Desperado: yeah, it's lookin' desperate over at Rancho Tinkoff all right, as rakish-n-almost-resultsless Peter Sagan blows Oleg's--uh, his own--first big goal of the season at Sanremo with an indifferent 4th and, at the start of his second pre-Tour showdown with Chris Froome at the Volta a Catalunya, Giro-Tour double hope Alberto Contador sez he's got a baaaad cold, so don't expect too much outta him either. Translation: the team is !@#$ed, Oleg's got no idea what to do about it, Bjarne's sacked, and Oleg's now gotta figure out some non-mutilating way to inspire his high-paid starlets but quick. !@#$, Oleg, if Alberto can't handle one cold day at Tirreno this year, what the hell do think a full-on blizzard at the Giro is gonna do to his Tour chances? Dammit, am I the only one thinkin' that if the season gets on this way, we're just gonna have Froomey and Nairo for the final maillot jaune in Paris, and that freak Valverde is gonna nail the 3d spot on the podium *again*? Fix this Oleg--I don't know if we can take this !@#$ much longer!
Degen-Stone-Kolb-Killer: meantime, the glow hasn't quite yet faded off the fine John Degenkolb's Milan-Sanremo triumph, and with this smashing run to the line after half the faves went down on the Poggio, it's easy to see why. Nice job big guy--and Cav, feel better next year!
Electric Avenue: and, after a scathing report excoriating the biopassport as a handy doping baseline (told ya), TUEs as total bull!@#$, and new-gen doping pounding the crap obsolete testing equipment, UCI's taking serious action: testing 36 *bikes* for mechanical doping at Milano-Sanremo. For !@#$'s sake, you oughta be looking for the needle marks on the riders' !@#es, not the wiring in the !@#$ing top tubes! And we *don't* need you clowns giving certain riders who creep the hell outta the whole lot of us any freakin' ideas while we're at it...
Showing posts with label Milano-Sanremo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Milano-Sanremo. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2015
Friday, March 21, 2014
It's Yer Milano-Sanremo In Preview!
All right, baby, now it's time for the Monuments--so let Milano-Sanremo begin!
The Route: it's flat! no, it's hilly! !@#$, let's just throw in the Alpe d'Huez! Sure, the course has been changing every six minutes, due to landslides, weather concerns, and drunken beer-pong whims, but *something's* sure happening this weekend, and at the moment, it looks like this:
Damn, can you guys at least straighten this out before the sprint teams set up their lead-outs towards the finish? Which brings us to...
The Contenders: yes, with the GT contenders largely opting out after the recent route changes (Vincenzo Nibali, intriguingly, excluded), Peter Sagan's the overwhelming fave, particularly if he decides to just bunny-hop the last kilometer to get to that ginormous pile o' dough aspirational 2015 boss Fernando Alonso's already got dangling for him at the finish line. But despite the withdrawals of folks like Phinney and Boonen, there's also a hot'n'formidable mix of pure sprinters, Classics stalwarts, and combo-fastmen, including Mark Cavendish, know-it-all-journo's dark-horse darling John Degenkolb, 2012 rainbow jersey Philippe Gilbert, Andre Greipel, and surprise defending champ Ciolek, which can still be thrown into total chaos depending on...
The Weather: forecast: crap! Rain? Check. Wind? Oh yeah. General misery? On tap! The good news: it oughta be slightly less cold than last year's sub-arctic hypothermiafest, in which, you'll recall, Taylor Phinney's frozen jersey had to be blow-torched off his body apres-race on the team bus. This was fun, right?
So count yer blessings in advance the whole lot of you, and quit yer whinin'! So what's...
The Upshot: The Cipressa. The Poggio. Not, to the dismay of climbier sorts and the joy of La Classicissima purists, the Pompeiana. The last k: a downhill throw before the final argy-bargy to the line. And forget who *will* win--for my money, and I'm not not a swooning fan-crush here, though I am highly respectful--Fabian Cancellara *should* win, because, merit aside (and merit is already huge, let's face it), as you can see here, the man is a complete class act from start to finish when it comes to appraising his rivals. Forza Fabs--but either way, I expect a thrilla!
And just in case you forgot, last year's finale: It's time for one of the best races of the entire year--bring it *on*!
The Route: it's flat! no, it's hilly! !@#$, let's just throw in the Alpe d'Huez! Sure, the course has been changing every six minutes, due to landslides, weather concerns, and drunken beer-pong whims, but *something's* sure happening this weekend, and at the moment, it looks like this:
Damn, can you guys at least straighten this out before the sprint teams set up their lead-outs towards the finish? Which brings us to...The Contenders: yes, with the GT contenders largely opting out after the recent route changes (Vincenzo Nibali, intriguingly, excluded), Peter Sagan's the overwhelming fave, particularly if he decides to just bunny-hop the last kilometer to get to that ginormous pile o' dough aspirational 2015 boss Fernando Alonso's already got dangling for him at the finish line. But despite the withdrawals of folks like Phinney and Boonen, there's also a hot'n'formidable mix of pure sprinters, Classics stalwarts, and combo-fastmen, including Mark Cavendish, know-it-all-journo's dark-horse darling John Degenkolb, 2012 rainbow jersey Philippe Gilbert, Andre Greipel, and surprise defending champ Ciolek, which can still be thrown into total chaos depending on...
The Weather: forecast: crap! Rain? Check. Wind? Oh yeah. General misery? On tap! The good news: it oughta be slightly less cold than last year's sub-arctic hypothermiafest, in which, you'll recall, Taylor Phinney's frozen jersey had to be blow-torched off his body apres-race on the team bus. This was fun, right?
So count yer blessings in advance the whole lot of you, and quit yer whinin'! So what's...The Upshot: The Cipressa. The Poggio. Not, to the dismay of climbier sorts and the joy of La Classicissima purists, the Pompeiana. The last k: a downhill throw before the final argy-bargy to the line. And forget who *will* win--for my money, and I'm not not a swooning fan-crush here, though I am highly respectful--Fabian Cancellara *should* win, because, merit aside (and merit is already huge, let's face it), as you can see here, the man is a complete class act from start to finish when it comes to appraising his rivals. Forza Fabs--but either way, I expect a thrilla!
And just in case you forgot, last year's finale: It's time for one of the best races of the entire year--bring it *on*!
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Boonen Goes Bull!@#$! Sagan Eats Pie! Phinney Phreezes! And, Wiggo Wants Whup-!@#
Uh, Aren't the Belgians Supposed to *Like* This Slop?: well, that was one smashing start for African cycling, as big Maggy Backstedt calls it early for the brand-new MTN-Qhubeka's sprint-stud Gerald Ciolek, powering around nicely as Sagan over-marked Chavanel to lose the top spot, and Chavanel himself provided, for my money, by far the most aggressive and entertaining ride of the race. But of course, the big news of the day--because it sure wasn't the podium--was the near-blizzard conditions that forced the Italians to cut off the race's Turchio climb but still left the peloton, even after their team-bus lay-off warm-up, in a severe state of soaked, miserable, decimated, pissed-off Popsicle. An extremely ticked Tommeke, as he bailed out at the break: "I think my decision says enough.This is partly a precaution, but also a statement to the organization. They knew long enough that there was so much snow on the road. What happens now is the fault of the organization's own fault. Have you ever wanted to bicycle through the snow ridden? There are nicer things than this. I'm completely frozen." Other casualties: Vincenzo Nibali, Matthew Goss, and, well, pretty much everyone from Spain. Stickin' it out: Mark Cavendish for heck's sake, who simply tweeted "Fucking.Freezing." and *still* came in strong in the chase group. Right on Cav! Here, Taylor Phinney coated in ice, and a cheerful Sagan with his pie:
And, the last 3k:
There's Always Tomorrow/For Dreams To Come True: but wait, there's more--it's the fabulous Volta a Catalunya starting tomorrow, baby, and it's really all about the pre-Giro showdown between we love modest Canadian defending champ Ryder Hesjedal, Brad "I Hate Being Famous! Wait, Where's the Paparazzi Going?" Wiggins, and Tour rivals Rodriguez and Valverde. Also in: controversial returning Lance-yappin' Garmin ban-ees Van de Velde, Zabriskie, and Danielson. Me, I'm just gonna be smug as hell when dear Euskaltel finally grabs their first win of the season (go to hell! are too! it's been cold out!). And come on Cadel, you can do this--time to show some form already!
And, the last 3k: There's Always Tomorrow/For Dreams To Come True: but wait, there's more--it's the fabulous Volta a Catalunya starting tomorrow, baby, and it's really all about the pre-Giro showdown between we love modest Canadian defending champ Ryder Hesjedal, Brad "I Hate Being Famous! Wait, Where's the Paparazzi Going?" Wiggins, and Tour rivals Rodriguez and Valverde. Also in: controversial returning Lance-yappin' Garmin ban-ees Van de Velde, Zabriskie, and Danielson. Me, I'm just gonna be smug as hell when dear Euskaltel finally grabs their first win of the season (go to hell! are too! it's been cold out!). And come on Cadel, you can do this--time to show some form already!
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Rain! Pain! The Cipressa and Poggio! It's All Wide-Open for Milano-Sanremo, Baby!
What Is It?: the first big Classic of the season, baby, and a looooooooong 298k. Ow, !@#$!
What's The Terrain: well, it's flat enough at the very end for a bunch sprint. But the Cipressa and Poggio climbs and descents can (1) let a break get away and (2) thin the herd like lion on antelope. And it depends on how hard the wind is blowing. And if the rain is falling--which it will be. And how cold it is. And...damn, thank god I'm gonna be watching this thing from home!
So What's That Look Like?: Here, and for heck's sake at least wake up for the last 25k:
Who's Gonna Be There?: Who isn't? Oh, right, the munchkin 20-ounces-soaking-wet climbing specialists. The rest of you, line up and prepare to hurt!
Who're The Faves: yeah, you know 'em! Past winners Gerrans, Gossy, Pippo, Cancellara, Cavendish. Bearer of High Expectations Sagan. Bearers of Middlin' Expectations Boonen Nibali and Gilbert. Bearers of Crap Expectations Hushovd. And about 20 other big wily bastards who ain't talkin'. Me, I'm wondering if Sagan'll be so marked he'll just be Cancellaraed outta the win. Forza Tommeke--shut up, he can too!
What's the Weather?: according to the forecast, so miserable even the Belgians'll hate it. But come on--if you ain't riding it, doesn't it seem more "epic" that way?
Right, the Gilbert Psyche-Out: geez, what crap timing for world champ Philippe Gilbert to have to deal with accusations of bogus-prescrip'd cortisone use at Lotto after everyone'd already stopped doping 2 years ago--don't let it freak you out, Gilbert!
Finally, Yer Bonus Cav-Boonen Press Conference Eye Can--uh, Highly Informative Speaking Stuff:
Well, it's on to the race--good luck and stay upright you guys!
What's The Terrain: well, it's flat enough at the very end for a bunch sprint. But the Cipressa and Poggio climbs and descents can (1) let a break get away and (2) thin the herd like lion on antelope. And it depends on how hard the wind is blowing. And if the rain is falling--which it will be. And how cold it is. And...damn, thank god I'm gonna be watching this thing from home!
So What's That Look Like?: Here, and for heck's sake at least wake up for the last 25k:
Who's Gonna Be There?: Who isn't? Oh, right, the munchkin 20-ounces-soaking-wet climbing specialists. The rest of you, line up and prepare to hurt!
Who're The Faves: yeah, you know 'em! Past winners Gerrans, Gossy, Pippo, Cancellara, Cavendish. Bearer of High Expectations Sagan. Bearers of Middlin' Expectations Boonen Nibali and Gilbert. Bearers of Crap Expectations Hushovd. And about 20 other big wily bastards who ain't talkin'. Me, I'm wondering if Sagan'll be so marked he'll just be Cancellaraed outta the win. Forza Tommeke--shut up, he can too!
What's the Weather?: according to the forecast, so miserable even the Belgians'll hate it. But come on--if you ain't riding it, doesn't it seem more "epic" that way?
Right, the Gilbert Psyche-Out: geez, what crap timing for world champ Philippe Gilbert to have to deal with accusations of bogus-prescrip'd cortisone use at Lotto after everyone'd already stopped doping 2 years ago--don't let it freak you out, Gilbert!
Finally, Yer Bonus Cav-Boonen Press Conference Eye Can--uh, Highly Informative Speaking Stuff:
Well, it's on to the race--good luck and stay upright you guys!
Thursday, March 15, 2012
It's Time for Milano-Sanremo, Baby!
Too Bad There Won't Be Anyone To Ride It: yes, the magical Milano-Sanremo is upon us, baby, and with guys like Thor and Gilbert gettin' dropped like Andy Schleck on a half-assed descent, it looks like it's up to Tommeke, Freire, or Cavendish to take the win, and, according to my meticulous analysis of their physiological data, since Cav always wins everything anyway *and* has been annoyingly genteel of late, and Tommeke's gonna beat the crap out of everyone on the cobbles, I'm hoping that if it's not our charming Belgian redemption song it's retiring 3-time champ Oscar Freire to make it a four-peat and tie the great Erik Zabel on the top of the podium. Yap, yap, Spartacus, yap--until Cancellara repudiates RadioSkank and begs forgiveness for riding with the dark side, he can !@#damn well stuff it!
Oh Gyno, My Gyno: meantime, in heroes o' cycling news, famed Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Peloton" Fuentes is defending his lame Spanish charges of "endangering public health" with his by-the-gallon blood transfusions during the Op Puerto debacle in 2006 by contending that a hotel room is a perfectly sanitary, acceptable alternative to a hospital for the discreet publicity-shy drug-weasel, and, for *my* money, if anyone doubts it, they can always go back and confirm the sterility of all those syringes Astana (allegedly!) tossed in their Tour de France hotel garbage back in the day. Besides, what else are all those little nips in the hotel-room minibar for if not to clean up medical equipment, I ask you? I still hate your guts for throwing Roberto Heras under the bus, Eufemiano--but as a housekeeping expert, you're a peach!
Holy Crap, Cipollini is Serious!: y'know, I, like Paolo Bettini, thought the Lion King's dreams of return were just the nostalgic ramblings of a timeless legend alone with his memories of glory and podium babes, but when Cipo drops trou for the cameras again, you *know* this !@#$'s for real. Forget the admirable scenes of the man training with his crew--just dig that soundtrack, honey!
Oh Gyno, My Gyno: meantime, in heroes o' cycling news, famed Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Peloton" Fuentes is defending his lame Spanish charges of "endangering public health" with his by-the-gallon blood transfusions during the Op Puerto debacle in 2006 by contending that a hotel room is a perfectly sanitary, acceptable alternative to a hospital for the discreet publicity-shy drug-weasel, and, for *my* money, if anyone doubts it, they can always go back and confirm the sterility of all those syringes Astana (allegedly!) tossed in their Tour de France hotel garbage back in the day. Besides, what else are all those little nips in the hotel-room minibar for if not to clean up medical equipment, I ask you? I still hate your guts for throwing Roberto Heras under the bus, Eufemiano--but as a housekeeping expert, you're a peach!
Holy Crap, Cipollini is Serious!: y'know, I, like Paolo Bettini, thought the Lion King's dreams of return were just the nostalgic ramblings of a timeless legend alone with his memories of glory and podium babes, but when Cipo drops trou for the cameras again, you *know* this !@#$'s for real. Forget the admirable scenes of the man training with his crew--just dig that soundtrack, honey!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
A Mint Milano (-Sanremo)
Gossie, Gossie, Gossie, Oy, Oy, Oy!: wow, what a wham-bang of a finish at Milano-Sanremo! I gotta say, I had Cancellara pegged, but without a long flat finishing straight the man just ran out of road--compliments all 'round to rising Aussie star (and, natch, our beloved Aussie reader(s)) Matt Goss on a truly smashing sprint! Of course, I was crushed to see O'Grady fade, and no-one was gonna let Philippe Gilbert get any space--much to his particular rage when Pippo Pozzato chased him down. And Cav, at least today you can plausibly say it was that crash--whew! Here's the finale and then some:
Perfetto!: speaking of Milano-Sanremo, what would today's race mean without fine comparative footage of the 1922 edition? You want some translation, let me know. So, for your viewing pleasure:
Wah, wah, "strade bianche," wah--check this !@#$ out!
What An Ass: okay, no sleek taglines for me on this one--Pat "Dick" McQuaid is just, if I may diplomatically say, a total wanker. Why? Because, rather than address the actual merits of the pro-race radio argument--which, since Jens Voigt sez so, must be both many and persuasive no matter what my ignoramus carcass thinks--he used his "open letter to the riders" on the race radio situation to not only insult Jens himself--for which he deserves, though I am personally a pacifist and do not advocate any sort of wildlife-driven vengeance, to be eaten alive by rabid wolverines--but also to fatuously accuse them of being brainless saps (okay, let's be fair, he got a few of 'em there) whose heads have been totally manipulated by their self-interested teams. Which is funny, 'cause I thought the only thing the teams were manipulating was the riders' blood values--ba-dum-bum! Thank you very much, folks, I'm in the Catskills every Tuesday night...
What A Maroon: finally, no post would be complete without some half-wit testing poz for something, so many thanks for "reformed" scum-weasel/hypocrite tattle-taler Patrik Sinkewitz for coming up with the goods on HGH. Y'know, I *knew* that crap could cause some facial-bone growth as a side effect, but honest, I couldn't even tell:
Lookin' good, Pat!
Perfetto!: speaking of Milano-Sanremo, what would today's race mean without fine comparative footage of the 1922 edition? You want some translation, let me know. So, for your viewing pleasure:
Wah, wah, "strade bianche," wah--check this !@#$ out!
What An Ass: okay, no sleek taglines for me on this one--Pat "Dick" McQuaid is just, if I may diplomatically say, a total wanker. Why? Because, rather than address the actual merits of the pro-race radio argument--which, since Jens Voigt sez so, must be both many and persuasive no matter what my ignoramus carcass thinks--he used his "open letter to the riders" on the race radio situation to not only insult Jens himself--for which he deserves, though I am personally a pacifist and do not advocate any sort of wildlife-driven vengeance, to be eaten alive by rabid wolverines--but also to fatuously accuse them of being brainless saps (okay, let's be fair, he got a few of 'em there) whose heads have been totally manipulated by their self-interested teams. Which is funny, 'cause I thought the only thing the teams were manipulating was the riders' blood values--ba-dum-bum! Thank you very much, folks, I'm in the Catskills every Tuesday night...
What A Maroon: finally, no post would be complete without some half-wit testing poz for something, so many thanks for "reformed" scum-weasel/hypocrite tattle-taler Patrik Sinkewitz for coming up with the goods on HGH. Y'know, I *knew* that crap could cause some facial-bone growth as a side effect, but honest, I couldn't even tell:
Lookin' good, Pat!
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