespectful bastards? Well god forbid I should grab a pair of 30-cent earplugs, peons, because you have dared to disturb the primo snooze-time of a *prince*! Yep, complete numbnut/not-so-hot-apparently pugilist Nacer Bouhanni, the entire reason for his team's otherwise hopeless existence at the Tour, sagely determining it was a smarter use of Cofidis's time and money--and a better cycling career move to boot--to beat the hell out of drunken tourist number one, break his own freakin' hand in the process, and injure himself outta the Tour de France, instead of using, oh, such unheard-of methods as "asking them nicely to be quiet" or "calling the hotel management and telling them to make them be quiet". Nice work, eejit--on the bright side, at least we didn't have to listen to you bitching at the finish line why it was someone else's fault you lost all the sprints for three weeks!
Crap (Well, Technically P!@#) Tactic o' 2016: so race leader Chris Froome, briefly losing the services of two of his android Sky domestiques for a grand total of 30 completely inconsequential seconds over a three-week race while only 6 others remained with him that whole time to shield him from the wind, wipe his nose, bring him his blankie and scratch his butt for him that might, just *theoretically*, have allowed the other GC non-contenders to get *one or two meters* ahead til they'd've been humiliatingly reeled back by the robot train anyway, *totally coincidentally* finds his delicate bladder is ABOUT TO BLOW THAT VERY SECOND, necessitating an immediate--and ruthlessly Fabian "Miss Manners" Cancellara-enforced--COMPLETE STOPPAGE OF THE PELOTON while our Froomey takes a relaxed and leisurely nature break that, shockingly, allows his boys to disentangle themselves, shake out their legs, get back on their bikes again, and return seamlessly to his service. What a petty little wanker move, Froome!
Run Run Rudolph, Santa's Got to Make It to Town Award: okay, maybe it's not entirely unreasonable to expect that (1) eejit fans are gonna crowd the riders on Mont Ventoux (2) the race moto in front of you is likely to do something both (a) unexpected and (b) sorta stupid (3) you're gonna be rather startled when (a) the guy ahead of you jaw-plants into the stopped-on-a-dime race moto and (b) your own bike folds up like a wet taco. But in the grand scheme of rider reactions to unpredictable events, Chris Froome still managed to pull off the Freakout Heard Round the World of this, or any, millenium. The bewildered grab for a neutral service bike, the pissed-off road toss when the pedals proved incompatible? Of course. The "sprinting up the road in your cleats like Usain Bolt being pursued by a hive of coked-up of killer bees without a bike against the rules and gaining (and being retroactively gifted!) a ton of ill-gotten time" part? Not so much. Froome, I know the whole situation wasn't cool--but either hold it together, or stay the hell away from the unfairly time-screwed Bauke Mollema for the next few years!
Domestique o' the Race: sure, Froomey had a pack of enormous Classics riders perfectly normally powering up the entire Alps like they were pedaling up the street for a Starbucks, but damn, if Tejay Van Garderen wasn't getting any help or sympathy from our winner this year, we sure can tell who was! Brailsford, get Richie Porte the Sky uniform he so fully deserves--and BMC, kick his !@# to the curb!
Kardashian Family Camera Wh*re Prize: so, Peter Sagan, how does it feel to win the gr--!@#$ OFF, VERMIN, I'M TAKIN' A PHOTO WITH MY BOY HERE! YOU, GET OVER HERE, GIMME THAT SELFIE STICK! HEY, PETEY, COME A LITTLE CLOSER! RIGHT, RIGHT, ARM AROUND MY SHOULDER..BIG SMILE NOW...Oleg Tinkov, you have every right to be happy and proud of your ginormously expensive toy-trinket's smashing performance this year. But we *know* you run Team Tinkoff already--can't you just get one of those life-size cardboard cut-outs to take pictures with, and leave the poor guy alone now?
Crash o' the Tour (Spectacular But Harmless Edition): there you are, just chillin' in the individual time trial, no pressure for results, just a few more pedal strokes to the line--'til one tricky corner sends you right into the spectators like you're about to pull up to have a beer with him. Oliver Naesen, glad you're okay, and you get *major* points for style!
Crash o' the Tour (Race-Wrecking Edition): need we even name the sad recipient of this unwanted prize? The nearly-invincible Alberto Contador, finally defeated by not one but two ignominiously avoidable and excruciatingly painful crashes as what was left of his poor wee ripped-up bod he crawled into the team car on Stage 9, flushing his sole season's goal, and any hope this Tour de France had of being remotely interesting for all but a few handfuls of seconds, down the toilette. Aw, rats--speedy recovery for the Vuelta Alberto, and don't you let that goon Tinkov suggest it's not as worthy!
Crash o' the Tour (Total Random !@#$show Edition): ever wonder what it'd be like to lam a $15,000 bike with your body on it into a 2,000-kilogram kids'-party bouncy house at 50 kilometers an hour? Well, a bloodied-n-stitched-up Adam Yates can sure tell you--and what he can tell you is, it *sucks*. Of all the avoidable !@#damn stupid things--next year, dear race organizers, can you at least put up some "WATCH OUT YOU DIPWAD YOU'RE ABOUT TO RIP THE PLUG OUT OF THIS GIANT TWO STORY OBVIOUSLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU FLAMME ROUGE INFLATABLE MONSTROSITY" caution tape?
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream Award: Was he off in the Land of Nod? On a Magic Carpet Ride? Don't Dreaming It's Over? Either way, Nairo Quintana seemed to absolutely snooze through this race (welcome to the club, pal!). Hey, forget the lousy cap and trophy--get this kid a nice pillow and soft cozy blanket, stat!
All Quiet on the Western Front Award: the first 6 Tour stages--6!--and not a single rider had to drop outta the race due to illness, bull!@#$ "I'm about to get popped for doping" illness, crash, or other injury. Okay, that right there is suspicious!
The Return of the King Prize: look, I am only awarding *anything* to the sprinters because Andre Greipel restored my smithereened faith in humanity by taking the final win on the Champs-Elysees today. But after a coupla lousy low-key seasons uncharacteristically in the shadows of guys like Kittel and, well, almost everybody else with a half-!@#ed touch of speed in their legs, I have to concede, it was very pleasing to see Mark Cavendish with his form (and confidence) back in buckets. But it was still nicer that Andre won!
Totally Unrelated to the Tour de France Stuff I Like Award: Didja see Tommeke's back in 2017 with Quick Step for one more crack at Paris-Roubaix, and also with a celebratory win that very same day he inked the deal? Woot woot woot!
Anticlimactic Retirement o' the Race: *really*, Fabian Cancellara--and believe me, it takes a lot to criticize a legend like you? Your very last Grande Boucle ever, you're just not feeling it, and you bail out for a shot at a medal in Rio? WHAT THE HELL? You better bring home gold for your fanboys and girls--after all those years of devotion, they deserve it!
Fan !@#$Head Neon Banana-Hammock Prize: okay, in *any* year, unfortunately, this is a pretty packed field of contenders. But from freaks dressed like humongous lobsters to !@#holes destroying riders' lines on crucial climbs to nimrods burning flares on the course to fans shoving giant flags into cyclists' derailleurs, this year really seemed to take the cake--until, of course, some invisible though history-making moronothon dead-blocked a moto, took Porte Mollema and Froome out, and earned themselves the prestigious tile of Biggest Sporting Tool of All Human History. Whoever you are--if you ever even sobered up enough to *know* who you are--be proud for this one brief shining moment before your ancestors, peers, and all your descendants disown you and deny your very existence for as long as this Earth shall spin!
I Really Don't Believe In Violence Award: to be fair, sometimes a struggling pack-fodder rider mightn't so much *mind* a gentle nudge on the saddle as he gacks up a mountain he's no business ever climbing in the first place. But unless you think a GC contender honestly *wants* to risk the maillot jaune, the greatest achievement of any riders' career except the Giro or Vuelta, and his stone-carved place in the tablets o'time for the amazing honor of your touch, your spittle, or even just your incoherent ear-bloodying screaming, BACK THE !@#$ OFF--really, is it *so* hard for even the tenderest and gentlest among us to understand, say, Chris Froome's surprisingly effective Stage 8 spectator slug?
I ain't your biggest fan, Froomey, but credit's due where credit's due!
Corollary Okay Maybe Vigilantism Ain't So Bad Award: given that even France's finest gendarmes proved unable to corral the approximate population of China smooshed into meter-wide strips of grass on the edge of terrifying life-threatening precipices, it was perhaps not entirely unsporting for self-appointed sheriffs of the Wild Wild Alps to take the initiative to protect their heroes by grabbing 'em by the scruffs and swinging 'em off the road with admirable speed and ferocity. You threaten someone's favorite rider with your venal antics, you takes your chances, pal!
Last But Not Least, the Annual Raise the Red Lanterne Prize: armchair peloton denizens, noble weekend warriors, and hard core pros alike: one final round of applause, please, for this year's 174th, last-place finisher, Bora-Argon's Sam Bennett, a hard-earned 5 hours, 17 minutes, and 14 seconds behind overall winner Chris Froome. While he certainly didn't sound happy being asked about it, he, like anyone who can survive 3 weeks of cycling misery, exhaustion, intermittent fulfillment, and damned hard work, honestly deserves any pedestal we can find to put him on--congrats to our 2016 Tour de France Lanterne Rouge!
Well, fellow tifosi, I know you're all relieved it's over, but if you still care enough to point out whatever I certainly missed, have at--now let's get ready for the fabulous Vuelta a Espana!
Dumb-!@# Move of the Race (Pre-Race): People are *drunk*? And disturbing my precious *beauty sleep*? By speaking outside in a *common hallway*? At a hotel with a *bar* in it? On their *holiday,* the outrageous disrespectful bastards? Well god forbid I should grab a pair of 30-cent earplugs, peons, because you have dared to disturb the primo snooze-time of a *prince*! Yep, complete numbnut/not-so-hot-apparently pugilist Nacer Bouhanni, the entire reason for his team's otherwise hopeless existence at the Tour, sagely determining it was a smarter use of Cofidis's time and money--and a better cycling career move to boot--to beat the hell out of drunken tourist number one, break his own freakin' hand in the process, and injure himself outta the Tour de France, instead of using, oh, such unheard-of methods as "asking them nicely to be quiet" or "calling the hotel management and telling them to make them be quiet". Nice work, eejit--on the bright side, at least we didn't have to listen to you bitching at the finish line why it was someone else's fault you lost all the sprints for three weeks!
Crap (Well, Technically P!@#) Tactic o' 2016: so race leader Chris Froome, briefly losing the services of two of his android Sky domestiques for a grand total of 30 completely inconsequential seconds over a three-week race while only 6 others remained with him that whole time to shield him from the wind, wipe his nose, bring him his blankie and scratch his butt for him that might, just *theoretically*, have allowed the other GC non-contenders to get *one or two meters* ahead til they'd've been humiliatingly reeled back by the robot train anyway, *totally coincidentally* finds his delicate bladder is ABOUT TO BLOW THAT VERY SECOND, necessitating an immediate--and ruthlessly Fabian "Miss Manners" Cancellara-enforced--COMPLETE STOPPAGE OF THE PELOTON while our Froomey takes a relaxed and leisurely nature break that, shockingly, allows his boys to disentangle themselves, shake out their legs, get back on their bikes again, and return seamlessly to his service. What a petty little wanker move, Froome!
Run Run Rudolph, Santa's Got to Make It to Town Award: okay, maybe it's not entirely unreasonable to expect that (1) eejit fans are gonna crowd the riders on Mont Ventoux (2) the race moto in front of you is likely to do something both (a) unexpected and (b) sorta stupid (3) you're gonna be rather startled when (a) the guy ahead of you jaw-plants into the stopped-on-a-dime race moto and (b) your own bike folds up like a wet taco. But in the grand scheme of rider reactions to unpredictable events, Chris Froome still managed to pull off the Freakout Heard Round the World of this, or any, millenium. The bewildered grab for a neutral service bike, the pissed-off road toss when the pedals proved incompatible? Of course. The "sprinting up the road in your cleats like Usain Bolt being pursued by a hive of coked-up of killer bees without a bike against the rules and gaining (and being retroactively gifted!) a ton of ill-gotten time" part? Not so much. Froome, I know the whole situation wasn't cool--but either hold it together, or stay the hell away from the unfairly time-screwed Bauke Mollema for the next few years!
Domestique o' the Race: sure, Froomey had a pack of enormous Classics riders perfectly normally powering up the entire Alps like they were pedaling up the street for a Starbucks, but damn, if Tejay Van Garderen wasn't getting any help or sympathy from our winner this year, we sure can tell who was! Brailsford, get Richie Porte the Sky uniform he so fully deserves--and BMC, kick his !@# to the curb!
Kardashian Family Camera Wh*re Prize: so, Peter Sagan, how does it feel to win the gr--!@#$ OFF, VERMIN, I'M TAKIN' A PHOTO WITH MY BOY HERE! YOU, GET OVER HERE, GIMME THAT SELFIE STICK! HEY, PETEY, COME A LITTLE CLOSER! RIGHT, RIGHT, ARM AROUND MY SHOULDER..BIG SMILE NOW...Oleg Tinkov, you have every right to be happy and proud of your ginormously expensive toy-trinket's smashing performance this year. But we *know* you run Team Tinkoff already--can't you just get one of those life-size cardboard cut-outs to take pictures with, and leave the poor guy alone now?
Crash o' the Tour (Spectacular But Harmless Edition): there you are, just chillin' in the individual time trial, no pressure for results, just a few more pedal strokes to the line--'til one tricky corner sends you right into the spectators like you're about to pull up to have a beer with him. Oliver Naesen, glad you're okay, and you get *major* points for style!
Crash o' the Tour (Race-Wrecking Edition): need we even name the sad recipient of this unwanted prize? The nearly-invincible Alberto Contador, finally defeated by not one but two ignominiously avoidable and excruciatingly painful crashes as what was left of his poor wee ripped-up bod he crawled into the team car on Stage 9, flushing his sole season's goal, and any hope this Tour de France had of being remotely interesting for all but a few handfuls of seconds, down the toilette. Aw, rats--speedy recovery for the Vuelta Alberto, and don't you let that goon Tinkov suggest it's not as worthy!
Crash o' the Tour (Total Random !@#$show Edition): ever wonder what it'd be like to lam a $15,000 bike with your body on it into a 2,000-kilogram kids'-party bouncy house at 50 kilometers an hour? Well, a bloodied-n-stitched-up Adam Yates can sure tell you--and what he can tell you is, it *sucks*. Of all the avoidable !@#damn stupid things--next year, dear race organizers, can you at least put up some "WATCH OUT YOU DIPWAD YOU'RE ABOUT TO RIP THE PLUG OUT OF THIS GIANT TWO STORY OBVIOUSLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU FLAMME ROUGE INFLATABLE MONSTROSITY" caution tape?
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream Award: Was he off in the Land of Nod? On a Magic Carpet Ride? Don't Dreaming It's Over? Either way, Nairo Quintana seemed to absolutely snooze through this race (welcome to the club, pal!). Hey, forget the lousy cap and trophy--get this kid a nice pillow and soft cozy blanket, stat!
All Quiet on the Western Front Award: the first 6 Tour stages--6!--and not a single rider had to drop outta the race due to illness, bull!@#$ "I'm about to get popped for doping" illness, crash, or other injury. Okay, that right there is suspicious!
The Return of the King Prize: look, I am only awarding *anything* to the sprinters because Andre Greipel restored my smithereened faith in humanity by taking the final win on the Champs-Elysees today. But after a coupla lousy low-key seasons uncharacteristically in the shadows of guys like Kittel and, well, almost everybody else with a half-!@#ed touch of speed in their legs, I have to concede, it was very pleasing to see Mark Cavendish with his form (and confidence) back in buckets. But it was still nicer that Andre won!
Totally Unrelated to the Tour de France Stuff I Like Award: Didja see Tommeke's back in 2017 with Quick Step for one more crack at Paris-Roubaix, and also with a celebratory win that very same day he inked the deal? Woot woot woot!
Anticlimactic Retirement o' the Race: *really*, Fabian Cancellara--and believe me, it takes a lot to criticize a legend like you? Your very last Grande Boucle ever, you're just not feeling it, and you bail out for a shot at a medal in Rio? WHAT THE HELL? You better bring home gold for your fanboys and girls--after all those years of devotion, they deserve it!
Fan !@#$Head Neon Banana-Hammock Prize: okay, in *any* year, unfortunately, this is a pretty packed field of contenders. But from freaks dressed like humongous lobsters to !@#holes destroying riders' lines on crucial climbs to nimrods burning flares on the course to fans shoving giant flags into cyclists' derailleurs, this year really seemed to take the cake--until, of course, some invisible though history-making moronothon dead-blocked a moto, took Porte Mollema and Froome out, and earned themselves the prestigious tile of Biggest Sporting Tool of All Human History. Whoever you are--if you ever even sobered up enough to *know* who you are--be proud for this one brief shining moment before your ancestors, peers, and all your descendants disown you and deny your very existence for as long as this Earth shall spin!
I Really Don't Believe In Violence Award: to be fair, sometimes a struggling pack-fodder rider mightn't so much *mind* a gentle nudge on the saddle as he gacks up a mountain he's no business ever climbing in the first place. But unless you think a GC contender honestly *wants* to risk the maillot jaune, the greatest achievement of any riders' career except the Giro or Vuelta, and his stone-carved place in the tablets o'time for the amazing honor of your touch, your spittle, or even just your incoherent ear-bloodying screaming, BACK THE !@#$ OFF--really, is it *so* hard for even the tenderest and gentlest among us to understand, say, Chris Froome's surprisingly effective Stage 8 spectator slug?
I ain't your biggest fan, Froomey, but credit's due where credit's due!Corollary Okay Maybe Vigilantism Ain't So Bad Award: given that even France's finest gendarmes proved unable to corral the approximate population of China smooshed into meter-wide strips of grass on the edge of terrifying life-threatening precipices, it was perhaps not entirely unsporting for self-appointed sheriffs of the Wild Wild Alps to take the initiative to protect their heroes by grabbing 'em by the scruffs and swinging 'em off the road with admirable speed and ferocity. You threaten someone's favorite rider with your venal antics, you takes your chances, pal!
Last But Not Least, the Annual Raise the Red Lanterne Prize: armchair peloton denizens, noble weekend warriors, and hard core pros alike: one final round of applause, please, for this year's 174th, last-place finisher, Bora-Argon's Sam Bennett, a hard-earned 5 hours, 17 minutes, and 14 seconds behind overall winner Chris Froome. While he certainly didn't sound happy being asked about it, he, like anyone who can survive 3 weeks of cycling misery, exhaustion, intermittent fulfillment, and damned hard work, honestly deserves any pedestal we can find to put him on--congrats to our 2016 Tour de France Lanterne Rouge!
Well, fellow tifosi, I know you're all relieved it's over, but if you still care enough to point out whatever I certainly missed, have at--now let's get ready for the fabulous Vuelta a Espana!
Friday, May 13, 2016
Slap-Fights! Etiquette Breaches! Maglia Rosa Blame-Fests!: It's Yer Giro d'Italia Week One in Review! #Giro
Well yeee-haaaaaaaw, we're one week into the fight for the maglia rosa at the most beautiful of all races, the smashing Giro d'Italia--and what've we learned (or wished we could unlearn) so far, cycling fans? This!
1. *Don't* !@#$ with a guy who has *no* chance whatsoever on GC: Whaddya get when you match an FDJ rider hell-bent on a top-ten finish with an AG2R boy with whom he's tangled in a crash? *That's* right, jersey collars get tugged so fiercely a courageous race-moto driver has to dive in to the stop the carnage! And, if you're the offending Alexandre Geniez, you get a hefty 200 euro fine to boot. Hubert Dupont--hope you recovered okay from the violent imbroglio, that must've been one nasty back-o-the-neck rug-burn!
2. You can the wine outta the boy, but you can't take the boy outta the whine: Our presumptive champ in Torino, duped by his moron team car into a fruitless GC-smacking attack-o-doom on Thursday's first mountaintop finish. And, being Nibali, he didn't hesitate to immediately blast the blame onto his bosses. The only one in disagreement, after a cowed Guiseppe Martinelli took the hit for the Shark's foolishness? Undisputed tactical genius/still-missed Paolo Bettini repeat World Champion, essentially telling Vino's second-choice to man up and take control of the tactics (and obey his legs) like a true campione. Well don't expect your team car to let you use 'em like a slingshot anymore like you did last Vuelta, Nibali--they're just as likely to slingshot you right off the mountainside after that bull!@#$ whingeing master-class!
3. He is the very model of a modern major general: Sure, he's not in it for GC--mainly for just recovering from his stomach bug at the moment, with his typical stoic respect for the race--but when Fabian-friggin'-Cancellara speaks, punk, you listen. Yes, enraged etiquette enforcer Spartacus, bringing down the chase-down pain when an upstart peloton, in particular Lampre-Merida attacks race leader Tom Dumoulin while he's taking a nature break. When nature calls the maglia rosa, you *and* yer cheap tactics get put on hold, you classless pig!
4. Time doesn't fly when you're--aw, when you're dear ex-Carrot/Sky captain Mikel Landa on a time trial course: Not only was the poor guy--who worked so diligently on his form in the wind-tunnel over the winter, no less--already kneecapped by the end of the 9k Stage One race against the clock, but worse, he also bonked on the first intermediate mountain stage, losing even more time to that sneaky little ferret Valverde before the truly high peaks even come into view. Bite me, go to hell haters--'e's just restin'!
5. Whole Lotto love: Sure, studly QuickStep blond sprinter/reigning peloton supermodel Marcel Kittel's already smacked down his fast-men competitors in two stages, but which team's already nabbed three in the first week, with two going to fellow German/lovable big lug Andre Greipel, the only man on two wheels who can beat 'im so far? *Darn* tootin', it's Lotto-Soudal--um, shouldn't the Italians be getting a little nervous by now?
6. If you're happy and you know it, spray Prosecco: y'know, I don't think I've seen a happier, prouder rider on any podium anywhere in my *life* than the Netherlands' Maarten Tjallingii, taking his first-ever King of the Mountains jersey on Stage 3. And look at about 56 seconds in--his wee daughter's barely old enough to be on training wheels, and this potential future cycling star's already got the podium stance down!
7. Hard road ahead (or below): finally, only five short years after Wouter Weylandt's tragic death at the Giro, the peloton continues to take its crashes, stitches, and broken bones with philosophical grace. Most phlegmatic so far: AG2R's Arnaud Peraud, who, after a thunderous Stage 3 whack on his face and chest that temporarily knocked him out but luckily caused no more serious injury, reasoned, "I am conscious and it is good news." Stay safe out there dear riders, and soccer players--sorry, footballers--remember *that* clip next time you go down clutching your shin after a minor tap shrieking like you've just been chomped on by a zombie!
Okay, it's on to Week 2 of the fabulous Giro d'Italia. No, Tom Dumoulin is *not* a final GC contender, I *cannot* accept such heresy--and Sky, whatever you're doing to !@#$ over poor Landa so badly, FIX IT!
1. *Don't* !@#$ with a guy who has *no* chance whatsoever on GC: Whaddya get when you match an FDJ rider hell-bent on a top-ten finish with an AG2R boy with whom he's tangled in a crash? *That's* right, jersey collars get tugged so fiercely a courageous race-moto driver has to dive in to the stop the carnage! And, if you're the offending Alexandre Geniez, you get a hefty 200 euro fine to boot. Hubert Dupont--hope you recovered okay from the violent imbroglio, that must've been one nasty back-o-the-neck rug-burn!
2. You can the wine outta the boy, but you can't take the boy outta the whine: Our presumptive champ in Torino, duped by his moron team car into a fruitless GC-smacking attack-o-doom on Thursday's first mountaintop finish. And, being Nibali, he didn't hesitate to immediately blast the blame onto his bosses. The only one in disagreement, after a cowed Guiseppe Martinelli took the hit for the Shark's foolishness? Undisputed tactical genius/still-missed Paolo Bettini repeat World Champion, essentially telling Vino's second-choice to man up and take control of the tactics (and obey his legs) like a true campione. Well don't expect your team car to let you use 'em like a slingshot anymore like you did last Vuelta, Nibali--they're just as likely to slingshot you right off the mountainside after that bull!@#$ whingeing master-class!
3. He is the very model of a modern major general: Sure, he's not in it for GC--mainly for just recovering from his stomach bug at the moment, with his typical stoic respect for the race--but when Fabian-friggin'-Cancellara speaks, punk, you listen. Yes, enraged etiquette enforcer Spartacus, bringing down the chase-down pain when an upstart peloton, in particular Lampre-Merida attacks race leader Tom Dumoulin while he's taking a nature break. When nature calls the maglia rosa, you *and* yer cheap tactics get put on hold, you classless pig!
4. Time doesn't fly when you're--aw, when you're dear ex-Carrot/Sky captain Mikel Landa on a time trial course: Not only was the poor guy--who worked so diligently on his form in the wind-tunnel over the winter, no less--already kneecapped by the end of the 9k Stage One race against the clock, but worse, he also bonked on the first intermediate mountain stage, losing even more time to that sneaky little ferret Valverde before the truly high peaks even come into view. Bite me, go to hell haters--'e's just restin'!
5. Whole Lotto love: Sure, studly QuickStep blond sprinter/reigning peloton supermodel Marcel Kittel's already smacked down his fast-men competitors in two stages, but which team's already nabbed three in the first week, with two going to fellow German/lovable big lug Andre Greipel, the only man on two wheels who can beat 'im so far? *Darn* tootin', it's Lotto-Soudal--um, shouldn't the Italians be getting a little nervous by now?
6. If you're happy and you know it, spray Prosecco: y'know, I don't think I've seen a happier, prouder rider on any podium anywhere in my *life* than the Netherlands' Maarten Tjallingii, taking his first-ever King of the Mountains jersey on Stage 3. And look at about 56 seconds in--his wee daughter's barely old enough to be on training wheels, and this potential future cycling star's already got the podium stance down!
7. Hard road ahead (or below): finally, only five short years after Wouter Weylandt's tragic death at the Giro, the peloton continues to take its crashes, stitches, and broken bones with philosophical grace. Most phlegmatic so far: AG2R's Arnaud Peraud, who, after a thunderous Stage 3 whack on his face and chest that temporarily knocked him out but luckily caused no more serious injury, reasoned, "I am conscious and it is good news." Stay safe out there dear riders, and soccer players--sorry, footballers--remember *that* clip next time you go down clutching your shin after a minor tap shrieking like you've just been chomped on by a zombie!
Okay, it's on to Week 2 of the fabulous Giro d'Italia. No, Tom Dumoulin is *not* a final GC contender, I *cannot* accept such heresy--and Sky, whatever you're doing to !@#$ over poor Landa so badly, FIX IT!
Thursday, May 05, 2016
It's Yer Giro d'Italia in Preview, Part Final: the Climbers! the Sprinters! The Lowdown! #Giro
The Lowdown!: yep, we are just one twee day away from starting the most beautiful race on the planet, and how's it shaping up? Well, crap, literally, if you're poor Fabian Cancellara--in his final Giro, and on the eve of his near-inevitable farewell stint in the maglia rosa, our poor Spartacus has been stricken with stomach flu, and will be lacking just that last least bit of energy on for the opening time trial. But don't give up yet, fanboys'n'girls: a sick Fabs can do more damage in nine kilometers than most time trialists can do in twenty, so there's still hope. So try some flat ginger ale or a cup of chamomile tea to soothe the turmoil, and good luck domani Fabian!
The Climbers!: Look, it's the Giro, so if you're a climber, you're probably also a GC contender, but what're you gonna do if you have a sudden Valverdean urge to backstab yer team captain, or an injury or ill-timed flat knocks him off the podium hunt? *That's* right, you're done being someone else's headwind b!tch, and you get to go off and up on your own. Betancur, Nieve, Scarponi, Atapuma--not to undercut your bosses, but you might want to leave just a *little* bit in the tank, just in case!
The Sprinters!: yeah, it's the Giro, but they *have* crammed a good seven flat days in there, and to its credit, it's attracted a truly bangin' sprint field. A resurgent Kittel's good for at least a coupla stages (and, unlike most of these guys, has vowed to stick it out to the end in Torino, mountains be damned), Elia Viviani's got extra motivation on his home stomping grounds, Caleb Ewan's got a fine shot--but for sheer wanting it, my dough's on Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel, slowly healing from a !@#$ start to his season and rarin' to stay upright and get revenge. Vai vai vai you big lug--is there anything more lovely than a primal Greipel scream at the line?
The 'Nother Guys!: y'know, even though there's buckets of puncheurs this race who can bag a win, without the scrappy and intermittently violent Philippe Gilbert in the field, I just didn't have the heart to yap on 'em. And I feel like I have the same fruitlessly optimistic rainblow-unicorn desire every GT for dashing studpup-about-town Pippo Pozzato to shake off his years-long ennui and take a stage. But give him a lackadaisical field and a flash of inspiration--heck, even a half-!@#edly committed breakaway--and our dear bon vivant is still, I *swear*, a candidate for a win. He's already gotten sorta close a coupla times this season--keep it up, and I promise, you'll earn yourself a smashing pink-and-gold Giro tat front-and-center somewhere if you've still got space!
All right gents, time to post that final pre-race selfie, down your last meal-o-marginal-gains, and saddle up. In bocca al lupo, and may the best man--well, okay, I'm flat out rooting for Landa--win! And to get you in that special mood, here's the Official 2016 Appeldorn Giro d'Italia Theme Song
Forzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
The Climbers!: Look, it's the Giro, so if you're a climber, you're probably also a GC contender, but what're you gonna do if you have a sudden Valverdean urge to backstab yer team captain, or an injury or ill-timed flat knocks him off the podium hunt? *That's* right, you're done being someone else's headwind b!tch, and you get to go off and up on your own. Betancur, Nieve, Scarponi, Atapuma--not to undercut your bosses, but you might want to leave just a *little* bit in the tank, just in case!
The Sprinters!: yeah, it's the Giro, but they *have* crammed a good seven flat days in there, and to its credit, it's attracted a truly bangin' sprint field. A resurgent Kittel's good for at least a coupla stages (and, unlike most of these guys, has vowed to stick it out to the end in Torino, mountains be damned), Elia Viviani's got extra motivation on his home stomping grounds, Caleb Ewan's got a fine shot--but for sheer wanting it, my dough's on Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel, slowly healing from a !@#$ start to his season and rarin' to stay upright and get revenge. Vai vai vai you big lug--is there anything more lovely than a primal Greipel scream at the line?
The 'Nother Guys!: y'know, even though there's buckets of puncheurs this race who can bag a win, without the scrappy and intermittently violent Philippe Gilbert in the field, I just didn't have the heart to yap on 'em. And I feel like I have the same fruitlessly optimistic rainblow-unicorn desire every GT for dashing studpup-about-town Pippo Pozzato to shake off his years-long ennui and take a stage. But give him a lackadaisical field and a flash of inspiration--heck, even a half-!@#edly committed breakaway--and our dear bon vivant is still, I *swear*, a candidate for a win. He's already gotten sorta close a coupla times this season--keep it up, and I promise, you'll earn yourself a smashing pink-and-gold Giro tat front-and-center somewhere if you've still got space!
All right gents, time to post that final pre-race selfie, down your last meal-o-marginal-gains, and saddle up. In bocca al lupo, and may the best man--well, okay, I'm flat out rooting for Landa--win! And to get you in that special mood, here's the Official 2016 Appeldorn Giro d'Italia Theme Song
Forzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
It's Yer Post-Tour Gossip 'n' Recriminations Roundup! #letour
Straight Outta Paris: hot on the heels of Alberto Contador's pledge to target--and target *only*--the Tour de France next season, tuttobiciweb's reporting that he's going to officially end his 2015 season with this weekend's Clasica San Sebastian, leaving him only a crappy worthless Giro d'Italia (the most beautiful race in the world Oleg you publicity-whoring goon!), and a subsequent top-5 Tour de France GC that most cyclists would still kill for to show for all that work, immediately after which he'll be stuffed into the oxygen-deprived cargo hold of a decaying Soviet military aircraft and airlifted to Nepal, which Oleg Tinkov recently bought in its entirety to serve as a high-altitude training ground for Alberto to win the Tour next year or else, you little !@#$! Quoth a forcibly duct-taped Alberto, in response to a reporter's question about the tactic, "Mgggmmpph!" 
Transfer-a-palooza: and, with the Tour de France results in hand, the post-transfer clamor has predictably started, with Mark Cavendish demoted to the just-banned Androni-Sidermec squad for his loser 1-stage victory, Andre Greipel given 3 billion euro from Lotto-Soudal to build a 36-man leadout squad, Porte shoved off to BMC at the special request of Chris Froome for getting dropped one one of the Tour's approximately 968 categorized climbs--uh, to "pursue his own GC ambitions," and Tejay Van Garderen reportedly taking intensive fencing lessons with a top-notch Olympic coach in order to challenge Porte to a gentlemanly duel for team leadership. Sky, meanwhile, has apparently hired ex-Euskaltel Giro revelation Mikel Landa, Benat Intxausti, and both Izaguirre brothers, upon which a potentially-retiring Samuel Sanchez will buy the squad, put everyone in orange-and-black kit with the words "WE'RE !@#$ING EUSKALTEL, DAMMIT!" emblazoned thereon, and force defending Tour de France champ Chris Froome off the team and into early retirement unless he can prove definitively he's actually Basque. Aupa Samuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Finally, over in the women's peloton, Giro Donne/LaCourse conquistadora Anna Van der Breggen and the inimitable (if currently dented) Marianne Vos will be given a raise commensurate with their athletic prowess, meaning they'll be paid in a whole handful's worth of 1-euro coins instead of those little wooden tokens you redeem for cheap tacky crap when you win beanbag-toss games at those sandy seedy seaside amusement venues. Also, any and all women riders who've still been stiffed outta their rightful (if pathetic) earnings in *last* year's UCI races will be allowed to sideline as podium babes at men's amateur races to *really* earn their keep instead. Who *says* there's been no progress in the women's sport this year?
Transfer-a-palooza: and, with the Tour de France results in hand, the post-transfer clamor has predictably started, with Mark Cavendish demoted to the just-banned Androni-Sidermec squad for his loser 1-stage victory, Andre Greipel given 3 billion euro from Lotto-Soudal to build a 36-man leadout squad, Porte shoved off to BMC at the special request of Chris Froome for getting dropped one one of the Tour's approximately 968 categorized climbs--uh, to "pursue his own GC ambitions," and Tejay Van Garderen reportedly taking intensive fencing lessons with a top-notch Olympic coach in order to challenge Porte to a gentlemanly duel for team leadership. Sky, meanwhile, has apparently hired ex-Euskaltel Giro revelation Mikel Landa, Benat Intxausti, and both Izaguirre brothers, upon which a potentially-retiring Samuel Sanchez will buy the squad, put everyone in orange-and-black kit with the words "WE'RE !@#$ING EUSKALTEL, DAMMIT!" emblazoned thereon, and force defending Tour de France champ Chris Froome off the team and into early retirement unless he can prove definitively he's actually Basque. Aupa Samuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Finally, over in the women's peloton, Giro Donne/LaCourse conquistadora Anna Van der Breggen and the inimitable (if currently dented) Marianne Vos will be given a raise commensurate with their athletic prowess, meaning they'll be paid in a whole handful's worth of 1-euro coins instead of those little wooden tokens you redeem for cheap tacky crap when you win beanbag-toss games at those sandy seedy seaside amusement venues. Also, any and all women riders who've still been stiffed outta their rightful (if pathetic) earnings in *last* year's UCI races will be allowed to sideline as podium babes at men's amateur races to *really* earn their keep instead. Who *says* there's been no progress in the women's sport this year?
Wednesday, July 01, 2015
It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Trois: the Sprinters! #letour
Yes, unlike our beloved Giro and Vuelta, where sprints are what you do before you get on with the *real* racing, the Tour de France is a veritable playground for the sugared-up irrepressible adrenalin-junkie fast kids, with a good 1/3 of the Tour to get their speed on. Also in the mix: the green "points" or sprinter's jersey, which Peter Sagan better win because even though it's lame compared to the maillot jaune Oleg Tinkov wants *some* return on investment on his showy one-boy money pit. So who's going for glory? These guys!
Mark Cavendish: the Manx Missile's had only a so-so season, and frankly seems a bit dispirited since his 2014 season-long thrashing by Marcel Kittel, but Cav looked on grand form last year for July before crashing out with a dislocated shoulder in the 2014 Tour. Result? The man is out for *revenge*, and even without his intimidating palmares and low bull!@#$ tolerance from other riders, a pissed-off Cav is liable to chew your head off right along with your legs as he takes out his anger to the line. Just so's the rest of you stay out of biting range of those big teeth you oughta survive the sprints--better a lost stage than a lost body part, for sure!
Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel: he's big, he's strong, and the Lurch o' the peloton, tho' low-key, can still stomp out a win (and accidentally his rivals) under his big carcass without even noticing. Plus, his squad's been on fine form this season. We love you, ya big lug--I'm sure there's at least one stage win in your near future!
Nacer Bouhanni: oh, sure, he *just* hit the deck hard--so hard he had to pose butt-nekkid as a jaybird to prove it. But he's decided to do the Tour de France anyway, he had a smashing early season, and who needs a properly functioning "ribcage" or "cartilage" to, y'know, breathe enough to sprint? If he can hang on long enough to really heal up, hell yes there's hope!
Tyler Farrar: shut up! Can so either!
Michael "Bling" Matthews: has this kid been having a *season*, or what? He's obliterated the field in half the races this part of the season, and has an excellent lead out to boot. Go Bling!
Peter Sagan: he can climb, he can sprint, he can cost Oleg Tinkov 4.3 million euro--but what he *can't* do is justify his wormlike existence to vengeful team boss King Oleg after blowing his highly-touted and clearly overhyped Classics season. So will the Saganator have the mental fortitude to hold it together in the Tour, particularly with his squad's (!@#damn well better be) focus on Contador grabbing the whole Tour? Well, Peter's been doing pretty well again lately--but then, it apparently helps when he's separated from Oleg by a good coupla continents, and if Alberto does well, you *know* Tinkov's gonna be there for 24/7 yellow jersey photobombs!
The 'Nother Guys: yeah, there's Boassen Haagen Dazs, Degenkolb, and a handful of other cobbles-friendly strongmen, but pure sprints aren't necessarily their thing. But if they can ditch Cav out the autobus on some of those hilly midsections, there's room to play for other boys!
Out: Cav archrival--and best competitor--2014 bad-!@# Marcel "the Hair" Kittel, and reportedly so ticked about it he's trying to leave Giant "Doping for Hair" (a slogan discreetly dropped for the Tour) Alpecin. Yep, as with Nibs' 2014 GC win, every 2015 sprint victory'll always seem a little bit unearned--and Cav, now you got *no* excuses!
Well, we got the roleurs and climbeurs still left to go--and then, it's on to the Tour!
Mark Cavendish: the Manx Missile's had only a so-so season, and frankly seems a bit dispirited since his 2014 season-long thrashing by Marcel Kittel, but Cav looked on grand form last year for July before crashing out with a dislocated shoulder in the 2014 Tour. Result? The man is out for *revenge*, and even without his intimidating palmares and low bull!@#$ tolerance from other riders, a pissed-off Cav is liable to chew your head off right along with your legs as he takes out his anger to the line. Just so's the rest of you stay out of biting range of those big teeth you oughta survive the sprints--better a lost stage than a lost body part, for sure!
Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel: he's big, he's strong, and the Lurch o' the peloton, tho' low-key, can still stomp out a win (and accidentally his rivals) under his big carcass without even noticing. Plus, his squad's been on fine form this season. We love you, ya big lug--I'm sure there's at least one stage win in your near future!
Nacer Bouhanni: oh, sure, he *just* hit the deck hard--so hard he had to pose butt-nekkid as a jaybird to prove it. But he's decided to do the Tour de France anyway, he had a smashing early season, and who needs a properly functioning "ribcage" or "cartilage" to, y'know, breathe enough to sprint? If he can hang on long enough to really heal up, hell yes there's hope!
Tyler Farrar: shut up! Can so either!
Michael "Bling" Matthews: has this kid been having a *season*, or what? He's obliterated the field in half the races this part of the season, and has an excellent lead out to boot. Go Bling!
Peter Sagan: he can climb, he can sprint, he can cost Oleg Tinkov 4.3 million euro--but what he *can't* do is justify his wormlike existence to vengeful team boss King Oleg after blowing his highly-touted and clearly overhyped Classics season. So will the Saganator have the mental fortitude to hold it together in the Tour, particularly with his squad's (!@#damn well better be) focus on Contador grabbing the whole Tour? Well, Peter's been doing pretty well again lately--but then, it apparently helps when he's separated from Oleg by a good coupla continents, and if Alberto does well, you *know* Tinkov's gonna be there for 24/7 yellow jersey photobombs!
The 'Nother Guys: yeah, there's Boassen Haagen Dazs, Degenkolb, and a handful of other cobbles-friendly strongmen, but pure sprints aren't necessarily their thing. But if they can ditch Cav out the autobus on some of those hilly midsections, there's room to play for other boys!
Out: Cav archrival--and best competitor--2014 bad-!@# Marcel "the Hair" Kittel, and reportedly so ticked about it he's trying to leave Giant "Doping for Hair" (a slogan discreetly dropped for the Tour) Alpecin. Yep, as with Nibs' 2014 GC win, every 2015 sprint victory'll always seem a little bit unearned--and Cav, now you got *no* excuses!
Well, we got the roleurs and climbeurs still left to go--and then, it's on to the Tour!
Monday, May 18, 2015
It's Yer Giro d'Italia Rest Day Uno Roundup!: Smack-Talk! GC Hijinks! Extra Etiquette Tips! #giro
To Sleep, Perchance to Psych Out Your Opponents: yes, with a relaxing day of massage, light riding, and fleeing in terror from Tinkov's raging angry goons, the GC contenders have taken time out to scare the bejeezus outta each other, with Contador proclaiming optimism he can save his shoulder and his podium by slightly tweaking his preferred time trial position and taking a pile of ibuprofen, Aru showing how relaxed he really is about potentially getting popped for his wholly genuine dysentery and coincidentally useful sudden weight-loss by officially suing Greg Henderson for the latter's calling BS on Fabio's bio passport, Uran set on recovering from a disastrous 52-second time suck, and Richie Porte--well, apparently he's too busy being waved at with cooling palm leaves and being served dainty bon-bons by minions in his one-man traveling palace to engage with the press, his DS, or his teammates. Watch out in July, Froomey, I think the karma you gathered bushwhacking Wiggo is coming back to bite your !@#! with this guy! Anyway, for my money, the real concern for GC is the team strength--either Tinkoff, easily the best on paper, is wisely holding back until the final week, or Astana's gonna continue to inexplicably crush them and leave Alberto isolated and he'll just have to hide from Oleg 'til the Tour. Don't give up Rigo, anything can still happen--don't that little twerp Aru's legs have to have a bad day *sometime*?
The Empire Strikes Back: meantime, over at the just-finished Amgen EPO Tour of California, lovable if terrifyingly bat-!@#$ megalomaniac Tinkoff-Saxo overlord Oleg Tinkov has not only expressed his keen interest in slashing dead-weight loser Peter Sagan's excessive salary--which seems a little, well, untimely since the kid *just* got his decimated mojo back winning 2 stages & the overall, which if nothing else shows the beneficial effects of being a giant ocean and huge continent away from his vindictive nutwhack team boss--but (1) sez it's true disgraced team founder Bjarne Riis was fired in part for watching "West Wing" reruns during major races (2) indicated Contador should be winning all *three* Grand Tours in one season, not just two like some quivering wuss and (3) suggested he'll either personally torture 20-odd innocent riders for the next 15 years with his hands-on-and-heads-off management style, or bail entirely on the team next summer just in time to reward them for their efforts by screwing them too late into contract season to find another squad. Thanks for the pep talk, Oleg! Alberto, I know yer signed til 2016, but at least heal up enough to grab yer cellphone, call yer agent, and get the hell outta there, *fast*!
Spectator Etiquette, Version 2.0!: and, with deepest apologies to the clueless for having left out a few key etiquette tips in my last Handy Q&A Guide To Stupid Crap Tifosi Have Actually Done, I add:
Q: Can I try to scare the hell outta the riders by pinging them with my pellet gun?
A: No, what are you, some spy-movie stealth-ninja wannabe you !@#$in' sociopath? Plus, you could put an eye out with that thing!
Q: I'm, like, really extreme. Can I jump over the passing peloton with my mountain bike?
A: It may look cool on Youtube, jack!@#, but can you *imagine* with your primitive thrill-seeking brain the bloody freakin' carnage of an eejit attached to a buncha prickly bike parts landing on 15 guys going 40 miles an hour from 10 feet up like a flailing swearing ton of bricks? NO. Jump off a cliff when the road's empty so you only impale yourself, blockhead!
Q: These stupid riders are totally in my way. Can I ram them with my automobile and throw them into a ditch/the fans/an excruciating pile of deadly razor wire?
A: Jaysus, NO. Plus, next clown to pull that !@#$ gets their license revoked *and* an epic personal beatdown by the offended rider's mom.
Q: The race is over already. Can I insert my radical political cause into the entirely unrelated podium ceremony?
A: No. It'll only make (1) everyone hate you *and* your cause and (2) Bernard Hinault dive-bomb onto you like an avenging cycling superhero and break every bone in your body. But you can, for example, protest by parking your tractor alongside the course. Everyone likes tractors!
Well, fellow tifosi, this concludes your lesson, so if I missed anything, just *try* not to think up something too stupid. Tomorrow: a six-hours-o'-nothin'-and-two-kilometers-o'-fear sprint stage. So GC contenders, stay outta trouble, and fans, remember to play nice--you do *not* want to piss off a guy the size of Andre Greipel!
The Empire Strikes Back: meantime, over at the just-finished Amgen EPO Tour of California, lovable if terrifyingly bat-!@#$ megalomaniac Tinkoff-Saxo overlord Oleg Tinkov has not only expressed his keen interest in slashing dead-weight loser Peter Sagan's excessive salary--which seems a little, well, untimely since the kid *just* got his decimated mojo back winning 2 stages & the overall, which if nothing else shows the beneficial effects of being a giant ocean and huge continent away from his vindictive nutwhack team boss--but (1) sez it's true disgraced team founder Bjarne Riis was fired in part for watching "West Wing" reruns during major races (2) indicated Contador should be winning all *three* Grand Tours in one season, not just two like some quivering wuss and (3) suggested he'll either personally torture 20-odd innocent riders for the next 15 years with his hands-on-and-heads-off management style, or bail entirely on the team next summer just in time to reward them for their efforts by screwing them too late into contract season to find another squad. Thanks for the pep talk, Oleg! Alberto, I know yer signed til 2016, but at least heal up enough to grab yer cellphone, call yer agent, and get the hell outta there, *fast*!
Spectator Etiquette, Version 2.0!: and, with deepest apologies to the clueless for having left out a few key etiquette tips in my last Handy Q&A Guide To Stupid Crap Tifosi Have Actually Done, I add:
Q: Can I try to scare the hell outta the riders by pinging them with my pellet gun?
A: No, what are you, some spy-movie stealth-ninja wannabe you !@#$in' sociopath? Plus, you could put an eye out with that thing!
Q: I'm, like, really extreme. Can I jump over the passing peloton with my mountain bike?
A: It may look cool on Youtube, jack!@#, but can you *imagine* with your primitive thrill-seeking brain the bloody freakin' carnage of an eejit attached to a buncha prickly bike parts landing on 15 guys going 40 miles an hour from 10 feet up like a flailing swearing ton of bricks? NO. Jump off a cliff when the road's empty so you only impale yourself, blockhead!
Q: These stupid riders are totally in my way. Can I ram them with my automobile and throw them into a ditch/the fans/an excruciating pile of deadly razor wire?
A: Jaysus, NO. Plus, next clown to pull that !@#$ gets their license revoked *and* an epic personal beatdown by the offended rider's mom.
Q: The race is over already. Can I insert my radical political cause into the entirely unrelated podium ceremony?
A: No. It'll only make (1) everyone hate you *and* your cause and (2) Bernard Hinault dive-bomb onto you like an avenging cycling superhero and break every bone in your body. But you can, for example, protest by parking your tractor alongside the course. Everyone likes tractors!
Well, fellow tifosi, this concludes your lesson, so if I missed anything, just *try* not to think up something too stupid. Tomorrow: a six-hours-o'-nothin'-and-two-kilometers-o'-fear sprint stage. So GC contenders, stay outta trouble, and fans, remember to play nice--you do *not* want to piss off a guy the size of Andre Greipel!
Friday, May 08, 2015
G-1, Baby: It's Yer Giro d'Italia In Preview Part Tre, The Climbers and Hot-Gossip Roundup! #Giro
Woot woot!: yes, after 11 months of lonesome agony, the smashing Giro d'Italia is back, and with just one day til the GC contenders find out whose lumpen teammates screwed 'em in the team time trial already, it's time for our last preview! Who's left to cover: the climbers, the assorted stage fighters, and of course yer random slimy hot-gossip smack-talk roundup! The score:
The Climbers: sure, Movistar's saving Valverde to back-stab Quintana at the first sign of any weakness at the Tour de France, but even better, they Sky and even Astana've brought half of Euskaltel with 'em, and while Porte Alberto Uran and Aru are keeping their eyes and wheels locked on each other, this leaves a blazin' field of ex-Carrots free to do what they do best, unleash the pain on every damn climb from the Mortirolo to Sestriere. Vai vai Mikels Landa and Nieve, Benat Intxausti, Igor Anton, and Ion Izagirre! Oughta win *some* kinda stage *somewhere* after all that hype then his disastrous 2014: Carlos "!@#$ Off Comparing Me to Quintana Already!" Betancur.
The Sprinters: look, it's the Giro dammit, so who gives? But still, it's all about Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel, whose main competition is either at the Amgen EPO Tour of California (Cav) or felled by some strength-sapping virus and desperately trying to come back for the Tour (Kittel). Me, I'm calling we love Tom Boonen, whose recent dislike for the argy-bargy of his youth is outweighed by the motivator that his Classics campaign was completely !@#$ed, sentimental fave Ale-Jet "Wheezy" Petacchi, back for one more round with the podium babes, and, because he's also an ex-Euskie, surprise flatlander hit Juan Jose Lobato. Gorilla, you got *no* excuses if you blow this!
The Puncheurs: they're called "puncheurs" because if you !@#$ around and blow the breakaway in the last two kilometers, they'll punch you in the face. Also, they have a lotta power outta seemingly nowhere, and a distinct penchant for spoiling everyone's else's fun. We love Philippe Gilbert, who so fiercely and famously faced off with a giant crash-causing dog and his child charge some time back; "Bling" Matthews, who looked so dashing in pink lo those many days last year; Sylvain Chavanel (shut up! can so either!), Luca "the Beard" Paolini, and Simon Gerrans. Come on Chava--we know damn well you still got it!
The Latest: finally, I'd be wholly remiss if I didn't remind my loyal reader(s) that: (1) Reigning Tinkoff-Saxo megalomaniac Oleg Tinkov says if Alberto Contador doesn't win this thing in his sleep, he's a hopeless weakling weenie; (2) he'd win it himself if his damn knee hadn't been bothering him, but it's still strong enough to kick Berto's butt off Aprica if he don't save Oleg's ego; (3) no less a cycling god than Bernard Hinault says Alberto can do the Giro-Tour double, so no pressure if you prove *him* wrong; and (3) Tinkoff-Saxo have, in addition to a video of comely two-time champ Ivan Basso's plan for victory, released this *hugely* intimidating photograph of an intently-focused Giro squad absolultey *smoking* a woman riding home with her groceries. Beat *that*, Aru you poser pretender wannabe!
The Climbers: sure, Movistar's saving Valverde to back-stab Quintana at the first sign of any weakness at the Tour de France, but even better, they Sky and even Astana've brought half of Euskaltel with 'em, and while Porte Alberto Uran and Aru are keeping their eyes and wheels locked on each other, this leaves a blazin' field of ex-Carrots free to do what they do best, unleash the pain on every damn climb from the Mortirolo to Sestriere. Vai vai Mikels Landa and Nieve, Benat Intxausti, Igor Anton, and Ion Izagirre! Oughta win *some* kinda stage *somewhere* after all that hype then his disastrous 2014: Carlos "!@#$ Off Comparing Me to Quintana Already!" Betancur.
The Sprinters: look, it's the Giro dammit, so who gives? But still, it's all about Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel, whose main competition is either at the Amgen EPO Tour of California (Cav) or felled by some strength-sapping virus and desperately trying to come back for the Tour (Kittel). Me, I'm calling we love Tom Boonen, whose recent dislike for the argy-bargy of his youth is outweighed by the motivator that his Classics campaign was completely !@#$ed, sentimental fave Ale-Jet "Wheezy" Petacchi, back for one more round with the podium babes, and, because he's also an ex-Euskie, surprise flatlander hit Juan Jose Lobato. Gorilla, you got *no* excuses if you blow this!
The Puncheurs: they're called "puncheurs" because if you !@#$ around and blow the breakaway in the last two kilometers, they'll punch you in the face. Also, they have a lotta power outta seemingly nowhere, and a distinct penchant for spoiling everyone's else's fun. We love Philippe Gilbert, who so fiercely and famously faced off with a giant crash-causing dog and his child charge some time back; "Bling" Matthews, who looked so dashing in pink lo those many days last year; Sylvain Chavanel (shut up! can so either!), Luca "the Beard" Paolini, and Simon Gerrans. Come on Chava--we know damn well you still got it!
The Latest: finally, I'd be wholly remiss if I didn't remind my loyal reader(s) that: (1) Reigning Tinkoff-Saxo megalomaniac Oleg Tinkov says if Alberto Contador doesn't win this thing in his sleep, he's a hopeless weakling weenie; (2) he'd win it himself if his damn knee hadn't been bothering him, but it's still strong enough to kick Berto's butt off Aprica if he don't save Oleg's ego; (3) no less a cycling god than Bernard Hinault says Alberto can do the Giro-Tour double, so no pressure if you prove *him* wrong; and (3) Tinkoff-Saxo have, in addition to a video of comely two-time champ Ivan Basso's plan for victory, released this *hugely* intimidating photograph of an intently-focused Giro squad absolultey *smoking* a woman riding home with her groceries. Beat *that*, Aru you poser pretender wannabe!
Saturday, May 02, 2015
It's Yer 2015 Giro d'Italia in Preview: The Course!
Oh yeah, it's Grand Tour season at last, baby--and what better way to kick it off than with the insanely beautiful--and grossly underappreciated--Giro d'Italia! So before we get to the contenders--and yap, Alpe d'Huez, yap, it will so too be better than the Tour de France no matter who's riding it--what've these poor saps got in store for the next 21 days once they set off from San Lorenzo al Mare? This!
Stage 1: Yep, let's get our first boy into pink--it's the team time trial, honey! 17.7 k of pretty darn flat twitchy-as-hell first-day legs.
Stage 2: Sprintfest! I know, Tommeke's just coming back and this isn't his race, and Petacchi's, well, still about a hundred years younger than Davide Rebellin, but half the other fast-men have been felled by viruses this year, and these guys have got something to prove. Plus, in Ale-Jet's sunset Giro, the scene of so many of his triumphs, he'll be keen to at least be in the mix. So even if the Gorilla does get it, forza both of 'em--if not this day, then soon!
Stage 3: time to stretch the legs on the uphills before a flat flat finish. First GC contender to look weak gets mercilessly abused in the press the next three weeks!
Stage 4: Up and down again, and again, a flat end to the day. Puncheurs, unite!
Stage 5: Officially again, a "medium mountain" stage, but the first of the uphill finishes. Aru, if you haven't already been po--uh, aren't quite feeling your best yet, this is a nice place to show off!
Stages 6 and 7: Whew! More playgrounds for the sprinters. Enjoy 'em while they last, Greipel--or before the mountains kick your !@# out the race!
Stage 8 and 9: up we go! A steep schlep then slight whip down on stage 8, then a roller-coaster of a stage 9. Next up: rest day, thank God!
Stage 10: the GC contenders just have to stay the hell outta the way as the fast-men enjoy another chance to shine. But the pain is coming gentlemen, it's coming!
Stage 11: rather lumpy, but fundamentally harmless. Stage 12: flat most of the way, then a coupla big bumps and an uphill slog to the finish. Keep your cool, Aru!
Stage 13: !@#$, where are the mountains already?
Stage 14: Damn, a 59.4k individual time trial! Any bets on who gets hosed the worst?
Stage 15: The GC battle really begins! After the Passo Daone takes a serious 14% nip at the legs, the top of the Madonna di Campiglio will either bring Alberto Contador hope and glory, or a post-race team-bus !@#-whuppin' for the ages. Next up, it's the second and final rest day--as we all start to seriously contemplate, so is this "Giro-Tour Double" bull!@#$, or not?
Stage 16: ow ow ow ow ow! It's the fearsome Mortirolo with maximum agony of 18 !@#$in' percent--but that's not even the end of it! If Porte can hold it to Aprica, and get over that little matter of the 15% hump up the way, he's looking good for overall. But maybe not so good as Contador!
Stage 17: Any o' you sprinters left? Here's your reward--you won't be feeling half so great tomorrow!
Stage 18: On the plus side, it's pretty nice and flat at the end. Like anyone will have enough energy to notice!
Stage 19: Screwed on GC, but hoping for a game-changing--and stupidly unmarked--flash of brilliance, or at least a face-saving stage win from yer humiliating time trial? Cervinia's your chance--good luck with that!
Stage 20: D'oh! It's the Col delle Finestre, on the way to Sestriere. Has Contador still got it, or has the turmoil in Tinkov's house taken its toll on his resident GC superstar too? Is finally Porte going to grow into the hype? Or is an ex-Euskaltel rider going to make me not give a crap anyway? Yep, woot woot ex-Carrots!
Stage 21: finally, as the overall winner takes his chill victory lap--and it better be Contador, or it sure won't be chill with Tinkov following him in the team car screaming for 6 straight hours--everyone but the sprint lead-outs can just concentrate on staying upright and mercifully crossing the finish line in more or less one piece. Oh, come on, even if it's a bull!@#$ giveaway, like you don't think this'd be a nice goodbye for Petacchi!
And here, the entire course, with techno music--next up, our GC Contenders, and yes there are and no I haven't forgotten the other guys!
Stage 1: Yep, let's get our first boy into pink--it's the team time trial, honey! 17.7 k of pretty darn flat twitchy-as-hell first-day legs.
Stage 2: Sprintfest! I know, Tommeke's just coming back and this isn't his race, and Petacchi's, well, still about a hundred years younger than Davide Rebellin, but half the other fast-men have been felled by viruses this year, and these guys have got something to prove. Plus, in Ale-Jet's sunset Giro, the scene of so many of his triumphs, he'll be keen to at least be in the mix. So even if the Gorilla does get it, forza both of 'em--if not this day, then soon!
Stage 3: time to stretch the legs on the uphills before a flat flat finish. First GC contender to look weak gets mercilessly abused in the press the next three weeks!
Stage 4: Up and down again, and again, a flat end to the day. Puncheurs, unite!
Stage 5: Officially again, a "medium mountain" stage, but the first of the uphill finishes. Aru, if you haven't already been po--uh, aren't quite feeling your best yet, this is a nice place to show off!
Stages 6 and 7: Whew! More playgrounds for the sprinters. Enjoy 'em while they last, Greipel--or before the mountains kick your !@# out the race!
Stage 8 and 9: up we go! A steep schlep then slight whip down on stage 8, then a roller-coaster of a stage 9. Next up: rest day, thank God!
Stage 10: the GC contenders just have to stay the hell outta the way as the fast-men enjoy another chance to shine. But the pain is coming gentlemen, it's coming!
Stage 11: rather lumpy, but fundamentally harmless. Stage 12: flat most of the way, then a coupla big bumps and an uphill slog to the finish. Keep your cool, Aru!
Stage 13: !@#$, where are the mountains already?
Stage 14: Damn, a 59.4k individual time trial! Any bets on who gets hosed the worst?
Stage 15: The GC battle really begins! After the Passo Daone takes a serious 14% nip at the legs, the top of the Madonna di Campiglio will either bring Alberto Contador hope and glory, or a post-race team-bus !@#-whuppin' for the ages. Next up, it's the second and final rest day--as we all start to seriously contemplate, so is this "Giro-Tour Double" bull!@#$, or not?
Stage 16: ow ow ow ow ow! It's the fearsome Mortirolo with maximum agony of 18 !@#$in' percent--but that's not even the end of it! If Porte can hold it to Aprica, and get over that little matter of the 15% hump up the way, he's looking good for overall. But maybe not so good as Contador!
Stage 17: Any o' you sprinters left? Here's your reward--you won't be feeling half so great tomorrow!
Stage 18: On the plus side, it's pretty nice and flat at the end. Like anyone will have enough energy to notice!
Stage 19: Screwed on GC, but hoping for a game-changing--and stupidly unmarked--flash of brilliance, or at least a face-saving stage win from yer humiliating time trial? Cervinia's your chance--good luck with that!
Stage 20: D'oh! It's the Col delle Finestre, on the way to Sestriere. Has Contador still got it, or has the turmoil in Tinkov's house taken its toll on his resident GC superstar too? Is finally Porte going to grow into the hype? Or is an ex-Euskaltel rider going to make me not give a crap anyway? Yep, woot woot ex-Carrots!
Stage 21: finally, as the overall winner takes his chill victory lap--and it better be Contador, or it sure won't be chill with Tinkov following him in the team car screaming for 6 straight hours--everyone but the sprint lead-outs can just concentrate on staying upright and mercifully crossing the finish line in more or less one piece. Oh, come on, even if it's a bull!@#$ giveaway, like you don't think this'd be a nice goodbye for Petacchi!
And here, the entire course, with techno music--next up, our GC Contenders, and yes there are and no I haven't forgotten the other guys!
Thursday, July 17, 2014
How to Fend Off a Gorilla, And Other Valuable Lessons from the Peloton #letour
Sure, today was a twinky little "transitional" stage, but before we hit the high Alps tomorrow, there's a few important lessons so far we ought to take away from Le Tour and around the sport in general, so kids, for the betterment and just plain saving of us all, let's review:
Crouching Cyclist, Hidden Chavanel: so let's say you inadvertently piss off, and take down, Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel within lougie-ing distance of a sprint he didn't even expect to be there for, much less actively contest, since he had to spend 5 miserable hours hauling his monstrous carcass over about 600 Cat 3 and Cat 4 climbs first to get within 3k of the line before you personally destroyed his sudden stage-win dreams. Well, normally, according to the experts, gorillas are quite reserved and shy--until they're provoked by unexpected movements, when they will charge you and let out "horrific" roars. And if that don't work, it attacks. So what do you when he does it? Well, according to experts, it ain't "flee"--he'll take you for a wuss, charge after you, and bite into whatever body part he gloms on first. Instead, you are to crouch "submissively" and keep your eyes on the ground. Words to live by--literally! Here, Sylvain Chavanel instinctively does the right thing after a wee imbroglio with Andre today:
How to Look All Cleanster, But Still Be Loyal to Your Cyclist: string him along! Yes, that's what the fine folks at Team "Incredibly Anti-Doping, Unless We Want You As a Staff Member and You're Not American" Sky did after backing Brit bio-passport miscreant Jonathan Tiernan-Locke, popped ages ago but only now whacked with a two-year ban for not quite provably doing anything wrong, subject of course to appeals--they had his back until UCI handed down the news, at which point, not subject to appeals, they ripped him as a freak-o'-the-peloton "cheat" and terminated his contract. Classy! Aw, and I was *so* hoping we'd get to see the alternate "As we expected the allegations were proven to be baseless and we are delighted to announce his formal return to training with the squad" press release...
How to Piss Off Mark Cavendish: well, if you're we love Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen, announce without any hesitation whatsoever right on the air that Marcel Kittel is the best sprinter in the world today. Oh, really? I can guess someone who might have an issue with *that*! Don't worry, boys--I'm sure the two of you can take that baby Mark Cavendish, at least if Bobke goes all Hinault and lands on 'em like a pro wrestler--and I doubt he was watching some boring bike race from home today anyway!
How to Fake Like Your Head Isn't About to Explode: oh, come on, Oleg. We *know* you ain't happy, and even if poor wee Contador makes it back to form in time for the Vuelta, you ain't gonna be satisfied without him winning the showiest Big Show of them all. Alternate tactic: deflection, by attacking another team for its lame anti-doping response on Twitter this very afternoon. But you sure did psych us out there with that big smile and thumbs-up from the team car this morning, Mr. Tinkov--*how* many stage wins does it take to make up for not getting the maillot jaune in Paris again?
And, How to Win a PR War: oh, Lampre left charming selfie king Pippo Pozzato off its Tour de France squad--but it certainly lost the battle for the hearts and minds of the adoring fan populace, as a suavely offended Pippo responds by not only posting a thousand photos of himself diligently pursuing high-altitude training the last two weeks just to shove it in your face that he's *not* a slacker, but also manages to put up a photo of himself tranquilly contemplating the true meaning of life against a stunning mountain panorama totally coincidentally with his shirt off. Grimy exhausted blue-and-fuchsia guys picking apart the stage results with obscure announcers in immediate post-race interviews--0. Pozzato--1000!
Crouching Cyclist, Hidden Chavanel: so let's say you inadvertently piss off, and take down, Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel within lougie-ing distance of a sprint he didn't even expect to be there for, much less actively contest, since he had to spend 5 miserable hours hauling his monstrous carcass over about 600 Cat 3 and Cat 4 climbs first to get within 3k of the line before you personally destroyed his sudden stage-win dreams. Well, normally, according to the experts, gorillas are quite reserved and shy--until they're provoked by unexpected movements, when they will charge you and let out "horrific" roars. And if that don't work, it attacks. So what do you when he does it? Well, according to experts, it ain't "flee"--he'll take you for a wuss, charge after you, and bite into whatever body part he gloms on first. Instead, you are to crouch "submissively" and keep your eyes on the ground. Words to live by--literally! Here, Sylvain Chavanel instinctively does the right thing after a wee imbroglio with Andre today:
How to Look All Cleanster, But Still Be Loyal to Your Cyclist: string him along! Yes, that's what the fine folks at Team "Incredibly Anti-Doping, Unless We Want You As a Staff Member and You're Not American" Sky did after backing Brit bio-passport miscreant Jonathan Tiernan-Locke, popped ages ago but only now whacked with a two-year ban for not quite provably doing anything wrong, subject of course to appeals--they had his back until UCI handed down the news, at which point, not subject to appeals, they ripped him as a freak-o'-the-peloton "cheat" and terminated his contract. Classy! Aw, and I was *so* hoping we'd get to see the alternate "As we expected the allegations were proven to be baseless and we are delighted to announce his formal return to training with the squad" press release...
How to Piss Off Mark Cavendish: well, if you're we love Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen, announce without any hesitation whatsoever right on the air that Marcel Kittel is the best sprinter in the world today. Oh, really? I can guess someone who might have an issue with *that*! Don't worry, boys--I'm sure the two of you can take that baby Mark Cavendish, at least if Bobke goes all Hinault and lands on 'em like a pro wrestler--and I doubt he was watching some boring bike race from home today anyway!
How to Fake Like Your Head Isn't About to Explode: oh, come on, Oleg. We *know* you ain't happy, and even if poor wee Contador makes it back to form in time for the Vuelta, you ain't gonna be satisfied without him winning the showiest Big Show of them all. Alternate tactic: deflection, by attacking another team for its lame anti-doping response on Twitter this very afternoon. But you sure did psych us out there with that big smile and thumbs-up from the team car this morning, Mr. Tinkov--*how* many stage wins does it take to make up for not getting the maillot jaune in Paris again?
And, How to Win a PR War: oh, Lampre left charming selfie king Pippo Pozzato off its Tour de France squad--but it certainly lost the battle for the hearts and minds of the adoring fan populace, as a suavely offended Pippo responds by not only posting a thousand photos of himself diligently pursuing high-altitude training the last two weeks just to shove it in your face that he's *not* a slacker, but also manages to put up a photo of himself tranquilly contemplating the true meaning of life against a stunning mountain panorama totally coincidentally with his shirt off. Grimy exhausted blue-and-fuchsia guys picking apart the stage results with obscure announcers in immediate post-race interviews--0. Pozzato--1000!
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Oleg Tinkov Takes On Nibali (In Case Alberto Contador Can't): This Tour Just Keeps Getting Weirder #letour
First, Chris Froome crashes out *not* on the cobbles, so whoever wins is already gonna be in a lifetime rage being perma-dogged by the question, "What if?" Meantime, half the peloton's having knee surgery, Cancellara's outraged at the pave he adored before Boom kicked his !@# on 'em, Andre Griepel's been sprinting like a freakin' climber til this afternoon, Sagan can't time an effort with Big Ben bangin' out the tempo, still-recovering Purito's snailing along at the back of the gruppo like he's looking for a lost contact lens, Eddy Merckx is mocking the entire peloton as a pack of blanky-snuggling wuss-weenies for not having to ride 50 k of cobblestones in a Tour like he did, and not only was Contador's thorough recon of Stage 5 clearly useless after he dropped 2 minutes 40 he'll have to climb like it's 2010 or hope Nibs forgets to eat for a week to have any hope of getting it back, having already been screwed out of primo help by Kreuziger's bio-passport snafu he's now lost poor other-key-mountaineer Jesus Hernandez to quite a serious concussion on today's crash-fouled stage (get well soon and stay safe, Jesus)! What the hell is going *on* out there? Well, crazy-!@# Contador boss Oleg Tinkov's got an answer: he's tweet-warned the remaining GC contenders that *he's* already conquered Saturday's mountain stage, even if *Contador's* gonna !@#$ it up. Jaysus, I'd be more afraid as a Tinkoff rider that my own boss'd toss me off one of those peaks to be picked apart by vultures than of Nibs beating me a up a climb, but either way, that's all just freakin' scary!
A Gentle Plea: and what the !@#$'s with all the Phil and Paul twitter-hate?! They're gods, I tell you, gods! They can announce my !@#damn breakfast for all I care, they can start mistaking the riders for show dogs, they can repeat Jens' age 'til it feels like the ear-worm chorus of every crappy overplayed pop song on the planet, they can jump in on the jersey presentations and pretend they're podium babes, just leave them be !@#dammit!
La Vie En Rosa: finally, I'd be reporting buckets more on the beautiful Giro that's underway if it weren't such a one-handed slaughterhouse by the best cyclist in all human history out there, though of course we love speed demon Giorgia Bronzini did grab a sprint and Emma Pooley thundered to the win in the first mountain stage. But we're hitting the key stages now, so Mara Abbott, these heights are your playground--forza ragazza, and Marianne, throw *someone* else a bone out there!
A Gentle Plea: and what the !@#$'s with all the Phil and Paul twitter-hate?! They're gods, I tell you, gods! They can announce my !@#damn breakfast for all I care, they can start mistaking the riders for show dogs, they can repeat Jens' age 'til it feels like the ear-worm chorus of every crappy overplayed pop song on the planet, they can jump in on the jersey presentations and pretend they're podium babes, just leave them be !@#dammit!
La Vie En Rosa: finally, I'd be reporting buckets more on the beautiful Giro that's underway if it weren't such a one-handed slaughterhouse by the best cyclist in all human history out there, though of course we love speed demon Giorgia Bronzini did grab a sprint and Emma Pooley thundered to the win in the first mountain stage. But we're hitting the key stages now, so Mara Abbott, these heights are your playground--forza ragazza, and Marianne, throw *someone* else a bone out there!
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Trois: the Sprinters!
So, it's the high-octane position-jockeying lead-out-chaos adrenaline rush of the last two kilometers of a sprint stage after 6 hours of relentlessly boring nothingness that thrills you, eh? Well, as we discussed in our Tour de France in Preview Part Un, the course has got plenty o' excitement for you this year, so let's take a look at the fast men!
Mark "the Manx Missile" Cavendish (OPQS): Strengths: still, I believe, the fastest man on two wheels in a straight-up sprint. And with his incredible palmares, the Tour--especially the Champs-Elysees--is his particular playground. Plus, should his actual legs fail to do the job, he can latch onto Marcel Kittel's jersey with his giant teeth and fling him single-molar-dly into the barriers. Weaknesses: gets totally put out by any sort of argy-bargy or sadistically twisty corners before the finish line. And Cav does *love* a lead-out, so if they've got a problem, so does he. Anyone want to place bets on the first teammates he publicly rips to the press for screwing him over? You're right, it *could* be all eight of 'em at once!
Marcel "Needs a Cool Nickname" Kittel (Giant-Shimano: Strengths: oh come on, who else can possibly seriously challenge Cav right now? He had a great start to the Giro and has looked smashing all year. Plus, despite his size, on a rolling stage that ends as a sprint, he's somehow not quite so knocked out as Cav when he gets there. And oh, that hair! Weaknesses: uh, his team I guess, compared to Cav? It's not like he really needs anyone the last kilometer anyway though!
Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel (Lotto-Belisol): Strengths: no, he's not the silkiest sprinter, but damn, this boy is a *beast*. And, with the German championship fresh under his big sturdy belt, he's got confidence at just the right time. Weaknesses: none. Absolutely none. I suppose you could tag-team up to squeeze him out by leaving him too little room to get through near the finish line, but then, that's only if you're not afraid of the fact that he's been known to kill other riders with a single glance!
Peter "the Tourminator" Sagan (Cannondale): Strengths: that smile. Those eyes. Them wheelies. And a total youthful lack of self-doubt, insecurity, or fear. Plus, he sure can descend, and is pretty well the best bike-handler around. So *that's* what makes the fanboys-and-girls swoon! Weaknesses: on a perfect flat, he's pretty vulnerable. And at--what is he, 12 years old?--he still tends to get overexcited, so the best tactician he ain't. Best to aim for an uphill run to the line and tire out Cav and Kittel's climbing legs 1st!
Elia Viviani (Cannondale): after an inexplicably tough Giro, he's not here for himself, but as Sagan's support man. Maybe a pure flat finish'll give 'im a shot over Sagan though?
Nacer Bouhanni (FDJ): by contrast, after a truly smashing Giro in which he came completely into his own mentally and physically, he's been rewarded by...being left at home?! Screw you FDJ!
Well, them's mine, but as soon as some asshat zips across someone else's line or a numbnut fan gets a little too enthusiastic clapping some gaudy promotional item over the barriers, that's the top 20 guys down in a swearing bone-bruising pile-up and it's game on for some stunned and lucky domestique. May your collarbones all stay intact, may the fastest man win, and the rest of you--no whining when you're beaten! Here, Cav himself causes the chaos on last year's stage 10:
Next up: yeah, you know it--the Climbing Gods, and Peeps We Love (Or Not) Who Are In (Or Out!)
Mark "the Manx Missile" Cavendish (OPQS): Strengths: still, I believe, the fastest man on two wheels in a straight-up sprint. And with his incredible palmares, the Tour--especially the Champs-Elysees--is his particular playground. Plus, should his actual legs fail to do the job, he can latch onto Marcel Kittel's jersey with his giant teeth and fling him single-molar-dly into the barriers. Weaknesses: gets totally put out by any sort of argy-bargy or sadistically twisty corners before the finish line. And Cav does *love* a lead-out, so if they've got a problem, so does he. Anyone want to place bets on the first teammates he publicly rips to the press for screwing him over? You're right, it *could* be all eight of 'em at once!
Marcel "Needs a Cool Nickname" Kittel (Giant-Shimano: Strengths: oh come on, who else can possibly seriously challenge Cav right now? He had a great start to the Giro and has looked smashing all year. Plus, despite his size, on a rolling stage that ends as a sprint, he's somehow not quite so knocked out as Cav when he gets there. And oh, that hair! Weaknesses: uh, his team I guess, compared to Cav? It's not like he really needs anyone the last kilometer anyway though!
Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel (Lotto-Belisol): Strengths: no, he's not the silkiest sprinter, but damn, this boy is a *beast*. And, with the German championship fresh under his big sturdy belt, he's got confidence at just the right time. Weaknesses: none. Absolutely none. I suppose you could tag-team up to squeeze him out by leaving him too little room to get through near the finish line, but then, that's only if you're not afraid of the fact that he's been known to kill other riders with a single glance!
Peter "the Tourminator" Sagan (Cannondale): Strengths: that smile. Those eyes. Them wheelies. And a total youthful lack of self-doubt, insecurity, or fear. Plus, he sure can descend, and is pretty well the best bike-handler around. So *that's* what makes the fanboys-and-girls swoon! Weaknesses: on a perfect flat, he's pretty vulnerable. And at--what is he, 12 years old?--he still tends to get overexcited, so the best tactician he ain't. Best to aim for an uphill run to the line and tire out Cav and Kittel's climbing legs 1st!
Elia Viviani (Cannondale): after an inexplicably tough Giro, he's not here for himself, but as Sagan's support man. Maybe a pure flat finish'll give 'im a shot over Sagan though?
Nacer Bouhanni (FDJ): by contrast, after a truly smashing Giro in which he came completely into his own mentally and physically, he's been rewarded by...being left at home?! Screw you FDJ!
Well, them's mine, but as soon as some asshat zips across someone else's line or a numbnut fan gets a little too enthusiastic clapping some gaudy promotional item over the barriers, that's the top 20 guys down in a swearing bone-bruising pile-up and it's game on for some stunned and lucky domestique. May your collarbones all stay intact, may the fastest man win, and the rest of you--no whining when you're beaten! Here, Cav himself causes the chaos on last year's stage 10:
Next up: yeah, you know it--the Climbing Gods, and Peeps We Love (Or Not) Who Are In (Or Out!)
Friday, March 21, 2014
It's Yer Milano-Sanremo In Preview!
All right, baby, now it's time for the Monuments--so let Milano-Sanremo begin!
The Route: it's flat! no, it's hilly! !@#$, let's just throw in the Alpe d'Huez! Sure, the course has been changing every six minutes, due to landslides, weather concerns, and drunken beer-pong whims, but *something's* sure happening this weekend, and at the moment, it looks like this:
Damn, can you guys at least straighten this out before the sprint teams set up their lead-outs towards the finish? Which brings us to...
The Contenders: yes, with the GT contenders largely opting out after the recent route changes (Vincenzo Nibali, intriguingly, excluded), Peter Sagan's the overwhelming fave, particularly if he decides to just bunny-hop the last kilometer to get to that ginormous pile o' dough aspirational 2015 boss Fernando Alonso's already got dangling for him at the finish line. But despite the withdrawals of folks like Phinney and Boonen, there's also a hot'n'formidable mix of pure sprinters, Classics stalwarts, and combo-fastmen, including Mark Cavendish, know-it-all-journo's dark-horse darling John Degenkolb, 2012 rainbow jersey Philippe Gilbert, Andre Greipel, and surprise defending champ Ciolek, which can still be thrown into total chaos depending on...
The Weather: forecast: crap! Rain? Check. Wind? Oh yeah. General misery? On tap! The good news: it oughta be slightly less cold than last year's sub-arctic hypothermiafest, in which, you'll recall, Taylor Phinney's frozen jersey had to be blow-torched off his body apres-race on the team bus. This was fun, right?
So count yer blessings in advance the whole lot of you, and quit yer whinin'! So what's...
The Upshot: The Cipressa. The Poggio. Not, to the dismay of climbier sorts and the joy of La Classicissima purists, the Pompeiana. The last k: a downhill throw before the final argy-bargy to the line. And forget who *will* win--for my money, and I'm not not a swooning fan-crush here, though I am highly respectful--Fabian Cancellara *should* win, because, merit aside (and merit is already huge, let's face it), as you can see here, the man is a complete class act from start to finish when it comes to appraising his rivals. Forza Fabs--but either way, I expect a thrilla!
And just in case you forgot, last year's finale: It's time for one of the best races of the entire year--bring it *on*!
The Route: it's flat! no, it's hilly! !@#$, let's just throw in the Alpe d'Huez! Sure, the course has been changing every six minutes, due to landslides, weather concerns, and drunken beer-pong whims, but *something's* sure happening this weekend, and at the moment, it looks like this:
Damn, can you guys at least straighten this out before the sprint teams set up their lead-outs towards the finish? Which brings us to...The Contenders: yes, with the GT contenders largely opting out after the recent route changes (Vincenzo Nibali, intriguingly, excluded), Peter Sagan's the overwhelming fave, particularly if he decides to just bunny-hop the last kilometer to get to that ginormous pile o' dough aspirational 2015 boss Fernando Alonso's already got dangling for him at the finish line. But despite the withdrawals of folks like Phinney and Boonen, there's also a hot'n'formidable mix of pure sprinters, Classics stalwarts, and combo-fastmen, including Mark Cavendish, know-it-all-journo's dark-horse darling John Degenkolb, 2012 rainbow jersey Philippe Gilbert, Andre Greipel, and surprise defending champ Ciolek, which can still be thrown into total chaos depending on...
The Weather: forecast: crap! Rain? Check. Wind? Oh yeah. General misery? On tap! The good news: it oughta be slightly less cold than last year's sub-arctic hypothermiafest, in which, you'll recall, Taylor Phinney's frozen jersey had to be blow-torched off his body apres-race on the team bus. This was fun, right?
So count yer blessings in advance the whole lot of you, and quit yer whinin'! So what's...The Upshot: The Cipressa. The Poggio. Not, to the dismay of climbier sorts and the joy of La Classicissima purists, the Pompeiana. The last k: a downhill throw before the final argy-bargy to the line. And forget who *will* win--for my money, and I'm not not a swooning fan-crush here, though I am highly respectful--Fabian Cancellara *should* win, because, merit aside (and merit is already huge, let's face it), as you can see here, the man is a complete class act from start to finish when it comes to appraising his rivals. Forza Fabs--but either way, I expect a thrilla!
And just in case you forgot, last year's finale: It's time for one of the best races of the entire year--bring it *on*!
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Stuff To Do During Those Big Boring Sprint Stages #tdf
Sure, Cav managed to liven up Stage 10 a little bit, but we all know that, a twitchy touch o' the wheels here or a satisfyingly GC-destroying cross-wind there, everything up to that last 5 k in a sprint stage is snooze-inducingly dull for the tifosi. So what to do for the other six hours it's on, and *still* feel like a loyal little Tour de France fan? Here, my suggestions for Stuff to Do During Those Big Boring Sprint Stages:
1. Compose Haiku: Shoulder and elbow/Meeting most unpleasantly/Veelers goes down hard. Take *that*, Shakespeare!
2. Learn a New Trade: Bust into the post-stage interviews and shout "Hey, FROOME, what kind of !@#$ are you ON!"
3. Unleash Your Inner Computer Whiz: hack into the info feed for the race commentators. "Well, I can't quite believe what I'm reading here, Phil, but it appears that Mark Cavendish has indeed led the front group over the top of Alpe d'Huez and is now the virtual maillot jaune on the road!"
4. Be a Race Volunteer: switch the sign-in magic markers with those little kids' scented ones. Wonder what chemicals'll show up in the riders' blood samples *tonight*!
5. Unleash Your Inner Artist: Paint "I HEART LANCE ARMSTRONG" all over the race course in huge white letters. Show the love, baby!
6. Meet Your Idols: Point out some random guy in the crowd and tell Bernard Hinault he's a political protester about to storm the podium right as the stage-win jersey's being presented. Excitement shall ensue!
7. Soigneur For a Day: Sneak into Cannondale trailer and replace Peter Sagan's "Hulk" bicycle with a "My Little Pony" one. Preeeeeety!
8. Rewrite the UCI Rules: the "attire" section clearly needs work. No polka-dot skinsuits, EVER!
9. Engage Your Faves: run up next to Andre Greipel holding a cup and wearing an official-looking vest and yell "mid-race doping control!"
10. Tifosi Contest: how many riders can *you* reach out and touch on the back before one of 'em slugs you? Last one standing wins!
Well, dear reader(s), it's that or end up on TV drunk as hell dressed in a Speedo and a cowboy hat while the gendarmes drag you off the mountainside. Either way, expand your horizons and enjoy the show!
1. Compose Haiku: Shoulder and elbow/Meeting most unpleasantly/Veelers goes down hard. Take *that*, Shakespeare!
2. Learn a New Trade: Bust into the post-stage interviews and shout "Hey, FROOME, what kind of !@#$ are you ON!"
3. Unleash Your Inner Computer Whiz: hack into the info feed for the race commentators. "Well, I can't quite believe what I'm reading here, Phil, but it appears that Mark Cavendish has indeed led the front group over the top of Alpe d'Huez and is now the virtual maillot jaune on the road!"
4. Be a Race Volunteer: switch the sign-in magic markers with those little kids' scented ones. Wonder what chemicals'll show up in the riders' blood samples *tonight*!
5. Unleash Your Inner Artist: Paint "I HEART LANCE ARMSTRONG" all over the race course in huge white letters. Show the love, baby!
6. Meet Your Idols: Point out some random guy in the crowd and tell Bernard Hinault he's a political protester about to storm the podium right as the stage-win jersey's being presented. Excitement shall ensue!
7. Soigneur For a Day: Sneak into Cannondale trailer and replace Peter Sagan's "Hulk" bicycle with a "My Little Pony" one. Preeeeeety!
8. Rewrite the UCI Rules: the "attire" section clearly needs work. No polka-dot skinsuits, EVER!
9. Engage Your Faves: run up next to Andre Greipel holding a cup and wearing an official-looking vest and yell "mid-race doping control!"
10. Tifosi Contest: how many riders can *you* reach out and touch on the back before one of 'em slugs you? Last one standing wins!
Well, dear reader(s), it's that or end up on TV drunk as hell dressed in a Speedo and a cowboy hat while the gendarmes drag you off the mountainside. Either way, expand your horizons and enjoy the show!
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