Schleck! Nibali! Tinkov! Astana! Nairo! Tyler! Just Buckets o' Roundup #cycling

A Sigh Is But a Sigh: okay, now that everyone's had a day or two to simmer down from the mourning, adulation, and general freakout over the sad injury-driven retirement of former CSC shooting star/next Great Grand Tour Hope/one-time Liege-Bastogne-Liege winner Andy Schleck, let's talk straight--poor baby Schleck's heart seemed out of the game even *before* he got so badly and repeatedly hurt, particularly under the beastly ministrations of a frustrated Lance-less Johan Bruyneel, whose constant public motivational speeches like "ride, you lazy weakling b!tch!" failed to help the sensitive Andy get his mojo risin'. Indeed, one of Schleck's most notable results of his post-CSC career was convincing everyone Alberto Contador was an unbearable lowlife punk-!@# and Andy was a saint over the ostensibly Tour-deciding "Chaingate," when Andy's own brother Frank had similarly attacked Alberto like a wank when *he* had a mechanical in the very same race. Still, to be fair to the boy's prowess, it was rather astonishing at Andy's peak to watch such a gangly kid scale the heights so tenaciously, it's a pretty rare thing that a guy who repeatedly podiumed at the Tour and technically won the thing in 2010 is considered a disappointment, and while it is probably correct that he lacked some of the freakish mental impermeability so necessary to sustain a dominating Grand Tour career, if he can't compete I sure hope he and his knee are up to getting a bike ride in now and then for the pleasure of it. In bocca al lupo Andy, hope the real world is kind to you!

Nibali v. Tinkov: meantime, reigning Tour champ Vincenzo "Don't What-If Me, You !@#holes!" Nibali has slugged back at Oleg Tinkov's million-euro triple-Grand Challenge, pointing out that not only does he hardly need the money, but *he* cares about spending time with his family you narcissistic megalomaniac *and* he'd put the money if he had it towards starting a youth-development cycling program anyway. Take *that*, Daddy Warbucks! Still, the team directors--always a cash-hungry sponsor-whoring bunch by necessity--seem less concerned with the personal toll on their riders but at least rather concerned about the public-relations and sponsor-angering implications of injuring one of their prized racehorses like Nairo Quintana before their actual main Grand Tour goal of the season. Aw, we already know that Alberto Contador can slaughter the Vuelta on a fractured tibia--let the rest of those wussies stick on a band-aid and quit their whinin'!

Alexander Vinokourov, Anti-Doping Champion: and, the fallout from the Iglinskiy brothers' mutual pops for EPO over at Astana continues, with vigilant team bosses launching a heart-felt internal investigation into how these guys !@#$ed up so badl--uh, strayed from the team's gleaming golden path of righteousness, 'encouraging" the two to meet with the narcs to (carefully!) spill their guts out, and offering their sincerest hopes that UCI will take up the team's offer to meet so they can promise any bul!@#$ it takes to hold on to their World Tour licen--uh, immediately address any concerns these unfortunate and wholly isolated incidents may have raised. I love you Vino--but I still love you better when you just tell anyone who questions you to !@#$ off or you'll start naming names!

Just Breathe (As Long As You Use a Gas Mask): finally, as class-act Tyler Farrar vows to give it his all as farewell thanks to Team "No Lead Out for You!" Garmin as he heads to MTN-Qhubeka next season, complimenti to the organizers of the dying Tour of Beijing, forced to cut a stage short due to crappy polluted air quality. Damn, between the riders getting busted after noshing from the contaminated food supply and the inconvenience of these stupid athletes needing some dumb!@# "oxygen" in order to ride 200 miles a day, it's a wonder this race is continuing next year at all! Oh, wait...

Hey, Lay Off Poor Johan Bruyneel Already! and, Sagan is Back, Suckers!

News from the Department of Total Pointlessness: okay, I get it--Johan Bruyneel was a very, very naughty boy. And sure, he screwed the dreams of every rider who refused to dope, engaged in a massive lucrative cheating conspiracy, and ruthlessly shut down anyone who tried to tell the truth about it, but I ask you, is *that* any reason for those Bitter Betties over at WADA to wank about increasing Johan's outrageous 10-year ban along with the similarly unjust 8 years for doc Pedro Celaya and trainer Pepe Marti? No, I say! Oh c'mon, 10 years outta the game, Johan'll barely know what !@#$ to *use*, much less win with--any eejit who hires 'im'll probably get popped like a two-bit broke-!@# amateur for Ricco'-era CERA or something. Or maybe he'd get Danilo Di Luca to give 'im tips on undetectable masking agents that give you the testosterone levels of a Barbie doll, or, god forbid, a Ken? Forgive and forget, I say--I'm sure Johan feels real, real bad from the comfort of his luxury private island, after all!

The Tourminator Returns (Even if He Really Didn't Go Anywhere): and, just as Mark Cavendish was complaining about the lack of a lead-out relative to some *other* squads that obviously only beat him because of it, Tour de France rival Peter Sagan has thrown down the gauntlet for the green jersey with a decisive victory in the Tour de Suisse today. Uh oh Cav--not only do you have that damn tower o' styling mousse Marcel Kittel to contend with in July, now it's that wheelie-poppin' bastid who can also get over a climb without callin' for a tow truck! Here, Sagz brings it on home: Not to worry though honey--we know you can still do it, so start practicin' some obscure obnoxious victory gestures to taunt Sagan with and don't get too psyched out for the Tour!

Ouch, That's Almost Worse'n a Crash: and, as we all sincerely wish Frank Schleck a safe and speedy recovery from his nasty concussion in the Tour de Suisse, even I can't muster enough soulless hostility to rag on his poor brother Andy at this point--his Trek boss is conceding quite openly that, should the former Tour de France sorta-champ even *make* the TdF squad, he'll *maybe* be shooting for a stage win. Aw, I'm feeling quite sorry for the kid here--hey, look over there at Brad Wiggins, if he's trying to get himself onto the Sky squad for July even if it's just to piss off Chris Froome, he'd better start picking up the pace from today's sorry ride!

Contador Hits His Target! Breaking Schleck News! and, Women's Cycling Dissed *Again*

Shootin' At the Walls of Heartache, Bang! Bang!: well, *that's* both a relief and a throwdown: on the first major test of his legs since Oleg Tinkov threatened to break 'em last week, Alberto Contador has proven after a wholly bleak year that his elusive form is finally reemerging with a fine, if not perhaps as blazing as of old, win at Tirreno-Adriatico yesterday, and a brilliant--and frankly, classically Contadorian--attack for the ages on the slopes today that left even peerless Nairo Quintana in the dust and poor valiant maglia azzurra Michael Kwiatkowski wincing in several minutes behind. And holy crap, what's with Adam Hansen managing to even hang on to Contador's wheel for more'n ten seconds, and Ben King's brave go in the last 1.5k just as the ramps were hitting 30% and everyone else left was weaving all over the road like St. Pat's was at the critical drunken-hurling point a day early? So good job with whatever you're doing to, well, motivate Alberto, Oleg, and take *that* !@#$, Froomey--and no, your lame show-offy trainin' while painin' this week don't count! Here, yesterday's last k:

Holy Schleck!: and, as Paris-Nice increasingly becomes simply a race of body-count who-survives-upright attrition, Andy Schleck has truly thrown it down at Paris-Nice this week, threatening to--oh wait, he *still* blows. Oh Andy, getting back to your brother-n-mentor comfort-zone was supposed to change your riding for the *better* this year--it's just *too* easy at this point, I'm starting to feel sorry for you again, why don't you go home and have a nice hot toddy and a nap?!

If You're *Really* Good, You Get A Feather-Duster, Too: and, congrats to Lizzie Armitstead for winning a chilly Ronde van Drenthe this weekend, whose prizes, according to this photo, appear to include (and not to diss such fine appliances) a toaster and a vacuum cleaner. Jaysus, 1000-odd euros for a race featuring some of the world's best riders is harsh enough--but rub it in whydontcha, do you really think Tom Boonen has to go home and kick-start the ol' Hoover after a win? Here, the final few k--Lizzie, enjoy your troph--uh, apron!

It's the 2014 Vuelta a Espana, Beeyotches (Unless You're Chris Horner, That Is)!

Whoa nellie, viciously-underappreciated Grand Tour fans, the fabulous Vuelta a Espana route is out, and it's a humdinger! Out: 4 of the 12 mountaintop finishes at last year's brutally entertaining route, for a mere sprinter-friendly total o' 8, the Euskaltel-lovin' (oh! I still can't stand it!) Pyrenees, !@#$-me-I'm-the-reigning-Vuelta-champ-and-I-can't-even-score-an-invite-to-the-presentation-much-less-a-team-for-the-damn-party Chris Horner. In: I-better-at-least-save-my-rep-with-this-one-if-I-choke-on-the-Tour Contador, I-will-break-your-domestiques'-kneecaps-to-grab-this-sucker-if-I-can't-win-the-Giro Purito Rodriguez, 1 team time trial, 2 individual team trials, 5 medium/rolling stages, 5 freakin' sprint finishes (and what the Tour de France hell is that about?) and, despite its less extravagant sadism than before, really a quite leg-nipping final 10 days that oughtn't decide the final podium 'til even wee Contador is crying in his muesli. And damn, a pile a' heretical *sprints* just when dear Euskaltel even got a credible fast-man on its squad last year! Anyway, we still love you Vuelta--and riders, quit usin' it as a late-season consolation prize for your blowin' the Tour!

Back to Business (School): meantime, the symbiotic brothers Schleck are back in action, with Frank, who actually can ride alone (albeit with a little, well, help), inexplicably stuck changing diapers for Andy *again* so the baby brother can crawl away, and, just to show they're done with their season-long casual-Friday-attitude bull!@#$, Trek's put 'em in somber banker businessy pinstripes, with a witty white shoulder for a little wacky cyclist pizzaz. That oughta make up for Andy's inability to descend--maybe someone in the pack'll mistake him for the tarmac and inadvertently give 'im a little push. Oh, it's enough to make one long for the hot-pink Telekom days--at least we've got the riotous Yellow-Fluo to be able to pick *some* guys out in the peloton! And in the interests of ladylike delicacy, I'll spare you today's lurid twit-fest o' revealing Astana'n'Thor Hushovd photos, at least unless y'all ask--after all, isn't that what Pippo Pozzato is for?

Good News: The Vuelta's Clean! Bad News: You Still Can't Ride It!; and, Alberto Steps It Up

Dodgin' the (Green) Bullet: yes, we--even, say, Alejandro "Balaverde" Valverde--can all relax now: the Vuelta doping results are out, and the race was 100% no-holds-barred bucket-o'-integrity cutting-edge-testing clean. Woo-hoo! Does this mean everyone's suspicions are allayed and Chris Horner gets a million-euro contract now? Uh-huh, I thought I heard crickets chirping! Anyway, peloton, don't let this all go to your pretty little heads--if you're a female racer, you can apparently wait til you're older'n Horner is before there's a Vuelta a Espana with your name on it. Pigs! Oh well, at least we still got the Giro Donne--forza Italia, as usual!

I'm Sorry/So Sorry (For Me): and, Lance's regret for how he destroyed cycl--holy crap, he really *does* mean "regret for how mean and unfair everyone's been to me"--continues to warm the hearts of other sincere faux-repentants, as not only does he persist in claiming he's ready and willing to open up completely so long as he's in total control and gets exactly what he wants in every way--which hey, seems reasonable to me if I HAD A FRIGGIN' GOD COMPLEX--but he also claims he's delighted to accept any punishment, including the sport's "death penalty", as long as the dirty cowardly rats who helped him win 7 Tours de France bazillions of dollars worldwide adoration and ('til he dissed Floyd Landis once too often) the worlds' best-ever cycling omerta' are held to the exact same standard. Y'know, I do think most of those guys got off way too lightly, but really? You don't see any difference whatsoever in terms of who you were vs. who they were to the sport? No, I guess it's genuinely hard to see beyond the retina-scarring solar glare of one's own boundless ego...

Talkin' 'Bout My Generation: finally, if you thought Alberto Contador was finito after his disastrous 2013, you're wrong, baby--make room at the grownup's table again, Froomey, because he's already completely revamped his training regimen, gotten ready to hit the wind tunnel, and put in some high-altitude miles in Rio. As to those other headliners-of-yesteryear, the Schleck brothers? Well, I can't speak for Andy--though Frank certainly can--but big bro at least is ready to channel the anger and disappointment of 2013 into 2014 victories and is truly hungry to ride. If only you could reawaken the passion and confidence of your wee brother Andy once again, too...well, Alberto Froome & Nibali'd still kick his !@#, but it'd be nice to see some gumption back, anyway!

Payback at the Giro di Lombardia! Andy Schleck's Big Plans! Contador's Wishful Thinking!

It's The Beautiful Giro di Lombardia!: yes, it's time for the last monument of the season, the glorious classica delle foglie morte, and what's usually a hotly-contested source o' local pride for the Italians is this year a rematch of last weekend's Worlds, with Rui Costa debuting his shining new rainbow kit (as Giovanni Visconti wistfully Twitted today, "In Rui Costa's room to admire his new maglia, shorts, gloves...I touch them delicately...they're a dream..."), Vincenzo Nibali to do what he was obviously perfectly capable of doing last weekend if he hadn't hit the deck, and Alejandro Valverde, if he's got any brains left in his legs whatsoever, staying the !@#$ away from a still-extremely-distraught (and this race's defending champ) Purito Rodriguez. Others on the hunt: twilight Italians Scarponi, Basso, and Cunego; climber supremo Rigoberto Uran; Basso teammate/wheelie-poppin' studpup Peter Sagan; and new-stripped Philippe Gilbert, with one hell of a gnarly lump on his knee. Ow, !@#$--heal up quick Philippe, looks like it's a good thing it's the end of the season already! Anyway, the course: perfect, with a trip up the Madonna del Ghisallo and later a sharp drop before the flat run to the finish. Forza ragazzi--I'm still just in awe you got anything left in the tank at all!

He's Baaaaa-aaaaaaaack (Uh-*Huh*): and, after an openly-conceded but still devastatingly crap season, Andy Schleck, his big brother and go-to trainer/nurturer both back to cocoon 'im in 2014, swears he's ready to come back blazing next year, all set to target (1) the Classics and (2) seriously, the Tour de France. What Andy Schleck *needs* to target first, frankly, is a finish line. Small steps, baby Schleck, small steps!

I Dream of Bertie: last but not least, in bocca al lupo in particular on Sunday to Alberto Contador, who's professed he's already blocked out his suckfest 2013 and is counting the Giro di Lombardia as a fresh start to a hopefully better 2014. So Bjarne told you he's got the dough to pay you next year after Tinkov slagged your overhyped butt and is gonna try to taunt you next year with a new, winninger, more cost-effective squad? I'd be pretending it's already 2014 too!

It's Yer Post-Tour Celebrations 'n' Recriminations Roundup!

Yep, the fallout's fallin' thick 'n' fast outta Tour de France 2013, with BMC boss John Lelangue, with Cadel's future perhaps in doubt, heading out for "personal reasons," which generally means "we'll personally smack you upside the head if you personally *ever* come near our riders again," Froomey's team buying him a Jag to keep him pacified over Brad's continued existence, Trek purchasing both Schlecks despite Frank's just-expired ban because of Andy's faintest-hint-o-hope performance, sprint star Marcel Kittel getting a contract extension over his weird prior blood "treatments" because apparently they didn't help increase oxygen-carrying capacity anyway, and, most notably, erratic moneybags Contador team boss Oleg Tinkov threatening to make the whole lot of 'em look for a new sponsor and run for the hills because they made him look like a bragging clueless jackwagon talking so much smack about Sky. On the plus side, there's about to be a *whole* lotta high-end if lately underperforming talent to be had dirt-cheap for some lucky squads! Heck, when the official '98 Tour de France doping news officially breaks tomorrow, there's bound to be more'n one manager in the ranks who'll be grateful to keep their jobs as well...let the bargain-hunting begin!

The Vuelta Shapes Up!: meantime, it's starting to be clear who's all-in, and who's merely in, for the fabulous Vuelta a Espana, with Samuel Sanchez ready to fight for Euskaltel (and its very existence!), last year's Sky double-threat Rigoberto Uran and Sergio Henao coming in bright 'n' rested, a tired though determined Valverde looking to avenge his wheel-screwed Tour, Purito Rodriguez saying the Worlds are actually more important to him--what?! are you on *crack* Purito?!--Ivan Basso rarin' to go after being jacked outta the Tour by an extremely gnarly giant cyst of the buttal region, everyone still waiting on Contador, and, for my money besides Samu' who will make everyone cry for mercy, a fresh and excited Vincenzo Nibali. Forza Il Squalo, and aupa Samu--the rest of you guys, you just *wish*!

Well, I guess it's on to (half)-Truth 'n' Reconciliation tomorrow. Me, now that I'm over the shock of the Janster being dirty, I'll just keep tracking the road to the glorious Vuelta!

Red White And Blue (and Pink!), 'Skank Sheds Schleck, and, Magilla Gorilla Takes a Win! #tdf #GiroRosa

Independence Day Is Right!: yes, it took 2010 Giro champ Mara Abbott to do it, but *someone* finally beat Marianne Vos this year, taking both the stage and the maglia rosa on a smashing July 4th attack. Video up soon. Woo-hoo Mara you Amazon! One gentle gripe: can we *please* get some low-class disrespectful smack-talk in the women's peloton so I needn't be so cheerful all the time? I'm feelin' like a freakin' smurf over here!

Andy's Doomed: well, that settles Andy Schleck's Tour, and probably the rest of his career: he's just got the news that RadioSkank-almost-Trek has shed big brother Frank just in time to keep him outta a post-ban Vuelta and completely psych Andy out of any positive result (not that kind of positive, you cynics!) the rest of the season til they find someone that'll take the Wonder Twins as a two-fer. Andy, I hate to break it to you, but he's gotta retire sometime. Oh, Frank, I *told* you diuretics were no good...

Now *That's* A Top Ten List: bored of such upbeat sycophantic endeavors as "Top 10 Riders of All Time" and "Top Ten Ways Jens Is Gonna Dope-Slap The Entire Peloton Into Crying Mewling Babies Without Even Meaning To"? Well, it's L'Equipe's Top Ten Doping Excuses! The best of the gnarliest: far too explicit for a delicate lady such as myself to explain here, but let's just say it makes Bjorn "I Did It All for the Nookie" Leukemans look like a blushing schoolboy just about to hurl his first spitball at his beloved. Me, in addition to Simoni's glorious "(Ubiquitous Brand)'s Cocaine Kisses" and Alberto's "Drug-Sucking Cow" excuse, I think one did have to admire in a nauseated way the simple sport-destroying vitriol of Lance's "YOU CHALLENGE ME AGAIN AND I'LL SLAM YOUR HEAD INTO THAT URINAL!" just-blatant-threats tactics. Well, we're *gonna* have a poz this Tour--do any of you miscalculating morons wanna take a crack at making the list this year?

Andre the Giant: and, congrats to Andre Greipel and former Cav helper/trusty lead-out Hendy for a bangin' sprint at the Tour today. Anyone else notice that green jersey Peter Sagan is startin' to look just a liiiiittle bit peeved on the podium of late? Just think of all those random movie-reference line-crossing gestures going to waste! Well, Hulk, pancake-flat isn't really your terrain anyway--and you can always look forward to leaving Cav in the dust in the mountains! Here, he celebrates (because I still can't get any video): Allez Gorilla!

Reality Schleck; Don't Mess With Giorgia Bronzini; and, Pat Goes After Pantani #tdf #GiroRosa

Money/It's a Gas: Ok, so Gerrans pipped Sagan beautifully at the line with a truly ace bike throw, at which point an irate Sagan immediately parked his bike on Gerrans' head. But hot on the heels of Trek's savior-sponsorship of RadioSkank, what kind of reorganization's in order there? Well, aside from Fabian Cancellara indisputably the center of the universe, a big, fat, humbling pay cut for the Schleck brothers. Now, I've always thought that Frank "Lady Cramps" Schleck's the stronger rider, but I gotta say, poor ol' Andy's handling his downfall (at least publicly) with attacks and grace. Well, boys, at least the new system'll let you earn some bonus dough with actual results! Of course, for Andy that always seems highly dependent on the presence of Frank...

Giorgia On My Mind: meantime, over at the Giro Rosa, maglia rosa Marianne Vos saved herself from the brink of disaster with some damn fine bike skills, as Greatest Sprinter/Resident Italian Bad-!@# Giorgia Bronzini bagged the sprint. Tomorrow: headin' uphill honey! Forza Mara Abbott--but I'm still always rooting for you Giorgia, so please don't hurt me! Here, (yes, going back a bit) the stage 1 finale: And, a brief flash o' the stage 2 finish: Brava campionessa!

Abomination Against God o' the Day (Sartorial): sure, it's taken a couple gallons of eye drops and an afternoon in a dark room, but my eyes (and I hope yours) are finally recovering from the afternoon's sight of King o' the Mountains Pierre Rolland's all-body polka-dot extravaganza. Pierre, you have every reason to be proud, but there's a *reason* Samu' never pulled this !@#$! That's it, the hell with the clown costume--I call bull!@#$, and a nice plaid from now on!

Let Him Rest Already: look, Pat "Dick", you're already odious. So now, in your run for presidency of the same UCI you already wrecked, you're gonna confront all this year's "CLEAN NEW ERA" doping pozes by stripping Italian idol Marco Pantani of his 1998 Tour? No, the fact that Pantani died tragically doesn't mean his doping was excusable, nor any and all either genuinely clean or simply-less-resourceful dirty riders he may've beat were any less cheated. But by all accounts, what he *didn't* do was wreck the sport and impose omerta by fear by going on an Armstrongian vendetta-driven scorched-earth destruction campaign against everyone who tried to tell the truth. And for you, Pat, it *really* takes a total wussbag to try to take down a dead guy who, by definition, can no longer address the accusations himself. Anyone else you want to dig up, jerk? Yes, his parents *are* suggesting they'll sue you, and on this one, they're right. So call it honestly, but let it go, and focus on the many many riders still testing positive *this* century!

Cancellara Gets a Boo-Boo! Baby Schleck Gets a Break! Purito Rodriguez Gets a Grip!

Prijs Release Me, Let Me Go: man, crap luck today for Spartacus today at his training ride at Scheldenprijs, as Fabian Cancellara goes down (tho' luckily not bone-snappin'ly hard) and whangs the hell outta his posterior and side--hardly, as his team glumly notes, ideal prep for Paris-Roubaix. Well, at least you won't be home on your couch with a pile o' nachos watching "Dr. Phil" and pretending the race isn't on, like our poor soul-smooshed Tom Boonen--get well fast, Fabian, but for heck's sake try something new to liven up the race this weekend!

Freebird!: in *good* news, Andy "Linus" Schleck has almost got his security blanket back: big bro Frank's suspension for the banned diuretic he thoughtlessly scarfed for his severe menstrual cramps is officially up mid-July. Andy, we all know that, optimistic musings to the contrary, you cannot ride for !@#$ without Frank there to snuggle you along. There's no shame in that--unless, well, you compare yourself to Contador, Rodriguez, Froome or Nibali. So why not just be honest with yourself, wait 'til Frank's free for the Vuelta, and ride that one instead? Plus, it gives you an extra month to get over your lingering (and certainly understandable) post-crash willies, and how can that not help? Note to Frank: try a hot toddy a bowl of ice cream and a chick flick next time--*don't* !@#$ over your little brother again!

Finally, many thanks to inevitable (damn, I've cursed him!) Tour de France podium finisher Purito Rodriguez, who, unlike Cadel, has wisely decided to skip this year's Giro d'Italia after all, leaving it to that Heras'-Vuelta-thieving weasel/former Giro champ Denis Menchov to sully its pure and beautiful roads as Purito focuses on France instead. For any of you other clowns still considering the perfect Giro as training for the Tour, (1) how dare you use the perfect Giro for anything other than a holy tribute to its own glorious self, you cultureless classless goons and (2) enjoy staring right up the !@# of the day's lanterne rouge once you hit the mountains come July, eejits!

It's the Abominable SnowClassics!; and, Baby Schleck on an Upswing

Watch Out, Big Boys!: well, if there was any doubt that Peter Sagan was ready to win a big race, presumptive Classics kings BMC Quick Step and (thanks to Fabian) RadioSkank are scared straight now: the boy not only had the strength, but even seems to be developing a little tactical sense this week, to take a snow-snapped Gent-Wevelgem. Speaking of which, am I the only one totally pissed at how Thor Hushovd's going this season? Time to earn your damn paycheck o "God o' Thunder!" As for Tommeke, it looks his 2012 win streak has totally gobsmacked him out of any luck whatsoever this season. Dagnabit! Of course, the Terminator finished off in grand style, this time wielding an imaginary lasso and popping a trademark wheelie across the line. Sure, he's cocky--but doesn't it still make you want to smack him a lot less than when Contador pulls that "Pistolero" crap? Here, poor Tom:

Woo-hoo, He's Saved!: meanwhile, just as I was about to drop a bucketload o' mercy and resolve a Voluntary Rider Insult Moratorium on sad-sack bar-fly Andy Schleck until he finished a race, he *did* finish one this weekend by golly, coming in a respectable 57th out of 60 at Criterium International at only 22 plus minutes back. Start quakin', Alberto--after all, you're the one knocked out with the sniffles this weekend! However, I really do wish him a total physical and mental recovery for July. But it ain't still gonna help if you don't learn to descend and time trial, Andy!

Et Tu, Wiggo?: thinking of Chris Froome, who took the stage and GC from teammate Richie Porte at Criterium International on the last day, am I the only one thinkin' that Brad Wiggins actively wants to !@#$ over Froomey at the Tour by saying he now plans to ride the Vuelta as well as the Giro? Sure, Wiggins, he maybe tried to pull a Cunego to your Simoni at the Tour de France--with a ton of ungracious whinging at that--but you still couldn't surpass 'im with this year's parcours so why be a bitch about it? Either help or stay home, and just upstage 'im in France with your rock-band entourage or somethin' instead!

Woo-hoo, We're On the Cobbles, Baby!; and, Andy Schleck Dissed *Again*

Finally!: yes, it's time to kick off the venerable (and painful!) Belgian Classics season at last, baby! The races: the exciting (and cobblier) Omloop Het Nieuwsblad, and the "infernal race with the heavenly finish," Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurnage. The players: a newly-healed Tom Boonen juuuuust testing his form at Omloop, Cav defending his Kuurne title, Thor desperate to show his season-opening win wasn't a one-off, ever-threat Juan Antonio Flecha, the dashing Pippo Pozzato, and, in its virgin appearance on the cobbles, intrepid new African squad MTN-Qhubeka. Most importantly, the weather forecast: bbbrrrrrrr, with a chance of snow for Kuurne on Sunday! Here, Sep Vanmarcke edges Tommeke for last year's Omloop win: Allez allez boys--and good luck staying uprightish!

Sturm und Schleck: last but not least, yap, Vicioso tried to hide from the Op Puerto trial and Eki had to suspend him to keep Katusha's new WorldTour spot, yap, Tyler terrifyingly weed black after Fuentes mangled him, yap--nope, the big news is poor ol' (well, young) Andy Schleck again, as his Grand Tour rivals are already showing impressive form and, cringingly, even his own country writes him off as a hopeless lumpen slacker before the season hardly gets going. Damn, Andy, get your act together already--remember, if you don't, you won't be able to blame scumlord rival tactics or unfortunate equipment failures when you blow it this year!

It's Yer Valentine's Day Gift List for the Peloton!

The hell with flowers, chocolates, an overpriced dinner at an overpriced restaurant, or that Naughty Nurse outfit you saw in a catalog--our darling peloton could use a *real* token of affection for St. Valentine's Day, and it's up to us to give it to 'em! Ergo:

1. Lance Armstrong: a heart. 'Cause someone's gonna piss 'im off again sometime, and we all know what he does when *that* happens. For the sake of everyone else, someone, give him a heart!

2. Andy Schleck: mojo. The poor boy really, really needs his mojo back. How else can Contador take any pride in kicking his !@# in July?

3. Pat "Dick" McQuaid: a spine. The spine to own up to what he did, whatever it was. The spine to step down. And the spine to respect the sport, the riders, and the fans enough to do it.

4. Marianne Vos: dang, what *do* you give someone who's already won everything she could possibly want? Well then, equal podium babes for the ladies, I say!

5. Johnny Hoogerland: body armor. A light, flexible, comfortable, impenetrable set of full team kit. Nothing says "I love you" like a gift that keeps you in one piece!

6. Purito Rodriguez: a lovely new team and a bangin' new contract. Unless Katusha gets its ProTour license Friday. In which case, Ekimov has to strew rose petals in his path for every single step Rodriguez takes next season. Show him the appreciation he deigned to show you guys this whole time, Eki!

7. Jesus Manzano: a clean bill of health. Jeez, did you *read* that !@#$ he went through at Kelme--no-one, dirty doper or not, deserves that!

8. Mark Cavendish: y'know, he *did* step in for Tom Boonen at the last minute in Qatar, to quite brilliant effect. I mean, the race don't ride itself. Give Cav the green jersey at the Tour!

Well, dear reader(s), them's my sweet wishes for the sport we hold so dear. So pop yourselves some champagne, feel the love, and enjoy the season ahead!

Cav! Fabian! Schleck! Hoogerland! and, Get Yer Red-Hot Lance Memorabilia Here

The Fast 'n' the Furious: yep, this season's sprint wars are already heating up, with Mark Cavendish already bagging Tom Boonen's wins at the Tour of Qatar and happily snarking about leaving the soulless lying corporate robots at Sky behind for the beer-snarfin' Belgian party-boys at Quick Step, Andre Greipel winning pretty much every race he's entered this season, and ever-good-guy Tyler Farrar nearly recovered physically and mentally from his bloody, miserable 2012. A small gripe: I gotta say, we're already kinda putting poor Greipel at an automatic fan disadvantage here in the who-you-gonna-root-for psychological-warfare contest. I mean, Mark "the Manx Missile" just sounds cool, but all Andre gets is the "German Gorilla"? Dang, why not just call him the Big Ol' Leaden Lumpwad whydontcha...

Andy Schleck Is Scr*wed! (So What Else is New): and, no luck *again* for the perpetually-hosed Andy "Jaysus, Can't I Finish Just *One F!@#$in' Race*" Schleck, now thwapped by a respiratory infection outta the Tour of the Mediterranean, tho' there may be some saving grace in that, having apparently threatened to whine Cancellara to death, Spartacus now sez he's still considering riding shotgun for the boy at the Tour de France. Andy, you're a great rider, but even Cancellara can't hold on to your handlebars on the downhills...anyway, feel better quick, so at least you've got a fighting chance in July!

Hoogerland Report: meantime, Johnny "Barbed Wire" Hoogerland is now close to hearing when he's gonna be free from the hospital after his vicious training crash with a car, and, while he's still got five broken ribs, some fractured vertebrae, and a host of other unpleasant wounds, it thankfully appears his liver is not actually as hard-hit as initially thought. Thank goodness for (very) small mercies, Hoogerland--now rest up, get well, and we'll see you back on the bike when you're ready!


And, If You Order Now, We'll Send You a Second One *Free*!: finally, as (insert acronym here) threatens to investigate/not investigate Lance Armstrong if he doesn't/does cooperate with (insert name of guy delusional LA fanboys still hate), it occurred to me, in the midst of the most notorious doping scandal in history, that you might wanna get yer Lance memorabilia before it skyrockets in value, which led me to this: yep, a genuine signed LA magazine is already gonna run you a brutal 8 buckaroos, my friend, so buy now to ensure yer comfortable retirement later! See, Lance, we *do* still care....

Uh, "Truth And Reconciliation" Means *I* Get Amnesty, Right?; and, Andy Schleck Throws a Snit

Pat "Dick" McQuaid, Cowardly Tool: so, having successfully emasculated its own "Independent Commission" looking at UCI links to the Lance Armstrong doping affair, UCI has now managed to use its own sabotage as an excuse to shut the thing down entirely, saying since unfortunately USADA and WADA no longer have faith in the inquiry, they'll just have to form a general Truth and Reconciliation Commission instead, which, sadly, won't see the light of day til at least the end of the year. Pat, I'm so *glad* you're part of cycling's New Clean Era--at least, I sure bet Armstrong is!

Man, When Jens Calls You Out, You *Know* You !@#$ed Up: meanwhile, as cool arch-rival Contador nailed a hilly stage win at the Tour de San Luis, and just days after a charmingly optimistic Andy Schleck waxed poetic about his return to the peloton after his disastrous 2012 season--raising hopes he was not only physically but, for once, mentally ready for the challenges ahead at the Tour--Andy not only DNFd at the Tour Down Under on the final day's circuit due to a mechanical problem, but also flew into a petulant snit and unsportingly skipped the podium for the team classification, which RadioSkank, thanks to Jens being a god, actually won. Anyone else concerned that at this rate, if Andy don't get his *exactly* his way in July, he's gonna pull an Armstrong and be a petty little beeyotch to Contador on the podium? Here, not to rub it in or nothin', but Alberto goes for the win:

Now *That's* a Post-Racing Career: Can't quite score one of those rare-yet-lucrative DS gigs, haven't got the mad skills to be a ProTour mechanic, and don't want to be a lowly also-ran drug-mule for the cycling starts of today? Well, then, ex-riders, follow the ultra-cool example of former Lion King lead-outPaolo Fornaciari, who not only opened his own gourmet gelato shop after retirement, but also just won the World Championships in the discipline. For those of you (okay, us) with gelato fetishes, his winning concoction, "Macho Macho" (named after the ingredients, not, surprisingly, Cipollini's chest hair) was an almond gelato base with ribbons of bitter-orange marmalade and chocolate fondant, covered with slightly caramelized toasted almonds. Complimenti Paolo--and Landis, *see* what you could've become instead?!

It's Yer Sissy-Boy Slap-Fight o' the Week!; and, Andy Schleck Puts on His Big-Boy Pants

Like Carlos Barredo Whanging Rui Costa Over the Head With a Bike Wheel, Only Bloodier: yes, the blame game for Lance Armstrong's monster--and happily abetted--fraud continues, with WADA tying UCI's Pat "Dick" McQuaid to a chair in a bare concrete cell lit by a single glaring lightbulb a for a two-day "well *we* ain't takin' the heat, you moron" smackdown, and Pat "Dick" shrieking that just because he's the most disgusting obsequious doping-enabler ever known don't mean it's not even worse that Floyd Landis and Tyler Hamilton are "scumbags," and he doesn't even like their haircuts to boot. Meantime, UCI continues to restore its credibility with it's new anti-doping hotline, whereby riders are helpfully encouraged to either (1) turn themselves in and wreck their own careers or (2) rat out other guys who are doping better than they are for slimeballian tactical advantage. Unfortunately, the only calls the hotline has received so far are a reported 253 voice mails from the Spanish peloton proclaiming that "Lance Armstrong is a great champion" and they "still support him 100%." Best of all, in UCI's strongest attempt yet to crack down on cheats, it's just invested over $1 million in cutting-edge lab equipme--uh, spent a huge wad of cash to hire itself a freakin' PR firm. Way to clean up the sport, Pat--damn, why not just *buy* everybody performance-enhancing drugs?

Out Here On My Own: meanwhile, it's a darn good thing Andy Schleck's starting his season extra-early at the Tour Down Under to build his form back and, way more importantly, learn to ride confidently on his own outta the guiding protective slipstream of his elder brother, 'cause Frank's proceeding on his 2012 Tour de France doping poz has been delayed again. If I've said it once, Frank, I've said it a hundred times, if yer gonna use a banned diuretic to ease those, uh, menstrual cramps, at least get a Therapeutic Use Exemption from yer ol' friend Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes first! You *go* Andy, you can do it by yourself--at least til you start blaming Contador for something...

Yer Downright Disconcerting Headline o' the Week: lastly, a huge congrats to Velonews for its hugely squick-inducing story title "Astana finds trainer for Nibali as he aims at the 2013 Giro." Oh, come *on* Vinokourov, Vincenzo Nibali's *such* a nice hardworking kid--I don't care if you hired Santa Claus to help 'im, you *trying* to get him woken up out of his much-needed rest by the narcs for a needle attack at 2 am every night of the race?

UCI Wins Big Against Landis! Too Bad They Still Look Like !@#holes

It's a Brand New Drinking Game!: yes, a Swiss court has issued a stinging ruling in a defamation case by noble defenders o' cyclist virtue UCI against vocal critic/remorseful ex-doper Floyd Landis: Landis is now and forever strictly barred from calling UCI, crusading prez Pat "Dick" McQuaid, or former ruler Hein Verbruggen, "corrupt", "terrorists", "fools", "full of shit", and "clowns", or saying they're no different than "Colonel Muammar Gaddafi." That's OK Floyd--if it makes you feel any better, by my crack legal reckoning, you *can* still call 'em "d**chebags," "wankers," "tools," "putzes," and "mimes," and say they're no different than "Mitt Romney!" Best of all, since Landis has to take out ads apologizing in the Wall Street Journal (along with, for some odd reason, some cycling publications), he gets to repeat all his accusations all over again so long as they're simply preceded by the word "aren't." Oh, sure, he's already gonna appeal--but in the meantime, I call next person who comes up with a new name you *can* call Pat "Dick" has to drink--last one upright wins!

Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Ride the Tour de France: yeah, watch out Sandy Casar and Philippe Gilbert: according to CNN, and thanks to some scumwad owners who oughta have their pets taken away, that Golden Retriever or Newfoundland wandering out on the course while you're going 60k an hour ain't just stupid, it's high as a kite, and god forbid it hallucinates you're a cat or some !@#$, 'cause now it'll go all Cujo on your !@#! Oh, man, now we gotta get the *spectators* off the drugs, too--ain't UCI overwhelmed enough *already*?

No, Giro, No!: in total suck news, one of the most exciting underdog GC contenders we've seen in years, Purito Rodriguez, has apparently decided to bag the Giro d'Italia in favor of the Tour this year because the Giro's crappy excess of time trial kilometers makes it a fruitless waste of his time. Hey, I understand wanting to intentionally exclude, say, the Schlecks with those shenanigans, but we love Purito? Really? Oh, Giro, you will always be my first true Grand Tour love--don't break my trusting innocent heart this way, please!

Back in Black: finally, and speaking of whom, there's *some* good news for the injury-plagued Andy Schleck and his lost season: he's already been back in action in the peloton (however briefly) this week, and is now set to take on the Tour of Beijing. Don't sweat it, Andy, at least Jen, Fabian, and your big brother Fra--uh, at least Jens & Fabian'll be there to help you next year!

The Worlds Are *On*, Baby!; And, Can Even Jens Save Andy?

Tommeke Tommeke Tommeke!: yes folks, the World Championships are underway, and it's time for the races o' truth to decide who will grace the noble striped jersey next year. Lookin' good there at the Tour o' Britain, Cav, but it still ain't your course! Today: the men's and women's first-ever team time trials, hailed by besieged and desperate Pat "Dick" "I never met Armstrong! He's a figment of your imagination!" McQuaid as a wild success. Victors: Specialized's all-star lineup of Ina Yoko "We Love You! Please Don't Kill Us!" Teutenberg, Amber Neben, Evelyn Stevens, and too many other bad-!@#es to count, making the most of a rolling course with a fine-tuned lineup, and, to even their own surprise, Quick Step, as BMC's Tejay was just a little too strong for his own damn good and inadvertently dropped Taylor Phinney in the screaming chaos on the Cauberg. But even though Phinney was mad, he's not mad--honest Tejay! Completely in the doghouse: Lampre, whose director slapped his helpless squad by saying he was waiting for at least "a show of pride." Ouch! Next up: The 24.3k women's individual time trial on Tuesday, with a flat finish after the top of the Cauberg, with Emma Pooley and unexpected London bronze medalist Olga Zabelinskaya looking for stripes. Oh, come on--like it wouldn't be fun to see Zabelinskaya come outta nowhere again!

Going to Schleck in a Handbasket: and, back in the 'normal' road world, Schleck-brothers guidance-counselor Kim Andersen has confirmed what's been so painfully obvious to us all: with the occasional exception of big bro Frank (who I always thought could've won a Grand Tour by *some* means if not stuck babysitting his more-hyped little sibling), the Schlecks just can't function without each other. So leaving aside how diplomatically Andersen just called Johan Bruyneel a !@#$head--and you gotta admire that--here's my question: so if Frank gets banned this year for using a masking agent for no doping-related reason whatsoever--a-yup!--how the !@#$ is Andy possibly gonna be able to win the Tour de France next year? Forget that he can't time trial or descend for dirt! Oh Andy, *so* fragile--I wonder, (forgive me Jens o great one!), can even Voigt save you next year as he hopes? Aw, the hell with that--Johan, you know you're gonna hose Andy anyway, just give 2013 to Jens right now!

It's the US Olympic Road Races!; and, RadioSkank Implodes Again

Tommeke Tommeke Tommeke!: okay, I get that Cav is gonna slather himself in gold, Wiggo will be the coolest lead-out beeyotch in history, and Millar's gonna start bawling about how clean he is the second the cameras swing Davidwise. But dammit, without Samu for everyone to kneel to, and at the risk of being pelted with Budweiser cans and Slim-Jim wrappers by rabid nationalists on my own home turf, I am rooting for Belgian babemeister big Tom Boonen, who in the four years since the last summer Olympics has gone from the lowest of coke-poz injury-beset train-wreck lows to the highest of rebirth-redemption-and-relentless-win-streak highs, and if *that* don't flush you with true Olympic spirit, you are a petty heartless goon who has pimped your soul too cheap. Alternatively, of course, I *would* accept Sagan or Greipel beating Cav's !@# just on principle. Allez allez Tom--don't let those wily pure-sprint squads outfox you!

Midnight Train to Giorgia: meantime, with the Sunday women's road race set for a mere two passes on the dread Box Hill, the Brits clearly bringing their A game, and Ina-Yoko Teutenberg capable of ripping yer limbs off just lookin' at you mean, I'm still betting on Italian powerhouse Giorgia Bronzini, who, despite expressing concern that the usual sprinters will be so busy marking each other they might let some upstart fly by, has proven herself one cool customer in tense--and high-stakes--finishes. Even better? She says she's "angry." And you wouldn't like her when she's angry!

Showdown At the No-Way Corral: and, any Schleckian hopes of an Andy-vs.-Alberto ride to the death in Spain this summer are over, as Johan Bruyneel announces--in only his latest round of bad news--that Andy just isn't up for the Vuelta a Espana quite yet, and will be riding in the US instead. Anyone else of the opinion Johan, in all his years of success and wisdom, might've thought twice about horribly screwing poor Jakob Fuglsang at this point? Anyhoo, with Jens being naturally courted by superior squads, Haimar Zubeldia a primo late-career catch for I-told-you-you-should-never-have-left-Euskaltel or even Astana with Nibali, and even Bjarne Riis sniffing 'round to grab back half his old posse, it's just as well Schleck ain't gonna be around to suffer the humiliation anyway. Speedy recovery, Andy--but Contador'd still wipe the floor with you!

Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil: oh, hell, he's just evil--yep, none other than UCI leader "Clean Sport! Except When We Like You!" Pat "Dick" McQuaid, weirdly concerned suddenly 8 years or so on about that silly Armstrong hoo-ha--which, y'know, can happen to a colossal brown-nose in constant pursuit of reflected glory--has now come straight out and said, uh, we've got nothing to do with anti-doping! We've got no authority whatsoever! We're impotent weaklings, I swear it! Well, *that* makes me feel better about the sport--what next, you're gonna say the biological passport is crap? Oh, wait...

On Second Thought...Tell 'Im To Stuff It, Horner!

Uh, Sorry Dude: well, that didn't last long: poor Andy Schleck has been diagnosed with a sacral pelvic fracture from his worse-than-thought crash in the Dauphine', and is officially out of the Tour de France. On the plus side, Andy'll be back in action just in time for a showdown-o'-truth at the Vuelta a Espana with returning Tour de France rival Alberto Contador. Y'know, aside from the fact that Horner deserves to go anyway, based on his own palmares if big brother Frank weren't so busy keeling himself over shlepping Golden Boy around, Frank'd actually be able to come up pretty strong in his own right--after all, he has. So I say, let Chris and Frank duel it out for supremacy. Horner always rocks, but Frank's got him on actual grand tour GC results, and actually didn't look like such crap at the Tour de Suisse this week. Of course, swords or those clunky ol' pistols are hard to come by these days, but if they won't agree to do it the gentlemanly way, I suppose slugging it out on the bike is a reasonable alternative. Go Chris--and alternately, if it's just classic mano-a-mano, I bet 50 bucks that scrappy Horner takes down that gangly aristocrat like a ton (well, half-ounce) o' bricks! Here, the x-rays: Sincerely, get well soon Andy--and Johan, nice work the last couple days you soulless goon!