Showing posts with label Marianne Vos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marianne Vos. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
It's Yer Eleven Cycling Things I'm Grateful For This Thanksgiving (and a Few I'm Damn Well Not)!
Yes, it's Thanksgiving, that glorious American holiday where we reflect on how we stole this country from its rightful owners, confirm the world's grossest stereotypes of national excess by gorging ourselves senseless on stuffing, gravy, turkey, cranberry sauce, and pie, try not to stab Grandma's sterling silver dessert fork into the head of our crazy-!@# racist nutwhack paranoid conspiracy-theorist grand-uncle, and retreat to the couch in the living room hoping to accidentally drown out the sounds of other people doing the dishes while we watch the football game before we--JAYSUS CAN'T ANYONE SCRAPE THEIR PLATE OFF BEFORE DUMPING IT INTO THE SINK WHAT THE !@#$ EVEN IS THAT ARE YOU PEOPLE !@#$ING ANIMALS?! Oh right, and be thankful for stuff. So what cycling things am I grateful for (and a few I damn well ain't) this year? This!
1. The Giro. Yes, that disgrace won it this year, though fortunately I've almost blocked that out. What you *can't* block out--its monstrous climbs, harrowing descents, its fickle twists of grit and fate right up til the last possible moment. We love you il grande Giro--now I'm *telling* you Landa, ride this next year!
2. Not just one, but *two* teams full of baby Basque geniuses are back--and they're already getting results, including didja see Oscar Rodriguez' incredible stage 13 Vuelta a Espana mountaintop triumph!? May the ghosts of Carrots past smile upon you all--now go out there you smashing wee climbers, and make the peloton cry up every one!
3. Speaking of Basque cycling--Izagirres! Mikel! Mikel! Amets! Oh, no matter what team they work for, I'm bawling into my Euskaltel hat in gratitude right now...
4. Lotto-Soudal's Stig Broeckx. After a life-altering, nearly fatal crash in 2016, he's back on his mountain bike--and already aiming for the road. Peace, health, and happy riding forever to this wonderboy!
5. Toms Skujins. No, you can't pronounce it (or you can, smartypants, but I sure as hell can't), but boy, can you admire this kid! Social butterfly, damn hard worker, potato aficionado, and oh right, 5-stage mountains classifications holder at the Tour de France this year--you go Toms!
6. UCI's war on noncompliant--uh, socks? Because we wouldn't want to bust any superstar cash cows for *doping*, now would we!
7. Marianne Vos. Yes, there are other cyclists who've had an amazing year, and even won some races--and who were coming back from injury, as well. But all-terrain champion and Best Athlete In All Human History Vos is simply hors categorie. Allez you brilliant bad-!@#!
8. Peter Sagan. The face that launched 10,000 wheelies. Hey, forget his riding--this guy is making this broke-!@# sport *rolling* in dough!
9. It's super nice to see Alberto Contador doing so much to mentor the next generation of cyclists. Especially when he could just be kickin' back with a beer and playing with his dog all day instead for the rest of his life! Um...you sure you don't want to reconsider a comeback Alberto?
10. Alejandro Valverde in World Champion stripes. Because at least we're not all yammerin' about Froome this instant, amirite?
11. Floyd Landis. Sure, I've maybe said a few things here'n'there about Floyd over the years--and wholly merited, I might add. But Floyd gets *giant* thanks in 2018 for taking his humongous whistleblower payout
and starting a bud-based cycling squad with it, right in the eye of ol' pal Lance "I Never Tested Positive" Armstrong, who, of course, is banned for life from doing a !@#damn thing in cycling more useful'n wiping dog poo off his own wheel after a mountain bike ride. Good onya, Landis--and we can't wait to try your new team's recovery drinks!
And a Few I'm Damn Well Not:
1. Mikel Landa screwed already, *again*. What the !@#$ing !@#$, Movistar?
2. La Cour--What the !@#$, it was the single most exciting day at the *men's* Tour de France last year and now you're not only not expanding it, but making it some boring-!@# circuit crit, to boot? !@#$ you ASO!
3. Seriously, Spain and Italy--not a *single* Grand Tour victory this year? What are you, France? Now get back training and fix this ridiculousness for 2019!
Well folks, them's mine, and that's not even half the bitchin' stuff I could think of (or complain about). So let's raise a drumstick, pour some wine, and give a toast to Thanksgiving 2018!
Friday, February 10, 2017
It's Yer Unwritten Rules o' the Peloton, Revisited!
All right, as the recent smackdown between Kittel & Grivko so amply demonstrated, it's !@#damn etiquette chaos in the peloton right now, so before we all devolve into thievery, cannibalism, and chamois-snapping, I say it's about freakin' time to lay down some serious rules. Disagree, especially if yer a pro who's not just talking out of his/her !@# like I am? Have at, Miss Manners!
1. The Golden Rule: Do Not Be a Punk-Ass. If yer own mom'd spit on you and disown you for shaming the family, back off whatever weasel scumbag move yer about to pull. This goes for you too, Valverde!
2. Golden Rule, Part Deux: Do Not Be a Wuss. This, as dear reader(s) have pointed out, is bike racing. If Rui Costa'd rip yer stem off and start beating the crap out of you with it for some simpering passive-aggression, back off!
3. The Leader's Jersey, Part Un: Respect the Jersey. The leader sets the rules, dictates the pace at non-critical junctures, calls nature breaks, and doles out mercy or hellfire. But only within limits, because...
4. The Leader's Jersey, Part Deux: this goes both ways (hear me, Marcel)? Don't call a nature break halfway up Alpe d'Huez just because yer legs are crap and you know some !@#$wit with a motor--uh, Valver--uh, somebody stronger is gonna destroy your GC hopes like Godzilla on Tokyo, don't take undue advantage of someone else's misfortune, and don't, in general, be a !@#$. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, get it?
5. Sucker-Punching (A Fan): sure, you might not like that publicity-slutting asshat running next to you screaming their heads off in a neon banana-hammock, combination baseball hat/Texas longhorns, or a (wholly unjustified) syringe costume and accusatory sign, but if s/he ain't interfering with your line, endangering your wheel with a flag, or imminently tossing a large dog or small child in yer path, save the energy, honey, and let it go. On the other hand, if someone throws urine at you--and you're sure it's not just an ill-aimed, if well-intentioned, attempt to toss you a beer--I say, justice dealt!
6. Sucker-Punching (A Fellow Rider): Don't use it to screw someone over in a sprint. If some reckless selfish dipwad is jacking *your* line in the last 100 meters, though, fair game. And if you're Bernard !@#$ing Hinault, you can punch anyone at any time for any reason. Why, *you* want to tell him he can't?
7. Attacking (Flat Due to Natural Road Debris): look, happens to everyone. If you're just some schmo, no-one's attacking you anyway. If you're ten seconds apart on GC, particularly if it happens on a crucial climb, keep your pace, but no need to be a wanker about it. Caveat: no brownnosing peloton-powerhouse former teammates by staying with 'em for half an hour while the team you're supposed to be riding for gets hosed. And no running up the hill like a jack!@#!
8. Attacking (Flat Due to Pile of Tacks Deliberately Strewn by Some Malevolent Nutwhack): Not only should you not attack if you're the only sod lucky enough to get through it unscathed--which only rewards the scumbag, imho--but this possibly one of those instance where the Sucker-Punch (Fan) protocol applies. You endanger the riders, you takes your chances!
9. Bottles (Giving): Got an extra bottle riding next to someone who's obviously in croaking distress with no team car in sight? Nice to pass it along. Just don't accidentally hand over one with whatever sketchy drug-positive internet "nutritional supplement" you're scamming!
10. Bottles (Throwing): Over the head and/or to the side. Not skittering under somebody's wheel to take 'em down! This goes doubly for musettes: toss it into somebody's wheel and you've probably cost 'em the stage, the podium, or, even worse, some major collarbone surgery when they jackknife into the tarmac. And they'll remember you, pal!
11. Nature Breaks: Don't attack on a real one. It's weak, and the entire peloton will justifiably hate you. About three more water bottles in, you'll likely find that out for yourself! For calls necessarily heeded while on the fly, with perhaps the balancing assistance of a discreet teammate, for god's sake stay to the back and off to the side, so you don't let it rip on the poor bastard behind you!
12. Extreme Weather Protocol: Know you game-changingly suck in the wind/cold/snow/rain/dessicating heat, and your GC rivals don't? Well, it's really nice that UCI's decided no-one should actually have major limbs drop off from frostbite, but don't take advantage of your lack of hardman skills and whine at the organizers til they cancel the stage just so you can gain a leg up. Why? Because you're a *cyclist*, dammit, and Marianne Vos eats blizzards for breakfast and spits 'em back out as snow-cones for the kiddos while you're still cowering in your hotel room in your down bathrobe, you wuss!
13. And Finally, Yer Miscellaneous Post-Race Commandment: If you say you're gonna retire, *retire* fer chrissakes! This applies without exception to Brad Wiggins, but not to, say, Purito, whose glaring absence from the peloton has already left an atom-crushing black whole from which no light or matter can escape. And this includes any stupid !@#$ like reality-show long-jumping/bull-fighting/extreme curling or whatever the !@#$% you're doing lately, Wiggo!
1. The Golden Rule: Do Not Be a Punk-Ass. If yer own mom'd spit on you and disown you for shaming the family, back off whatever weasel scumbag move yer about to pull. This goes for you too, Valverde!
2. Golden Rule, Part Deux: Do Not Be a Wuss. This, as dear reader(s) have pointed out, is bike racing. If Rui Costa'd rip yer stem off and start beating the crap out of you with it for some simpering passive-aggression, back off!
3. The Leader's Jersey, Part Un: Respect the Jersey. The leader sets the rules, dictates the pace at non-critical junctures, calls nature breaks, and doles out mercy or hellfire. But only within limits, because...
4. The Leader's Jersey, Part Deux: this goes both ways (hear me, Marcel)? Don't call a nature break halfway up Alpe d'Huez just because yer legs are crap and you know some !@#$wit with a motor--uh, Valver--uh, somebody stronger is gonna destroy your GC hopes like Godzilla on Tokyo, don't take undue advantage of someone else's misfortune, and don't, in general, be a !@#$. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, get it?
5. Sucker-Punching (A Fan): sure, you might not like that publicity-slutting asshat running next to you screaming their heads off in a neon banana-hammock, combination baseball hat/Texas longhorns, or a (wholly unjustified) syringe costume and accusatory sign, but if s/he ain't interfering with your line, endangering your wheel with a flag, or imminently tossing a large dog or small child in yer path, save the energy, honey, and let it go. On the other hand, if someone throws urine at you--and you're sure it's not just an ill-aimed, if well-intentioned, attempt to toss you a beer--I say, justice dealt!
6. Sucker-Punching (A Fellow Rider): Don't use it to screw someone over in a sprint. If some reckless selfish dipwad is jacking *your* line in the last 100 meters, though, fair game. And if you're Bernard !@#$ing Hinault, you can punch anyone at any time for any reason. Why, *you* want to tell him he can't?
7. Attacking (Flat Due to Natural Road Debris): look, happens to everyone. If you're just some schmo, no-one's attacking you anyway. If you're ten seconds apart on GC, particularly if it happens on a crucial climb, keep your pace, but no need to be a wanker about it. Caveat: no brownnosing peloton-powerhouse former teammates by staying with 'em for half an hour while the team you're supposed to be riding for gets hosed. And no running up the hill like a jack!@#!
8. Attacking (Flat Due to Pile of Tacks Deliberately Strewn by Some Malevolent Nutwhack): Not only should you not attack if you're the only sod lucky enough to get through it unscathed--which only rewards the scumbag, imho--but this possibly one of those instance where the Sucker-Punch (Fan) protocol applies. You endanger the riders, you takes your chances!
9. Bottles (Giving): Got an extra bottle riding next to someone who's obviously in croaking distress with no team car in sight? Nice to pass it along. Just don't accidentally hand over one with whatever sketchy drug-positive internet "nutritional supplement" you're scamming!
10. Bottles (Throwing): Over the head and/or to the side. Not skittering under somebody's wheel to take 'em down! This goes doubly for musettes: toss it into somebody's wheel and you've probably cost 'em the stage, the podium, or, even worse, some major collarbone surgery when they jackknife into the tarmac. And they'll remember you, pal!
11. Nature Breaks: Don't attack on a real one. It's weak, and the entire peloton will justifiably hate you. About three more water bottles in, you'll likely find that out for yourself! For calls necessarily heeded while on the fly, with perhaps the balancing assistance of a discreet teammate, for god's sake stay to the back and off to the side, so you don't let it rip on the poor bastard behind you!
12. Extreme Weather Protocol: Know you game-changingly suck in the wind/cold/snow/rain/dessicating heat, and your GC rivals don't? Well, it's really nice that UCI's decided no-one should actually have major limbs drop off from frostbite, but don't take advantage of your lack of hardman skills and whine at the organizers til they cancel the stage just so you can gain a leg up. Why? Because you're a *cyclist*, dammit, and Marianne Vos eats blizzards for breakfast and spits 'em back out as snow-cones for the kiddos while you're still cowering in your hotel room in your down bathrobe, you wuss!
13. And Finally, Yer Miscellaneous Post-Race Commandment: If you say you're gonna retire, *retire* fer chrissakes! This applies without exception to Brad Wiggins, but not to, say, Purito, whose glaring absence from the peloton has already left an atom-crushing black whole from which no light or matter can escape. And this includes any stupid !@#$ like reality-show long-jumping/bull-fighting/extreme curling or whatever the !@#$% you're doing lately, Wiggo!
Thursday, December 29, 2016
It's Yer New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton!
Look, most of these folks--dear as they are to all of us--are either too inept, too narcissistic, or too darned clueless to help themselves for 2017. And while the philosophers say the unexamined life is not worth living, I say--if we can examine it for them--it darn well is. So listen up beloved cyclists, while we make Yer 2016 New Year's resolutions for the peloton!
1. Brad Wiggins: oh, !@#$ off. Really, who cares? We're all sick and tired of hearing about you anyway!
2. Oleg Tinkov: WELL I ALREADY !@#DAMN SAVED CYCLING, SO NOW I'M GONNA GO AND FIX...UH, FOOTBALL! NO, CURLING! NO, TABLE TENNIS...!@#DAMMIT MINION BRING ME ANOTHER BOTTLE OF VODKA!
3. Peter Sagan: seriously, do I have to resolve anything? We all know I'm winning everything I want in 2017 anyhow!
4. Tom Boonen: I will win my 5th and final Paris-Roubaix. So suck it, Fabian!
5. Race Moto Drivers: we're gonna remember to put our contact lenses in this year. And take a coupla driving lessons. And try not to confuse the cyclists with freakin' bowling pins. And...
6. Chris Froome: I swear, when the narcs come knocking, I will be exactly as loyal to my former captain Brad Wiggins as I was during the 2012 Tour de France. Sucker!
7. Roman Kreuziger: well, I'm on a new team now...wait, who's the team captain I'm supposed to screw again?
8. Alberto Contador: Up. I will stay *up*, no matter what train-wreck idiot tries to take me down. Right, and I'm coming for you at the Tour, Chris you joyless android!
9. Greg Van Avermaet: I resolve that the next jack!@# that calls me an "almost-man" is gonna get it right in the kisser. I AM THE OLYMPIC CHAMPION FER CHRISSAKES!
10. Nacer Bouhanni: I will not pick stupid fights with random drunks break my hand punching 'em out and ruin my entire team's Grand Tour season. I will hold back, and punch out Mark Cavendish during a sprint finish instead.
11. Alejandro Valverde: I will meticulously follow the orders of my DS and unequivocally support my captain Nairo Quintana as his loyal-est domestique. From the top spot of the podium, that is! Oh, I'm sorry, was that my earpiece that I accidentally tossed back to be crunched under the front wheel of the team car?
12. Marianne Vos: You won't *make* me a three-week Tour de France? I'll damn well *ride* the three-week Tour de France--what, you gonna stop me?
13. Fabio Aru: I will...no, I probably *will* have one spectacularly crappy race-wrecking day at my Grand Tour target again. Yeah, you've got competition now, Valverde!
14. Dave Brailsford: uh, Dave? Dave? Pick up the phone! Where are you, man? Anybody seen him? Wait, what's this about a plane ticket to the unmapped Amazon jungle?
Well folks, them's mine, if I missed any, have at--and riders, listen up, we're trying to *save* you here!
1. Brad Wiggins: oh, !@#$ off. Really, who cares? We're all sick and tired of hearing about you anyway!
2. Oleg Tinkov: WELL I ALREADY !@#DAMN SAVED CYCLING, SO NOW I'M GONNA GO AND FIX...UH, FOOTBALL! NO, CURLING! NO, TABLE TENNIS...!@#DAMMIT MINION BRING ME ANOTHER BOTTLE OF VODKA!
3. Peter Sagan: seriously, do I have to resolve anything? We all know I'm winning everything I want in 2017 anyhow!
4. Tom Boonen: I will win my 5th and final Paris-Roubaix. So suck it, Fabian!
5. Race Moto Drivers: we're gonna remember to put our contact lenses in this year. And take a coupla driving lessons. And try not to confuse the cyclists with freakin' bowling pins. And...
6. Chris Froome: I swear, when the narcs come knocking, I will be exactly as loyal to my former captain Brad Wiggins as I was during the 2012 Tour de France. Sucker!
7. Roman Kreuziger: well, I'm on a new team now...wait, who's the team captain I'm supposed to screw again?
8. Alberto Contador: Up. I will stay *up*, no matter what train-wreck idiot tries to take me down. Right, and I'm coming for you at the Tour, Chris you joyless android!
9. Greg Van Avermaet: I resolve that the next jack!@# that calls me an "almost-man" is gonna get it right in the kisser. I AM THE OLYMPIC CHAMPION FER CHRISSAKES!
10. Nacer Bouhanni: I will not pick stupid fights with random drunks break my hand punching 'em out and ruin my entire team's Grand Tour season. I will hold back, and punch out Mark Cavendish during a sprint finish instead.
11. Alejandro Valverde: I will meticulously follow the orders of my DS and unequivocally support my captain Nairo Quintana as his loyal-est domestique. From the top spot of the podium, that is! Oh, I'm sorry, was that my earpiece that I accidentally tossed back to be crunched under the front wheel of the team car?
12. Marianne Vos: You won't *make* me a three-week Tour de France? I'll damn well *ride* the three-week Tour de France--what, you gonna stop me?
13. Fabio Aru: I will...no, I probably *will* have one spectacularly crappy race-wrecking day at my Grand Tour target again. Yeah, you've got competition now, Valverde!
14. Dave Brailsford: uh, Dave? Dave? Pick up the phone! Where are you, man? Anybody seen him? Wait, what's this about a plane ticket to the unmapped Amazon jungle?
Well folks, them's mine, if I missed any, have at--and riders, listen up, we're trying to *save* you here!
Saturday, November 07, 2015
Dr. Cav! Froomey! Marianne! Tommy D!: Yer Cycling Gossip Roundup
Taking the Lead: yep, it's all a-gonna change for newly honored Doctor of Science/I've heard tell he's also a cyclist Mark Cavendish: his new squad Delta Dimension's confirmed that their superstar signing ain't gonna get the lead-out train he's used to from now on. And let's be honest here, Cav *loves* himself a lead-out! Why the hosing? Well, because cycling's purportedly just *changed*--instead of 5k of 8 guys hammering til they yack to set up their man for the last 200m, it's now a much tighter time frame, so here's a coupla dudes to help you out the last kilometer or so and you're on your own for the rest, pal! Oh, this sucks--how I *do* still miss Fassa Bortolo's beautiful blue train, and now they're *all* headed for the trash heap o' history! Still, giant bonus: Cav's gonna have *far* fewer teammates to accidentally mistake for a rival and plow into the barriers like a punk-!@# at the line. Yay for silver linings! 
The Waaaaiii-ting is the Hardest Part: and, what's our outraged unjustly-suspected Tour champ Chris Froome finally gonna do, after months and months of delayi--uh, thoughtfully considering? That's right, release his long-promised physiological data to shut up the haters, right square in the pages of the fine men's fashion-n'-cocktail rag Esquire magazine. Well, if f!@#$in' *Esquire* guarantees it, it's *gotta* be true--especially with a six-month lead-out to manip--uh, double-spell-check--the data! What would *really* help, frankly, is if Esquire can explain physiologically how anyone whose wings flap around on the bike like a rabid drunken fruit bat can possibly not spin himself off a mountaintop, much less triumph on the likes of Mont Ventoux, but I'm guessing that's not the data the beastly Froome detractors are gonna be looking for. Anyhoo, 'til then, the boy's wisely hiding out in Rio checkin' out the Olympic roads course--so don't worry Alberto, not only is he clean as a whistle, but he's not even *thinking* about the Tour next year!
Talk Dirt to Me: meantime, all-terrain goddess Marianne Vos, who's spent a miserable 2015 on the sidelines with overwork injuries, is now finally back on the bike--in moderation--and looking forward to some type of form sometime in 2016. And while she waits and works on that, she's scored a nice side gig as well, announcing cyclocross races 'til she herself is allowed back to play in the dirt. Forza grandissima Marianne--I can't imagine you taking too long to get back up to your formidable speed!
"D" is for Dumbass: finally, congrats to clean-team Garmin stalwart Tommy Danielson, who not only got a *great* score on his last test for synthetic testosterone, but got his grade *doubly* affirmed this week on his B-sample. It's so *nice* to see our dedicated students doing so well on their homework--tho' apparently *someone's* been quite the slacker in his masking-agent class!
The Waaaaiii-ting is the Hardest Part: and, what's our outraged unjustly-suspected Tour champ Chris Froome finally gonna do, after months and months of delayi--uh, thoughtfully considering? That's right, release his long-promised physiological data to shut up the haters, right square in the pages of the fine men's fashion-n'-cocktail rag Esquire magazine. Well, if f!@#$in' *Esquire* guarantees it, it's *gotta* be true--especially with a six-month lead-out to manip--uh, double-spell-check--the data! What would *really* help, frankly, is if Esquire can explain physiologically how anyone whose wings flap around on the bike like a rabid drunken fruit bat can possibly not spin himself off a mountaintop, much less triumph on the likes of Mont Ventoux, but I'm guessing that's not the data the beastly Froome detractors are gonna be looking for. Anyhoo, 'til then, the boy's wisely hiding out in Rio checkin' out the Olympic roads course--so don't worry Alberto, not only is he clean as a whistle, but he's not even *thinking* about the Tour next year!
Talk Dirt to Me: meantime, all-terrain goddess Marianne Vos, who's spent a miserable 2015 on the sidelines with overwork injuries, is now finally back on the bike--in moderation--and looking forward to some type of form sometime in 2016. And while she waits and works on that, she's scored a nice side gig as well, announcing cyclocross races 'til she herself is allowed back to play in the dirt. Forza grandissima Marianne--I can't imagine you taking too long to get back up to your formidable speed!
"D" is for Dumbass: finally, congrats to clean-team Garmin stalwart Tommy Danielson, who not only got a *great* score on his last test for synthetic testosterone, but got his grade *doubly* affirmed this week on his B-sample. It's so *nice* to see our dedicated students doing so well on their homework--tho' apparently *someone's* been quite the slacker in his masking-agent class!
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 !@#$ING EUSKALTEL, DAMMIT!" emblazoned thereon, and force defending Tour de France champ Chris Froome off the team and into early retirement unless he can prove definitively he's actually Basque. Aupa Samuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Finally, over in the women's peloton, Giro Donne/LaCourse conquistadora Anna Van der Breggen and the inimitable (if currently dented) Marianne Vos will be given a raise commensurate with their athletic prowess, meaning they'll be paid in a whole handful's worth of 1-euro coins instead of those little wooden tokens you redeem for cheap tacky crap when you win beanbag-toss games at those sandy seedy seaside amusement venues. Also, any and all women riders who've still been stiffed outta their rightful (if pathetic) earnings in *last* year's UCI races will be allowed to sideline as podium babes at men's amateur races to *really* earn their keep instead. Who *says* there's been no progress in the women's sport this year?
Monday, March 16, 2015
When *I* Was a Whippersnapper, Fausto Coppi Got Eaten By a Yeti On the !&#$in' Stelvio, and He *Liked* It!
To the Extreme: alright, screw that masochistic cyclist hard-man crap--not only are notorious softies like Pippo Pozzato tweeting their outrage, even tough-guy Fabian Cancellara's finally had enough, and is calling bull!@#$ on extreme-weather stages like Tirreno-Adriatico's frozen Stage 5 to Terminillo because of some ridiculous wussmeister concern like the riders' "health and safety." What a pack a' whinin' weenies! "My !@# is frozen to the saddle" this, "I'm too numb to grip the handlebars on this icy deadly descent" that! Do you know how much you're getting *paid* to catch a slobbering cold virus for a month for our selfish pervert entertainment while we cheer you on from the comfort of our heated road-side campers, or splosh our hot cocoa right on the tray-table by the TV in gutted sympathy when you're passed within a few meters of the line? We're in *agony* here you crybabies! Oh, the soul's just gone out of the sport if it's gonna be about who's the best at basic ol' "bike riding" from now on....c'mon Pippo, you're just pissed you had to cover up your tats! 
Well, I See That Little Pep Talk With the Hired Goons and the Cattle Prod Worked: and, welcome back to the Saganator, outlasting the rest of sprinters on yet another miserably crappy day at Tirreno and taking his first win of the year at last, with the generously-credited help of teammate Alberto Contador. Well well, maybe he *is* gonna pull it together for an all-out slaughterfest at the Classics this year. Amazing what a little "chat" with an unhappy fat-walleted Oleg Tinkov can do--now Contador, don't *make* him have to talk to you about handling the cold weather properly at the Giro!
What? She's Not Bionic?: Finally, best wishes for a speedy recovery to--no, it can't be possible--the indestructible Marianne Vos, who apparently has pulled a mortal human "hamstring", further dashing the last hope of the entire peloton that the whole reason she's able to kick everyone's !@# with such relentless perfection is that she's actually mechanically a military-grade clandestine-project android. Yeah, she can still probably wipe the floor with everybody--just count yerselves lucky someone else besides her gets to win a race or two this year!
Well, I See That Little Pep Talk With the Hired Goons and the Cattle Prod Worked: and, welcome back to the Saganator, outlasting the rest of sprinters on yet another miserably crappy day at Tirreno and taking his first win of the year at last, with the generously-credited help of teammate Alberto Contador. Well well, maybe he *is* gonna pull it together for an all-out slaughterfest at the Classics this year. Amazing what a little "chat" with an unhappy fat-walleted Oleg Tinkov can do--now Contador, don't *make* him have to talk to you about handling the cold weather properly at the Giro!
What? She's Not Bionic?: Finally, best wishes for a speedy recovery to--no, it can't be possible--the indestructible Marianne Vos, who apparently has pulled a mortal human "hamstring", further dashing the last hope of the entire peloton that the whole reason she's able to kick everyone's !@# with such relentless perfection is that she's actually mechanically a military-grade clandestine-project android. Yeah, she can still probably wipe the floor with everybody--just count yerselves lucky someone else besides her gets to win a race or two this year!
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Froome Wins Round 1! Cav v. Sagan at Sanremo! And, How Not to Help Women's Cycling
Holy Flailing Windmill Hell: well, if you think Alberto Contador's psyched out by the ungainly Chris Froome's blazing stage and overall win/showdown at the Ruta del Sol, think again, suckers: he's *sticking* with his Giro/Tour double plan, *and* he's confident he'll win 'em both. So what if he'll still be exhausted from the Giro--it's not like he's really wanting to aim for the Tour, right? Oh, for the day when the Tour de France is rightly the also-ran, and the dear perfect Giro gets the glory....
I Dream of Sanremo: and, just as Oleg Tinkov has made it extremely clear he'll personally disconnect Peter Sagan's so-far-lackluster limbs off if he doesn't win Milano-San Remo, none other'n last year's quasi-funk/this season's rocket renaissance Mark Cavendish has wistfully opined to the Italian press that winning it is not only a dream, but also a pretty major goal, for this season. Dang, Peter, you better *hope* you can bunny-hop over Tinkov's head and the hell outta Dodge if you can't turn Cav's dream into a nightmare this year--but only if you value your continued employment, I suppose!
Advertising for !@#holes: finally, congrats to the backwards inbred troglodyte pigs who designed the Neanderthal ad for this year's upcoming E3 Harelbeke, which perfectly exemplifies the blood, sweat, and bicycles of, y'know, *bike racing* by showing a disembodied hand reaching for a disembodied women's porn-star !@# in what appears to be some pervy cheerleader outfit. Who runs that !@#$ing agency, Larry Flynt? Anywho, in the spirit of equality which has so recently, and not actually, taken hold in pro cycling, here's *my* new ad for the Giro Rosa: the bronzed, oiled, Photoshopped iron-abs of Peter Sagan and Fabian Cancellara in tighty-whities curled adoringly at the feet of Marianne Vos as she holds the winner's trophy aloft on the podium. Think they'd feel that's appropriate? Okay, Sagan probably would, but....!@#$, people! Here, the women of Wiggle-Honda are riding their freakin' bikes, you socially-stunted frat-mavens:
I Dream of Sanremo: and, just as Oleg Tinkov has made it extremely clear he'll personally disconnect Peter Sagan's so-far-lackluster limbs off if he doesn't win Milano-San Remo, none other'n last year's quasi-funk/this season's rocket renaissance Mark Cavendish has wistfully opined to the Italian press that winning it is not only a dream, but also a pretty major goal, for this season. Dang, Peter, you better *hope* you can bunny-hop over Tinkov's head and the hell outta Dodge if you can't turn Cav's dream into a nightmare this year--but only if you value your continued employment, I suppose!
Advertising for !@#holes: finally, congrats to the backwards inbred troglodyte pigs who designed the Neanderthal ad for this year's upcoming E3 Harelbeke, which perfectly exemplifies the blood, sweat, and bicycles of, y'know, *bike racing* by showing a disembodied hand reaching for a disembodied women's porn-star !@# in what appears to be some pervy cheerleader outfit. Who runs that !@#$ing agency, Larry Flynt? Anywho, in the spirit of equality which has so recently, and not actually, taken hold in pro cycling, here's *my* new ad for the Giro Rosa: the bronzed, oiled, Photoshopped iron-abs of Peter Sagan and Fabian Cancellara in tighty-whities curled adoringly at the feet of Marianne Vos as she holds the winner's trophy aloft on the podium. Think they'd feel that's appropriate? Okay, Sagan probably would, but....!@#$, people! Here, the women of Wiggle-Honda are riding their freakin' bikes, you socially-stunted frat-mavens:
Friday, December 26, 2014
It's Yer 2014 Racejunkie Awards!
Yes, put on your heels, wax your back thatch, inject silicone into yer lips and haul your boobs u--uh, wrong awards show, but anyway, it's that time of year, folks, and while the hoi polloi are throwin' themselves big congratulatory incestuous ho-fests of prime-time TV awards galas, it's time for cycling fans to throw our own! So, without further ado, the good, the bad, the questionable, and the just plain horrifying of Year in Pro Cycling 2014!
Grotesque Enabler of 2014: and this prestigious first-time award goes to...UCI President Brian "New Generation" Cookson, for punishing Astana and its truly impressive 5 doping positives with a WorldTour license while race-enlivening but slightly broke-!@# Tommy the Grimace Voeckler's fine Europcar gets tossed in the incinerator like yesterday's clandestine team-bus medical debris. Damn, UCI, keep that !@#$ up and guys'll be snarfing masking agents right during their post-race urine tests!
Punk-!@# Move of the Year: Raised-by-pigs Walter Perez, of Team Nobody Gives a !@#$ and You Guys Never Win Anything Anyway, sucker-punches Lotto nice-guy Kenny Dehaes right in the face during a sprint, apparently because Walter hadn't brains enough to get a decent place in his own right. And, in fact, Kenny was *so* nice he didn't do anything back for fear of bringing down other riders. !@#$, even Cav'd just chew your helmet to pieces. One free hit for Kenny, and then let this go like gentlemen!
Crushing Disappointment of 2014: sure, it's the weight of completely ludicrous expectations, but if you're gonna be a wheelie-poppin' camera-whore with swooning fans blocking everyone else's view of the peloton waving giant picture-blowups of yer face on wooden stakes, suck it up. Plus, with a 4.3 million euro gig for the upcoming year to console you, I don't wanna even *hear* any whining. Peter Sagan, this one's for you--now I *don't* want to see you win this one again next year!
Rider of the Year: Marianne Vos. Damn, she's Rider of Every Year. Bow, beeyotches, before your queen!
Crash o' the Year (Extended Rehab Edition): Ever-cheerful Taylor Phinney's leg-crushing hit at the US Championships. He's down, but he's clearly not out--just follow the kid's interviews and tell me he won't be back with a vengeance in 2015!
Crash o' the Year (Oh, !@#$! Edition): Mark Cavendish, going down by the barriers and visibly instantly knowing his Tour de France was over--and *just* when he was he was getting his confidence and his street cred back after constant poundings from New Big Thing Marcel Kittel. Like you didn't jump outta yer chair swearing along with millions of other fans!
Crash o' the Year (GC Gift Edition): Chris Froome and Alberto Contador at the Tour de France, who left like 2 obscure neo-pros to try fruitlessly to take on Vincenzo Nibali. A lion among toothless mewling kitty-cats--it'll be much more fun if that don't happen next year!
Corresponding Energizer Bunny Award: y'know, normally, this goes to Stuey O'Grady, or some Belgian hardman who gets run over by tanks or a thundering herd of elephants and still not only takes a stage win but a major Classics win as well. But this year, a sincere chapeau to Skymaster Chris Froome, who took a licking--okay, like 40 hard, bloody, pavement-smacking lickings--before he finally gave up ticking at the Tour de France. Now *that* is a man who loves his sport!
Corresponding From Here to Eternity Award: yep, Tour de France champ Vincenzo Nibali, who let's face it despite his obvious Grand Tour prowess will always have a giant "What If?" hangin' over Froome-and-Contador-less 2014 win. He (and Vino) may be justly pissed, but it's question-marked nonetheless for all time. But as Lo Squalo pointed out, part of winning the Tour is just staying upright--oh, snap, you clods!
Farrah Fawcett Memorial Trophy: yeah, yeah, he can sprint. In fact, pretty spectacularly. Oh, but that's nothing compared to how he can toss his hair like a 70s pinup icon. Well, not toss it, but it sure does look pretty in its stiff-standing glory. Marcel Kittel, your pompadour may climb on stage to receive your award. And next year, you might win for something you can do on your bike!
The Little Engine That Could Award: Nairo Quintana, next year's pint-size Tour de France threat. and boy, was he pissed he wasn't allowed to "could" at the Tour this year!
Doping Excuse of the Year: y'know, I almost didn't award this, because there's only one obvious winner, and he had a near-tragically terrible time the first time he got busted. But in fairness, it's still gotta go to Mauro Santambrogio, popped again while still on double-secret probation because, he claimed, he was being treated for erectile dysfunction. Worse, he apparently got the okay from the doctors first. If that's true, that is one mean screwup to bust him for it--any o' you guys have anything *you* wanna share?!
The Walking (Well, Riding) Dead Prize: like anything *else* than a chomping zombie undead takeover can explain Alejandro Valverde's unstoppable performance this year? Jaysus, what rocket-fueled supernatural demon-spawn bit *that* guy?
Best Team of 2014: Sky. Just kidding! This one's clearly for crazed dictator Oleg Tinkov's Team Tinkoff-Saxo, who somehow won damn near every remaining stage of the Tour de France after Contador left. Or else!
Fine French Whine Prize: wait, they actually didn't bag this one so much this year--in a remarkably instantaneous reversal of two solid decades o' suck, they got two frickin' podium spots at the Tour de France! Next up--Frenchman actually wins his home Tour in 2025. Well, like anything, a good vintage takes time to develop!
Suck Transfer of the Year: ok, technically, they took place earlier. But this is a three-fer for we love big lug Thor Hushovd, god-o'-the-Ardennes/former world champ Philippe Gilbert, and of course we love Samuel "Holy Crap He's An Olympic Gold Medalist!" Samuel Sanchez, all of whom took a vicious dive the minute they joined the ungrateful, and underutilizing, BMC. You suck BMC--now give Samu back his contract!
And Finally, The Edge of Night Award: yep, he went gently into that good night--so gently, hardly anyone realized this former hot-headed Rival-o'-the-Century to Alberto Contador, Andy Schleck, hadn't already physically and mentally retired a year ago. Good luck Andy--at least you've got that belated maillot jaune to remember the sport by!
Well, them's mine, and if I missed anything, spit it out. So for now, come up and grab yer trophies, you shameful miscreants--and don't none of you pull this !@#$ again in 2015!
Grotesque Enabler of 2014: and this prestigious first-time award goes to...UCI President Brian "New Generation" Cookson, for punishing Astana and its truly impressive 5 doping positives with a WorldTour license while race-enlivening but slightly broke-!@# Tommy the Grimace Voeckler's fine Europcar gets tossed in the incinerator like yesterday's clandestine team-bus medical debris. Damn, UCI, keep that !@#$ up and guys'll be snarfing masking agents right during their post-race urine tests!
Punk-!@# Move of the Year: Raised-by-pigs Walter Perez, of Team Nobody Gives a !@#$ and You Guys Never Win Anything Anyway, sucker-punches Lotto nice-guy Kenny Dehaes right in the face during a sprint, apparently because Walter hadn't brains enough to get a decent place in his own right. And, in fact, Kenny was *so* nice he didn't do anything back for fear of bringing down other riders. !@#$, even Cav'd just chew your helmet to pieces. One free hit for Kenny, and then let this go like gentlemen!
Crushing Disappointment of 2014: sure, it's the weight of completely ludicrous expectations, but if you're gonna be a wheelie-poppin' camera-whore with swooning fans blocking everyone else's view of the peloton waving giant picture-blowups of yer face on wooden stakes, suck it up. Plus, with a 4.3 million euro gig for the upcoming year to console you, I don't wanna even *hear* any whining. Peter Sagan, this one's for you--now I *don't* want to see you win this one again next year!
Rider of the Year: Marianne Vos. Damn, she's Rider of Every Year. Bow, beeyotches, before your queen!
Crash o' the Year (Extended Rehab Edition): Ever-cheerful Taylor Phinney's leg-crushing hit at the US Championships. He's down, but he's clearly not out--just follow the kid's interviews and tell me he won't be back with a vengeance in 2015!
Crash o' the Year (Oh, !@#$! Edition): Mark Cavendish, going down by the barriers and visibly instantly knowing his Tour de France was over--and *just* when he was he was getting his confidence and his street cred back after constant poundings from New Big Thing Marcel Kittel. Like you didn't jump outta yer chair swearing along with millions of other fans!
Crash o' the Year (GC Gift Edition): Chris Froome and Alberto Contador at the Tour de France, who left like 2 obscure neo-pros to try fruitlessly to take on Vincenzo Nibali. A lion among toothless mewling kitty-cats--it'll be much more fun if that don't happen next year!
Corresponding Energizer Bunny Award: y'know, normally, this goes to Stuey O'Grady, or some Belgian hardman who gets run over by tanks or a thundering herd of elephants and still not only takes a stage win but a major Classics win as well. But this year, a sincere chapeau to Skymaster Chris Froome, who took a licking--okay, like 40 hard, bloody, pavement-smacking lickings--before he finally gave up ticking at the Tour de France. Now *that* is a man who loves his sport!
Corresponding From Here to Eternity Award: yep, Tour de France champ Vincenzo Nibali, who let's face it despite his obvious Grand Tour prowess will always have a giant "What If?" hangin' over Froome-and-Contador-less 2014 win. He (and Vino) may be justly pissed, but it's question-marked nonetheless for all time. But as Lo Squalo pointed out, part of winning the Tour is just staying upright--oh, snap, you clods!
Farrah Fawcett Memorial Trophy: yeah, yeah, he can sprint. In fact, pretty spectacularly. Oh, but that's nothing compared to how he can toss his hair like a 70s pinup icon. Well, not toss it, but it sure does look pretty in its stiff-standing glory. Marcel Kittel, your pompadour may climb on stage to receive your award. And next year, you might win for something you can do on your bike!
The Little Engine That Could Award: Nairo Quintana, next year's pint-size Tour de France threat. and boy, was he pissed he wasn't allowed to "could" at the Tour this year!
Doping Excuse of the Year: y'know, I almost didn't award this, because there's only one obvious winner, and he had a near-tragically terrible time the first time he got busted. But in fairness, it's still gotta go to Mauro Santambrogio, popped again while still on double-secret probation because, he claimed, he was being treated for erectile dysfunction. Worse, he apparently got the okay from the doctors first. If that's true, that is one mean screwup to bust him for it--any o' you guys have anything *you* wanna share?!
The Walking (Well, Riding) Dead Prize: like anything *else* than a chomping zombie undead takeover can explain Alejandro Valverde's unstoppable performance this year? Jaysus, what rocket-fueled supernatural demon-spawn bit *that* guy?
Best Team of 2014: Sky. Just kidding! This one's clearly for crazed dictator Oleg Tinkov's Team Tinkoff-Saxo, who somehow won damn near every remaining stage of the Tour de France after Contador left. Or else!
Fine French Whine Prize: wait, they actually didn't bag this one so much this year--in a remarkably instantaneous reversal of two solid decades o' suck, they got two frickin' podium spots at the Tour de France! Next up--Frenchman actually wins his home Tour in 2025. Well, like anything, a good vintage takes time to develop!
Suck Transfer of the Year: ok, technically, they took place earlier. But this is a three-fer for we love big lug Thor Hushovd, god-o'-the-Ardennes/former world champ Philippe Gilbert, and of course we love Samuel "Holy Crap He's An Olympic Gold Medalist!" Samuel Sanchez, all of whom took a vicious dive the minute they joined the ungrateful, and underutilizing, BMC. You suck BMC--now give Samu back his contract!
And Finally, The Edge of Night Award: yep, he went gently into that good night--so gently, hardly anyone realized this former hot-headed Rival-o'-the-Century to Alberto Contador, Andy Schleck, hadn't already physically and mentally retired a year ago. Good luck Andy--at least you've got that belated maillot jaune to remember the sport by!
Well, them's mine, and if I missed anything, spit it out. So for now, come up and grab yer trophies, you shameful miscreants--and don't none of you pull this !@#$ again in 2015!
Monday, July 28, 2014
It's Your Women's Tour de France La Course in Review! #lacourse
Okay, so I got some crap for not covering La Course in more detail (tho I *was* working a freakin' bike event for 13 hours so cut me some slack dag nabit). And what do I find? Holy crap, even getting enough info now on basics like the race route's a nutwhack! Anyhow, so here's to the first of many more (and three weeks more, for heck's sake): yer inaugural women's La Course!
The Route: Just another day on the Champs-Elysees, baby, 89 kilometers of flat as a (slightly lumpy) pancake and beggin' for action!
The Contenders: Who *wasn't* there? Vos, Bronzini, Olds, Wild, Barnes, Van Dijk, Worrack...hell, if the Tour had managed to hold onto half so bangin' a field, it coulda been a very different race!
How It Went Down: interestingly, Bronzini's Wiggle-Honda, for one, wasn't convinced it'd end in a bunch sprint. And breakaways we got, but a relentless peloton kept bringin' 'em back. Disaster at 1.2k to go: Lizzie Armitstead and reigning French national champ Prevot hit the deck, and Wild's chances for a win were arguably blown when she punctured then had to chase back on. Final podium: Marianne Vos, Kirsten Wild (even after her puncture!), and Leah Kirchmann. Next year: oh come on, Giorgia will so either take it!
TV Coverage: As usual, glad to get any scraps I can get, but at least Universal carried highlights, and huge points to Gogo for rightly comparing Marianne Vos to Eddy Merckx, though it's also worth noting that in addition to being a road, mtb and cross champ, Vos has also been observed to personally MacGyver a fully-functional race-ready road bike outta kitchen twine, wire hangers, cut-up rubber raincoats, and aluminum foil. Right on Marianne!
And, the Coolest Footage Ever: if you ever wondered what it was like to be the most kick-!@# athlete in the world, here's the Vos cam to take you through it, complete with primal scream o' victory. Why is there not some huge bronze statue to this woman?!
Anyway, that's La Course for this year, and I think we've all answered the question whether there's a market. Now UCI, let's pop some champagne, quit treating these women like wilting violets, let 'em do the three week stage races they deserve, and get 'em all-day live coverage to boot!
The Route: Just another day on the Champs-Elysees, baby, 89 kilometers of flat as a (slightly lumpy) pancake and beggin' for action!
The Contenders: Who *wasn't* there? Vos, Bronzini, Olds, Wild, Barnes, Van Dijk, Worrack...hell, if the Tour had managed to hold onto half so bangin' a field, it coulda been a very different race!
How It Went Down: interestingly, Bronzini's Wiggle-Honda, for one, wasn't convinced it'd end in a bunch sprint. And breakaways we got, but a relentless peloton kept bringin' 'em back. Disaster at 1.2k to go: Lizzie Armitstead and reigning French national champ Prevot hit the deck, and Wild's chances for a win were arguably blown when she punctured then had to chase back on. Final podium: Marianne Vos, Kirsten Wild (even after her puncture!), and Leah Kirchmann. Next year: oh come on, Giorgia will so either take it!
TV Coverage: As usual, glad to get any scraps I can get, but at least Universal carried highlights, and huge points to Gogo for rightly comparing Marianne Vos to Eddy Merckx, though it's also worth noting that in addition to being a road, mtb and cross champ, Vos has also been observed to personally MacGyver a fully-functional race-ready road bike outta kitchen twine, wire hangers, cut-up rubber raincoats, and aluminum foil. Right on Marianne!
And, the Coolest Footage Ever: if you ever wondered what it was like to be the most kick-!@# athlete in the world, here's the Vos cam to take you through it, complete with primal scream o' victory. Why is there not some huge bronze statue to this woman?!
Anyway, that's La Course for this year, and I think we've all answered the question whether there's a market. Now UCI, let's pop some champagne, quit treating these women like wilting violets, let 'em do the three week stage races they deserve, and get 'em all-day live coverage to boot!
Sunday, July 27, 2014
It's the 2014 Tour de France Racejunkie Awards! #letour
Look--except for the last 10 minutes of the stage, the end of the Tour de France is always a total letdown. You've invested weeks of cheering, swearing, and armchair directeur-sportifing. And you already know what's gonna happen, right down to the jersey-donning, dignitary-handshaking, and Oleg Tinkov barging onto the podium in a yellow jumpsuit in front of Vincenzo Nibali to declare himself the winner. So what better way to cheer ourselves up after this humongous anticlimax by giving these hard-working riders credit where credit is (sometimes disgustingly) due? Yes, hold on to your handlebars everybody--it's time for the 2014 Tour de France Racejunkie Awards!
Coulda Woulda Shoulda Award: sure, discount Vincenzo Nibali all you like for beating the "weakest" final field in years by a suitably ludicrous 7 minute plus margin with the exit of Alberto Contador and Chris Froome. But part of the damn game is staying upright and out of trouble, and he ain't in the rarified company of both Alberto and Eddy Merckx as one of the 6 winners of all 3 Grand Tours because everyone good around him--including some damn fine riders who made it all the way to Paris this year--sucked all the time. So lay off il campione already--like it or not, respect, he really earned it!
Cognitive Dissonance Prize of the Tour: okay, like the last 30 Tours. *Two* French guys on the podium? What's next, an actual win in Paris? Ha, ha, just ki--no, I mean it, what's next, an actual win in Paris?
Punk-!@# Move of the Tour: sure, faking exhaustion, like writhing in agony on the ground over a hangnail in soccer, is part of the game, but Alejandro Valverde ignoring young Pinot's desperate gestures for help sucking on his wheel and *then* attacking him was a major wanker move. And who's on the final podium in Paris now? Yeah, that's right!
PR Screwup of 2014: the podium-babe kiss-diss of maillot jaune Vincenzo Nibali that far overwhelmed the achievement of the precious jersey itself. It's back to draping yourself over the merch in a tacky bikini at international car shows for you, young lady!
Crushing Disappointment of the Tour: yep--fan fave Peter Sagan takes the green jersey but fails to win, as was deemed almost inevitable beforehand, a single stage. Dang, that kid is a Ferrari motor with a Yugo head--someone grab him a tutor on race tactics, but quick!
Pretty Fly for a Backup Guy Prize: Rafal Majka wasn't even supposed to be there. But when Contador crashed out, this bottom-o'-the-barrel selection from Tinkov-Saxo not only bagged two mountain stages, but the overall polka-dot jersey as well (shut up! Purito's just resting up for the Vuelta! bite me!)--and Oleg apparently owes him an Aston Martin for his efforts. To the completely outclassed Team Sky--watch and *learn*!
Agonizing Moment of the Race Award: yes, this Tour was replete with jump-outta-yer-chair-screaming awful moments. But for me, most heartrending was Jack Bauer getting swept up after an exhausting all-day breakaway within mere meters on the line on stage 15. Aw, I *really*, *really* hope he gets one next year!
No No No No No No Imminently Memorial Statute: no matter how often he says it, it still can't really be true. The great Jens Voigt's last Tour de France. Still, of course he took a final flyer to grab an intermediate sprint on the final stage. Jeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnssssssssss!
Gorilla in the Mist (of Rage) Award: yes, the hilarious scene where Andre Greipel, having dragged his ginormous thundering carcass over the Stage 11 mountains to a surprise possible sprint win, goes down in a tangle with we love Sylvain Chavanel, the camera cuts back shortly thereafter to catch Sylvain and Andre having a commiserating "well, that's cycling!" sort of chat, and instead nabs an angry giant gesturing violently at Chava and screaming "you touched my handlebars! your fault!" Good thing the camera was there or there mighta been a lot more than just gesturing--and Sylvain, next time, don't piss off the Gorilla!
Completely Missing the Point Award: the cycling world goes nuts--after *years* of begging for, and clearly deserving, their own three week Tour de France, the women get what? *One* day on the Champs-Elysees with some of the greatest riders in the peloton, with--gasp!--equal prize money on the day to boot. Except it wasn't freakin' BROADCAST, except for highlights, at least in my country. Well, Marianne Vos won it. Do you clods even *see* the problem here?
Annoying Trend of 2014: great, you got a selfie. Unfortunately, you also just derailed the stage and possibly career of one of the top competitive athletes on the planet. Tool!
Phil & Paulism of the Tour: sure, there were the frequent misidentifications of the riders, the lyrical "dancing on the pedals", the frenzied commentating of the GC contenders' every wobble, and a lengthy history lesson on each passing ruin, but this year, the winner: Paul (or Phil) referring--without hesitation or equivocating--to Marcel Kittel as the "preeminent sprinter in the world." Okay, so Cav wasn't physically there any more for Paul to remark on--but the hell with his shoulder injury, that *had* to have hurt!
The Man in Iron Mask Prize: this one's an Astana two-fer: not only did the exceedingly quiet Vincenzo Nibali finally show some emotion on the podium in Paris by, well, noticeably exhaling, but the man actually made Alexandre Vinokourov *repeatedly* smile. Someone got this all on film?--we may never, ever see this again!
Crash o' the Tour (Race-Altering Stupidity Edition): all it takes, even for the best in the business, is a moment's distraction. A smashingly on-form Alberto Contador, snapping his leg in a mere glance's time. Yes, I wonder what would've happened if, too!
Crash o' the Tour (Jaysus, Not Again Edition): it took approximately 50 separate crashes and two miles of sterile gauze bandages, but finally, after busting his wrist and hitting the deck repeatedly even before he got to the feared Stage 5 cobbles, the mummy-wrapped kit-shredded remnants of what was left of poor Chris Froome finally crawled into the team car in defeat. What a lousy way to leave!
Crash o' the Race (Aw, Suck! Edition): Mark Cavendish, taking himself (and damn near Gerro) out with a careless move near the finish line and an excruciating shoulder injury. As with Nibs and his main competition, nope, we'll never truly know what'd've happened. Get well so you can show us all next year, Cav!
Best Roadside Decoration: forget the overhead shots of spray-painted hay-bales arranged into to giant bicycles, the guy dressed like a banana, or even the dude wearing the "I'm riding a pony" outfit--this year's win goes to the wholly original and incongruous bear lugged by some fan to the sidelines. There Phil and Paul are, discussing some 13th-century chateau, and all of a sudden, Phil bursts out "Oh my goodness, Alejandro Valverde's just been eaten by a bear within one kilometer of the finish line! I can't believe what I'm seeing!" C'mon, like half of you haters weren't wishing it!
Best Rider Smackdown: between Thomas "The Tongue" Voeckler road-raging some hecklers, Luke Durbridge going all Incredible Hulk on a hapless soigneur, and an unprecedented bevy of close-cutting fans swat-offs, I'm giving this for the absolutely imperturbable Vincenzo Nibali, woken from his perpetual placidity by an exuberantly celebratory bikini-clad spectator taking a selfie who was promptly whacked outta the way not only by the race leader but also the close-following race moto immediately thereafter. I get it, it *is* the coolest thing on earth--just stay the hell outta a guy's line, willya ditzbag?
You Can't Cheat Mother Nature Prize: it's one thing when the camera happens to be passing by or curiously stops to see why a teammate is holding up his GC leader and inadvertently catches a mass (or individual) nature break. But the surprise, slow realization, and endless dissection of poor gut-flattened Arnaud Demare stepping into an accommodating if unfortunate fan's roadside trailer was just a little too intimate. Okay, there's a very gnarly bug going around the peloton, we get it--can you give the poor sod a little privacy?
Cosmic Justice Award: with all the stupid fans leaning into the riders year, often with disastrous results, I gotta admit, there was something almost satisfying every time a rider overcooked a slippery corner and plowed off the road into the spectators, since nobody that I could see got at all hurt for it. Order has been restored to the universe!
Incredible News of the Tour Award: the rumor that the luckless (and resultsless) Andy Schleck's outta Team Trek next year--and that Frank, who's long hand-held his heralded prodigy baby bro and rode pretty decently this year--still in. Worst part: nobody even noticed. Ouch!
Incredible News o' the Outside Cycling World Award: former Tour de France champ Brad Wiggins--now so discounted he couldn't even get a gig as Chris Froome's domestique--announces he's done with racing on the road entirely and will go back to the obscure and humble track instead. Worst part: nobody even noticed. Ouch!
Roses are Red, Violets Are--Who Cares? Award: finally, it seems fitting to hail the very last-placed rider in the Tour de France, the lanterne rouge: Team Giant-Shimano's Cheng Li. Sincere congratulations on a job incredibly well done--you are officially the 164th bad-!@#est athlete on Earth!
Well, congratulations to all of this year's noble, and especially ignoble, awardees. Complimenti Vincenzo Nibali, and now let's all get on to the bangin' Vuelta!
Coulda Woulda Shoulda Award: sure, discount Vincenzo Nibali all you like for beating the "weakest" final field in years by a suitably ludicrous 7 minute plus margin with the exit of Alberto Contador and Chris Froome. But part of the damn game is staying upright and out of trouble, and he ain't in the rarified company of both Alberto and Eddy Merckx as one of the 6 winners of all 3 Grand Tours because everyone good around him--including some damn fine riders who made it all the way to Paris this year--sucked all the time. So lay off il campione already--like it or not, respect, he really earned it!
Cognitive Dissonance Prize of the Tour: okay, like the last 30 Tours. *Two* French guys on the podium? What's next, an actual win in Paris? Ha, ha, just ki--no, I mean it, what's next, an actual win in Paris?
Punk-!@# Move of the Tour: sure, faking exhaustion, like writhing in agony on the ground over a hangnail in soccer, is part of the game, but Alejandro Valverde ignoring young Pinot's desperate gestures for help sucking on his wheel and *then* attacking him was a major wanker move. And who's on the final podium in Paris now? Yeah, that's right!
PR Screwup of 2014: the podium-babe kiss-diss of maillot jaune Vincenzo Nibali that far overwhelmed the achievement of the precious jersey itself. It's back to draping yourself over the merch in a tacky bikini at international car shows for you, young lady!
Crushing Disappointment of the Tour: yep--fan fave Peter Sagan takes the green jersey but fails to win, as was deemed almost inevitable beforehand, a single stage. Dang, that kid is a Ferrari motor with a Yugo head--someone grab him a tutor on race tactics, but quick!
Pretty Fly for a Backup Guy Prize: Rafal Majka wasn't even supposed to be there. But when Contador crashed out, this bottom-o'-the-barrel selection from Tinkov-Saxo not only bagged two mountain stages, but the overall polka-dot jersey as well (shut up! Purito's just resting up for the Vuelta! bite me!)--and Oleg apparently owes him an Aston Martin for his efforts. To the completely outclassed Team Sky--watch and *learn*!
Agonizing Moment of the Race Award: yes, this Tour was replete with jump-outta-yer-chair-screaming awful moments. But for me, most heartrending was Jack Bauer getting swept up after an exhausting all-day breakaway within mere meters on the line on stage 15. Aw, I *really*, *really* hope he gets one next year!
No No No No No No Imminently Memorial Statute: no matter how often he says it, it still can't really be true. The great Jens Voigt's last Tour de France. Still, of course he took a final flyer to grab an intermediate sprint on the final stage. Jeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnssssssssss!
Gorilla in the Mist (of Rage) Award: yes, the hilarious scene where Andre Greipel, having dragged his ginormous thundering carcass over the Stage 11 mountains to a surprise possible sprint win, goes down in a tangle with we love Sylvain Chavanel, the camera cuts back shortly thereafter to catch Sylvain and Andre having a commiserating "well, that's cycling!" sort of chat, and instead nabs an angry giant gesturing violently at Chava and screaming "you touched my handlebars! your fault!" Good thing the camera was there or there mighta been a lot more than just gesturing--and Sylvain, next time, don't piss off the Gorilla!
Completely Missing the Point Award: the cycling world goes nuts--after *years* of begging for, and clearly deserving, their own three week Tour de France, the women get what? *One* day on the Champs-Elysees with some of the greatest riders in the peloton, with--gasp!--equal prize money on the day to boot. Except it wasn't freakin' BROADCAST, except for highlights, at least in my country. Well, Marianne Vos won it. Do you clods even *see* the problem here?
Annoying Trend of 2014: great, you got a selfie. Unfortunately, you also just derailed the stage and possibly career of one of the top competitive athletes on the planet. Tool!
Phil & Paulism of the Tour: sure, there were the frequent misidentifications of the riders, the lyrical "dancing on the pedals", the frenzied commentating of the GC contenders' every wobble, and a lengthy history lesson on each passing ruin, but this year, the winner: Paul (or Phil) referring--without hesitation or equivocating--to Marcel Kittel as the "preeminent sprinter in the world." Okay, so Cav wasn't physically there any more for Paul to remark on--but the hell with his shoulder injury, that *had* to have hurt!
The Man in Iron Mask Prize: this one's an Astana two-fer: not only did the exceedingly quiet Vincenzo Nibali finally show some emotion on the podium in Paris by, well, noticeably exhaling, but the man actually made Alexandre Vinokourov *repeatedly* smile. Someone got this all on film?--we may never, ever see this again!
Crash o' the Tour (Race-Altering Stupidity Edition): all it takes, even for the best in the business, is a moment's distraction. A smashingly on-form Alberto Contador, snapping his leg in a mere glance's time. Yes, I wonder what would've happened if, too!
Crash o' the Tour (Jaysus, Not Again Edition): it took approximately 50 separate crashes and two miles of sterile gauze bandages, but finally, after busting his wrist and hitting the deck repeatedly even before he got to the feared Stage 5 cobbles, the mummy-wrapped kit-shredded remnants of what was left of poor Chris Froome finally crawled into the team car in defeat. What a lousy way to leave!
Crash o' the Race (Aw, Suck! Edition): Mark Cavendish, taking himself (and damn near Gerro) out with a careless move near the finish line and an excruciating shoulder injury. As with Nibs and his main competition, nope, we'll never truly know what'd've happened. Get well so you can show us all next year, Cav!
Best Roadside Decoration: forget the overhead shots of spray-painted hay-bales arranged into to giant bicycles, the guy dressed like a banana, or even the dude wearing the "I'm riding a pony" outfit--this year's win goes to the wholly original and incongruous bear lugged by some fan to the sidelines. There Phil and Paul are, discussing some 13th-century chateau, and all of a sudden, Phil bursts out "Oh my goodness, Alejandro Valverde's just been eaten by a bear within one kilometer of the finish line! I can't believe what I'm seeing!" C'mon, like half of you haters weren't wishing it!
Best Rider Smackdown: between Thomas "The Tongue" Voeckler road-raging some hecklers, Luke Durbridge going all Incredible Hulk on a hapless soigneur, and an unprecedented bevy of close-cutting fans swat-offs, I'm giving this for the absolutely imperturbable Vincenzo Nibali, woken from his perpetual placidity by an exuberantly celebratory bikini-clad spectator taking a selfie who was promptly whacked outta the way not only by the race leader but also the close-following race moto immediately thereafter. I get it, it *is* the coolest thing on earth--just stay the hell outta a guy's line, willya ditzbag?
You Can't Cheat Mother Nature Prize: it's one thing when the camera happens to be passing by or curiously stops to see why a teammate is holding up his GC leader and inadvertently catches a mass (or individual) nature break. But the surprise, slow realization, and endless dissection of poor gut-flattened Arnaud Demare stepping into an accommodating if unfortunate fan's roadside trailer was just a little too intimate. Okay, there's a very gnarly bug going around the peloton, we get it--can you give the poor sod a little privacy?
Cosmic Justice Award: with all the stupid fans leaning into the riders year, often with disastrous results, I gotta admit, there was something almost satisfying every time a rider overcooked a slippery corner and plowed off the road into the spectators, since nobody that I could see got at all hurt for it. Order has been restored to the universe!
Incredible News of the Tour Award: the rumor that the luckless (and resultsless) Andy Schleck's outta Team Trek next year--and that Frank, who's long hand-held his heralded prodigy baby bro and rode pretty decently this year--still in. Worst part: nobody even noticed. Ouch!
Incredible News o' the Outside Cycling World Award: former Tour de France champ Brad Wiggins--now so discounted he couldn't even get a gig as Chris Froome's domestique--announces he's done with racing on the road entirely and will go back to the obscure and humble track instead. Worst part: nobody even noticed. Ouch!
Roses are Red, Violets Are--Who Cares? Award: finally, it seems fitting to hail the very last-placed rider in the Tour de France, the lanterne rouge: Team Giant-Shimano's Cheng Li. Sincere congratulations on a job incredibly well done--you are officially the 164th bad-!@#est athlete on Earth!
Well, congratulations to all of this year's noble, and especially ignoble, awardees. Complimenti Vincenzo Nibali, and now let's all get on to the bangin' Vuelta!
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Shake 'n' Break (Well, Not Really): It's Nibali's Tour to Lose Now, and, Chava-nooooooooooo! #letour
Okay, let's get this out there: even though Contador's down Kreuziger and Hernandez, and Nibali's Astana is now stronger on paper in the mountains, in this first comparatively minor test Nibs was surprisingly isolated surprisingly early, and Tinkoff-Saxo surprisingly held together longer'n they should've. Still, despite all the yelping by the announcers how Contador looked like he was kicking Vincenzo's !@#, that's sure not how it looked on camera, with Contador doubtless holding something in reserve for bigger peaks but still unable to shake Nibs off by more than a couple of seconds, leaving Nibs with plenty of cushion to lose time in the high passes, and another psychological boost today as well. Yes, yes, the first real mountain stages'll tell--but for my money, that wasn't looking so great for Alberto today, even if it did for his squad! Here, our very happy boy Blel, particularly as he gets to cover up that godawful AG2R jersey with those dashing polka dots:
The Blame Game: meantime, I suppose all the recriminations over the Gerrans-Talansky sprint crash the other day are moot, as Talansky, who yesterday bitterly demanded an apology for touching Gerrans' back wheel while looking backwards at the exact moment Gerrans (along with everybody else) slightly shifted his line and an indignant Gerro basically told him to screw off before Andrew modulated his tone this morning, crashed today this time with no help from Simon whatsoever and buried himself over 4 minutes behind on GC. Still, given the likelihood that that canny bastard Valverde will have at least one day's catastrophic meltdown, he can still claw his back to a decent position again!
French Toast: and, in a Tour where the French still can't field a GC contender for damn near going on a third decade, we love savior-of-French-dignity Sylvain Chavanel looked set to take the win even if he had to tic-tic-tic back up to Blel Kadri to do it, but in the end, it was Blel who took the day by a blazing two-odd minutes, and fair enough, because I've rarely seen anyone, out of all the guys achieving the dream of a lifetime every year, so clearly out of his head delighted as wee Kadri. Good work, and Chavanel, the break awaits another day!
Pink Cadillac (Actually, more like a Lamborghini): over in Italy, as usual, Marianne Vos, who seems completely impervious to weather, road conditions, gradient, or frankly even gravity, took the stage in the Giro Rosa, still leaving the great Emma Pooley at the top of the King of the Mountains classification and Mara Abbott a good three minutes down. Forza Mara, forza Emma--hell, forza *anyone* who has the grinta to take on a stage with Vos riding in it!
No News Is...Uh, No News: lastly, big congrats to UCI for taking the next great step in the fight against doping--yep, apparently, the sport's so clean, and the wrongdoers such hidebound aging relics of the Armstrong era, that they're not even gonna *bother* announcing sanctions against doping scumwads unless they're "important" any more, which left just-announced recent ban-ee Denis "Might As Well Give Heras Back His Vuelta" Menchov off the big-boy list. Well, that oughta scare the crap outta the upcoming generation of easily-tempted success-hungry youngsters--now just announce you're gonna stop testing, and I bet that'll finish up cleaning the sport *real* fast!
The Blame Game: meantime, I suppose all the recriminations over the Gerrans-Talansky sprint crash the other day are moot, as Talansky, who yesterday bitterly demanded an apology for touching Gerrans' back wheel while looking backwards at the exact moment Gerrans (along with everybody else) slightly shifted his line and an indignant Gerro basically told him to screw off before Andrew modulated his tone this morning, crashed today this time with no help from Simon whatsoever and buried himself over 4 minutes behind on GC. Still, given the likelihood that that canny bastard Valverde will have at least one day's catastrophic meltdown, he can still claw his back to a decent position again!
French Toast: and, in a Tour where the French still can't field a GC contender for damn near going on a third decade, we love savior-of-French-dignity Sylvain Chavanel looked set to take the win even if he had to tic-tic-tic back up to Blel Kadri to do it, but in the end, it was Blel who took the day by a blazing two-odd minutes, and fair enough, because I've rarely seen anyone, out of all the guys achieving the dream of a lifetime every year, so clearly out of his head delighted as wee Kadri. Good work, and Chavanel, the break awaits another day!
Pink Cadillac (Actually, more like a Lamborghini): over in Italy, as usual, Marianne Vos, who seems completely impervious to weather, road conditions, gradient, or frankly even gravity, took the stage in the Giro Rosa, still leaving the great Emma Pooley at the top of the King of the Mountains classification and Mara Abbott a good three minutes down. Forza Mara, forza Emma--hell, forza *anyone* who has the grinta to take on a stage with Vos riding in it!
No News Is...Uh, No News: lastly, big congrats to UCI for taking the next great step in the fight against doping--yep, apparently, the sport's so clean, and the wrongdoers such hidebound aging relics of the Armstrong era, that they're not even gonna *bother* announcing sanctions against doping scumwads unless they're "important" any more, which left just-announced recent ban-ee Denis "Might As Well Give Heras Back His Vuelta" Menchov off the big-boy list. Well, that oughta scare the crap outta the upcoming generation of easily-tempted success-hungry youngsters--now just announce you're gonna stop testing, and I bet that'll finish up cleaning the sport *real* fast!
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!
Saturday, July 05, 2014
It's Your Tour de France Stage 1 Review!
1. That crash was completely on Cav, but I'm awful sorry about his separated shoulder and hope he can start tomorrow. And to his credit, he's already apologized. So long as he stays the hell away from poor Gerrans from now on!
2. I am utterly and unequivocally opposed to fans getting in the way of the riders. But it was sort of spiritual watching them all touching Jens like a holy relic.
3. Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnsssssssss!
4. If I were Floyd Landis watching a well-paid and still-beloved Christian Van de Velde announcing the Tour de France to an adoring audience after he silently watched Floyd be vilified for years knowing he was telling the truth, I'd be bull!@#$. !@#$, why not just bring Lance Armstrong in to sit next to Bobke next time?
5. After 2 problems with his bike, ten bucks sez that Chris Horner got back to his hotel and beat his mechanic over the head with a Big Mac and large fries. Well, internet gambling's probably illegal, so let's make that "a piece of paper with $10 written on it."
6. What the hell is it this year with stage 1 at the Grand Tours? Anyone setting their sights on the Vuelta a Espana, watch out--you're cursed!
7. Kinda liked Tinkoff-Saxo's other kit better. Leave it to Oleg to figure out how to out-shine the maillot jaune!
8. If you're gonna dress up like a bunny rabbit and run alongside the peloton like an idiot, you might as well go all out and add a bunch of carrots. Nice accessorizing!
9. Didja see Marianne Vos is in the lead at the Giro Rosa? Natch!
10. SHUT. UP. DAVID. MILLAR. YOU. WANKER.
11. America may have had its issues with the British monarchy, but that *was* pretty cool the way the royals sent the peloton on its way. Tell me how Andy Schleck got right up there though? Yeah, yeah, I know, he "won" the Tour in 2010....and is it me, or was Froomey rather blushing talking to Kate?
Look, there goes the peloton--wait, what the *hell* is going on with the multiple yellow jerseys, who's in charge of this thing?
2. I am utterly and unequivocally opposed to fans getting in the way of the riders. But it was sort of spiritual watching them all touching Jens like a holy relic.
3. Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnsssssssss!
4. If I were Floyd Landis watching a well-paid and still-beloved Christian Van de Velde announcing the Tour de France to an adoring audience after he silently watched Floyd be vilified for years knowing he was telling the truth, I'd be bull!@#$. !@#$, why not just bring Lance Armstrong in to sit next to Bobke next time?
5. After 2 problems with his bike, ten bucks sez that Chris Horner got back to his hotel and beat his mechanic over the head with a Big Mac and large fries. Well, internet gambling's probably illegal, so let's make that "a piece of paper with $10 written on it."
6. What the hell is it this year with stage 1 at the Grand Tours? Anyone setting their sights on the Vuelta a Espana, watch out--you're cursed!
7. Kinda liked Tinkoff-Saxo's other kit better. Leave it to Oleg to figure out how to out-shine the maillot jaune!
8. If you're gonna dress up like a bunny rabbit and run alongside the peloton like an idiot, you might as well go all out and add a bunch of carrots. Nice accessorizing!
9. Didja see Marianne Vos is in the lead at the Giro Rosa? Natch!
10. SHUT. UP. DAVID. MILLAR. YOU. WANKER.
11. America may have had its issues with the British monarchy, but that *was* pretty cool the way the royals sent the peloton on its way. Tell me how Andy Schleck got right up there though? Yeah, yeah, I know, he "won" the Tour in 2010....and is it me, or was Froomey rather blushing talking to Kate?
Look, there goes the peloton--wait, what the *hell* is going on with the multiple yellow jerseys, who's in charge of this thing?
Thursday, July 03, 2014
Yeah, the Hell With the Tour--It's the Giro Rosa, Baby!
Already annoyed with the hype (including mine) over the Tour? Still just a little heartbroken every day that the Giro d'Italia's over? Me too! Well, it ain't three weeks long yet, but the women's Giro d'Italia is here, with an all-star field, some bitchin' roads, and no stupid Lance Armstrong questions at the daily press conference! So what to expect:
The Course: 9 stages plus a 2.5k--I swear it--maglia-rosa-startin' prologue! 2 opening sprint-n-circuit stages, with a climb and some KOM points on stage 1; more flats on stage 4; a cat 2 climb and an uphill finish on stage 3; a touching tribute to Marco Pantani to Romagna on stage 5. On stage 6: yeeeee-haaaaaah, we hit the Alps, honey, with a cat 1 Pian del Cansiglio and a swift descent to the finish; mostly flat with an uphill end to stage 7; and stage 8 is the Queen, with an air-gaspin' finale on the cat 1 San Domenico di Varzo! Yer last chance: stage 9, ending the race on the hallowed Ghisallo. Forza donne!
The Riders: oh yes, defending champ/United Healthcare goddess Mara Abbott's gonna be defending her maglia rosa with a great squad, but she's not the only with eyes (and legs!) on the prizes: the smashing field includes near-unbeatable Marianne Vos, ever-tough Emma Pooley, Tatiana Guderzo, Fabiana Luperini, Silvia Cecchini, 2012 double Olympic bronze medalist Olga Zabelinskaya (whew, I'm getting tired here, I should've broken this down by category), Kirsten Wild, Lizzie Armitstead, Emma Johansson, and, of course, my personal fave, rocketeer and general bad!@# Giorgia Bronzini. Watch out for Georgia in the sprints, Mara to keep her overall, and Vos--well, better watch out for her *everywhere*! But here, UHC and Mara throw it *down*:
The Jerseys: Five jersey to rule them all, including the GC's maglia rosa, white for Young Rider, blue for Best Italian Rider (and holy crap, is there a *huge* talent pool to slug it out for that), blazin' hot pink for Best Sprinter, and green for Queen o' the Mountains. Gentle plea to Marianne: you might wanna give someone else a chance at at least *one* of 'em!
The Song: finally, lest you think the Giro Rosa hasn't got an official song, grab yer glow stick, pump up the volume, and get ready to party as jimmygianmario starts us off!
Arriva il Giro Rosa, baby!
The Course: 9 stages plus a 2.5k--I swear it--maglia-rosa-startin' prologue! 2 opening sprint-n-circuit stages, with a climb and some KOM points on stage 1; more flats on stage 4; a cat 2 climb and an uphill finish on stage 3; a touching tribute to Marco Pantani to Romagna on stage 5. On stage 6: yeeeee-haaaaaah, we hit the Alps, honey, with a cat 1 Pian del Cansiglio and a swift descent to the finish; mostly flat with an uphill end to stage 7; and stage 8 is the Queen, with an air-gaspin' finale on the cat 1 San Domenico di Varzo! Yer last chance: stage 9, ending the race on the hallowed Ghisallo. Forza donne!
The Riders: oh yes, defending champ/United Healthcare goddess Mara Abbott's gonna be defending her maglia rosa with a great squad, but she's not the only with eyes (and legs!) on the prizes: the smashing field includes near-unbeatable Marianne Vos, ever-tough Emma Pooley, Tatiana Guderzo, Fabiana Luperini, Silvia Cecchini, 2012 double Olympic bronze medalist Olga Zabelinskaya (whew, I'm getting tired here, I should've broken this down by category), Kirsten Wild, Lizzie Armitstead, Emma Johansson, and, of course, my personal fave, rocketeer and general bad!@# Giorgia Bronzini. Watch out for Georgia in the sprints, Mara to keep her overall, and Vos--well, better watch out for her *everywhere*! But here, UHC and Mara throw it *down*:
The Jerseys: Five jersey to rule them all, including the GC's maglia rosa, white for Young Rider, blue for Best Italian Rider (and holy crap, is there a *huge* talent pool to slug it out for that), blazin' hot pink for Best Sprinter, and green for Queen o' the Mountains. Gentle plea to Marianne: you might wanna give someone else a chance at at least *one* of 'em!
The Song: finally, lest you think the Giro Rosa hasn't got an official song, grab yer glow stick, pump up the volume, and get ready to party as jimmygianmario starts us off!
Arriva il Giro Rosa, baby!
Saturday, May 10, 2014
It's Yer Giro d'Italia Day 2 GC Carnage Parade o' the Euskies Win Free Stuff Roundup! #giro
The (Crap) Luck o' the Irish: y'know, I was thinkin' it would be kinda dangerous out there, but I gotta say--particularly because our man we love Purito is completely !@#$ed over a few rainclouds--opening a Grand Tour with a TTT and deciding half the GC before Marcel Kittel's mousse has even dried is total bull!@#$. Why not just smash their bikes to pieces with a ball peen hammer and save 'em the miserable trouble of a half-hour in the cold and rain so they can just stay warm 'til they catch their flights home the next day? Anyway, to Garmin's credit, this disaster hasn't cowed them, who're vowing to struggle on even after Irishman Dan Martin's awful manhole-cover collarbone spin-out and Euskaltel refugee's Koldo Fernandez's broken collarbone too (though, in typical masochist cyclist fashion, he even managed to finish the stage). Tomorrow: another stage for the fastmen, another day of relentless ignoring by the freakin' announcers of anyone but Marcel Kittel. Jeez, think of, say, Viviani's feelings a little, whydontcha! 
Orange *Should* Be the New Black !@#dammit: Speaking of whom, it was a pretty impressive ride on opening day by the rest of the ex-(and always!) Carrots, with we love Samuel Sanchez of Cadel's (and Samu's!) BMC, Mikel Landa of Scarponi's Astana, and Igor Anton Gorka Izaguirre and Jonathan Castroviejo of Quintana's Movistar, except, as noted, for poor Koldo, which oughta save the lot of them a little bit of stress in the GC battle until Purito comes outta nowhere to kick their sorry leaders' collective !@#. Me, I'm freakin' out for Samu or Gorka to take a stage win, so FREE THE EUSKALTEL CLIMBERS YOU SELFISH GC NAVEL-GAZERS!
Jane-of-All-Terrain: finally, congrats to Marianne Vos for winning today's sprint at the Tour o' Britain, just proving that, should she ever get constantly tired of winning mountains, rolling stages, sprints, time trials, cross, or mountain bike, she could always do something else she also presumably excels at, like downhill, zip-lining, dog-catching, bricklaying, nuclear engineering, catering, astronauting, or Impressionist painting. Forza Marianne--but maybe give someone else a shot every so often?
Oh, and show yer Giro prowess and Enter to Win Stuff Here!
Orange *Should* Be the New Black !@#dammit: Speaking of whom, it was a pretty impressive ride on opening day by the rest of the ex-(and always!) Carrots, with we love Samuel Sanchez of Cadel's (and Samu's!) BMC, Mikel Landa of Scarponi's Astana, and Igor Anton Gorka Izaguirre and Jonathan Castroviejo of Quintana's Movistar, except, as noted, for poor Koldo, which oughta save the lot of them a little bit of stress in the GC battle until Purito comes outta nowhere to kick their sorry leaders' collective !@#. Me, I'm freakin' out for Samu or Gorka to take a stage win, so FREE THE EUSKALTEL CLIMBERS YOU SELFISH GC NAVEL-GAZERS!
Jane-of-All-Terrain: finally, congrats to Marianne Vos for winning today's sprint at the Tour o' Britain, just proving that, should she ever get constantly tired of winning mountains, rolling stages, sprints, time trials, cross, or mountain bike, she could always do something else she also presumably excels at, like downhill, zip-lining, dog-catching, bricklaying, nuclear engineering, catering, astronauting, or Impressionist painting. Forza Marianne--but maybe give someone else a shot every so often?
Oh, and show yer Giro prowess and Enter to Win Stuff Here!
Saturday, April 26, 2014
All Hail the Queen (Doyenne, Whatever): It's the 100th Liege-Waffle-Liege, Baby!
The Fuss: the 100th Happy Birthday of the final Classic of the noblest season, when desperation is high for the season's so-far winless, the legs are shot, and your enraged short-sheeted sponsor's gonna beat you over the head with their iconic product if you don't bring home a podium. If your boss is Oleg Tinkov and he compliments you on Twitter, get the hell out, out, out!
The Course: Climb, dammit, climb! But don't be so good at it that you don't have power. And don't puncture. Or forget to eat. Or get caught behind some nit making a last-second date with the road furniture. Or be a tactical eejit. He who's on the !@#-end of the peloton on the Cote de la Roche-aux-Faucons is lost! The whole hog: here. The profile: HOLY #$%! WHEN IS THIS AGONY GONNA STOP?
The Contenders: Last year's stealth champ Dan Martin is a marked man. Chris Froome's lookin' to scare Alberto outta his smug tranquility and calm everyone down about that alarming pic of his legs he twitted this week. 2013 runner-up Purito Rodriguez' ribs still kill from crashing at Fleche, but then, who needs "air"--he apparently has that weird Wolverine thing that still lets you pound everybody when some clown's dropped a tank on your head. Nibali's not on his best game yet, but since you're all a pack o' power-meter-watching simps, he will crush you with his sheer manliness. Gilbert probably wants and needs it more'n anybody. And who's been creepin' *everybody* out all season? That's right, inexplicably likeable Alejandro Valverde! Either way, with too many other likely suspects to list, I'm wrong by this time tomorrow anyway--so Roman Kreuziger, wanna grab some glory before you give it all to Contador in July?
The Missing: Why the heck isn't there a women's Liege already? I mean, the race is nicknamed after a lady! Marianne Vos, just go there tomorrow with some cheesy hipster moustache disguise glued on yer face and take them all out anyway!
The Gee-I-Hope-They-Don't-Ignominiously-Suck-Tomorrows: okay, basically I mean Andy Schleck, who still holds the World Record for Non-Stop Whining After a Mechanical Despite Making a Cheap Shot Attack Against The Same Guy Too but is starting to garner even my sympathy--like we love Joseba Beloki after his spectacular Tour de France leg-snap driving his wheel into melting tarmac, poor Andy's never been the same since his own fall. Damn underdog-savior complex! Here, Dan-Martin-Who-Didn't-Choke brings it home last year:
Allez allez, and may the luckiest s.o.b. win!
The Course: Climb, dammit, climb! But don't be so good at it that you don't have power. And don't puncture. Or forget to eat. Or get caught behind some nit making a last-second date with the road furniture. Or be a tactical eejit. He who's on the !@#-end of the peloton on the Cote de la Roche-aux-Faucons is lost! The whole hog: here. The profile: HOLY #$%! WHEN IS THIS AGONY GONNA STOP?
The Contenders: Last year's stealth champ Dan Martin is a marked man. Chris Froome's lookin' to scare Alberto outta his smug tranquility and calm everyone down about that alarming pic of his legs he twitted this week. 2013 runner-up Purito Rodriguez' ribs still kill from crashing at Fleche, but then, who needs "air"--he apparently has that weird Wolverine thing that still lets you pound everybody when some clown's dropped a tank on your head. Nibali's not on his best game yet, but since you're all a pack o' power-meter-watching simps, he will crush you with his sheer manliness. Gilbert probably wants and needs it more'n anybody. And who's been creepin' *everybody* out all season? That's right, inexplicably likeable Alejandro Valverde! Either way, with too many other likely suspects to list, I'm wrong by this time tomorrow anyway--so Roman Kreuziger, wanna grab some glory before you give it all to Contador in July?
The Missing: Why the heck isn't there a women's Liege already? I mean, the race is nicknamed after a lady! Marianne Vos, just go there tomorrow with some cheesy hipster moustache disguise glued on yer face and take them all out anyway!
The Gee-I-Hope-They-Don't-Ignominiously-Suck-Tomorrows: okay, basically I mean Andy Schleck, who still holds the World Record for Non-Stop Whining After a Mechanical Despite Making a Cheap Shot Attack Against The Same Guy Too but is starting to garner even my sympathy--like we love Joseba Beloki after his spectacular Tour de France leg-snap driving his wheel into melting tarmac, poor Andy's never been the same since his own fall. Damn underdog-savior complex! Here, Dan-Martin-Who-Didn't-Choke brings it home last year:
Allez allez, and may the luckiest s.o.b. win!
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
My Fantasy (Condensed!) Johan Bruyneel Press Conference; Nibali Calls Bull$%^&; and, It's the Mur de Wheeeee!
Newsflash!: Good morning. I've called you all here today to address USADA's ridiculous 10-year ban of me from pro cycling. First, let me say that of course I did it. All of it. And a whole buncha 'nother stuff they couldn't even nail me for, either. Second, I'd like to say, who gives a !@#$? I'm already richer than God, *and* I get to stay that way. Third, waaaaaaah! other people got less sanctions than me! Waaaaaaaa! Finally--you lack jurisdiction, and you can't get me. Neener neener neener!
Vincenzo Nibali Just Called You a Cowardly Bean-Counting Wiener: oh, yeah, numbers-crunching sponsor-brownnosing quivering-jello-molds of the peloton, Vincenzo "the Shark" Nibali's got a message for you: with the possible exception of Fabian Cancellara, everyone else is a beat-down wuss-on-wheels, riding for ProTour points and scuttling for intermediate sprints and top-ten placements instead of for glorious victory, like him. Geez, Vincenzo, it may be true, but you're really not looking to build relationships with guys who can help you out in a pinch, are you--you might want to rethink that 'tude come July!
Fleche and Bones: yep, with Philippe Gilbert finally having shrugged off his rainbow-cursed funk of 2013 and tucked Amstel Gold under his belt (and I *hope* you bowed before Samuel Sanchez for blowing up the race on the Cauberg!), it's time for the fair Fleche-Wallone and, of course, an entire race full of top climbers, puncheurs, and rolleurs crying like babies from the bottom to top of the max-19%-gradient Mur de Huy. Absent from the men's race: uh-huh, Andy Schleck, knee-thwapped at Amstel Gold. But come on, you weren't calling him, right? Contenders: Kwiatkowski, lookin' for revenge; defending champ Dani Moreno; Alejandro Valverde, desperate to grab an Ardennes; and last week's surprise Jelle Vanendaert. For the women: well, Marianne Vos has barely road-ridden this year, but she's still liable to kick your !@#, and Elisa Longo Borghini, Emma Johansson and Flanders champ Ellen Van Dijk are ready to suffer. Here, last year's men's Fleche finale: Go Gilbert--and give Samu' your prize money!
Vincenzo Nibali Just Called You a Cowardly Bean-Counting Wiener: oh, yeah, numbers-crunching sponsor-brownnosing quivering-jello-molds of the peloton, Vincenzo "the Shark" Nibali's got a message for you: with the possible exception of Fabian Cancellara, everyone else is a beat-down wuss-on-wheels, riding for ProTour points and scuttling for intermediate sprints and top-ten placements instead of for glorious victory, like him. Geez, Vincenzo, it may be true, but you're really not looking to build relationships with guys who can help you out in a pinch, are you--you might want to rethink that 'tude come July!
Fleche and Bones: yep, with Philippe Gilbert finally having shrugged off his rainbow-cursed funk of 2013 and tucked Amstel Gold under his belt (and I *hope* you bowed before Samuel Sanchez for blowing up the race on the Cauberg!), it's time for the fair Fleche-Wallone and, of course, an entire race full of top climbers, puncheurs, and rolleurs crying like babies from the bottom to top of the max-19%-gradient Mur de Huy. Absent from the men's race: uh-huh, Andy Schleck, knee-thwapped at Amstel Gold. But come on, you weren't calling him, right? Contenders: Kwiatkowski, lookin' for revenge; defending champ Dani Moreno; Alejandro Valverde, desperate to grab an Ardennes; and last week's surprise Jelle Vanendaert. For the women: well, Marianne Vos has barely road-ridden this year, but she's still liable to kick your !@#, and Elisa Longo Borghini, Emma Johansson and Flanders champ Ellen Van Dijk are ready to suffer. Here, last year's men's Fleche finale: Go Gilbert--and give Samu' your prize money!
Sunday, February 02, 2014
Woo-Hoo BMC--Samu's Got a Sweet New Ride! And, It's 1/21th of a Tour de France for the Women!
Like I Didn't Love You Enough for Signing Thor Hushovd: now you've got my eternal loyalty, as BMC steps up (per, no doubt, my January 22 obsequious beg-fest and of course the rest of the internet's lobbying), takes advantage of the spot left by the fired Alessandro Ballan, and--despite the fact that it's expressly a support role, which, thank you very much, I expect him to fully settle out on the road--signed we love desperately jobless and incredibly talented 2008 Olympic champ we still horridly miss Euskaltel's Samuel Sanchez. Well anyway, them gold accents looks awful nice with red and black, Samu'--and get ready for August after you superdomestique in May or July, because Lampre can keep cheeseburgering Horner all they want, but I still see a Grand Tour captaincy in your future come August! 
They Are the Champs-ions, My Friends: and, allez allez to the women's peloton, who finally get 1/21th of the Tour de France they deserve with a earlier-day sprint to the boys' celebratory victory lap on the Champs-Elysees, which Giorgia Bronzini will win and which should be, say, next year dammit, filled out with the rest of the damn race. Still, it's a start--and Marianne Vos, since you're already hanging up your 'cross bike for the season after demolishing the field yesterday, I say you just sneak on one of the early-DNFing gentlemen's team kits slip in to some unsuspecting team and ride the whole damn men's Tour anyway!
They Are the Champs-ions, My Friends: and, allez allez to the women's peloton, who finally get 1/21th of the Tour de France they deserve with a earlier-day sprint to the boys' celebratory victory lap on the Champs-Elysees, which Giorgia Bronzini will win and which should be, say, next year dammit, filled out with the rest of the damn race. Still, it's a start--and Marianne Vos, since you're already hanging up your 'cross bike for the season after demolishing the field yesterday, I say you just sneak on one of the early-DNFing gentlemen's team kits slip in to some unsuspecting team and ride the whole damn men's Tour anyway!
Friday, December 20, 2013
It's a Very Merry Festivus Gift List For the Peloton!
Yes, dear reader(s), no matter what holiday(s) we may celebrate, it's that beautiful time o' year when we set aside our own selfish, petty desires and set ourselves instead to fulfilling those of others, and let's face it, after the year they've had, our beloved riders need all the good things they can get. Ergo, it's Yer Very Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!
Chris Horner: a WorldTour contract. Because otherwise, those Masters guys who keep gettin' popped will have to start doping a hell of a lot harder!
Samuel Sanchez: ditto: a WorldTour contract. Yeah, I heard the rumors too, but I mean a real, announced, signed, dated, chiseled-in-stone contract. Damn, he's like fifty years younger than Horner, ain't he?
Johan Bruyneel: a prayer. 'Cause right now, he ain't got one!
Chris Froome: a good light set. Because if Brad Wiggins quits playing nice, and decides to bushwhack 'im, Froomey better be able to see it coming!
Alberto Contador: the Tour de France. Because Oleg Tinkov is gonna do a lot more than tweet at 'im if he !@#$s it up this year!
Vincenzo Nibali: the Tour de France. Because Alexandre Vinokourov is gonna do a lot more than yell at 'im if he !@#$s it up this year!
Alberto Contador Auxiliary Stocking Stuffer: Wings. 'Cause judging by his 2013, "pedals" sure ain't working for him!
Purito Rodriguez: a Grand Tour. *Any* Grand Tour. Just because we love him.
Tom Boonen: Paris-Roubaix. Our gun-shy boy needs his confidence back!
Fabian Cancellara: the hour record. One, because he's Spartacus, and two, because it'll make him feel better when Tommeke takes back Roubaix. See, now everyone's happy!
Peter Sagan: A pretty pair of red yarn mittens. So from now on he can keep his filthy mitts to himself!
Lance Armstrong: a year of total media silence. For *our* sakes as much as his!
Andy Schleck: a magic, unbreakable, indestructible chain. Geez, I can't believe you were at it *again* today. *Now* will you finally stop whinging about the 2010 Tour?
UCI: nothin'. We already *got* our wish for you--how're you enjoying retirement, Pat "Dick" McQuaid?
Alexander Vinokourov: the title, powers, and all attendant trappings of Supreme Ruler of the Universe. It's only a matter of time before it happens anyway. Vino4Ever!
Marianne Vos: Yep, again this year, she already *has* everything. Maybe a day off, if only to give someone else a chance next season?
Mick Rogers (and it kicks me in the nuts to say this): a lump of coal. Naughty, naughty, naughty cyclist!
And Last But Not Ever Ever Least, Dear Reader(s): may your road rides be ever sunny, smooth, and dry, unless you're Belgian, in which case may they be ever rainy, muddy, and cobbly. May your saddle never sore, your tire never flat, your chain never suck, and your bidon be ever full. And no matter the vagaries of this wonderful, messed-up sport, may your joy in its glories never fail--Merry Festivus to all!
Chris Horner: a WorldTour contract. Because otherwise, those Masters guys who keep gettin' popped will have to start doping a hell of a lot harder!
Samuel Sanchez: ditto: a WorldTour contract. Yeah, I heard the rumors too, but I mean a real, announced, signed, dated, chiseled-in-stone contract. Damn, he's like fifty years younger than Horner, ain't he?
Johan Bruyneel: a prayer. 'Cause right now, he ain't got one!
Chris Froome: a good light set. Because if Brad Wiggins quits playing nice, and decides to bushwhack 'im, Froomey better be able to see it coming!
Alberto Contador: the Tour de France. Because Oleg Tinkov is gonna do a lot more than tweet at 'im if he !@#$s it up this year!
Vincenzo Nibali: the Tour de France. Because Alexandre Vinokourov is gonna do a lot more than yell at 'im if he !@#$s it up this year!
Alberto Contador Auxiliary Stocking Stuffer: Wings. 'Cause judging by his 2013, "pedals" sure ain't working for him!
Purito Rodriguez: a Grand Tour. *Any* Grand Tour. Just because we love him.
Tom Boonen: Paris-Roubaix. Our gun-shy boy needs his confidence back!
Fabian Cancellara: the hour record. One, because he's Spartacus, and two, because it'll make him feel better when Tommeke takes back Roubaix. See, now everyone's happy!
Peter Sagan: A pretty pair of red yarn mittens. So from now on he can keep his filthy mitts to himself!
Lance Armstrong: a year of total media silence. For *our* sakes as much as his!
Andy Schleck: a magic, unbreakable, indestructible chain. Geez, I can't believe you were at it *again* today. *Now* will you finally stop whinging about the 2010 Tour?
UCI: nothin'. We already *got* our wish for you--how're you enjoying retirement, Pat "Dick" McQuaid?
Alexander Vinokourov: the title, powers, and all attendant trappings of Supreme Ruler of the Universe. It's only a matter of time before it happens anyway. Vino4Ever!
Marianne Vos: Yep, again this year, she already *has* everything. Maybe a day off, if only to give someone else a chance next season?
Mick Rogers (and it kicks me in the nuts to say this): a lump of coal. Naughty, naughty, naughty cyclist!
And Last But Not Ever Ever Least, Dear Reader(s): may your road rides be ever sunny, smooth, and dry, unless you're Belgian, in which case may they be ever rainy, muddy, and cobbly. May your saddle never sore, your tire never flat, your chain never suck, and your bidon be ever full. And no matter the vagaries of this wonderful, messed-up sport, may your joy in its glories never fail--Merry Festivus to all!
Saturday, December 07, 2013
It's Yer 2013 Year in Review!
Yep, we've still got a sweet 3 weeks for some ludicrous scandal to enliven the sleepy end of the year, but still, it's been a bangin' 2013, with enough scandal, sleaze, and yes, even racing, to delight and horrify the most dedicated cycling freak. Ergo, yer Year in Review:
January: Pat "Dick" McQuaid shuts down UCI Independent Commission on Why We're Scumbags; Wiggo really, honestly doesn't want the Tour, delusionally targets Giro; Lance cluelessly blows ratings-busting Oprah wah-wah. But I'm *sorry* I called Betsy Andreu a !@# !@#$%!
February: Rabobank shocked that everyone on squad doped when team told them to; Wiggo still really, honestly doesn't want the Tour; Thor redeems crap 2012 with win at Haut Var; Andy Schleck vows return. Uh huh, still waitin'!
March: It's the Classics, baby! Tom Boonen crashes out of suck Flanders, Classics !@#$ed; Sagan grabs Gent-Wevelgem; pig Sagan acts like, and grabs, an !@#; enraged Mark Cavendish blasts teammates for Tirreno-Adriatico loss. Nice to have your real personality back, Cav!
April: Dan Martin takes his first--and Ireland's second!--Liege-Waffle-Liege--slainte Dan!; frustrated Wiggo still really, honestly doesn't want the Tour, makes Wussiest Bike Toss Ever at Trentino; Fabian Cancellara takes Roubaix. Dammit I still miss Tommeke!
May: What else? It's the fabulous Giro, baby! Vincenzo "the Shark" Nibali slaughters the competition; Wiggo really, honestly doesn't want the Tour--and can't win the Giro, either; gutted John Degenkolb collapses after spectacular stage win. Now *that* is cycling!
June: It's the Tour de France, baby? Greenedge driver jams bus under finish-line banner, entire peloton crashes hard as dipwad race organizers confuse sprinters by repeatedly changing finish line; dopus Santambrogio a doping poz at Giro; the Giro Rosa is *on*, honey!
July: The Tour continues! Euskaltel announces they're goners, who gives about the stupid race?!; Froome slaughters rivals on Mont Ventoux, game over; Oleg Tinkov twitter-crushes demoralized Contador; Marcel Kittel dethrones Cav as sprint king. Better luck next year!
August: It's the smashing Vuelta a Espana, baby! Some old "Horner" guy ridiculously aims for podium; miserable Boonen's miserable season over with epic saddlesore; record-smashing Giorgia Bronzini takes 5--5!--consecutive sprints at Giro Rosa; new Women's Cycling Union demands Tour de France. Damn, haven't they earned it already?
September: More Vuelta, *and* the Worlds! poor wee Euskies mostly jobless; Horner wins Vuelta at age 94 on diet of Big Macs and McRibs; Vos takes Worlds and everything else all year Bronzini didn't win this year; Rui Costa bags men's race in controversial finish as defiant Valverde screws bitter Purito Rodriguez outta silver. Well there goes *that* bromance I guess!
October: Cleansters at Team Sky wants opioid its gives its own boys banned for everyone else; LL Cool Sanchez outta RaboBelkin; outraged jobless Horner goes nutwhack on Twitter. Not helping the cause, kiddo!
November: whistleblower Landis seeks the big bucks, but Lance already said he's SORRY gosh darn it; Samuel Sanchez, Igor Anton still teamless; Contador changes training regimen, optimistically plans return. Good luck with that Alberto!
December: Oleg Tinkov buys out Bjarne Riis at Saxo Bank, Contador cries self to sleep; desperate riders scramble for jobs on Pro-Kindergarten squads; Lance Armstrong sez he's gonna--oh, who gives a !@#$!
Well cycling fans, them's mine, and for every amazing incident I choked and didn't put in, apologies. Now can we *get* through the rest of the year without some epic nightmare screwup? Nope, I don't think so either!
January: Pat "Dick" McQuaid shuts down UCI Independent Commission on Why We're Scumbags; Wiggo really, honestly doesn't want the Tour, delusionally targets Giro; Lance cluelessly blows ratings-busting Oprah wah-wah. But I'm *sorry* I called Betsy Andreu a !@# !@#$%!
February: Rabobank shocked that everyone on squad doped when team told them to; Wiggo still really, honestly doesn't want the Tour; Thor redeems crap 2012 with win at Haut Var; Andy Schleck vows return. Uh huh, still waitin'!
March: It's the Classics, baby! Tom Boonen crashes out of suck Flanders, Classics !@#$ed; Sagan grabs Gent-Wevelgem; pig Sagan acts like, and grabs, an !@#; enraged Mark Cavendish blasts teammates for Tirreno-Adriatico loss. Nice to have your real personality back, Cav!
April: Dan Martin takes his first--and Ireland's second!--Liege-Waffle-Liege--slainte Dan!; frustrated Wiggo still really, honestly doesn't want the Tour, makes Wussiest Bike Toss Ever at Trentino; Fabian Cancellara takes Roubaix. Dammit I still miss Tommeke!
May: What else? It's the fabulous Giro, baby! Vincenzo "the Shark" Nibali slaughters the competition; Wiggo really, honestly doesn't want the Tour--and can't win the Giro, either; gutted John Degenkolb collapses after spectacular stage win. Now *that* is cycling!
June: It's the Tour de France, baby? Greenedge driver jams bus under finish-line banner, entire peloton crashes hard as dipwad race organizers confuse sprinters by repeatedly changing finish line; dopus Santambrogio a doping poz at Giro; the Giro Rosa is *on*, honey!
July: The Tour continues! Euskaltel announces they're goners, who gives about the stupid race?!; Froome slaughters rivals on Mont Ventoux, game over; Oleg Tinkov twitter-crushes demoralized Contador; Marcel Kittel dethrones Cav as sprint king. Better luck next year!
August: It's the smashing Vuelta a Espana, baby! Some old "Horner" guy ridiculously aims for podium; miserable Boonen's miserable season over with epic saddlesore; record-smashing Giorgia Bronzini takes 5--5!--consecutive sprints at Giro Rosa; new Women's Cycling Union demands Tour de France. Damn, haven't they earned it already?
September: More Vuelta, *and* the Worlds! poor wee Euskies mostly jobless; Horner wins Vuelta at age 94 on diet of Big Macs and McRibs; Vos takes Worlds and everything else all year Bronzini didn't win this year; Rui Costa bags men's race in controversial finish as defiant Valverde screws bitter Purito Rodriguez outta silver. Well there goes *that* bromance I guess!
October: Cleansters at Team Sky wants opioid its gives its own boys banned for everyone else; LL Cool Sanchez outta RaboBelkin; outraged jobless Horner goes nutwhack on Twitter. Not helping the cause, kiddo!
November: whistleblower Landis seeks the big bucks, but Lance already said he's SORRY gosh darn it; Samuel Sanchez, Igor Anton still teamless; Contador changes training regimen, optimistically plans return. Good luck with that Alberto!
December: Oleg Tinkov buys out Bjarne Riis at Saxo Bank, Contador cries self to sleep; desperate riders scramble for jobs on Pro-Kindergarten squads; Lance Armstrong sez he's gonna--oh, who gives a !@#$!
Well cycling fans, them's mine, and for every amazing incident I choked and didn't put in, apologies. Now can we *get* through the rest of the year without some epic nightmare screwup? Nope, I don't think so either!
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