It's Yer Vuelta a Espana Jaysus *Now* What the Hell's Going On Out There Rest Day Dos Roundup!

Whew, were *those* exhausting climbing days--to watch on our end, anyway!  Luckily, we've *all* earned a good day's rest.  So now that we're down to the final push, what's the state of this crazy-!@# race?  This!

1. I don't care *how* many stages they win or who they smack around on GC--Movistar is still one !@#$ed-up squad.  Valverde continues to attack Quintana like antibiotics on sinus infection.  Soler's washed his hands of the whole lot of you bastards, with a brief pause to do Bala a solid, after his public rebuke from his DS.  And your general strategy appears to be Every Man for Himself Because There's a Zombie Apocolypse, with a frisson of Chased By Screaming Human Steroids in Bondage Gear In A Mad Max Movie and a subtle whiff of Holy !@#$ How Many Times Are They Gonna Remake "Halloween" Before They Run Outta Bodies?  Geez, maybe it *is* better Unzue sent Landa over to the Tour of Britain to brush up on gardening tips! Still, with Valverde firmly in second on the podium, and claiming fatigue which you know means he's waiting to bushwhack anyone in his way by this weekend, you can hardly write Movistar's whatever-the-hell-they-call-it off as totally ineffective--and with the commentators uniformly confounded by every half kilometer, you sure can't say it isn't entertaining!

2. (Minor) Celebrity Deathmatch: Ineos' Tao Geoghegan Hart and Katusha's Ruben Guerrero. Okay, so they blew the break and Fuglsang took the day--but what was *that* nasty little slap-fight after the line about?

3. Wolfpack My !@#--yes, that dashing breakaway victory was textbook PhilGil, but as a giant "!@#$ you for screwing me in July!"

4. It's All a Giant Slovenian Conspiracy.  Didn't you see--gasp!--that wily fist-bump between Roglic and Pogacar?  And the only reason everyone's clutching their pearls in horror is because no one *they* want to win has actually gotten their !@#$ together first.  Just because our guys are busy eating their own young doesn't mean those two can't make some sense!

5. Anyone else a little weirded out that Jumbo-Visma is suddenly a GC squad?  'Cause I'm about to start betting on Euskadi-Murias for the sprints!

6. It's Deja-Vu All Over Again: Come on.  I can't be the *only* one who thought Jakob Fuglsang already bagged a bucket o' Grand Tour stage wins!

7. !@#$in' Hell, Froome! Yep, *another* hospital photo op, this one proving that peeling a potato is apparently a slaughterhouse compared to crashing down a descent at rocket speed.  Either go away or get popped once and for all, we can't stand this crap any more!

8. If You're Lookin' To Score...I think the race helicopter guys are gonna be doing a *lot* more random buzzing of rooftops from now on, whether they're on the race course or not!

9. Vinokourov Isn't Done With You Mother!@#$ers Yet.  He's just bagged the Ironman World Championships in France in his age group--you think he doesn't still have a few scores to settle with the *cyclists* who got in his way?

Well, that's yer quickie review.  Tomorrow, it's an officially-classified "flat" stage, which means the sprinters are gonna let the break dangle to the very last millimeter before they decide if they're gonna cause chaos right to the line.  Onwards and (sorry, sprinters) upwards!

It's Yer Vuelta a Espana What the !#$! Just Happened Out There Rest Day Uno Roundup!

Look, so far this Vuelta's begun in chaos, and it's probably gonna !@#damn well *end* in chaos.  But there's a whole lot to keep in mind as we head into what's sure to be a mind-boggling Week 2, so to set us up right, what'd we learn--and what were we forced to unlearn--so far?  This!

1. Movistar is One Completely !@#$ed Up Squad.  Carapaz crashes out on an easy-money crit before the race even begins. Quintana wins on a sprint stage.  Valverde spends the next few stages attacking him.  Nairo's the team leader. Valverde's the team leader. They're both the team leader. Soler makes one freakin' move on his own behalf looks set to win the stage Unzue dope-smacks him over the radio and everyone's pissed at Soler for being pissed when Nairo drags another team's guy up to him to screw him then takes second place and the red jersey.  Nairo celebrates Unzue anointing him King of the Vuelta by formally announcing his three-year deal with Arkea-Samsic taking half the squad with him.  They've got an entire full-time paid soigneur solely dedicated to make sure Nairo Alejandro and Soler don't (1) spike each other's drinks with easy-to-catch doping substances (2) pulverize each other's primary and backup bike frames with a sledgehammer when nobody's looking or (3) inflict the mother of all nut-crunching race-ending wedgies by swapping the other guy's bib shorts out with a toddler's extra-small diaper chamois. And somehow, this pack of infighting freaks is *still* atop the Best Team rankings.  Kumbaya--now !@#$ you! No, !@#$ *you*! No...

2. EF Needs Divine Intervention. I dearly love EF for many reasons, not least because their team kit gives me all the happy Lampre Barbie Sparkle Rainbow Dream Unicorn Princess feels.  Nonetheless, even I didn't, it'd take a stone cold killer not to feel any sympathy for these guys after they first almost lost Rigoberto Uran to a crash, then lost not just him but everybody else to an entirely different gigantic crash, *then* took poor remaining GC-savior Tejay Van Garderen out with a busted finger, and now, apparently, their team bus has been commandeered by Satan and is careening around Spain without even a visible driver at the wheel.  So I'm not a religious person, but I implore me, you, and all people, plants, meme-friendly piano-playing housecats, and weird single-cell indeterminate life forms on this planet to invoke whatever gods, goddesses, spirits, ghosts, tree fairies, mermaids, selkies, gargoyles and garden gnomes you may worship to just *please*, *please* help the few remaining guys left upright on this squad to (1) make it outta here in one piece and (2) for just mercy's sake, somehow end up with a nice bonus stage win.  By Grabthar's Hammer, by the suns of Worvan, you shall be avenged!

3. In the Annals of Fan !@#$wittery, This Guy's Got the Guinness World Record. Smoke bombs? Cry me a river. Flags in my face? Wah, wah. Knock my actual head off my body with a selfie stick? Yap, yap. But deciding that "hey, *right* as the team trial is going by on incredibly unstable bikes with incredibly nervous riders on an incredibly twisty course is the *exact* right time to flood my garden *and* the course dicking around filling some kiddie pool" is a *whole* 'nother level of assclown.  Honesty, do you any of you dimwits even *know* there's a race on in your town?

4. By Comparison, a Race Moto Crashing Seems Pretty Tame, Right? Forget the riders staying upright: now we got the ground-level camera guys spinning out like some drunken dumb!@# inbred teenager with a rustbucket '67 Mustang doing donuts in a 7-11 parking lot.  Or hey, why not decide to outright drive into the line of a GC contender on a tricky descent?  Um, you do *know* it's not the *motos* trying to win the Vuelta a Espana, don't you?

5. Weather Protocol My !@#!: Sure, you can't *see* the race because a freakin' Sharknado has descended on the Basque Country and Jaws has taken out the race helicopter, but trust me, it's windy out there.  And rainy.  And would you enjoy the ride any *more* than you are if there's an entire Biblical plague's worth of hailstones dropped on six square meters of the course? Oh, hail no!

6. Geez, We've Barely Gotten Into the GC Discussion Yet! Yeah, that's because there isn't any, at least not any that makes any sense because half of them were wiped out in off-camera pileups, and the rest of 'em are so damn confused by what's going on we're lucky they're not riding the entire Vuelta course backwards at this point. Dumoulin Froomey whichever Yates that was and Carapaz are out before the start line.  Rogla gets nicked by a moto.  Lopez goes down on a gravel section.  Roche gone. Uran--well, which mishap do you want me to start with? Chaves is forced to switch to a big-boy bike, *twice*, right as he's wrangling a massive climb, gets promptly sucked up into Grmay's humongous seatpost, and they *still* haven't been able to pry him out of it.  Quintana's about to be crushed by his own ego, Valverde's still waiting for the key moment to implode, and hell, once the race organizers realize Pogacar's only six months old and can't even qualify for the Junior circuit, even the Vuelta honchos'll be honor-bound to take him outta the race. I'm telling you Landa sneak in here, they're so busy trying to figure out who's still on the start list they won't even question you when you try to sign in tomorrow!

7. I Can't Wait Until the Queen Stage on Day Twent--uh, on Day Nine!  Y'know, it's entirely possible this entire Vuelta has already been decided, but to be absolutely sure, the race organizers are gonna make you sit through approximately 18 more sprints and 39 breakaway stages o' suffering before they let these body-bandaged, rain-soaked, sun-baked, road-rashed wraiths climb off the saddle for a much-deserved rest. What the--what fresh hell is *this*?!  !@#dammit, I *told* you I wanted to ride the freakin' Tour de France!

8. The Gesticulating On This Vuelta Is Out of Control.  Between Gilbert nearly taking Henao's eyeball out with his elbow for resisting taking a turn in the breakaway, to Soler's extravagant screw-you to the cameras when ordered to sit up for Quintana, to Nacer Bouhanni punching a spectator in the face when he's not even in the country, it's clear that a looooooong season has taken its emotional toll on our beloved peloton.  Next thing you know, they'll be rolling on the floor like a pack of drama-queen cry-baby footballers because their shoelace has been air-swiped by a dung beetle.   Boys in the break, do your share--or don't complain I didn't warn you!

Well, that's your Rest Day Part Uno in Review.  Tomorrow, it's the ITT, which given how the race has played out so far, pretty much guarantees that Tony Martin's gonna be wearing the red jersey in Madrid.  Congratulations Tony!--or is it still too soon to pop the champagne?

It's Yer 2018 Tour de France in Preview, Part Deux: The General Classification Contenders!

First, stop making those infernal barfing noises. I mean it people! I'm not happy about that !@#$wit and his robot army participating either. But, as with the course, we got the field we got, and to be fair (for once in 12 years of this lowly rag) we *also* got some actual possible contenders here with a chance to win that doesn't 100% depend on a shameful sport-destroying doping scandal and an ignominious 2019 race presentation with a pic of shattering glass over the last year's winner's face and a giant asterisk next to their name for the remainder of human history. So who's in, who's out, and who's just plain ridiculous! These guys!

1. Marianne Vos: Oh wait--despite the incredible depth and talent in the women's field, they *still* don't have a Tour de France, unless you count a one-day quickie that's immediately swept away without a trace in favor of hand-scrubbing the men's course for them so the *real* race can come through. Screw you, Tour de France!

2. Vincenzo Nibali: Not only is he not tired out from riding the Giro, since he didn't (which I found horrifying, but whatever), he's actually got a bangin' squad backing him--one of the best here. New Spanish national champ Gorka. Ion. Pozzo, probably still exhausted from the Giro but who, with the exception of a day's crack, really rode masterfully there. And with Nibs' spectacular descending skills to help him off the Aubisque even if he's not in great shape up top and his all-weather/all-terrain toughness, there's actually some hope here. Of course, if he doesn't let our little carrots off the leash for at least one stage win, I'll hate his guts forever--but not as much as Froome's. Shark attaaaaaaaaccckkkkk!

3. Richie Porte: Oh, BMC. One the one hand, with your impending doom, you've got a great squad filled with talent desperately looking to lock in a half-decent contract with gobsmacking performances here; on the other hand, the hell with teamwork, it is now every man for himself out there. Anyway, they seem to think Porte can do it. I'm thinking more top 5. *Why* isn't it enough for a great rider to just be a great rider without the pressure of all this yellow-in-Paris-or-nothing on 'im?

4. Movistar: a. Mikel Landa: remember how badly Landa chafed at having to waste his own GC legs serving team captain Froome, then inexplicably jumped ship to Team "WHAT THE !@#$ LANDA IT IS GOING TO BE THE EXACT SAME THING!"? Yeah, well, Nairo's made it perfectly clear he won't take this !@#$ any more'n Froome did. Saving grace: he's no worse at time trialing than Nairo. Unsaving grace: with Piti riding 'em like Cancellara the last couple years, he's gonna have to really fight Valverde on the climbs. Don't take yer eyes off 'im for a minute Mikel, no matter what the little opportunist says!

b. Nairo Quintana: To his credit, he's *earned* a Giro d'Italia--it's certainly possible he can take the Tour. But with the more sweeping climbs of France not necessarily his best, and an enormous waste of energy the first week fighting his bull!@#$ happy "co-leaders" for captaincy all but certain, he's hobbled, like the rest of Movistar's leadership, for at least 10 stages after Froomey's already spray-painted some garish neon yellow paint job on his bike. Just try not to get obliterated in a cross-wind for the first 7 sprint stages, and maybe you've got a shot against your own best pals!

c. Alejandro Valverde: How do you rate a guy, since being popped for replacing his entire bodily blood supply with Red Bull in Operacion Puerto in 2006, has only exponentially improved each of the 12 years since then? Hey, !@#$ if I know, but, despite his impressive history of one-day meltdowns wrecking his 21-day races, whatever it is you can't count this genial 834-year-old out. And of *course* he'll generously ride for you Nairo--right up to the second he smells weakness and goes all "Call of the Wild" darwinistic nightmare on your !@#!

5. Rigoberto Uran: Well, we'll get some flashes of brilliance before he fades. We still love you, grande Rigo!

6. Chris Froome: oh, all *right*! I feel dipped in swamp-filth just talkin' about 'im. So y'know that creepy internet video of that backwards-jointed quasi-dog headless bug-robot that's been circulating and causing total end-of-humanity "War of the Worlds" hysteria like "The Terminator" was some sort of staid National Geographic documentary instead of an alien dystopian hellhole future? Yeah, like *seven* of those things, *plus* the veiny twig-sculpture himself. Ugh. I *just* *can't* *stand* it. Tell me, tell me you aren't all just itching now for the relatively benign Lance Armstrong era, I *dare* you! Anyway, it ain't *my* TV ratings in the tank over this !@@$dhow. You suck, Tour de France:

7. Tom Dumoulin: Finally, although everyone's counting him out, there's not no merit here. Weak point: team--the higher he gets, the more he'll have to leech off other teams' tactics, and wheels. Strong point: this sprinty, roll-y, time trial-ly course is waaaaay better for Dumo, even with his improbable climbing ability, than the death-by-a-thousand-hairpins peaks of the Giro. Plus, *he* can time trial (of course, so can Froome now, but what dedicated donkey can't?). Cripes Mikel, if it can't be you, and I just feel too dirty cheering for Valverde, I swear I'm gonna have to root for this guy!

All righty--there's your GC, and I remind you, *none* of this is my fault. Next up, the roleurs, climbeurs, and stage hunteurs--you know you'd rather hear about them than contemplate this year's final podium anyway!

My Fantasy Chris Froome Press Conference

Good morning. I'm here today to tell you all to feck of--(Dave Brailsford leans in, whispers in ear)--I mean, to discuss my totally believable performances in the Vuelta, the Giro, and coming up, the Tour de France, over the past year.

First, I'd like to point out that as we all know, it takes a truly catastrophically sickly athlete to win as many Grand Tours as I have. Dang, if I hadn't had my guts actually clinically liquified by bilharzia, ingested an 80 foot tapeworm, both vomited and suffered explosive diarrhea for six months straight, had a head cold, toe fungus, gout, St. Vitus' dance, cholera, high blood pressure, low blood pressure, carbuncles, tinnitus, ovarian cysts, *and* asthma, I admit, I'd pretty well suck. Thank goodness for multiple ailments, amirite?

Second, I'd like to address this "donkey to racehorse" bull!@#$ that I've been getting from all you miserable so-called cycling fans for the last three years. As to why I didn't show any particular athletic promise as a young rider, !@#$ you! I was still good enough to be in the ProTour while you were still at home bitching about Lance Armstrong's interview with Oprah swilling !@#$ beer and stale chips like a fat-!@#. * Further, to paraphrase Kaiser Soze, I was *fat.* I mean, like, *Orca* fat. So you can see how Brailsford's positive-reinforcement regimen of smacking me in the mouth every time I approached the refrigerator has really helped improve my power-to-weight ratio. That, and that weird injection I got in that alleyway behind the Sky headquarters a couple years back that's slowly been turning me into a genetic human/praying mantis hybrid. (Blinks, shakes head) !@#$, I swear I can't see right since I started growing these compound bug eyes!

Third, I'd like to discuss this marginal gains horse hocke--(winces as Brailsford kicks him under the table)--uh, the many subtle changes to my diet, sleep, training, and exercise regimes. Luckily, none of the other World Tour teams, managers, trainers, doctors, soigneurs or riders ever thought of stuff like that to help *their* GC contenders, those dummies!

Fourth, I want to go head-on against these disgusting and utterly false allegations of bike doping. I *personally* watched my bike built up, and as Dave here reassured me, all those little wires, flashing lights, whirring parts, batteries, and computer chips are just water bottle cages. To think they're mounted *inside* the frames these days, who'd'a thunk it?

Next, and perhaps most importantly for you prurient doubting wankers, I want to talk about my completely benign Salbutamol overdose poz. Sure, Alessandro Petacchi could fit like 4 of me in his breast pocket and I *still* had way higher levels of that !@#$ in a single dose than he ever did in his entire career, but how else is a severe asthmatic like myself whose symptoms only kick in whenever I desperately need to up my tempo on a critical climb in a Grand Tour stage to treat such a consistent and terrible ailment?

Now, it's time to move on to my phenomenal 80k breakaway triumph on the Finestre, particularly this stupidity how of all the climbs in Italy I totally coincidentally managed to recon that one. Not only does everyone know rumors about the race course months before it's actually announced,** but I gotta tell ya, having the ability to dictate to the race organizers *exactly* what I wanna ride and when and where for the 1.5 million euro favor of my showing up sure doesn't hurt, honey! As to my spectacular attack, of *course* I gained all my time on the descent, you idiots--how much more aero than every one of the 206 bones in the adult human body and every joint to boot flailing in completely opposite directions at all times in all wind conditions can a person get, you silly things? Hell, if *Michael Freakin' Rasmussen* doesn't think I was doping more'n anybody el--uh, was doping on the Finestre, where the hell do *you* get off, you armchair weekend-warrior ignoramuses? And while we're at it, why aren't you guys investigating that bizarro aerodynamic microgel !@#$ Lotto-Soudal was using at the Dauphine? I mean, asthma meds at least help you breathe, what kind of Cold War spy-novel stealth-technology cheating crap is this?

Lastly, I'd like to say none of this would be possible without the support of my family, friends, and teammates, the enabling cowardice of UCI and the race organizers, the kind of impenetrable legal team that can only be assembled and wielded by a team with more money than God, and truly mind-bogglingly extensive medical interven--uh, the really neato wind-tunnel testing I did in January. You know what they say, it takes a village to raise up a donkey!

Well, that about wraps things up. In conclusion, I'd just like to say YOU'RE ALL BLOCKED FROM MY TWITTER ACCOUNT YOU SLANDERING MOTHER!@#$ERS--uh, I'm *really* looking forward to watching Dumoulin try to keep up with me again at the Tour. You think Carapaz and Lopez wouldn't help you reel me in, just wait'll you see Landa Quintana and Valverde going full nuclear option internally trying to kick each other's !@#--see you at the Tour, suckers!

*Hey, I gotta be fair here!
**Hey, I gotta be fair here!

It's Yer Off-to-the-Races Early Season Cycling Roundup!

Sowing the Seeds of Love/the Seeds of Love: Yep, it's quite clear the big squads are sending their A-game to the Gir--hah, that won't happen! to the Tour, dummy!--especially Team Movistar, which seems hell-bent on (1) sending Nairo Quintana, Alejandro Valverde, and Mikel Landa together and (2) ergo, self-destruction, with Movistar's formidable domestique lineup assigned to mountain suppor--uh, to break up the inevitable fisticuffs and prevent Valverde from slashing Quintana & Landa's brake cables with a pen-knife. Oh my goodness, cue the hippies bell-bottoms and flower-chains, we've got a love-in over here!

Dope-a-Dope: and, welcome to our first major doping scandal of 2018, as an impressive dozen riders from the recent Vuelta a Costa Rica--including the winner--got popped en masse for EPO and CERA. You cheap-!@# dimwits, don't you know you're supposed to pony up $100,000 for a *motor* nowadays? In other dope(ing) news, rumors continue to swirl around the horridly sickly Chris Froome's poz from truly warehouse-filling levels of salbutamol, including that he'll be subject to a retroactive 2-month off-sesason ban, that new UCI chief David L'Appartient will literally slap his wrist and sternly call him a "bad boy," or that the Giro organizers will throw him a ticker-tape parade and preemptively award him the final maglia rosa in Roma before the first stage even sets off. Harsh, man!

Pretty Is as Pretty Does: meantime, kudos to the race organizers (and graphic designers) over at Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne for their dashing 2018 promo poster portrayal of the rakish Peter Sagan as Emperor Napoleon, which is (1) not unlikely that he actually *will* rule the world someday and (2) a big step up from other official pro race posters of recent years featuring, for example, a giant blow-up photo of a woman's vajayjay and the words "WOW, DOES P***Y SELL RACES!" in 900-point bold-face all-caps. Progress!

Orange You Glad I Didn't Say Banana?: finally, it's a warm welcome (back) to the peloton to two smashing Basque squads, Euskadi-Murias and Fundacion Euskadi, who, in the approximately two races that've been ridden so far, have nonetheless managed to amass higher placing than, say, Cof--I mean, cough! cough!--has done in the last 10 years. Be patient, new little carrots--the victories are on their way!

It's Yer 2017 Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!

Y'know, as cycling fans, I feel we often take for granted the fine, upstanding members of the peloton upon whom our endless twitter rants, thoughtful blog posts, and many wasted hours of our lives that we'll never get back rely. So in this season of love and giving, let's take a few minutes to show our gratitude towards these hardworking denizens of the road, whatever they celebrate and in whatever Dante's circle of hell a few of 'em likely celebrate it in, by granting them their surely most heartfelt--or at least most sorely needed--desires:

1. Chris Froome: A year of good health. Seriously, ever since this poor boy went from perfectly healthy pack-fodder donkey to multiple Grand-Tour-winning thoroughbred, he's been absolutely plagued with incredibly catastrophic health problems--from bilharzia to asthma to severe menstrual cramps to Creepy Cyclist Overprominent Limb Vein Syndrome--which miraculously only seem to improve his performance, but anyway, the sad sickly thing just can't catch a break (though he catches damn near everything else). Get well soon, Froomey--!@#$, maybe then you'll win even *more* Grand Tours next season!

2. Alberto Contador: Froome's Tour. C'mon, like he didn't already deserve the damn thing anyway?

3. Mikel Landa: Let's face it, getting outta Team Craphole, he's already gotten a pretty sweet visit from Santa this season. But here's what he needs next--the Giro. That's right, the *Giro*. Yes, you can prove it on the road bushwhacking your own teammates at the Tour, but do you *see* how in a race where every watt counts and the other teams aren't blowing them that is going to be a hugely self-destructive waste of energy? Honor the fabulous Giro first, and get the Grand Tour win you need to send Nairo to the compost pile without a fight for it!

4. Alejandro Valverde: What do you even get a guy who at age 200 has, and still wins, damn near everything? More formaldehyde, or whatever Egyptian-mummy preservative-!@#$ he's huffing!

5. Gianni Moscon: Class. Not *a* class, but *some* class. Though he could use *a* class as well, to be sure--here's yer diploma, now either show us what you've learned and act like a civilized person, or shut yer yap!

6. Nairo Quintana: A suit of shining armor. Between Valverde coming at 'im with a Viking sword and Landa trying to hit 'im with an intercontinental missile, the poor little twerp's gonna need it!

7. Tom Dumoulin: A pink jersey? Naaaah. Give that boy a giant pink bottle o' Pepto-Bismol, and keep 'im stocked for chrissakes!

8. British Cycling: A ticket. To the 21st century. Don't be scared, you retrogrades--you're not gonna instantly shrivel your enormous gonads being in the same sport with the womenfolk!

9. UCI cycling: The world's biggest telescope. 'Cause clearly that iPad !@#$ ain't working, but if this thing can see billions of years back to the Big Bang to the very origins of our universe, it oughta at least help you see into a bicycle!

10. Daniel Teklehaimanot: He was in every break that, well, broke, he worked like a maniac, and was one of the most exciting young talents of the year to watch in action. And that !@#$wit Moscon gets a gig? Jaysus--get that young man a contract!

11. Andre Greipel: let's be honest, despite his total superiority over every other human being on the planet, our lovable lug hit a bit of a rough patch this year. So to our dear Gorilla, I say go screw Sagan and let's go for the big one for Andre: I wish you the green jersey big guy, and a pile o' sprint victories at the Tour to boot!

12. Mark Cavendish: a nice box of Kleenex. FFS, will you stop crying about that crash with Peter Sagan at the Tour you caused already?

13. Team Sky: a scaffold. Cause it's only a matter of time before that whooooooooole deck of cards comes tumbling down, honey!

14. Chantal Blaak: Captaincy! *You* can bring up the water bottles to *my* World Champion-striped !@#, you peons!

15. The New Euskadi Team: Your very first Vuelta a Espana mountain-top win. Now bring on the World Tour funding for our Nuevo Carrots!

16. Vincenzo Nibali: Okay, he's popped. You *know* that Vuelta's got yer name on it, honey. Sure, it's a hollow victory--but sure as hell beats a hollow loss, amirite?

17. And Last But Not Least, Both My Dear Readers: May Alberto return to the peloton, Mikel officially kick everyone's !@#, and your Saganator post cute videos of him baking cookies *every* *darn* *day* (oh, and riding, too). Now let's raise the Festivus pole, light the lights, trim the trees, get our groove on for the Solstice, and raise a glass to dreams coming true, the lot of you!

It's Yer 2017 Vuelta a Espana in Preview, Part Dos: The GC Contenders! #LV2017

First, of we still love so !@#$ the !@#$ off ex-Euskaltel rider Samuel Sanchez, to whom I was going to give a podium spot as well as a stage win (shut up! could so either! even without that peptide !@#$!), let me just say: Aiiigggggghhhhhhhhhhh! Second, give me that !@#damn whiskey bottle before I snatch it outta your !@#damn hand!

Okay, with that out of the way, time to get down to business (or pleasure): it's high time for the fabulous Vuelta, baby, so let's talk yer General Classification Contenders! Sure, there's only like 4--but this is the unpredictable and vicious Vuelta, and anything could still happen. My picks (and they're always wrong, so pro tip to place yer bets accordingly, especially if you'll share the proceeds):

Alberto Contador: It is unbe!@#damnlievable to me that, in the Sky/USPostal-reboot era, you would pony up for a rider like Alberto Contador and not spend the rest of your entire generous budget building an impenetrable and entirely single-minded mountains behemoth around him for the Grand Tours. But Trek, ya didn't. In his favor: it's his last race (waaaaaaah!), it's his home race (yay!), the course is perfect for a guy who lives to attack, and right now, his health is g--forget it, *I'm* not gonna be the freakin' eejit that jinxes 'im!

Chris Froome: It's just like the Tour de France, Chris, but without Mikel Landa being embarrassingly stronger than you and telling you to screw off! To his credit, the only rider in the entire peloton who could turn the most exciting mountain stages in all of cycling into a seven-hour death march of watching static on a TV screen. Now, that takes talent! Still and all, he's got humble--and incredibly talented--superdomestique Mikel Nieve (for the rest of this year, anyway!), as well as the usual raft of robot suspects, who seem to differ from the rest of their kind in their phenomenally lifelike ability to sweat, ingest food and water, and get tir--nope, they sure don't ever do that! A highly likely, if deeply vomitous, candidate for victory. But if you're gonna do that, can you at least show the *slightest* bit of panache and initiative and at least nominally try for a stage win? Nope, didn't think so, drone-boy!

Nairo Quintana: Just kidding! But Movistar's actually got a bangin' young lineup that can really do some damage, including Carlos Betancur. Oh come on! so long as he doesn't 'damage' the buffet too much he'll be fine. Maybe see you next year Nairo--if Landa doesn't crush you first!

Fabio Aru: Yes, he had a disappointing Tour. But he's bagged this hallowed race before, and now, he's had time to reflect, recharge, and most of all, get the crap beaten outta him by charming killer team boss Vinokourov. He's also got the incredibly versatile (and former Liberty Seguros Contador teammate!) Luis Leon Sanchez, and while LL Cool Sanchez never shies away from his own stage win, he's a good--and hardworking--guy to have at your side. Forza Fabio--just not quite enough to pass Alberto!

Vincenzo Nibali: He was 'only' third in the Giro this year, though he showed some serious signs of life late on. And when he's in health and on form, he's a formidable force. But our dear little Izagirre is out after his !@#$ crash at the !@#$ Tour, so he's gonna have to rely on other teams for both wheels and tactics. I'm rooting for you, Squalo--but yer even more hamstrung than Alberto, for heck's sake!

The Dark Horses: yeah, yeah, Yateses, but with Esteban Chaves to either support or contend with, there's a significant chance we love Orica will have to divvy up potential stage wins, or eat their own in pursuit of GC. And even Bardet isn't copping to anything more than some stage-hunting. But there's also Majka, and Tejay (oh BMC! I'm sure this is all your fault!), Kruijswijk, and Kelderman. Me, I look forward to their stage wins. Good luck guys--by the time the second week sinks in, you're sure as hell all gonna need it!

Well, there's yer quicky Vuelta a Espana GC In Preview--let's hope that stupid 40k flat tt doesn't kill the race, because in the Vuelta, that's what the mountains are for!

It's Yer 2017 Tour de France Rest-Day Week-One-in-Review!

Well, with the dullest course in living memory on the books, the Tour de France's been surprisingly (if daaaaaaarn intermittently) sprightly the last few days, so as Team "You Suck!" Sky dodges the traditional rest-day press conference like a bunny fleeing a wolf-pack, what've we learned so far, fellow tifosi? This stuff!

1. Shut it Froome. I don't even know what you just said. In fact, I don't even know if you've actually been interviewed. Just shut it!

2. Now, reasonable people can differ reasonably--even on the brutish playing field of a pot of tea and crumpets in the parlor--as to the etiquette of a rider attacking the race leader when he's got a mechanical or, if you're one of Froome's GC rivals apparently, ever, under any circumstances, at all. But if Sagan deserved to get his !@# kicked outta the Tour for the sin of Cav riding up under his handlebars from behind and crashing himself out, Froome absolutely sure as hell deserves to get his !@# kicked out of the Tour for intentionally plowing Aru into the spectators with his spiky insect exoskeleton. A punk move I get--deliberate revenge is bull!@#$. Is it me, or are ASO's tender feelings too hurt from the Sagan backlash to play fair enough to punish an !@#wipe who *really* deserves it?

3. Mark Cavendish may have a long and glorious history of being a petty, whinging wanker, and I get the deep and actually rational sense of injustice of the swooning Saganator fan-base over what happened, but anyone who aims their ire--and for !@#$'s sake, even death wishes!--at Cav's wife and kids is a total despicable scumlord. Perspective, you vicious freaks!

4. Trek-Segafredo--you're lovely for buying up Contador with a nice contract, and I do believe you mean so well by him--as evidenced by, if nothing else, the fact that his own teammates aren't openly trying their damnedest to throw their own team captain to the wolves in their own self-interest. But totally aside from Contador's own legs and creeping age, to beat those soldered-together nuclear-powered robots at Sky you *have* to have an *entire* team 100% climbing-ready to escort him in the mountains. What, you need more money--I've got the $50 bucks I couldn't give away to crowdfund Euskaltel burning a hole in my pocket, anyone else in?

5. It was nice to see the remaining GC contenders stepping up to superdomestique Chris Froome for his 2017 maillot jaune today. At least you know Contador, however and whyever hampered, will try to attack when he's got the legs no matter what. Really, WTF was *that*?

6. ASO, any bike race is always dangerous, but this Tour is *carnage*. Valverde. Porte. Thomas. About a dozen other guys so far. Can you *please* try to minimize the inch-wide descents, unpadded corners, and curlicue finishing "straights" for next year, for safety's sake? Honestly, we *don't* need or want the 'spectacle' of people getting hurt and wins-by-attrition! What is this, !@#$in' "Rollerball"?

7. Oh, FDJ. Such fine and deserving talent, but *four* riders outside the time cut today! Maybe you could call Dave Brailsford and talk, y'know, nutrition or something?

8. Speaking of whom, !@#$ you Sky for screwing Mikel Landa for the Vuelta! He looks like a sullen toddler stuck in his "time-out" corner out there. Can you *please* let the guy off the leash and give him a cookie or something?

9. Andre Greipel will so either. He's just, y'know, conserving energy and nicely giving fellow countryman Kittel a few stages to shine. Is too! PS Class for setting things to rights with Sagan after the incidente!

10. Two Grand Tour career starts, two Grand Tour career stages--the Vuelta first, of course. Who *doesn't* like to say "Calmejane"?

11. White shorts. Just--no.

12. Yes, Robbie, the mechanics of on-the-fly nature breaks are fascinating. Can we *please* stop discussing them now?

12. Where the !@#$ is our TV coverage of the Giro Rosa?! *Tell* me what sponsor !@#$ you want me to buy to make this possible!

13. Oh Nairo. Even without Valverde around to bushwhack you, you should've known this was an exercise in total futility before you started. Be honest--is this why you rode the noble Giro, to give yourself an out here?

14. I've said it before, and I'll say it again (which is why it's lucky no-one reads this rag anyway): high mountain stages with downhill finishes are a *total* *!@#$in'* waste. We *know* who can descend--even if they run into trouble. What I want to know is, outside of Froome and his mo--uh, "mojo"--who the hell on a stage can climb to victory?

Well, them's my sum-up. Landa, plot your escape, Nairo, plot--well, *something*, for chrissakes, and Alberto, whatever's gone sour, we trust you'll be back to smack down your rivals and remind them who *earned* 9 Grand Tours another day!

It's Yer Tour de France in Preview, Part Deux: the GC Contenders!

Okay, I've been avoiding this, due largely to the unfortunate fact that I recoil like a salt-sprinkled slug whenever I think about the Flailing Monstrosity Who Shall Not Be Named Yet. But now that you know the route, ya can't watch the Tour de France without knowing *who* to watch. So who're the mobile miscreants on the course, and what're their chances? Here:

Chris Froome (Sky): Ugh. Not only should he be DQ'd just for having the most hideous form on a bicycle *ever*, at last count his windmilling Elbows of Death have already taken out approximately 16 teammates' eyes on training rides alone--and your mother *warned* you about not playing like that! Worse, he rides like a !@#$ing metronome, and holds the unique distinction of Rider Most Likely To Be Even More Deadly Dull Than Watching Paint Dry. Anyway, he's had squat for results this year, but who *doesn't* think he'll miraculously show up ready to rumble by Day One come July? Not to mention his perfectly matched synchronized-swim-team-on-wheels. Possible saving grace: Mikel Landa, looking to score a lucrative new contract and chafing at Sky screwing him out of leadership at the Vuelta, goes rogue and does *exactly* to Froome what Froomedawg did to Wiggins. Karma, beeyotch!

Richie Porte (BMC): Having apparently learned only at the Dauphine that Froome's gonna reward him for 1000 kms of domestique labor while Porte was already riding for BMC, by, y'know, racing for his own squad, innocent babe Porte has clearly gotten the message: he's gonna ride for his own damn GC, at least until Froome's brow appears upsettingly dewy with labor on the Col d'Izoard and a contrite Richie goes all-in for the ungrateful bastard *again*. Strength: decent team, but they ain't no Sky. Weakness: self-abnegation, and WTF BMC, no Samu' to help?

Alberto Contador (Trek-Segafredo): Shut up! Go to hell! Can so either! Sure, he's getting a wee bit long in the tooth, but !@#$, Valverde's got chamoises older'n Alberto and *he's* still a viable (if unbelievable) GC candidate. Plus, with 9 Grand Tour victories under his belt, and an instinctive propensity to attack, you still can't count the old boy out. Weakness: good luck with Degenstache (reasonably) wanting to ride for himself on select stages, squandering precious energy Alberto needs every calorie of against juggernaut Sky. That, and is he !@#$in' covered with magnets that the entire !@#damn peloton is drawn to run into him? I know I thought (correctly) that he was a twerp for years--but *please*, not that horrid other guy!

Nairo Quintana (Movistar): look, he's already got his excuse ready for blowing the Tour this year: even though he frankly looked like he was half-!@#ing it, he's still tired out from trying to win the Giro. Seriously, why bother with either one--does he even really *want* to win this year's Tour? 'Cause if he doesn't, I bet your 'loyal domestique' Alejandro Valverde does!

Tom Dumoulin (Sunweb): what the !@#$ are you *talking* about, he's a time trial specialist, not a !@#$ing cli--oh, he's not riding this. Oopsies! Bummer, too, Tom, because this flat boring-!@# power course could've been yours!

Alejandro Valverde (Movistar): yes, he manages one spectacular !@#$-up day almost every Grand Tour he rides. Yet, like a fine wine--well, more like a rotting bleu cheese--he gets better'n'better each year since his humbling lesson in fair play from Operacion Puerto. But don't worry Nairo--like lion on wildebeest, you're perfectly safe in the pack 'til you show any sign of weakness!

Romain Bardet(AG2R): it's so sweet that the French keep thinking they'll win their own Grand Tour again! Well, with any luck, this genuinely fine rider will at least podium, igniting an utter hometown press-corps feeding-frenzy over cycling's next great French savior til he (and any other local boy) makes a wrong move the next year and immediately incurs the soul-crushing wrath of a vengeful nation, psyching him out forever more. Relax, Romain--your countryman Nacer Bouhanni'll slug somebody and divert their attention for a day or two! Strength: he's young, talented, and hungry to live up to the hype. Weakness: no disrespect to AG2R's fine team this year, but he's still gonna need friends out there. And try to leave yerself plenty o' buffer room for the time trials!

Fabio Aru (Astana): He was unable to ride his much-wanted 100th Giro d'Italia, and he just showed his improving form by tearfully taking the Italian national road champs in memory of the late Michele. He's got passion, and he's got fresh legs--but he hasn't had a GT where he hasn't cracked yet. Good luck Aru--it can't hurt to wish for some, after all!

Well, them's yer GC, and just remember, if you're a betting person looking to make a pile of money on this year's Tour, I am always, *always* freakin' wrong. Next up: the Climbers, the Sprinters, and the Stage Hunters, and then it's on to the Grand Boucle!

It's Yer Smack-Talk, Scandal, 'n' Road-Race Roundup!

Na Na Na Na, Hey Hey Hey, Goodbye: look, there's no doubt Oleg Tinkov's brought a lotta, well, liveliness and publicity to the staid ol' sport o' pro cycling. But in the last coupla years, bravado and showmanship has deteriorated into vengeful malevolence and, let's face it, just bat!@#$ *crazy*. So it's with great delight that, after two years of Oleg publicly slagging dispirited Grand Tour superstar Alberto Contador as a lazy, talentless, over-the-hill never-was, I report that Alberto finally broke his diplomatic silence and came down like a bolt o' lightning on Oleg's sorry pissy head for his last race for House Tinkoff in Abu Dhabi: yes, the new Trek-Segafredo signing posed with his jersey zipper witheringly undone and the logo ergo squashed to the side for his official team photo. From Contador, that's like pinning Oleg down and scrawling "I'M A GIANT !@#HOLE" on his forehead with permanent marker and tattooing "KICK MY !@#" on his back in humongous Pippo-sized ornate script. Take *that*, you crass oligarch !@#$er!

Millenium: okay, it's actually "just" the 100th edition of the beautiful Giro d'Italia, but I'm sure *hoping* it'll last at least another 900 years, and the organizers of what looks to be quite a mountainous, smashing centenary edition can--after prematurely kidnapping Froome, Contador, Dumoulin, Nibali, Aru, Purito and Chaves and smuggling them to an undisclosed location in the race organizers' basement--breathe a sigh of relief that they won't *quite* be monstrously treated as a second-class race to the crappy Tour this year of years: yes, wee Nairo Quintana claims *he's* now interested in the Giro-Tour double that even Alberto failed to accomplish, which either means (1) he's aiming for the Giro-Tour double or (2) he doesn't think he can win the Tour de France against Sky's stoked-up android Discovery army, and wants at least to be able to claim--without an asshat team boss like Oleg disparaging the measly accomplishment--that he bagged a truly history-making Giro. Whatever the hell gets you there, Nairo--but am I the *only* one in a spitting rage because the Giro deserves so much better?

To Catch a Thief: meantime, in a grim glimpse o' the future for even stellar pro cyclists, 2002 Vuelta a Espana champ Aitor Gonzalez was arrested for robbing a cell-phone store, making, well, probably dozens of cycling fans to shake their heads in sorrow at what becomes of a former sporting hero after the pedals are unclipped the podium babes step off and the cameras go home. Helpful career advice: you'll make a *lot* more money, and suffer a boatload less consequences, if you forget the mask-on-your-face-and-finger-pointed-in-yer-pocket-like-a-fake-weapon trick and become a monumentally stupid no-questions-asked mystery-package courier for a giant untouchable World Tour team. Thank you Aitor, no charge, always glad to help a roadie in need!

Moto-!@#$er!: and, what would UCI's vaunted campaign to run over--uh, protect--as many cyclists as possible be without one last bit o' carnage to screw a great athlete's off-season? Yep, Ashleigh Moolman-Pasio busted her hip just in time to jack her winter training when some careening twit didn't notice a 5-foot-tall-plus woman in bright spandex riding a, y'know, entirely unexpected *bicycle* in a *bike race* the eejit was *working in.* Get well soon Ashleigh--and get a !@#damn drivers' license that's worth something, you incompetent !@#clown!

When Pigs Fly: finally, it's nice to see that British trackie Jess Varnish, who got completely unjustifiably slammed as a disgruntled !@#$ cyclist after accurately raising that British Cycling technical director/total doping apologist Shane Sutton is a low-rent misogynist pig, was finally vindicated this week after an internal review confirmed that, yes, Shane is a few grunts short of being qualified to wallow in a barnyard manure pile. What was that you told her to do Shane? Oh right, now that you're too old to ride, head off into retirement and start having babies--or maybe for their theoretical sake, better not, jerk!

It's Yer 2016 Ultra-Coveted Vuelta a Espana Racejunkie Awards! #LV2016

Still reeling from the official end of Grand Tour season? Unrelentingly morose since that !@#$wit King of the Freakshow Froome shot a poison dart right into our darling Vuelta? Well morose around no more, dear reader(s), 'cause it's time for the incredibly prestigeless 2016 Vuelta a Espana Racejunkie Awards! Prizes for our mortified (and thankfully oblivious) winners: eternal Internets glory, a custom-embroidered racejunkie cycling cap, a hideous trophy-like tchotchke, and, in lieu of a magnum of champagne, you come on over thisaway and I'll treat you to a regular at Dunkin' Donuts. So roll out the red carpet, don your finest cycling socks, and let's get this awards show on the road!

Guy I Want to Smack Every Time He Opens His Lying Doping Weasel Mouth Award: "Nairo did a nice job today." "Boy, was that climb tough." "Merry Christmas!" Yep, no matter how outwardly polite he is--and despite the fact that I was raised to be a delicate lady--I swear I want to slap Chris Froome upside the head with a lead bidon every !@#damn time he speaks from today til his inevitable Armstrongian downfall, which, to go by previous UCI track records, will probably occur about the time the Big Bang reverses and the universe collapses back in on itself. Dammit! Chris Froome, accept your prize--if you dare!

What the !@##king !@#$! GC-Screwing Dumbass Award: all right, race organizers--normally I'd give you a pass on anything because you're the noble Vuelta a Espana, but what the *hell* were you thinking starting off with a remotely-longer-'n-5-kilometer team time trial that decimated the !@#damn GC on the FIRST DAY and left Alberto Contador almost a minute back before he even had time to get his chamois on straight? Take your award, and shove it!

Crash o' the Race (Oh, for !@#$'s *Sake*! Edition): Lotto-Numbnut, whoever you were, come on up in tearful quivering misery and accept your life o' notoriety, because after taking down the luckless Alberto Contador in an excruciating crash that left him fully held together with gauze pads and tape for reasons no mechanical, road surface, or basic familiarity with a bicycle could explain, this is frankly the last award you're ever gonna get. Save the daydreaming for the off-season, you eejit, or get the hell off the road and let the GC contenders alone!

Crash o' the Race (*What* Did I Just Tell You Not to Do? Edition): yep, *another* steel bollard thoughtfully placed smack in the middle of the road by some unaccountably embittered urban planner, *another* utter failure by the race bosses to place the smallest shred of marking upon it, *another* innocent rider down and Taaramae'd home in an ambulance. Bollocks, uh, I mean, bollard!

Crash o' the Race (The Entire Planet Sucks! Edition): after battling through the mountains at darn near double the age of some of his competitors, with a hot shower and a cold beer in Madrid virtually within view, our dear Samuel Sanchez caught a bad corner and dislocated his shoulder in a horrid--and horridly demoralizing--time-trial take-out. And he *still* came in 12th on GC after he winced across the line--get well Samu you bad-!@#!

Get Your Motor Runnin'/Heavy Metal Thunder Prize: Chris Froome. La Covadonga. As the bone-crushing fatigue of supremacy in the Tour de France, a bronze medal in the Olympics, and an 8-month performance peak finally hammers home--as if!--Froome's 'energy reserves,' led by a really zippy lemon-poppy scone at breakfast, kick in right on cue, and he tick-tocks up the mountain and onto the podium with the perfect regularity of a Postal Service drone. Damn, that "marginal gains" hocus-pocus really *does* work!

Oh, Snap! Rest Day Press Conference Excellence in Insults Award: he's been soooo nice to his miserable !@#$ team, and so typically complimentary of his usual opponents, that you'd scarce believe it. But even our doe-eyed hero Contador couldn't resist confirming to an inquiring wiseacre that no, he *didn't* want to ride like Froome does making out with his power meter for 2,000 kilometers. Take that, you horrid Sky spider-metronome!

Bestest Bestest Sprinter Award: what the !@#$ are you people talking about, this is the freakin' Vuelta a Espana fer chrissakes! Any of you poor bastards who made it over the Aubisque without having to be airlifted by helicopter gets a prize. Step on up--if you've got any legs left!

Punk-!@# Move of the Race: yes, this is indeed a shocker: for approximately the 96th consecutive Racejunkie Awards (jeez, I've been writing this drivel a long time), it's everybody's best bud Alejandro Valverde, saved from picking up the prize for nutwhacking his own team leader by this time actually bothering to hose someone else, to wit, apparently reassuring fellow countryman (and we all saw how much *that* mattered with Purito Rodriguez) Alberto Contador that they'd kick in a few wholly unneeded calories to chase down no-threat-to-Nairo cheerful stealth-weapon Esteban Chaves when he took off on a daring--and thanks to Movistar, unanswerable--late-Vuelta move to seal the podium *and* yet another reason for that tool Oleg Tinkov to bitch about him. Jaysus, Valverde, you're like a slavering spandex pit bull, throw yer budsd a *bone* whydontcha when you say you will!

Attack o' the Race: and, correspondingly, this is for wee adorable Esteban Chaves, cannily taking advantage of Alberto's still-healing body--and a peloton full of ennui--to attack from way out with Madrid in view and bag third place on the final podium. Aw, it's like being piranha'd on the ankle by a snarling Bichon Frise--it's just so cute you *can't* be mad at it!

Domestique o' the Vuelta: wah, Valverde for Nairo, wah. We all know if that if the Green Bullet hadn't choked so spectacularly on GC he'd've 'helped' Quintana by accidentally feeding his main--and all his replacement--bikes into a woodchipper. But who *could* be relied on, no matter what the challenge, terrain, or wincing blow to his own chances for stage victory? *That's* it, dog-loyal Tinkoff's (I know, right?) Daniele Bennati, working diligently for Contador from the first pedalstroke of the disastrous team time trial to the last depressing ceremonial schlep to the finish line in Madrid. Class, thy name is Benna-Jet!

Sleeping Beauty Award (And Lazy-!@# Prince Award, to Boot): *who* decided to catch up on their beauty sleep with a silent screw-you by meandering in a cool 60 minutes past the time cut, and *who* collapsed like a hurricane-swept house o'cards rather'n anger the whinging toddlers and kick out, well, the equivalent of the entire women's peloton, to avoid cringing embarrassment the next day when like 2 guys'd be left to show up to race? Uh-huh, like 90 clowns who smugly sought safety in numbers (and totally coincidentally, saved a ton of energy for the remaining mountains ahead), and the completely whipped race organizers. Congratulations--you oughta be ashamed of yourselves!

Grace Under Pressure Award: your team is nowhere to be found, except that one assclown who sent a congratulatory tweet out to one of your opponents. Your lackadaisical emperor team boss is still chasing Peter Sagan's holy shadow. And how do you respond to this total !@#$shit? Yeah, you sweetly thank the engineer of your complete miserable crap season and depressing 2016 fruitless downfall for their unending warmth and continued support. Oleg Tinkov, you owe Alberto Contador a huuuuuuuuuuuuuuge reward for not completely losing it and going all Vinokourov on your sorry !@#!

Finally, the Corollary "You Suck, Oleg!" Award: it's one thing to be a bit short on reserves after you've targeted the Tour, to unfortunate effect. It's a whole 'nother animal to set 'em snarling on each other carcasses while they're desperately camera-whoring for new contracts at the gaudiest show on the calendar and merely send their wraith-remnants to halfheartedly schlep around at a Grand Tour you clearly don't care about. Forget Contador, the whole damn Vuelta deserves better than the likes of you buddy!

Well, now that the hair gel has melted, the trophies are handed out, and the few who've bothered to remain this long have collapsed into the warm remnants of their gourmet meals, it's time to pack it up on this edition of the Vuelta a Espana and head for home. Next stop, Lombardia--and Contador'll be there, beeyotches!

It's Yer Holy Crap What Just Happened Out There Vuelta a Espana Roundup! #LV2016

Yes, we're fully two weeks into what is usually the least ridiculous of the Grand Tours, the smashing Vuelta a Espana, and what've we picked up so far, scholars? Damn chaos, I say! Anyway, the current hoo-ha:

1. Today, where like 90 guys deliberately finished about an hour outside the time cut by pulling over for a cool drink, a massage, and a dip in the local hotel pool, is presumably a friendly "!@#$ you!" to the sadistic organizers of the last two stages, which ironclad rule, as the peloton correctly predicted, UCI would be too spineless to enforce. S!@#$w off, UCI, or next time we're going on a 4-hour guided walking tour of the nice village we're passing by, too!

2. Usually, Grand Tour riders are strong in their youth, but gain tactical sense and lose, well, stupid as they age. Froome, of course, is in total reverse. What the heck was he thinking today? I mean, I get--maybe--condescending to Contador and covering your own implausibly miraculous performance by letting him take a little time back today. But Quintana? Jaysus, *how* can this amateur have won three Tours? Oh, wait, I know...

3. It's perfectly normal to peak, as, say, Valverde and Froome have, for 8 straight months of the season including all of the GTs, most of the Classics, the Olympics, and all the short "training" stage races in between, as long as you have one bad day. Must be that no-one in cycling--save, perhaps, Postal/Discovery--ever knew how to train, eat, sleep, or ride until this year. Whew, bullet dodged on the doping front UCI, you can go off and scan another top pro's ride for a motor you're never gonna find there!

4. Contador. If you were Froome, you'd've made up some bull!@#$ excuse to drop out 6 stages ago. Chapeau!

5. Tomorrow is a sprint stage. Given that giant Dutch riders have lately been known to take 86% gradient mountain stages the last season, anyone else banking on Esteban Chaves for the win?

6. Surprised to see Oleg Tinkov there shaking his fist for Contador--or was that giving him the finger? Sagan finally lose patience and kick you out of his entourage now that he's got a shiny new contract, did he?

7. What the hell, LL Cool Sanchez, you couldn't have told Vino to stuff his bizarro pointless orders to put the hammer down in the chase and let your ol' we-still-miss-shut-up-I-don't-care-what-they-were-forcefed-Liberty Seguros buddy snag back a few extra seconds on the Pasty Spawn of Satan's Soulless Beancounter? You *trying* for the Alejandro Valverde Hosing Your Teammate Lifetime Shameful Achievement Award? Send that unholy Astana/Sky alliance back to the flaming underworld from which it came!

8. DO NOT !@#$ UP THIS TIME TRIAL NAIRO. DO NOT !@#$ IT UP!

9. Didja see Greipel took a win today? Look out World Championships, he's comin' right at you!

Well, that's my solid analysis--and if you're thinking that Sky'll figure out a marginal gain for Froome between now and the next mountain stage that'll completely blow the race back apart, well, wouldn't that be an un-surprise. Til then, hang in there Alberto, you got essentially a rest day coming up tomorrow--just stay outta the sprinters' way, and don't let that petty asshat Valverde pip you for seconds while you're the only sensible one avoiding the 3k-to-go feeding frenzy!

And here, the sweet replay:

Let's Play Dodgeball: It's Yer Vuelta a Espana Week 1 In Review! #LV2016

Yes folks, it's high time to play that humiliating playground-game-o'-goonish-bullies everywhere--dodgeball, where some over-Red Bull'd bastard pitches a hard piece of sports equipment squarely at your defenseless 98-pound-weakling nerd-noggin, with the clear intent to hurt as much as possible, to the sadistic cheers of your 'roid-raged peaked-in-high-school 9th-grade coach, Vuelta edition! So what've you missed, cowering beneath the collapsible bleachers while praying nobody noticed you? This!

1. It's fine to exhaust your captain and set him back almost a minute on GC on the opening day making 'im domestique his domestiques on the opening day team time trial. !@#$, why not just have 'im hand his bike over next time one of his lesser teammates gets a flat on the final climb of the queen stage, can't screw him over any worse!

2. Not only did some thoughtless asshat neglect to put a big orange barrier and a person frantically waving a flag around a huge pointless steel "bollard" in the middle of the road, completely taking the very nice Steven Kruijswijk--and hat tip to organizers, noticing this !@#$ *afterwards* is not a particularly helpful response to someone who's just been whacked with a heavy pole in the "lumbar-sacral vertebrae"--but *now* poor we love Rein Taaramae's been knocked out of the Vuelta (and his very fine bike utterly splintered) by a numbnut Cofidis team car! Is this some sort of twisted pervert game of bicyclist Whack-a-Mole? You're not taking a !@#$in' roadtrip with your inbred buddies on a deserted red-dirt country byway at 4 in the morning to buy a six-pack of Bud Light fer chrissakes, you're in a *bike race* in the middle of the day--like, for your *living*--you eejits! I stand by my original solution--cattle prods, or one of those "electric fence" dog collars I think've been banned in some countries: one nice high-voltage jolt, and *that'll* keep you a safe distance away next time! Oh, for the innocent times of yore when some lumbering loser in a fright wig and hi-viz man-thong merely caused you to swerve off a mountainside by blasting a fog-horn in yer ear...and race organizers, *don't* start getting any offensive ideas from the fan base!

3. Valverde, man. I warned you dear little Nairo!

4. Sky, man. If it weren't for unfortunate attrition by saddle-sore and disgusting stomach problems (get well soon guys!), there'd be no hope. At least now if all the teams gang up and act in perfect concert maybe like one guy from another team's still got a distant chance at a podium!

5. What the !@#$ Astana, Samuel Sanchez stops to heed the call of the wild solo for *ten* seconds the entire race and *that's* when you put the hammer down? Well he's still in sixth you low-rent punks! Fabian, I don't care if you're *not* in the race--aren't you supposed to be policing this !@#$?

6. Looky looky looky at twee little Chaves!

7. Y'know, at this point, I don't even know if the stupidly scoured-up Alberto Contador is gonna start tomorrow--tho' since half the races this past year or two he's been whipping around with 80% of his body in splints, I'd be rather surprised if he didn't--but if this season's Grand Tours, and the truly vomitous lack of support he's gotten from his gilded wingnut team boss, aren't enough to make him question his life, his career choice, his entire belief system regarding the nature and order of the universe, and whether he just oughta go over to Oleg's house tie up his guards go into his living room where he's enjoying a peaceful lemonade and smack 'im square in the mouth in a fit of unseemly violent small-cyclist pique, I don't know what will. And frankly, if the discreet Samu *also* says you've ridden like a moron and needlessly whacked someone else down, you *know* you oughta just slink back to your team bus and burrow in amongst the dirty reeking yesterday's team kit like the hapless twerp you are. But even *if* Contador's lucky enough to make it to the finale in Madrid, Froome's *still* likely to snap his !@# with a wet towel and give him the world's worst chamois-wedgie while screeching "neener neener!" over his exhausted carcass, right as some other dimwit hits the brakes like they're about to t-bone a moose and takes him out again just in time for Froome to zip up the red jersey in triumph. On second thought--might as well go home and cool out playing video games til 2017 Alberto--even with Trek stacking half its deck with Classics up-and-comers, you sure as hell can't do worse than these clowns!

8. On a non-Vuelta-related note (I know, faithful reader(s), but it's just one, I promise), so now, on top of our star sprinter Nacer Bouhanni's penchant for self-destructive bar brawls, his baby brother is inciting fisticuffs with spindly outclassed unsuspecting fellow cyclists? Nice example you're setting there Rocky Balboa!

9. Finally, you've all been very patient. But don't worry lovely ex-carrots, your terrain is coming up fast. The GC's already pretty well set anyway, right?--might as well grab your own chances!

Forget That Wanker Cav, It's Yer Vuelta a Espana in Preview, Part Dos: The GC Contenders!

Okay, cycling fans, we've got the course of the fabulous Vuelta down: now who're the poor masochistic bastids twisted enough to take on the thing for the overall? These guys!

Alberto Contador (Tinkoff): you know the drill: the last few years, he's either crashed outta or been too tired to take on the Tour. But, on form, and however you think he has and hasn't done it, and after the natural indiscretions and tactical mishaps of youth, there's been no greater climber who can also take GC in the modern peloton, and the Vuelta is his kind of merciless stomping ground. How his? That's right, punks, he's bagged this Grand Tour alone three times, and if he takes it this year, he'll equal we-still-love Roberto Heras (shut up!)'s four-peat. Wildcard factor: let's face it, Oleg Tinkov's attention's been elsewhere, like getting a resort-perfect tan basking in the radioactive glow that is Peter Sagan, and he may not even remember at this point that there *is* a Vuelta. Ray o' hope: it's !@#$ing Alberto Contador for chrissakes!

Nairo Quintana (Movistar): for some reason, despite Movistar having the second most formidable GC lineup all year (behind the freaks at Sky, of course), our wee little pile o' pure mountain-goatness has had a lackluster season to date. But the mean steeps of the Spanish mountains are perfect for him, and he oughtn't be *too* set back from the get-go after the Stage 1 ITT. Go Nairo, for a high podium spot anyway--who doesn't love a redemption story?

Alejandro Valverde (Movistar): Sure, he's theoretically tired from riding--and damn near winning--the Giro, the Tour, half the Classics, the Olympics, and virtually every other road race this year in the UCI calendar--except that he never actually *gets* tired, because he's Alejandro Valverde, he just posed butt-naked and oiled-up for a magazine cover, and, uh, he clearly takes "nutritional science" to a whooooooooooole 'nother level. And of course, he's not going to the Vuelta for himself--he's going for Nairo, if you define "going for" as "hovering over his desiccated desert-drained carcass like a starving vulture waiting for the perfect moment of weakness." *Such* a generous helpmate, Alejandro--and good luck keeping an eye on your own teammate Nairo, much less your actual other competitors!

Ugh, Chris Froome (Sky): fresh off his trouncing Tour de France victory, and still in ghastly irritating delight over his bronze medal in Rio, Froome's ready to do what virtually anyone else would only be capable of doing in his situation: absolutely sucking, except he's got a cybernetic Borg-squadron of half-human half-derailleur tig-welded Franken-wraiths to bring him up to the last 100 meters of every single climb on every single day before they even break a sweat enough to need to dab their delicate brows with a hanky. Me: I hope Mikel Landa--who had a rather indifferent Tour de France, but certainly had enough of being under the domestique yoke at his last team gig before inexplicably bailing for even less green pastures at Sky--finds the legs to match his talent *and* his ambitions and, as Froome did to Wiggins before him, *completely* calls bull!@#$ and bushwhacks--I mean, genuinely accidentally loses his earpiece when he directly tosses it under a race moto's wheel and thus unfortunately can't hear any orders regarding--Froome. Tough to bite the hand that feeds you--but *damn*, Mikel, not *that* tough if a red jersey can be yours on the final podium, amirite?

Esteban Chaves (Orica): he's humble. He floats up mountains like a dream. And, while he's clearly a threat, he's not *such* a proven dead-on threat that the Big Three won't consider pacifying 'im with a little friendly leeway, for a little while at least. Looking for at least a coupla stage wins outta you, kid, and a wholehearted fight for a podium!

Tejay Van Garderen (BMC): Oh, Tejay. Bursts o' brilliance, but totally unpredictable, careening from breathtaking greatness to miserable bonkfest within--sometimes multiple times within--a single stage. No matter the odds, we're rooting for you man!

Samuel Sanchez (BMC): Shut up! Go to hell! BMC sez he's co-team leader and he deserves it! How many !@#damn gold-medal statues of you are there in the village square of *your* hometowns, you miserable haters--and you can start taking bets now on what vicious mountain stage will be his!

Tom Dumoulin (Giant): just kidding! Seriously, when the !@#$ did these humongous hulking Paul Bunyan Classics goons suddenly become viable Grand Tour contenders, particularly once the mountains kick in? It's happening *everywhere*--and I call, well, hijinks, *that's* right *I* said it, *hijinks*!

And Last But Not Least, Purito Rodrigue--WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! COME BACK, DEAR PURITO, COME BACK! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Well, there's my Vuelta GC roundup, and if there's anything race predictions show, it's that they b--that anything is possible. Next up: The 'Nother Riders. Til then, venga Alberto, and Samu, bring us home one last stage win before you retire!

It's Your Holy Crap What Just Happened at the Tour de France !#$-show in Review! #TDF2016

Okay, cycling fans--you've seen the footage, you've heard the screams, but a whoooole lot was going on in that stage even *plus* that, so where do we start with a review of the bloody carnage? Here!

The Break: Yes, it all started as a perfectly ordinary day at the Tour de France, with the climb up the legendary Mont Ventoux axed by 6 kilometers after both Quintana brothers were blown off the top of the mountain by 150 kilometer winds and into the valley below on the prior day's recon, a pile of French guys desperately trying to prove their country's cycling relevance on Bastille Day, and giant German monolith sprinter Andre Greipel--approximately both the size and weight of the legendary Louvre museum and all its contents--poised to take one of the most epic climbs in all cycling over a pack of flyweight Munchkin mountain goats. So aside from the usual contingent of early crashes, such as Simon Gerrans breaking his collarbone and *still* finishing the uphill stage, something akin to to having Muhammad Ali at his peak punch your face in 50 consecutive times without a moment's break, everything's going along normally and swimmingly, until:

The Great Pee Controversy of 2016: trust me, on any other day, this'd send hard-core cycling fan into a scorched-earth nuclear-option Twitter war of rage and emoji-stoked weeping: so like three Sky boys--essential domestiques to race leader Chris Froome--go down in a pile, potentially screwing Froome out of much-needed backup which could endanger his overall race lead. Totally coicidentally, at that *exact* moment, Froome's bladder *completely* blows apart, and he pulls the "courtesy-slowdown-for-the-maillot-jaune's-call-o'-nature" card, immediately causing the peloton's Chief Etiquette Enforcer (oh right, and noted bike rider) Fabian Cancellara to slow down the group to wait for him, sending trigger-temper Alejandro Valverde--who knows something about being a !@#damn weasel, thank you, and clearly calls bull!@#$--into an impotent rage and allowing Froome to get his domestiques disentangled and back in line to help him, thus averting an utterly fair and justified loss of time. What the hell Froome you punk, you're riding just fine without this sneaky crap! Which gets us to:

The Climb of Mont Ventoux: where, as a pack of enormous Easter-Island-figure-sized Belgian Classics riders naturally are the first to ascend the feared mountain over the wee climbers gasping behind, the joyful crowd, hugely intoxicated by adrenaline, an Oktoberfest's worth of beer and god knows what else, and the peculiar pleasures of acting like total !@#holes half-dressed in man-thongs, fright wigs, and prurient Furry costumes for the TV cameras, runs, as always, dangerously on top of the riders while also helpfully setting off smoke flares two inches from the nostrils of both boys in the peloton who actually *need* asthma inhalers for medical reasons. Meantime, as Chris Froome, his superdomestique--uh, Tejay Van Garderen's teammate--Richie Porte, and nice guy Bauke Mollema attack and successfully drop the already-embattled GC contender Nairo Quintana--the "unprecedented security" at this year's Tour, apparently consisting of an impressive two gendarmes, is outnumbered by a ratio of 20,000 idiots: to 1 as the race motos try to ram their way through the throng, at which point one unusually stupid fan gets waaaay too in the way, causing the race moto ahead to stop dead on a dime, Richie Porte to smash his jaw right on the moto camera, and Froome and Mollema to go down like dominoes right on top of him, with Froome's bike especially folding like a hot crepe, leading to:

The Olympic Track and Field Competition: Froome, with no replacement bike or team car in sight, completely going off his head in panic and sprinting up Mont Ventoux in his bike cleats but sans bike, while frantically grunting to his bosses into his race mic and being shruggingly waved off by passing neutral Mavic wheel-carrying motos, until:

The Merry-Go-Round: in which Froome finally gets a neutral replacement bike that fits like crap, won't let him clip in his shoes properly, and might as well have been some roadside fan two-year-olds freakin' Big Wheel for all its usefulness, which the exasperated race leader promptly abandons by the roadside, standing around losing time until the Sky team car finally shows up with a new bike, at which point:

The Comeback: Nairo Quintana, previously climbing like, well, a giant Belgian Classics specialist except for a coupla brief and fruitless attacks, cheerfully passes Froome along with every other GC contender who's previously been dropped, crossing the line after:

Someone Just Won This Race: poor old Thomas De Gendt, taking one of the most celebrated climbs in all cycling which would normally be the absolute highlight and triumph of any rider's career, crosses the finish line in victory to virtually no notice by the fans, TV commentators, or race organizers at all, after which coverage immediately cuts away to:

The Important Stuff: namely, TV clips from 20,000 different angles showing how utterly !@#$ed the race is, breathless interviews with dazed GC contenders, the race commentator's swooning shouting dissection of what just happened, and the race organizers' desperate rocket-fast attempts to figure out what's the fairest way to calculate the GC when it's just been totally upended by some flag-waving fan !@#$head, which includes, somewhere, De Gendt getting a nice jersey presentation, ASO provisionally awarding the leader's jersey to Queen Elizabeth in the confusion, and Chris Froome getting totally crappily and unfairly hissed by the crowd when he's done tweeting that he's just been handed the maillot jaune and finally deigns to go up to the stage and put it on despite Nairo Quintana crossing the line some 36 years ahead of him, while fellow crash-caught riders, like Bauke Mollema who for chrissakes hit the deck at the *exact same time and place* for the *exact same freakin' reason*, immediately take to Twitter to denounce how *they've* just been massively screwed on time while Chris Froome gets gifted a now-virtually-unassailable race lead ahead of tomorrow's key, and inevitably Quintana-crushing, time trial, and former race leader/inexplicable new GC rider Tom Dumoulin cheekily asking if they can get their 21 minutes they schlepped home in removed from *their* time. Yep, just another day at the office--damn, maybe poor Contador was better off inadvertently getting the hell outta Dodge and avoiding this nightmare, who *knows* what would've happened to him out there!

Well, that's just another day at the office at the ol' Tour de France--enjoy the recap footage, and if today's stage is any indication, anything goes for tomorrow!

Tejay vs. Richie! Nairo vs. Valverde! Skybots v. Contador! The 2016 Tour de France Shapes Up

Worlds are Colliding!: yep, before the ink even dries on Team Tinkoff's endless parade of shirtless Saganator studmuffin training camp photos--and Alberto, don't say we didn't warn you to get the hell outta there before fickle Oleg's man-crush faded--there's already warfare at the Tour de France, and this time it's at BMC: in what's likely to be July's best entertainment, BMC's boss has decided it'll be a great idea to let incoming Froome-whacking Skybaby Richie "Motorhome" Porte cheerfully share team leadership duties with stalwart existing GT leader Tejay "What the !@#$ Are You *Doing* To Me, Ochowicz?" Van Garderen. Hey, no reason Porte's epic meltdown at last year's Giro doesn't deserve as much credit as your incredibly gritty performance at last year's Tour de France! Still, BMC assures us they're best buds, and will figure it out like total gentlemen at the Tour. Uhhh...I don't know if you missed, say, the entire last season where Porte was treating unchallenged team domination and general pampering as his birthright, but I think you're overestimating your new hire "Mr. Sportsmanship" here!

Shooting Star: in contrast, the wise folks over at Movistar--who've spent the nascent off-season packing their roster with top-flight domestique helpmates--have already decided to at least tire out ever-podium Alejandro Valverde at the Giro d'Italia, presumably leaving him knocked out enough not to challenge Nairo Quintana's supremacy at the Tour but hopefully not so knocked out that he can't help Nairo beat down Froome and Contador there. I bow to your superior tactics, o Movistar! Still, Valverde's never missed a chance to take a chance, whether it's at someone else's expense or not, so maybe keeping a close on eye on 'im wouldn't be *too* ill-advised, wee Quintana--just ask Purito Rodriguez!

Like American Football, But With One Guy on the Other Team: and, congrats in advance to the perpetually irritating Team Sky, who, in light of Porte's imminent transfer, took the obvious opportunity to buy up half of we still love Euskaltel to support that flailing bat-winged skeletor freak Froome, while, as noted, Oleg Tinkov decided to help his now-abandoned Giro-Tour double golden boy Contador by...yeah, getting new world champ Peter Sagan some backup for the Classics. Jaysus, Oleg, Contador's the greatest GT rider of his generation, but even he needs *some* ammo to help him *sometime* during the race. Oh, Alberto, to jack you out of yellow just to put Sagan in green near breaks my fair-play-lovin' heart...anyway, you've still got the winter to maybe talk that backstabbing sneak Valverde into some sort of beneficial alliance come next July!

It's Yer Ultra-Compact (for racejunkie) Vuelta a Espana Rest Day Roundup 'n' Mountain-Hell Preview! #LV2015

Whew, that went by quick, especially if yer a moto driver runnin' like the wind ahead of a fire-spittin' Tinkov! So what'd'ja miss, and what're we in for tomorrow (today, whatever) as the race *really* gets underway? This!

Stage 1: Surfin' safari! Riders enjoy GC-neutralized party in the dunes as enraged Nibali blames sand up his hoo-ha for lackluster team Astana performance. It only gets better from here, Vincenzo!

Stage 2: Rocket man: in an extraordinary display of common sense, 2014 Tour de France champ Nibali is ejected from the race after Alexander Vinokourov launches him to the finish line from a trebuchet. Jaysus, didn't they teach you in cheat school to pull that !@#$ when the cameras are somewhere *else*?

Stage 3: The prodigal son returns! Bouncing back from a disastrous Classics season, Peter Sagan finally takes first--that's even better than second!--in a sprint. Guess who's Oleg's little favorite *now*, Alberto?

Stage 4: Cue the Boris Karloff music, honey--Valverde creeps us all out again with his first win o' the race. You got like *one* day to pull this guy back before you end up being his water-bottle beeyotch, Nairo!

Stage 5: He's off--Orica-Greenedge's young Caleb Ewan bags his first Grand Tour victory over John Degenkolb. Didja notice Greenedge was already wiping the floor with everyone so far this race?

Stage 6: Remember when Orica rammed its team bus under the finish-line banner at the Tour de France, causing hours of chaos and an eternity's worth of humiliation on YouTube? Well ram this, haters, because it's wee Esteban Chaves' *second* stage of the race, *and* he's back in red. How do you say "woot woot!" in Spanish again?

Stage 7: Dutch treat! A nice win for Lotto's Jan Lindeman, and, even more satisfying, Fabio Aru put the hurt on the infernally annoying Chris Froome as Tinkov breathes a sigh of relief that Sky hasn't totally humiliated him with a Grand Tour back-to-back win just yet. Take *that* Landa, who's team leader now?

Stage 8: Carnage, and there's no dressing this one up, so speedy recovery and sincere best wishes to all involved. Best off of the day, with just a pile o' skin 'n' shorts ripped off and a DNS the next morning--Peter Sagan, fined 300 euros for kicking the crap out of a medical support van and his own bike after being knocked off it by an eejit moto. And just when his curse seemed to be lifting!

Stage 9: Puritooooooooooooo! No, he didn't win, but again, Chris Froome didn't, and, as some small comfort for Rodriguez fans, at least a deceptively cooked Tom Dumoulin came back from the dead and took the win. Hey, isn't this guy like two feet too tall for a climber?

Stage 10: Calm before the storm! The sprinters get one last chance to play before the mountains really kick in, and while most of 'em have already either crashed or bailed out already, Rojas and even Degenkolb were caught out short by a smashing surge from we love MTN-Qhubeka's Sbaragli. So nice to see the unexpected grab the day!

Rest Day: I don't know what-all's been involved for the riders, except maybe staying locked in their hotel rooms studying the Stage 11 race profile and sobbing uncontrollably. What gears do you need for "totally !@#$ed", again?

Stage 11: you've seen the pic, you've read the previews, you've heard the screams from the team bus--it's 6 peaks o' Cat-1 and Hors Categorie agony, and with almost everybody still at least professing to be whacked out from the Tour, a comparatively well-rested Aru might yet have the legs to take some GC time on this one--if Mikel Landa, who had a surprisingly crap stage 9, has either the legs or the mindset to protect him. Oh, dammit, that freak Froomey's gonna get this, right? Dammit!

Well, riders, the GC officially starts now--first one who cracks gets a pony for a consolation prize!

It's Your Vuelta a Espana in Preview, Part Dos: the GC Contenders! #LV2015 #lavuelta

Oh yeah, it's only a few short days 'til the fabulous Vuelta, honey, and now that we've previewed the excruciating course, it's time for General Classification contenders that'll be takin' it on! And while the Tour is one nasty prologue for the flaming-hot, steeper'n hell painfest like the Vuelta, with pretty well all these guys similarly gobsmacked, that oughtn't be such a huge factor this year. Yer heroes:

1. Alberto Contador (Tinkoff-Saxo): WELL HE'D BE THERE BEATING ALL YOU COWARDLY WEAKLING WUSSBAGS IF ANY OF YOU'D'VE HAD HALF THE NUTS TO DO THE GIRO WITH 'IM FIRST SO GO TO HELL YOU GUTLESS !@#$IN' SHOWOFFS! AND SAGAN YOU BETTER PULL OFF AT LEAST A COUPLA STAGE WINS FOR ME TO SAVE THIS HUMILIATING !@#$-SHOW OF A SEASON! Oh, Oleg Tinkov, tell us how you *really* feel...

2. Chris Froo--ack! yaaaack! gaaccccckkkkk! arrrrghhhh!--me (Sky): yep, he won the freakin' Tour de France, beeyotches, with a freakishly mountain-goat contingent o' Classics riders to pace 'im, and now the smug little !@%# is back to show that, though the Giro-Tour double was arrogant and reckless as well as downright embarrassing, the Tour-Vuelta double is, for any real rider, a piece o' cake. So sorry you're not there for me to stomp on again, Alberto--I'll be sure to wave to you from the final podium in Madrid!

3. Tejay Van Garderen (BMC): Dang, he rode well and bravely at the Tour de France, didn't he? But whether his body can handle the stress 'n' strain of a 3-week two-fer, at the heights at which his impressive talent is capable, is a whole 'nother question. Still, he's got Samu. Stay strong, Tejay, and hopefully you can show 'em all in week 3!

4. Vincenzo Nibali and Fabio Aru (Astana): Oh, the pain of having to "share" team leadership at the Vuelta! Say what you will about Nibs, but even after his Tour de France GC hopes were obliterated, the man kept stubbornly riding as hard as he could--pure and unadulterated grinta. As for Aru, yeah, you rode a *really* nice Giro with ex-Carrot Mikel Landa's monster aid--but remember your place, rugrat, your time is coming soon anyhow!

5. Nairo Quintana and Alejandro Valverde (Movistar): Oh, the pain of having to "share" team leadership at the Vuelta! But at least with Movistar it's because Nairo--and miraculously, even the dependably self-destructive Valverde--completely kicked !@#. So lay off Nairo if he falters, which he won't--the poor wee thing is probably *tired* for heck's sake!

6. Purito Rodriguez (Katusha): As the GC plans of the "fabulous five" imploded around him, Purito kept his cool, and took *two* smashing stage win at the Tour. But for my money, and despite his nearly Hornerish advanced age, the starkly beautiful Vuelta is the race for him, and now is his time. Shut up, go to hell, will so too either!

Yes, there's others. And the Vuelta being the Vuelta, I'm sure I'll be proved mortifyingly wrong. But even the GC contenders ain't all the action for this phenomenal race--next up in preview: the climbers, the sprinters, and all the other stuff to see!

It's Yer 2015 Tour de France Racejunkie Awards! #letour

Yes, the urine's been thrown, the champagne's been quaffed, and Peter Sagan made like a 1930s machine-gun gangster on the podium, so as we all catch our breaths and finally tear ourselves away from our Twitter feeds, it's time for the incredibly prestigious 2015 Tour de France Racejunkie Awards! Prizes: well, if anyone's so insane as to actually claim it, I swear I'll toss in an actual pretty little engraved trophy to go along with the eternal glory, shameful notoriety, and humiliating internet obscurity these fine awards will bring. So cue the Bernard Hinault-Christian Prudhomme dancing spangled chorus line, and let's start the show!

Punk-!@# Move of the Race: Yes, it is the topic of some debate whether Vincenzo Nibali intentionally attacked the yellow jersey when he looked directly into his face, saw he'd had a mechanical, and made what was undoubtedly a long-preplanned attack for redemption exactly at that very moment. Am I the only one who remembers the Schleck brothers (yeah, I said that, not the other attack that day) at Contador's Tour? But the winner is absolutely maillot jaune Chris Froome chasing down *every* second of Alberto Contador's moves from the very first *hint* of a hopeful pedalstroke. Valverde pulling that !@#$, I get--he's likely to self-destruct at any moment. But with AC six minutes down, that's not cautious. That's !@#holean!

Dumb-!@# Move of the Race: Warren Barguil, shouldering Geraint Thomas headfirst into a telephone pole *and* !@#-over-end into a ditch on a surprisingly broad switchback. Hold yer line, you eejit!

Formula One Wannabe Dipwad Award: Poor Jakob Fuglsang, about to pounce in the Alps from a breakaway and save the day for Astana when he's taken completely out by a race moto. Cold comfort: the motoman's ejection from the Tour, which was probably better off for the lout's personal post-race safety anyhow. You're supposed to ride *alongside* the riders, not *into* them, you !@#$!

Things That Make You Go "Hmmmm" Prize: for a hulking track-n-classics specialist, Geraint Thomas sure is one hell of a freaky-deaky mountain goat. All-rounders are a refreshing change of pace in the modern peloton, though. Quintana for Paris-Roubaix 2016!

Fan Disgrace o' the Race: that skankball who allegedly threw a cup of wee onto Chris Froome. There's *wanting* to--which let's be honest, is pervy enough--and there's *doing* it. Can we just find this repulsive clown and shove 'im off to live in a cave somewhere the rest of his life, away from civilized folks? Oh, the innocent days when you just had to worry about some bewigged howling doofus in a neon banana-hammock half taking you down on the Alpe d'Huez waving a giant flag in your face...

Best Domestique: yes, I am instinctively voting for we love Samuel Sanchez, who has turned his Olympic gold medal and prior King of the Mountains jersey into platinum domestique superstar service. But this one's honestly gotta go to brash prettyboy goofball Peter Sagan, who never hesitated to help a struggling, bone-tired Alberto Contador wherever and whenever he needed it most. Nice work, Peto--between that and the green jersey, even Oleg probably won't beat you too hard for not winning a stage!

Don't Look Back Award: y'know how Nairo Quintana took off on that brave, if ultimately too-late, attack against the yellow jersey on Alpe d'Huez? Yeah, it wasn't Froome he really had to watch out for, it was his own teammate Valverde! Just to make sure he was there to help if wee Nairo needed, I mean. Right, Alejandro?

Tearjerker Moment of 2015: Tejay Van Garderen's head being cradled by team management as he steps sobbing off the bike and into the team car as he retired within spitting distance of the podium in Paris. Shut up, ya cynic, like you weren't tearing up, too--now pass me the Kleenex, you know you've got a box of 'em right next to you right now!

Marginal Gains Award: Sky, I don't know *what* tweaks you were makin' in the absence of Porte's personal Giro d'Italia motorpalace--but I bet the other squads are trying to find out!

Whining Crybaby Statuette o' the Tour: his graceless constant bitching in the face of overwhelming success was that single singing mosquito that drives you screaming out of bed and bat-!@#$ arm-swinging crazed in the middle of the night. Wah, the press is conspiring against me, wah, it's just the Wheaties leaving me 8 teammates in front of me on the top of la Toussiere, wah, Nibali's unfairly attacking me, wah, someone's turned my face into a toilet, wah wah wah. Chris Froome, this one's for you--was there anything you *didn't* complain about this Tour?!

Uncomfortable Announcer Commentary Award: it rather guts me to do this, but ex-Lanceman Christian Vandevelde so perkily commenting on Sky's creepily familiar robotic superiority in the Alps and Pyrenees without a hint of, well, anything, for days on end was a sight and sound to behold. What's this paranoid bull!@#$ about the press constantly besmirching your integrity all about again, Froomey?

Hissy Fit of 2015: sure, I'd like to've heard what Froomey yelled at Nibs after their little imbroglio, especially as Nibs discreetly suggested it was far too outre' for delicate ears to hear. This one's for Thibaut Pinot, completely blowing his cool at a routine mechanical and even losing it at the teammate who responsibly stopped to help 'im. Did you see Contador petulantly slamming $10,000 of equipment around when Peter Sagan offered 'im *his* bike? No--but by all means feel to throw an epic toddler tantrum for the cameras all over again!

Crash o' the Race: sadly, there *were* too many contenders this road-slick destructive disastrous year, though miraculously, the race organizers managed to keep from actively planting a pointless metal pole right in the middle of the course to bring down the riders. Poor Tony Martin, enjoying one day in yellow after a blazing near-win in the time trial then busting his collarbone into six different pieces within meters of the line. And of course, he got back up, climbed on his bike, and--with the help of his teammates, but still--brought the maillot jaune home. Allez allez for a speedy recovery, with that attitude I expect you to get it back next year!

Simp Overlord Decision of the Tour: it poured like hell during the entire LaCourse, turning the streets of Paris into a Slip'n'Slide and sending a good half the women's peloton skidding across the cobbles like drunken ice dancers. And what do the Tour de France race organizers do? Celebrate Anna Van Der Breggen's audacious solo attack for the win ahead of a surging chase, and then call "time" on the men's GC after the first pass of the finish line when the pavement was already drying out so Froome needn't roll over any dangerous remaining damp spots. Can we just give the women a *real* Tour de France already, and let those pampered princes in the men's race take their chances in the last 10 minutes of the whole shebang for all that dough they make?

Everybody Polka Award: yeah, whatsisface won the mountains jersey in the end. But who clawed his way into it beforehand, *and* won two stages this TdF to boot? That's right, Purito Rodriguez, baby. Puritooooooooooooooo--now let's see what you're gonna bring on in the Vuelta!

A Bicycle Built for Two (Well, Second) Award: Peter Sagan, you are *nothing* if not consistent this season. But for your sake, can you at least take a stage win sometime this year, before Oleg remembers how much he paid you to help out Mick and Kreuziger and to bring home a snazzy green t-shirt?

Reality Bites Consolation Prize: finally, before the post-race team-bus horsewhippings get underway, let's give a big round of applause *and* buckets o' credit aforethought to Tinkoff-Saxo boss Oleg Tinkov, who, before the grease was even off Contador's chain, had Alberto loudly proclaiming his one and *only* focus from now on is to bring the Tour de France home for himsel--uh, for Oleg next year. Go to hell, Oleg, the Giro's by far the more beautiful race--and this debacle is all your stupid fault anyhow!

Well, I just noticed I didn't do a sprint award, which in any case belongs to Andre Greipel. So let's pass out the prizes, say farewell to Paris, toast the Tour, and get on to the beautiful Vuelta a Espana--Puritooooooooooooooooooo!

It's Yer Tour de France Rest Day Deux Roundup! #letour

1. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, OLEG!

2. On the other hand, anyone who gets kissed by a beagle can't be a *total* goon. But still mostly.

3. Alberto's looking, as he tends to heading into the third week of a Grand Tour, pretty strong. But if Froome's PostalDiscoverySky androids keep riding like this--not even counting Chris "the Pterodactyl" Froome himself--it ain't gonna matter for !@#$.

3. Quintana, man. Your "helpmate" Valverde is right behind you, and, well, it seems highly unlikely he's gonna hold off outta teamsmanship. Watch your back, little Nairo!

4. Am I the only one who thinks Oleg'd rather Sagan just take a !@#$in' stage win for once than don the "most consistent" green jersey every day?

5. Don't blame the !@#$in' media for everyone thinking you and your team are doping, Froome you baby. You riding like such a freak and having a !@#damn Classics specialist making Quintana look like freakin' Cavendish on a mountain climb are why. Wah, wah--the maillot jaune's your reward, whether you deserve it or not!

6. Speaking of whom, it's kinda a testament to Cav's sheer amazingness that everyone's acting like he's a loser for taking "just" one stage win this year. We really take him for granted, don't we?

7. Tejay Van Garderen. What a great job by him, *and* BMC. Samuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

8. PURITOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

9. Major, *major* grinta by Nibali yesterday. No matter where he places, *that's* a champion.

10. New UCI rule: any classless skankfest "fan" throwing wizz on a rider--no matter who that is, or why--shall be used as a fire hydrant for the entire peloton's next "nature break."

11. Of all the reasons guys've left the Tour this year, it's a relief to hear Basso's prognosis after his terrible news is excellent and dandy a baby Van Avermaet is pending. And could Vandevelde quit bitching how BMC should never have squandered a spot on 'im in the first place?

12. Andre Greipel. Gets no credit, but gets the glory!

13. Loved, *loved* Steve Schlanger desperately trying to milk Geraint Thomas for tearful emotion after Warren Barguil whanged him head over heels into a telephone pole and a ditch and getting a mild "it's irritating" in return.

14. It's been a *lot* less bloody this week. Let's hope it stays that way in the Alps--and go Alberto, or it's *this* next week in Paris!