Yes, unlike our beloved Giro and Vuelta, where sprints are what you do before you get on with the *real* racing, the Tour de France is a veritable playground for the sugared-up irrepressible adrenalin-junkie fast kids, with a good 1/3 of the Tour to get their speed on. Also in the mix: the green "points" or sprinter's jersey, which Peter Sagan better win because even though it's lame compared to the maillot jaune Oleg Tinkov wants *some* return on investment on his showy one-boy money pit. So who's going for glory? These guys!
Mark Cavendish: the Manx Missile's had only a so-so season, and frankly seems a bit dispirited since his 2014 season-long thrashing by Marcel Kittel, but Cav looked on grand form last year for July before crashing out with a dislocated shoulder in the 2014 Tour. Result? The man is out for *revenge*, and even without his intimidating palmares and low bull!@#$ tolerance from other riders, a pissed-off Cav is liable to chew your head off right along with your legs as he takes out his anger to the line. Just so's the rest of you stay out of biting range of those big teeth you oughta survive the sprints--better a lost stage than a lost body part, for sure!
Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel: he's big, he's strong, and the Lurch o' the peloton, tho' low-key, can still stomp out a win (and accidentally his rivals) under his big carcass without even noticing. Plus, his squad's been on fine form this season. We love you, ya big lug--I'm sure there's at least one stage win in your near future!
Nacer Bouhanni: oh, sure, he *just* hit the deck hard--so hard he had to pose butt-nekkid as a jaybird to prove it. But he's decided to do the Tour de France anyway, he had a smashing early season, and who needs a properly functioning "ribcage" or "cartilage" to, y'know, breathe enough to sprint? If he can hang on long enough to really heal up, hell yes there's hope!
Tyler Farrar: shut up! Can so either!
Michael "Bling" Matthews: has this kid been having a *season*, or what? He's obliterated the field in half the races this part of the season, and has an excellent lead out to boot. Go Bling!
Peter Sagan: he can climb, he can sprint, he can cost Oleg Tinkov 4.3 million euro--but what he *can't* do is justify his wormlike existence to vengeful team boss King Oleg after blowing his highly-touted and clearly overhyped Classics season. So will the Saganator have the mental fortitude to hold it together in the Tour, particularly with his squad's (!@#damn well better be) focus on Contador grabbing the whole Tour? Well, Peter's been doing pretty well again lately--but then, it apparently helps when he's separated from Oleg by a good coupla continents, and if Alberto does well, you *know* Tinkov's gonna be there for 24/7 yellow jersey photobombs!
The 'Nother Guys: yeah, there's Boassen Haagen Dazs, Degenkolb, and a handful of other cobbles-friendly strongmen, but pure sprints aren't necessarily their thing. But if they can ditch Cav out the autobus on some of those hilly midsections, there's room to play for other boys!
Out: Cav archrival--and best competitor--2014 bad-!@# Marcel "the Hair" Kittel, and reportedly so ticked about it he's trying to leave Giant "Doping for Hair" (a slogan discreetly dropped for the Tour) Alpecin. Yep, as with Nibs' 2014 GC win, every 2015 sprint victory'll always seem a little bit unearned--and Cav, now you got *no* excuses!
Well, we got the roleurs and climbeurs still left to go--and then, it's on to the Tour!
Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Over 21 Stages: look, it's clear who's really in contention here. But, as we know from last year's kit-shredding femur-snappin' carnage, *anything* can happen at the Tour. So who's who, and what're their chances? Let's preview!
Vincenzo Nibali (Astana): yes, he goes first (though not necessarily in rank), he's the !@#damn reigning Tour de France champion! And yes, he was roundly humiliated last year at the widespread suggestion that, but for Chris Froome and Alberto Contador's unfortunate crash-outs, he'd'a been bringing up the rear on the podium. But the slow-n-steady Squalo has won all three Grand Tours, which is more than Chris Froome and 99% of the other guys in the peloton can say, and he's got the wiliest s.o.b. of a team boss in the field, the brilliant, if vicious and unpredictable, Alexander Vinokourov. Strengths: mountain superdomestique Michele Scarponi, who technically won one of Contador's Giros when it got stripped. Weaknesses: is this lineup *really* a squad that can win Nibs the Tour?
Chris Froome (Sky): Sure, he flails around like a drunken windmill, but against all aerodynamic odds, this guy's got game: he's a former winner of the Tour de France, and, even more usefully, knows who and how to throw under the bus to get there. Strengths: his team's been riding um, almost supernaturally well, and with a personal net weight of approximately 6 ounces, the man can *climb*. Weakness: psych-out. What the hell is this princess gonna do to protect his delicate wraith-like skin-sack from the harsh conditions of a 4-star hotel-room mattress now that UCI's put his mobile one-man palace off limits? HOLY !@#$, WHAT IF HE HAS TO SHARE HIS ICE-BUCKET (hell, the *hallway*) WITH SOME LOWLY SLOB DOMESTIQUE? And was Froomey *trying* to lie down for a nice nap in the middle of the roadway 5 times a day last year? Forget setting the pace--the boy needs someone to keep him *upright*!
Alberto Contador (Tinkoff-Saxo): Can Alberto Contador be the first man since the legendary Pantani to score the Giro-Tour double? Well, as the Greatest Grand Tour Rider of His Generation, and the good sense to keep his form to himself, he's got a better chance than anyone else would. Strength: he's willing to risk everything on descents that leave the rest of his rivals carefully hugging the roadside, and surprise-attack his rivals at the unlikeliest, yet paradoxically most successful, points on the course. Weakness: no offense Oleg--mostly because you could have me frozen like Han Solo and shipped off to !@#$hole camp in Siberia--but one, wasting a calorie of your other riders' efforts on Sagan could cost you the race, and two even though 'Berto bagged the Giro this year, it sure didn't seem to be because of his team. Nice if you can press Sky into domestique duties again--but since that ain't gonna happen twice in a row, even nicer if your guys bring their *own* A-game!
Nairo Quintana (Movistar): humble, thoughtful, and already a Grand Tour champion at the tender age of what, 25?, Nairo is the purest climber of the lot--a handy characteristic on a course laden with fabled mountains. Even more bitchin', he's a major women's rights promoter in his home country. Strengths: just peerless--peerless I say--in the steepest grades in the world. Weakness: the Tour's a lot more balanced than the Giro. Another wrench: Alejandro Valverde's there to "support" Quintana, which means, so far as I can tell, he's gonna toss 'im to the gutter like a used musette on at least 3 of 5 summit finishes and kneecap 'im entirely for at least 1 stage win. Yeah, he's gonna "help" you like Froome on Wiggins, honey--keep yer eye on that sneaky little bastid, Nairo, you *know* he wants to one-up his 4th place from last year!
Other Guys: Yes, the French rode well last year, scoring 2 podium spots for the first time in well--heck, I wasn't a math major, *you* see if you can count that high. But even the best of 'em was like 8 minutes back last year, so if Nibs even just stays even, and especially if Froome Contador and Quintana don't meet with any major misfortune, they're screwed. And go to hell, Purito's gonna be up there too! I do expect Talansky and Tejay to put up a show, and since Tejay is bringing we love former King of the Mountains Samuel Sanchez, he won't lack for help in the heights. While we're at it, allez allez Rigoberto Uran--after that Giro, you're gonna *need* to do well!
Well, let's hope that between the cobbles, the crosswinds, and just plain breathin' in and out, that all these guys manage to stay outta trouble so we've got a fight worth watching. Me, much as I love king-o'-the-future Quintana and admire the tranquillo Nibs, I'm kinda hoping for Alberto this year--if only so Oleg Tinkov leaves him in one piece at the end of the race in Paris!
Yes, Tour fans, we're *getting* to the GC contenders next, I swear--but, as Brad Wiggins' virtually custom-designed Tour de France shows, the course itself can be difference between winning, or losing, the whole show. So here, what they're up against:
The Overall: no, this ain't no Giro: we got 9! flat stages, 3 medium hilly stages for the breakaway artistes, 7 mountain stages with 5 summit finishes among 'em, 1 individual time trial, one team time trial, and--though now useless to poor oppressed Chris Froome, who'll be forced to use a regular hotel room like a peasant instead of his one-man luxury motorcade--two rest days to relax the legs, restore the soul, and outsmart the narcs. How it breaks down:
Week One: Welcome to Le Tour, and the beautiful Netherlands! To get our first boy in yellow, we start off with a 13.8k exceedingly flat individual time trial from Utrecht to Utrecht. Not enough to blow the GC wide open, but just enough to scare a few guys a little! Day 2: 116 k with a coastline-hugging island finish that could toss in some crosswinds--so Sky/Astana/Movistar/Tinkoff, keep your captains up front! Day 3: if you can't handle the fabled Mur de Huy, with its 1.3k embracing a leg-crushing max 25% gradient, you're already in for it. Stage 4: it's the cobbles, beeyotches: 13k and 7 sections of potential disaster for any GC contender to have a mechanical or get caught up in some other eejits (or their own) nasty crash. Good luck kids! Stage 5, 189k and a sprinter's delight; Stage 6, a bit of a lumpy little beast with another threat of coastal crosswinds; and finally, another likely sprint stage to round out the week. Enjoy it while it lasts, overall contenders, 'cause next week, it's down to business!
Week Two: Stage 8: time to test those legs, climbers! Not so bad, but a finishing kick up the 2k, 6-odd% Mur de Bretagne. Stage 9: a hilly, but fortunately not too twisty, 28k team time trial, uphill at the end, which could leave some of the leaders bitin' their nails. *Don't* !@#$ this up for Quintana, Movistar! Day 10: relax, you've earned your rest day--instead of riding all day, you can use that time to freak out about tomorrow! Stage 10: *now* we're climbing! After a coupla cat-4s to lull the boys to sleep, it's a jarring hors categorie finale up the Col de Soudet. Ouchie! Stage 11: it's the pain-cave duo of the Col d'Aspin, and the Tourmalet, with, to be fair, a chill Cat-3 ending to give anyone who bonked earlier a chance to catch back up. And on the plus side, stage 10 didn't look so bad after all, right? Stage 12: no more gifts, honey: 2 Cat-1 slugfests, and the potentially GC-destroying--or making--Plateau de Beille. Anyone wanna place bets as to which stage Alejandro Valverde's gonna melt down on? Yeah, me neither, man's still riding like a freak--I don't think the hills will be his worst problem! Stage 13: a long'n'lumpy 198k schlep that'll mercilessly tease those climb-sucky sprinters still stuck on the autobus at the flat, friendly end. Now that's just mean!
Week Three: Stage 14: a deceptively false-flat midsection leading up to a sharp finish. Pay attention, GC! Stage 15: another day for the fast-men, whoever hasn't already abandoned the whole race in cringing agony. Stage 16: a break-friendly course with a sprint-lovin' end. Don't look behind you jaysus you've only got 1k to go don't !@#$ this break up and lose in the last 500 meters playing head games! Next day--yer last chance to rest'n' recuperate, 'cause Stage 17, it's up again with a Cat-1 before yer Cat-2 end-game. Stage 18--the hors categorie Col du Glandon before a mercifully (much) more manageable end. Stage 19--it's now or never for the GC contenders! Cat 1, HC, Cat 2, and Cat 1 to La Toussuire. Hang it there Alberto--if you bonk on the Croix de Fer, you can always bomb it down the Col du Mollard before the final push to the clouds! Stage 20: yep, if the GC guys've all been lucky, the race organizers have left it *right* to the end, as they tackle the Croix de Fer again and end up the legendary Alpe d'Huez. Gone from the planned route: the Galibier, nixed over some troublesome rockslides. Oh, throw 'em a rope and an axe and let 'em pick their way over with their bikes slung over their shoulders all 'cross-style--you *want* ratings drama, or not?
Last But Not Least: it's the ceremonial champagne-sippin' romps in the yellow, green, polka-dot, and white jerseys, and one last chance for eternal glory on the Champs-Elysees. C'mon, Cav, it'd be awful nice to see you back!
Well, them's the ride--and Contador, if you're not on top of the podium to bask in the Giro-Tour double, I'd stick on a fake moustache, sneak discreetly around that nutjob Tinkov, and grab the first damn flight outta Paree!
Look, it's only nine days 'til the Tour de France, and what's the big news in cycling? Right, UCI, ASO, and the teams are all in some bull!@#$ power struggle to "reform" the sport, and inevitably, they're gonna !@#$ it up. Ergo, it's time for the rest of us to take charge, so here, Yer Comprehensive Plan to Save Cycling:
1. Screw this revolving-door of teams named after corporate sponsors. Who the hell's ever gonna feel any loyalty to Team You Got Embarrassing Dandruff? Like with soccer clubs and baseball teams, your team's from *this* city or *this* place, and it's got *this* in big letters on the front of the jersey, and the corporate shills can stick their little logos on the shoulders the arms and that showy patch of real estate on the !@#, and we are going to buy 8 million tshirts and jerseys 'n' !@#$ to show our team pride. We're the Boston Nutcrackers, and you're going *down*, you punks!
2. Consistent, uniform team kit. !@#dammit, I *hate* when the teams change colors every year and it takes you (well, okay, me) half the season to figure out who's where in the peloton. Argyle? Great! Lampre? So pretty (though I did prefer the turquoise to that sedate navy)! FDJ? You guys get *one* chance to fix that monstrosity before the new rule's in place!
3. Podium babes. From now on, unless they've personally just won the race, they're Alberto Contador and Fabian Cancellara. At least that's what I'm sensing would be a ratings winner from all those lurid comments on Twitter!
4. ASO gets a 12-month grace period to get over France not winning a Tour de France in 2 1/2 decades. Then, they have to stop acting like crybabies and help *solve* this mess. That's what like 80% of this is about, right?
5. The Amgen EPO Tour of California can damn well wait until the Giro d'Italia is over from now on. I'm tired of the Giro field being gutted by this stupid schedule change!
6. Halftime Shows. Let's face it--except for an occasional GC-threatening crosswind, *nothing* is going on, say, 50k into a glass-flat sprint stage. Solution: mid-way through each Grand Tour, we full-stop the race for a dazzling multi-million-dollar musical halftime show! And, if you're anything like American football fans, you actually *will* tune into a sport you never watch all year and blow the ratings, and the advertiser/sponsor dollars, through the roof just to see it. David Hasselhoff, man (he's very big in Europe), Nicki Minaj, hundreds of dancers in sparkling-crystalled matching team kits--let's get this party *started*!
7. Barriers. The season-destroying carnage from these menaces, and the fans who lean over them, has gotten out of control. From now on, they'll have those spinning-serrated-blade thingies like the chariots from "Ben-Hur" to keep people back. Ya wanna get closer? Yeah, well the riders don't want to break their damn bones for your stupidity, either!
8. Guy riders will, in addition to their regular team-captain or domestique duties, act as soigneurs for the women until pay parity is reached. Gee, I've got a crucial mountain stage to rest up for tomorrow--uh, can I run out to the pharmacy and get you a refill on your razor blades, miss? Yeah, two days of that--suddenly there's enough money for everybody!
9. Sharp left-handers within 500 meters of the finish line shall be padded with, instead of hay bales, the actual !@#$heads who designed that crash-inducing idiocy. Voila--tomorrow's stage has been rerouted more sensibly!
10. Anyone touching a rider, unless it's to squeeze with permission squeeze Peter Sagan's adorably chubby cheeks, will be summarily consigned to a cage-fight with Mark Cavendish. Ya can't touch anyone else with yer arm yanked off!
11. Anti-doping controls will be carried out by the slowest rider in any given field. That way, at least he's got a fighting chance of figuring out what the hell's going on so he can level the playing field for the next day!
All right dear reader(s), if I've missed anything, god knows our beloved cycling could use the suggestions. So let's fix what needs fixing, and get on to the Tour!
Good morning. I've called you all here today, even though nobody gives a crap about a minor ex-pro cyclist and current directeur sportif/trainer/bar owner/TV commentator/washed-up bitter !@#hole, because I've finally been busted for doping/my agent told me I might keep my current job if I do this/that rat-bastard ex-teammate of mine threw me under the bus to the narcs.
First, I'd like to address Denmark/Germany/Italy/are you *serious* that's all we're ever gonna get outta *Spain*?'s recent report on systemic doping in our country. At all times, I fully lied/deflected/minimized/covered up/pointed fingers at some other sap to the anti-doping authorities. Therefore, the fact that the report calls me out in only one/two/three sentences is a testament to their utter complicity/complete oafishness/general squeamishness/severe personal embarrassment in dealing with this scourge of our beloved cycling.
Next, I'd like to say that my farcical claim that I only doped during the "early" part of my career, when I sucked, then was perfectly clean when I was actually winning races, was to beat the statute of limitations/make my mom feel better/keep my most recent soigneur from hunting me down like a wildebeest/the most ludicrous horse-hockey ever conjured with a sleazy PR agent and desperate team management. In fact, I was taking PEDs up until 2 years ago/2 weeks ago/hell, I'm about to jam a needle in my !@# right after the press conference just to take a club ride.
As to the UCI, I'd like to offer my sincerest ennui/disdain/contempt/!@#$ you buddy! for their inept/ineffective/half-hearted/completely useless actions to clean up the sport. In particular, I'd like to extend my gratitude/shake their hands/kiss them like they've never been kissed before for tipping off my team boss about the impending midnight hotel-room drug checks/introducing the biological passport and providing a perfect roadmap to what I could get away with/buying that ridiculous story about how I just had a massive stomach virus/weird tropical parasite/pre-test sexual encounter/asthma attack.
Lastly, I'd like to thank my current team for supporting me/recognizing that my prior sins have nothing to do with them/understanding that the sport cannot move forward without an open and honest discussion of the past/promising not to have me whacked if I completely exonerated them from any wrongdoing. I mean....you're not gonna have me whacked now, right? Right?
To Sleep, Perchance To Dream (In Discomfort): well, screw the rolling hotel for Team Sky Tour de France captain Chris Froome: to the distinct annoyance of our pampered maillot jaune hope, effective immediately, UCI rule 2.2.010 specifies that riders *must* stay "in" the hotel accommodations offered by the race organizers. Special Tinkoff-Saxo exception: Oleg Tinkov retains the right to cram Peter Sagan "in" the hotel accommodation of the dumpster if he !@#$s up the Tour de France like he did the Classics. There's hope for you yet, Alberto!
Tough Love: meantime, the ever-erratic Oleg has, as far as I can count, changed his opinion about resurgent Tour de Suisse phenom Peter Sagan an approximate 34 times this week, alternately calling him a "good boy," telling him to go join Quick Step the ungrateful bastard because Oleg's sure not gonna whip out the checkbook again for his sorry !@#, and now, bizarrely, even complimenting him for today's second place finish to Kristoff. Damn, Oleg, make up your friggin' mind about the boy already--we're all trying to figure out exactly how much you're gonna hose Alberto by blowing domestique resources on the Saganator!
High Times: speaking of Contador, he's being typically obtuse--albeit tranquillo--about his form at the Route du Sud ahead of the first real climbs of the race, while Quintana, though always complimentary to his rivals, has made it clear that, after a long training period at home in Colombia, both mind and body are clear. Well, Nairo, at least Contador doesn't have another climber like Valverde to bushwhack him within his own squad in July--hmmm, between Sagan and Alejandro, who's gonna hurt who worse?
Viva Aviva!: finally, with the near-indestructible Marianne Vos already sidelined into commentating (but how cool she's commentating!) with a season's worth of ill-fortune and injury, speedy recovery to Aviva Women's Tour stage 1 champ Lizzie Armistead looking frightfully hurt--but luckily escaping unbroken--from her skirmish with the post-finish line photogs, and the remaining women going head-to-head in what seems to be a 5-stage sprint fest. So are these ginormous crowds finally convincing you wankers to show the races and put some dough into these women's squads, or what?
Smooth Operator: so everyone basically accuses Astana of being an obviously-doping pack o' Postal-Discovery autobot freaks at the Giro d'Italia, when they won like 4 back-to-back mountain stages with nary a breath inhaled, and what does Astana do at the Dauphine? Yep, defending Tour champ Vincenzo Nibali goes on an insane (and insanely-allowed) hammerfest breakaway--and wisely bonks the next day and blows the entire race. Well played, Alexander Vinokourov, well-played!
The Wind Beneath My Wings: y'know, I'm no aero expert, and I know the guy actually *won* the whole show, but couldn't Froomey grab even *more* seconds--hell, minutes! hours!--if he could find a way to halfway contain those gangly flapping pterodactyl wings of his? Still and all, he did manage to overtake incredible class-act Tejay Van Garderen--but in addition to general tenacity, and a beautifully-earned if rather regretted second place, the prize for Iconic Photograph for the Ages goes to Tejay--complimenti to a true campione!
Peto, Sit!: and, just as Tinkoff-Saxo was reduced to tweeting poor Peter Sagan congratulations today for his phenomenal performance of, um, posing for a freakin' fan selfie, the boy comes roaring back from his Classics funk and nails a hotly-contested uphill sprint at the Tour de Suisse with the expert help of Rafal Majka. In return, mercurial team boss Oleg Tinkov lavishly complimented the Saganator as a "good boy." Uh-oh, 'Berto--with the Route du Sud just ahead, not only has Oleg screwed you against the likes of Froome and Nairo with the Giro-Tour double, but now he might decide to actually squander some domestique resources you can't afford on Peter at the Tour de France--for god's sake, get this impending disaster under *control*!
We Interrupt This Broadcast For This Swooning Fan-Geek Moment: so what happens when you respond to a general twitter-shoutout to ask total Amazons Giorgia Bronzini and Elisa Longo Borghini at Wiggle a question? They answer--their happiest day on the bike ever was the first training day coming back from her 2013 crash (Borghini) and "the rest day!" (Bronzini) Oh, I'm just basking in their reflected smashingness even now...
It Was An Itsy-Bitsy, Teeny-Weeny...Aw, You Know the Rest: finally, as the women's peloton struggles for even half-assed respect, middling pay, and frankly hardly any TV coverage at all, let's take a minute to give massive props to the tone-deaf geniuses at the Flanders Diamond Tour, who utterly overshadowed Jolien Dhoore's smashing win by, as a disgusted Marijn de Vries promptly posted on social media, arranging a four-pack of heels-and-bikini-clad model-babes below the podium. Fortunately, as venerable UK rag the Guardian has reported, the Diamond Tour has since profusely apologized, promising that for next year's race, they'll be exploiting the women in skimpy Sports-Illustrated-worthy one-pieces instead. Yay, progress!
PS Didja see Tommeke win today at the Rund um Koln? Didja? Me neither, so here's some video!
The Intimidation Begins: yep, Tinkoff-Saxo's struck the first big psychological blow of Tour de France 2015: they've unleashed their special Tour team kit, a blue-and-yellow tie-dyeish camo design that virtually declares war on Alberto Contador's pathetic rivals. Not to be outdone, defending champ Vincenzo Nibali's Astana squad has reportedly released its own team kit design, a simple white jersey with "!@#$ YOU TINKOV!" emblazoned across the front in giant red letters. As for Movistar, Alejandro Valverde has allegedly secretly paid millions of euros to an elite military contractor to develop a cloak of invisibility to allow him to bushwhack titular team leader Nairo Quintana without warning. When asked for his comments, Team Sky boss Dave Brailsford dismissed the entire brouhaha, opining, "Nothing can beat our sexy see-thru mesh skinsuits. Except maybe those guys in the neon mankini banana-hammocks who always run alongside the riders on Alpe d'Huez...Hey, Arvesen, get our kit manufacturer on the line!"
Hour of Power: in track news, Sir Brad Wiggins' blazin' immolation of the fabled Hour Record is now totally overwhelmed by two far more important issues: (1) fer God's sake, you *don't* wear long black socks with navy kit; and (2) banned-for-a-decade doping-conspiracy team leader Johan Bruyneel and former UCI prez Pat "Dick" McQuaid were observed at the event having a disturbingly friendly laugh together. !@#$, like no-one thought that they were doing that for the better part of Lance Armstrong's reign anyway? Oh, right, and in inconsequential news, Brad's bike was illegal so his entire hour record was meaningless and Alex Dowsett's gonna come back and beat the crap outta Wiggo's new record anyway. Yeah, but with all this drama, who's gonna be left to watch the attempt itself?
UCI Can't Believe This Is Happening Again: meanwhile, I see two Pro Continental riders have tested "non-negative" for human growth hormone and EPO respectively, which, in addition to the recent scourge of amateur doping in the sport, the uselessness of the biological passport, *and* the fact that hardly any WorldTour riders have tested poz since, well, Contador (sorry, fans!), clearly proves an inverse relationship between doping and success, in that only riders who already suck by comparison to their WorldTour compatriots are dopers, and all of the very top riders in the sport are clean. Cause and effect, honey--whew, I feel so much better about those WorldTour squads now!
Lookin' Good for Tejay!: finally, as the Tour de France GC contenders (minus Alberto and Nairo, of course) face off in the Dauphine, the more interesting question seems to be how much the team time trial is gonna hurt 'em in the quest for the final maillot jaune, because it was a loooong 34 seconds over 24.5k between Dauphine time trial champs BMC and, unfortunately, Chris Froome's Team Sky. Well, everyone gets one bad day--I don't doubt that here or in the Tour, Froomey'll be able to inflict some serious damage on at least a few of his rivals in the mountains!
Island of the Blue (and Black!) Dauphines: yes, the road to the Tour de France is *on*, baby, as the traditional pre-Tour psych-out of the Criterium du Dauphine gets underway, with Chris Froome, defending Tour champ Vincenzo Nibali, Nairo Quintana number 2 Alejandro Valverde, and we love Purito Rodriguez (shut up, he does so too either count as a Tour threat!)--all deprived of a close-up look at Contador or Quintana--at least able to see if all that humble downplaying in the press about how their training's been going holds up for at least 4 of the expected maillot jaune contenders. Almost as fun: watching 2014 victor Andrew Talansky and--uh, a bunch of other guys who deserve a ton of press that the Tour-obsessed press is sure to ignore--battle valiantly for the win in *this* race. Plus, Samu!
A Little Roman-ce: and, as ever-shy team boss Oleg Tinkov bitches how unfair it is that those weakling weenies Froome and Nibs've got an edge in July by having been too cowardly to ride the Giro, congratulations to formerly-sidelined bio-passport suspect/indispensible Alberto Contador right-hand-man Roman Kreuziger, who, you've no doubt heard, has been completely exonerated by crack narcs UCI and WADA, or, if not completely exonerated on merit grounds, at least wins by sheer dint of incompetence on the part of antidoping authorities. Hell, we'll take our triumph however we can get it--and at least Tinkoff-Saxo's performance last month made them look like perfect angels compared to those freaks of Vinokourov's!
Froome Wagon: meantime, news reports indicate that Team Sky will indeed put up Chris Froome in his own personal rolling hotel room for the Tour. However, in response to concerns that the ultra-luxe Giro setup made Richie Porte "too soft," this version will be outfitted with a rusty washbasin for bathing in, lumpy pillows, a saggy military cot, and, worst of all, instead of a spankin' new deluxe espresso machine, he'll be given a 3-year-old tin of stale ground Sanka and unfiltered tap water to drink. Sure, it's disgusting and probably downright unsanitary--but if it works on 'im, who but Froomey'll give a crap?
Bike Doping Update: y'know, this whole motor-doping has long seemed to me like paranoid idiocy, but then, even paranoid idiots gotta hit the jackpot sometime, and while I still think the lingering hysteria over the Giro d'Italia Contador-Basso wheel change is totally ridic, I gotta say, this latest Youtube footage of Alberto Contador's clandestine training on Tiede is starting to look just a *liiiiiittle* bit suspicious. Still, I'll leave it to you to judge for yourself: Nope, looks like standard-issue UCI-approved equipment to me!
Yes, the champagne's been popped, the statue's been kissed, and Oleg Tinkov's already flown in a crack team of Russian hairstylists to consult on dyeing his 'do the exact shade of Tour de France maillot jaune in July, but in the meantime, as we all sleep off our post-Giro hangovers and general mourning lethargy, it's time for the incredibly prestigious and like-2-dear-readers'-renowned 2015 Giro d'Italia Racejunkie Awards! Prizes: eternal glory, a lifetime of notoriety and/or humiliation on the Internets, and hell, I'll throw in a spiffy free embroidered racejunkie cap to the first fool who claims his prize! Ergo, without further ado:
Marginal Gains Award: So Team Sky, in an orgy of anal-retentive overanalysis, sticks its pressure-cookered GC contender Richie Porte into a slick new one-man team bus, replete with the latest appliances, heated massage table, custom mattress, and a veritable fleet of minions inquiring anxiously after his every petty need. Given how well *that* worked out, Sky is now reportedly going to give this rolling Ritz-Carlton to their slowest, crappiest rider, who will, if logic follows, win the upcoming Tour de France. Don't worry Richie--I'm sure they'll let you snarf down whatever dregs are left in the coffee maker for one last breakfast!
Punk-!@# Move of the Race (Riders): Astana's stage 16 attack on Contador after his flat tire on Aprica. Response: all in the legs, as a distinctly-ticked Alberto ran down every last one of those bastards except stage winner Landa like a twee scrawny tank. You've been *schooled*, beeyotches!
Punk-@!# Move of the Race (Race Organizers): penalizing Richie Porte 2 freakin' minutes for unthinkingly accepting a friendly wheel exchange from fellow Aussie good-guy/Orica-Greenedge rival squad rider Simon Clarke. Sure, the way he imploded, it was the least of the poor guy's problems anyway, but still--psych Porte out *completely* whydontcha?
Don't Mess With the Contador Award: right right, all that attacky crap on the Aprica and Mortirolo. No, this is to the eejit who, stages after some numbnut with a camera crashed an innocent rider outta the race and crushed his entire season's work with it, thought it was a great !@#$in' idea to shove a selfie stick right into Contador's line on a climb. His cool response? WHAMMO--problem solved!
Poltergeist Prize: holy !@#$, what *was* that thing? No no, it was only in my visual range for a split second, must've been an illusion. Team Tinkoff-Saxo. Yeah, yeah, tactics. Where the hell *were* those guys when Contador was isolated in a sea of turquoise blue from 3 meters into every climb?
Crash o' the Race (Numbnut Spectator Edition): I get it. You want the shot. But the !@#$in' riders want to stay in one piece, dumb!@#, and sticking a really long camera lens out into the peloton on Stage 6 in the mad rush to the finish line isn't going to help them do that. Worse, it jacked the entirely innocent Daniele Colli with an excruciating injury and nearly took Alberto Contador outta the race. Go to hell, idiot, and next year, back the !@#$ off!
Crash o' the Race (!@#$wad Spectator Edition): ever wanted to experience the adrenaline, the pain, the sheer exhilaration of driving along with the speeding peloton, fulfilling a lifelong dream of ineffable joy? Well *don't*, assclown, because you're completely unqualified to do it! Yep, the astonishingly selfish and stupid fixie-riding poser who actually leapt into the race--and promptly brought half of it down, including unfortunate abandon Pieter Serry. And you *wonder* why everyone hates these guys?
Crash o' the Race (GC Disaster Edition): y'know, for a normal rider--even assuming the freakish masochism level perversely enjoyed by yer average pro--snapping yer shoulder out of its socket twice would tend to have somewhat negative consequences on one's ability to continue to ride, much less win, the race. For Alberto Contador, it means a piece o' tape and certain victory. Damn, can you imagine the gap to 2nd place if this little robot had been *healthy*?
Crash o' the Race (Pass-Out Gnarliness Edition): yes, it's a grim two-fer: I am no student of anatomy, but I am pretty sure that no human arm is supposed to turn like this. JAYSUS, Daniele Colli--please, please get well soon!
Garish Publicity Slut Statuette: is this even a contest? Prosecco-swilling podium-hogging maglia-rosa-upstaging Oleg Tinkoff, this embarassing win's for you!
Froome-Wiggins Memorial Bushwhacking Award: oh, dear little ex-Carrot Mikel Landa. Without you, Fabio Aru would've been toast--but with you, even Italy's new Grand Tour darling was in serious danger of being outshone. You better *hope* whatever team you're looking for that giant contract next year doesn't already have a GC contender who's gonna preemptively slash your tires every morning at the start line!
Total Outrage of the Giro: look, Alberto Contador's interesting and all, but let's face it--a Giro without Pippo Pozzato is like a prosciutto without di Parma. So *what* if he wouldn't've won a stage, or hell, be all that useful to Lampre? He'd definitely make it both way prettier and suave-ier--Free Pippo 2016!
Imminent Midnight Drug-Bust Swat Team Prize: You know I love you, Vino. But *5* stage wins? *2* podium places? A leg-locked pack of futuristic sci-fi skinsuited androids pulling a USPostal slaughterfest at the front for 6 hours a day, while you just clutched onto your license to ride by the skin of your teeth? I don't care if you're feeding these nice honest boys Pixy Stix for energy, you are *asking* for 24/7 surveillance and constant medically-intrusive doping controls! Oh, just let *one* of your guys get spit out the back *one* day each Grand Tour, at least the UCI'll be able to save some face...
Unsung Victory o' the Race: Remember brilliant Colombian climber/Tour de France King of the Mountains Mauricio Soler, who suffered a horrific crash and career-ending traumatic brain injury in a crash at the 2011 Tour de Suisse? Well here he is with maglia rosa Contador. Forza campione, sei un grande!
Sissy-Team-Boss Slap-Fight Award: so whose fault *are* all those crashes in the peloton? Well, if you're blowhard BMC king Jim Ochowicz, it's the uncoordinated nimrod second-rate crap-squad Pro Continental riders, the whole lot of whom should be kept out of the races with the *real* riders. If you're Pro Conti Androni-Sidermec team leader Gianni Savio, it's a moot point, because you're an !@#hole. Now apologize to your little friend, Ochowicz, and go play nice together from now on!
Now *That's* A Fine Worth Getting Award: you think the *winner* of the Giro d'Italia is a good rider? Well, the *last* rider on GC in the Giro d'Italia--who finished an impressive 6 hours 40 minutes and 13 seconds down on Contador--can *still* kick yer mere-mortal club-rider gel-suckin' wannabe !@#. TrekFactory Racing's Marco Coledan, chillin' on the roadside on the peak of the Sestriere the penultimate day 'til his maglia nera is assured and proudly eating the 500 euro fine. No smug little jerk's gonna not beat *me* this Giro!
Well, them's my ratings-busting award show--congratulations--or shame on you!--to the honorees, and don't try these disgusting shenanigans again next year!
Mean Girls 3: The Peloton: well, we learned a lot at the Giro d'Italia today, kids, particularly in the post-stage interviews: (1) *don't* try to pull that backstabbing grandstanding Team Sky Froome-Wiggins show-off !@#$ when we've already let you take two stages, or we'll call you back to the team car for a smack upside the head, a delegation to Contador-nursing duties, and a forced watch of yer team captain as he sails past you for the win whether you could've beat him there again or not; (2) Landa's definitely not about to go sending Contador flowers after their time on the course together but Alberto's a lot more discreet about yapping about it; and (3) I don't know what the hell was with all the Tinkoff-Saxo pacemaking being intentionally, and bizarrely, spent on the flats, but even the mighty Contador is completely !@#$ed for the Tour de France unless he can manage to make a de facto support team outta Sky, Movistar, and Astana *again*. Still, everyone's *really* happy with the race results and with each other--hell, Tinkoff hasn't even sworn publicly to beat down Contador for not taking a stage win to prove he deserved that maglia rosa and for humiliating him with a hydration bonk on the final mountain stage! I still wouldn't turn yer back on him at the post-race party tomorrow though, Alberto--even Oleg can't remember to tweet *everything*!
P.S. Did anyone else misread that cyclingnews quote as saying "Tinkov jubilantly celebrated...by punching the air *and* the photographers," and not even question whether that could actually be accurate?
Grudge Match: sure, he coulda--and shoulda--saved a little energy for, maybe, the Tour de France he's about to do in a state of total catastrophic exhaustion against 3 major (4 major, if you count on Valverde creeping everyone out again, which he will) GC contenders who'll be fresh as a daisy in July, but far be it from Oleg Tinkov for yesterday's humiliating blow-by of Astana on the Mortirolo to be enough public shaming for the previous' day's cheap-shot, 'cause Contador's needlessly attacked *again* on the day's only real climb, this time being magnanimous enough to let the breakaway have its glory (woot woot, PhilGil *again*!), but not so magnanimous as to not gack Aru *and* Landa out the back some like some toothless inbred baseball player's disgusting tobacco-chaw spit-wad. Damn, Oleg, about time to quit whining about other squads' tactics, ya think? Next payback: Tinkov lets a paper bag o' fightin-mad venomous fire ants loose in Mikel Landa's gym bag. Whoa, hope you decide to wear yesterday's sweaty bib short instead, Mikel--and that Tinkov, you use some of that dough you won't be "wasting" on Sagan to pay someone enough to keep a damn good eye on Alberto's gear the next few days!
"Dope" Is Right: over on Planet Random Target, the UCI's wisely marshalled it's anti-cheating resourecs against Ryder "!@#$, Did *I* Just Win Two Humongous Back-to-Back Mountain Stages?" Hesjedal, testing his bike for illicit motor-assists on the grounds that, y'know, he didn't drop outta the race crying when his GC went south and has kept on working really hard to win a stage. What, no razzle-dazzle, no showmanship, just a quiet day by day march up the GC? 'E's a witch! A witch I tells ya! Off with his 'ead!
Tomorrow: it's a relaxing 236k, 3-cat-1s slog to Cervinia before Saturday's spectacular, and potentially disastrous, dirt roads of the Colle delle Finestre. One puncture, and we know what *these* ill-bred clowns are gonna do--and it ain't gonna be handing a needy fellow countryman a wheel unless it's a hard whack over the head with it!
Straight Outta Chaingate: yep, in an early contender for the 2015 Racejunkie Awards Punk-!@# Move o' the Year, Astana decided to match Katusha's blistering pace and wankily attacked Alberto Contador hard just as he was grabbing a back wheel from Ivan Basso after a crap-timed flat, which, after a desperate chase which left Contador's teammates gasping in the autobus two feet up the Mortirolo, was roundly repaid when an enraged Pistolero dope-smacked every rider between him and the front of the race on the way to bypassing Aru, at which point previous stage winner/ex-Carrot Mikel Landa--or more likely his soulless boss Vinokourov--decided to say screw you to his anointed team leader and spit wee Fabio out the back as well, only to have Fabio implode even further with his own unfortunate mechanical and bike change and no damn slowdown for him either, the punk! Jaysus, can *anyone* keep track of who's bushwhacking who in this race? Still, Fabio continues to get massive points in my book because (1) he's still very young, and I distinctly remember baby savant Contador being a bit of a tactical eejit in his own day and (2) no matter how he feels about his ignominious ejection from team leadership, he refuses to say anything the least bit indiscreet about his apparently-former domestique Landa or the management. Meantime, the Twitsphere of course has been going nuts debating--in all caps at one point, so like, you *know* it's getting vicious!--the finer points of the unwritten rules of Grand Tour behavior, with the groups rather split between "this is an outrage to good manners! now bring me my tea and crumpets Jeeves before the rabble really bust down the manor doors!" and "this is a damn competition, you effete weenies, Hulk SMASH!" Big winner on the day, even if he didn't quite win on the road: former Giro !@#damn champion Ryder Hesjedal, who did let slip he was aggravated as hell at Tinkoff-Saxo for not letting him up the road to likely victory in the first place before the whole Mortirolo catastrophe even happened, but frankly, puts Richie Porte and everyone else who bailed out of a clearly unwinnable race to shame. Forza Ryder--and Alberto, I know Oleg's gonna make you grab one or else, but next time, let him off the leash for a stage win!
PS Tifosi Etiquette Reminder: *don't* dress like some weird creepy pervert alien ant in a completely incongruous superhero cape and get in the riders' lines at a crucial tactical moment--Alberto, *no-one* would've blamed you if you'd slugged that guy!
Porte Hole: look, I don't doubt that Richie Porte is a dedicated, hardworking guy. I also don't doubt that somewhere, Chris Froome is dancing an absolute polka at the realization that, despite Richie's early-race brag-fest, Porte now has no standing whatsoever to try to bushwhack Froomey, as Chris did so indelicately with his own team leader Wiggo a few years back, come July. But when your own DS is blasting your half-hearted excuse about a sore knee by saying that no, in fact it's yer head, and your own loyal domestiques are equivocating that they're not sure what the problem is and you'd better ask the race-whacked boy himself--added to Rigoberto Uran's shrugging off his own start-line bronchitis and nasty fall and deciding to battle on while the hugely-ahead maglia rosa sucked up a twice-separated shoulder and bashed legs and a smacked knee for !@#$'s sake--what *is* clear is that no matter how much pain you're certainly genuinely in or what incredibly disgusting virus you're now going to be diagnosed with, you're gonna look like a colossal whining, well, soccer player if you don't suck it up and honor the damn race you proclaimed your own obvious supremacy in by at least battling back as best you can til the final day you can slink back into whatever crap fuel-leaking rustbucket they're gonna let you ride in once they've taken your one-man rolling palace away. *Geez*, Porte, don't you owe it to your teammates to stay in and support your GC replacement Konig--if you're lucky, they won't even stuff you in the luggage compartment!
Tag Teams: meanwhile, though I normally hold Oleg Tinkov and Alexander Vinokourov about equal in the total raging nutjob department, I gotta say, while Oleg clearly can't shut the !@#$ up and quit openly smirking at whatever remains of Contador's competition--and anything can still happen, especially in this crazy race--at least he's being a hell of a lot more discreet than Vinokourov, having the sense to let Alberto's go-to guys visibly crack for the cameras while Vino's entire crew tick-tick-ticks away at the front of every monster climb as relentlessly as the worst days of Armstrong's motorized Stepford-domestique autobots. What the *hell*, Vino, of course ex-Euskie Mikel is completely pure, but you *did* just get threatened with the loss of your WorldTour license by the cowering impotent cycling authorities, don't you think it'd look a *little* bit less suspect now if you just ran 10 kilometers of plastic tubing directly from a cooler in backseat of the team car into the !@#es of their bib shorts? Still, to Aru's credit, he remains ever the gentleman, letting Landa off the leash when it was clear he could at least manage to glom onto Contador's wheel, pointing out Contador's relative weakness to his own teammate, and fully backing Mikel's taking off to grab the win. You could take serious deportment lessons from this kid, Oleg--if anything else should unexpectedly go wrong with *his* Giro, at least he won't have looked like a jerkface! Here, after a race moto totally jacks poor Atapuma, and despite an agonizingly brave surge by a then-heartbroken Trofimov, another darling former Carrot nails the Giro stage: PS Holy crap nice run there Hesjedal!
Next Up: an utterly sadistic post-rest-day crushfest, with the Passos Tonale and Mortirolo, and *two* climbs to Aprica. Enjoy, wee climbing glory-hunters and GC contenders--if even *you* guys don't run home crying by the end of the day!
Not Quite Yet, Oleg!: yes, a mere day after braggart wingnut Tinkoff-Saxo team boss Oleg Tinkov horridly jinxed Giro-Tour double hopeful Alberto Contador by tweeting mid-stage he saw no reason Contador shouldn't win the TT today--thereby, of course, making Contador lose his first-ever mid-race leader's jersey to a still-bonking Aru by crashing just outside the 3k mark--Contador appears to have shaken it, *and* his change in time trial position *and* his bashed legs *and* his twice-popped shoulder *and* Oleg meanly making him have a roommate like a commoner--off pretty well, coming in third after LL Cool Sanchez and, more importantly, obliterating Porte Aru and even Uran to the tune of serious time on GC the day before the first real decisive mountain stage to Madonna di Campiglio. Just keep yer yap shut, Oleg, you clearly almost screwed over Alberto completely yesterday, and anything can still happen in this slippery nail-biter Giro! Meantime, poor Porte's premature assertions of total domination and likely bushwhack challenge to Froomey at the Tour this year are now apparently in the tank, with his irate less-pampered teammates already having toilet-papered his posh personal team bus in vengeance and installed Vasil Kiryienka (for whom Oleg *just* took personal credit on twitter, pointing out he offered him his first pro contract in 2006) in Porte's silk-sheeted sanctuary instead. Oh, Richie, *don't* make us have to root for *you* now with all the crap luck and clear crushing disappointment you've had--after all, it would hardly be sporting to mock this 'marginal gains' bull!@#$ anymore with you in this sad state!
Oh, It's Still On, Baby!: still, despite the grim statistics, the remaining GC contender(s) aren't giving up: to his credit, Fabio Aru was gracious in complimenting Contador for his triumph, also thanking the fans and promising serious fireworks on the road to Sestriere. Hey, Pistolero, if you've got the time on 'im, why not be a gentleman and let Aru take a stage win to go with his young-rider's jersey? Tomorrow: and you thought *today* hurt? Oh, the hell with the GC, go Mikel and Benat--our dear ex-Carrots are doing *so* great this race!
To Sleep, Perchance to Psych Out Your Opponents: yes, with a relaxing day of massage, light riding, and fleeing in terror from Tinkov's raging angry goons, the GC contenders have taken time out to scare the bejeezus outta each other, with Contador proclaiming optimism he can save his shoulder and his podium by slightly tweaking his preferred time trial position and taking a pile of ibuprofen, Aru showing how relaxed he really is about potentially getting popped for his wholly genuine dysentery and coincidentally useful sudden weight-loss by officially suing Greg Henderson for the latter's calling BS on Fabio's bio passport, Uran set on recovering from a disastrous 52-second time suck, and Richie Porte--well, apparently he's too busy being waved at with cooling palm leaves and being served dainty bon-bons by minions in his one-man traveling palace to engage with the press, his DS, or his teammates. Watch out in July, Froomey, I think the karma you gathered bushwhacking Wiggo is coming back to bite your !@#! with this guy! Anyway, for my money, the real concern for GC is the team strength--either Tinkoff, easily the best on paper, is wisely holding back until the final week, or Astana's gonna continue to inexplicably crush them and leave Alberto isolated and he'll just have to hide from Oleg 'til the Tour. Don't give up Rigo, anything can still happen--don't that little twerp Aru's legs have to have a bad day *sometime*?
The Empire Strikes Back: meantime, over at the just-finished Amgen EPO Tour of California, lovable if terrifyingly bat-!@#$ megalomaniac Tinkoff-Saxo overlord Oleg Tinkov has not only expressed his keen interest in slashing dead-weight loser Peter Sagan's excessive salary--which seems a little, well, untimely since the kid *just* got his decimated mojo back winning 2 stages & the overall, which if nothing else shows the beneficial effects of being a giant ocean and huge continent away from his vindictive nutwhack team boss--but (1) sez it's true disgraced team founder Bjarne Riis was fired in part for watching "West Wing" reruns during major races (2) indicated Contador should be winning all *three* Grand Tours in one season, not just two like some quivering wuss and (3) suggested he'll either personally torture 20-odd innocent riders for the next 15 years with his hands-on-and-heads-off management style, or bail entirely on the team next summer just in time to reward them for their efforts by screwing them too late into contract season to find another squad. Thanks for the pep talk, Oleg! Alberto, I know yer signed til 2016, but at least heal up enough to grab yer cellphone, call yer agent, and get the hell outta there, *fast*!
Spectator Etiquette, Version 2.0!: and, with deepest apologies to the clueless for having left out a few key etiquette tips in my last Handy Q&A Guide To Stupid Crap Tifosi Have Actually Done, I add:
Q: Can I try to scare the hell outta the riders by pinging them with my pellet gun?
A: No, what are you, some spy-movie stealth-ninja wannabe you !@#$in' sociopath? Plus, you could put an eye out with that thing!
Q: I'm, like, really extreme. Can I jump over the passing peloton with my mountain bike?
A: It may look cool on Youtube, jack!@#, but can you *imagine* with your primitive thrill-seeking brain the bloody freakin' carnage of an eejit attached to a buncha prickly bike parts landing on 15 guys going 40 miles an hour from 10 feet up like a flailing swearing ton of bricks? NO. Jump off a cliff when the road's empty so you only impale yourself, blockhead!
Q: These stupid riders are totally in my way. Can I ram them with my automobile and throw them into a ditch/the fans/an excruciating pile of deadly razor wire?
A: Jaysus, NO. Plus, next clown to pull that !@#$ gets their license revoked *and* an epic personal beatdown by the offended rider's mom.
Q: The race is over already. Can I insert my radical political cause into the entirely unrelated podium ceremony?
A: No. It'll only make (1) everyone hate you *and* your cause and (2) Bernard Hinault dive-bomb onto you like an avenging cycling superhero and break every bone in your body. But you can, for example, protest by parking your tractor alongside the course. Everyone likes tractors!
Well, fellow tifosi, this concludes your lesson, so if I missed anything, just *try* not to think up something too stupid. Tomorrow: a six-hours-o'-nothin'-and-two-kilometers-o'-fear sprint stage. So GC contenders, stay outta trouble, and fans, remember to play nice--you do *not* want to piss off a guy the size of Andre Greipel!
I get it. The passion, the adrenalin, the reckless jockeying for position among a huge sea of frantic fans, the beauty and excitement of a sport that literally lets you so close to the players that you can touch them. But people are getting *seriously* hurt now, by us, and it's time, for those of us too stupid to do it for ourselves, to lay down some ground rules so everyone stays safe. Ergo, Yer Racejunkie Can I Do *This*? !@#$in' Idiots' Q&A Guide to Cycling Spectating (and y'know, I mean it!):
Q: Can I take photos of the riders at the start or end of a race?
A: Yes.
Q: Can I take photos of the riders as they go by during the race?
A: Yes.
Q: Can I take photos of the riders as they go by during the race by sticking my camera out into the course?
A: No, !@#$head. What're you trying to do, kill 'em?
Q: How about with a selfie stick?
A: *NO*, dumb!@#!
Q: Can I bring my dog with me?
A: Sure. An animal genetically predisposed to chase down any prey that passes it at high speed, what could go wrong?
Q: Can I let the dog off-leash when the race is coming?
A: No.
Q: But he's a really good dog.
A: What did I just *say*, for Chrissakes?
Q: Can a bring my baby?
A: Yes.
Q: Wouldn't it be cool if she took her first steps during a Grand Tour? I don't think anyone's coming yet.
A: No.
Q: Can I bring my toddler?
A: Sure. Does he *like* sitting around doing nothing for 6 hours in icy wind for a payoff of 30 seconds of intense, fleeting activity?
Q: Well, he gets fussy. Can I let him run around a little to burn some energy off?
A: No.
Q: Like when the peloton is coming?
A: For !@#$'s sake, NO!
Q: This text is really important. Do I have to look up from my phone when crossing the road?
A: Yes. Are you texting your lawyer about how much you're gonna owe a rider like Sagan in lost earnings if you take him out?
Q: Can I run along next to the leader in a funny outfit screaming at the top of my lungs?
A: If you must. But if you're not Didi "the Devil" Senft, everyone'll just think you're a !@#$.
Q: Can I touch the rider while he's riding?
A: No. He might get relegated, or slug you.
Q: What if he seems to *want* a little push?
A: Not in front of the cameras, eejit!
Q: Can I throw beer on the rider?
A: Do you remember what happened the last time you tried that with some random stranger in a bar?
Q: How about waving a flag?
A: Only if it does not interfere with the rider's (1) vision (2) wheel or (3) line. Keep it *back*, the poor sap you're waving it at probably isn't even *from* there!
Q: Can I whang one of those hard flappy promotional plastic thingies against the barriers?
A: Yes.
Q: Can I whang one of those hard flappy promotional plastic thingies *over* the barriers?
A: Can Oleg Tinkov whang an actual barrier over your head without you bitching about it?
See? It's *so* easy to enjoy a bike race without harming yourself, or, more importantly, the riders. Now pound back that beer, yell yer heads off, and stay the hell outta the *way* before they bar us *all* from the course, you ninnies!
Toddler Takeover!: well, Italy's got a brand new cycling god: yes, while the GC faves devolved into chaos behind, baby Cannondale Davide Formolo took a smashing win, and, after handing his bottle and lollipop to his soigneur, got on stage for his very first pro win ever. Not a bad one, either! And who's this "Jan Polanc" again? Meantime, over in the Amgen EPO "Does No One See the Irony of This Sponsorship?" Tour of California, Toms "How the Hell Do I Pronounce" Skujins--of Team Hincapie, which just goes to show how hard the Armstrong affair hit its participants--took an incredible solo breakaway win of his own. Nice to see the whippersnappers making a little noise--and watch out Contador, because from a GC perspective, that rugrat Aru ain't lookin' too shabby this week neither!
GC Chaos!: and, we're barely into the hills in the venerable Giro d'Italia, and one thing's already clear: Uran's screwed, Hesjedal's going to have to bag a consolation stage win, Contador may've taken pink (and too early at that, since I can't imagine Oleg's gonna let him give it away for a single day even if it would save Contador and the squad tactically) but Aru's the one with teammates able to hang with him 'til the end, and Chris Froome is *definitely* gonna demand that Richie Porte's luxury one-man rolling spa hotel be upgraded to a hideous McMansion-sized Trump-ian gold-plated butlered monstrosity so he gets to be even *more* special than his own damn domestique for the Tour. In related news, Oleg Tinkov reportedly rewarded Peter Sagan (spoiler alert!) for today's shock stage win by upgrading him from being stuffed into a cardboard cat carrier, to being stuffed into a plastic dog crate. "Marginal gains," Saganator--if you win *another* one, I hear he'll let you sleep in the custodian's closet next to the toilet brushes and mop-buckets filled with slop-water!
Miss Manners for Cycling Fans: finally, since apparently even ardent experienced cycling fans need a *reminder* not to be life-threatening glory-whoring egomaniacal dimwits, let's review: if you ride your poseur hipster fixie right into the passing peloton for the sheer wanna-be adrenalin rush of imitating people who'd actually rather not croak to serve yer twisted need for self-importance, you are, for lack of a more ladylike term, a total !@#$wad. *Jaysus*, it's not enough to stumble drunkenly next to a stage leader with a superhero cape twisting around your clomping feet, shoot a BB gun into a breakaway, send your kid out for an errand across the road right as the race is coming through at 40 miles an hour, let your excitable pony-sized dog off the leash, or stick a lethally-sharp promotional item into someone's arm 30 yards from the finish line anymore? *I* say it's time for the peloton to take back the damn road for themselves--that's right, make an unscheduled full-speed left-hander past the flag-waving guys *right* into the next pack o' nimrods who !@#$ with their lines. Free the Peloton!
Tomorrow, Tomorrow/I Love Ya, Tomorrow!: next up: Ale-Jet Petacchi gets his chance. But he still won't look quite as cute as Alberto doing that "Pistolero" move!
Woot woot!: yes, after 11 months of lonesome agony, the smashing Giro d'Italia is back, and with just one day til the GC contenders find out whose lumpen teammates screwed 'em in the team time trial already, it's time for our last preview! Who's left to cover: the climbers, the assorted stage fighters, and of course yer random slimy hot-gossip smack-talk roundup! The score:
The Climbers: sure, Movistar's saving Valverde to back-stab Quintana at the first sign of any weakness at the Tour de France, but even better, they Sky and even Astana've brought half of Euskaltel with 'em, and while Porte Alberto Uran and Aru are keeping their eyes and wheels locked on each other, this leaves a blazin' field of ex-Carrots free to do what they do best, unleash the pain on every damn climb from the Mortirolo to Sestriere. Vai vai Mikels Landa and Nieve, Benat Intxausti, Igor Anton, and Ion Izagirre! Oughta win *some* kinda stage *somewhere* after all that hype then his disastrous 2014: Carlos "!@#$ Off Comparing Me to Quintana Already!" Betancur.
The Sprinters: look, it's the Giro dammit, so who gives? But still, it's all about Andre "the Gorilla" Greipel, whose main competition is either at the Amgen EPO Tour of California (Cav) or felled by some strength-sapping virus and desperately trying to come back for the Tour (Kittel). Me, I'm calling we love Tom Boonen, whose recent dislike for the argy-bargy of his youth is outweighed by the motivator that his Classics campaign was completely !@#$ed, sentimental fave Ale-Jet "Wheezy" Petacchi, back for one more round with the podium babes, and, because he's also an ex-Euskie, surprise flatlander hit Juan Jose Lobato. Gorilla, you got *no* excuses if you blow this!
The Puncheurs: they're called "puncheurs" because if you !@#$ around and blow the breakaway in the last two kilometers, they'll punch you in the face. Also, they have a lotta power outta seemingly nowhere, and a distinct penchant for spoiling everyone's else's fun. We love Philippe Gilbert, who so fiercely and famously faced off with a giant crash-causing dog and his child charge some time back; "Bling" Matthews, who looked so dashing in pink lo those many days last year; Sylvain Chavanel (shut up! can so either!), Luca "the Beard" Paolini, and Simon Gerrans. Come on Chava--we know damn well you still got it!
The Latest: finally, I'd be wholly remiss if I didn't remind my loyal reader(s) that: (1) Reigning Tinkoff-Saxo megalomaniac Oleg Tinkov says if Alberto Contador doesn't win this thing in his sleep, he's a hopeless weakling weenie; (2) he'd win it himself if his damn knee hadn't been bothering him, but it's still strong enough to kick Berto's butt off Aprica if he don't save Oleg's ego; (3) no less a cycling god than Bernard Hinault says Alberto can do the Giro-Tour double, so no pressure if you prove *him* wrong; and (3) Tinkoff-Saxo have, in addition to a video of comely two-time champ Ivan Basso's plan for victory, released this *hugely* intimidating photograph of an intently-focused Giro squad absolultey *smoking* a woman riding home with her groceries. Beat *that*, Aru you poser pretender wannabe!
Oh yeah, baby, it's three days and counting down to the smashing Giro d'Italia, the bitchinest race (along with the Vuelta) of the year! And yes, those vultures Froome, Quintana, and Nibali *are* bagging the Giro in hopes that the ultracompetitive Contador'll blow his legs out in this one and leave him gobsmacked--or at least slightly less supernatural--for his run at the second half of the mythical Giro-Tour double, but there's still plenty of other GC action to be found this May. Who? These guys--and their jerseys so you can tell who's who from the helicopter shot, to boot!
Alberto Contador: yep, he's been training at altitude, virtually unseen for months, and his form is, consequently, rather a mystery. But Oleg Tinkov is *not* bull!@#$ting around, and he's packed Alberto's Giro squad with experienced two-time Giro-winnin' slickster Ivan Basso, the explosive if intermittently erratic Roman "Please Don't Let Him Get Popped Again" Kreuziger and Mick "Holy !@#$ Did You See This Guy Last Year?" Rogers. Only downside: he needs these guys in July, especially to make up for whatever Oleg decides to squander on Peter Sagan's green jersey plans, so they gotta leave *something* left in the tank. But with some real heavyweights out of the GC race, will that even matter? Forza Alberto--this is yours to lose, and if you want to make your irritable team boss happy, you damn well better not!
Richie Porte: y'know who's actually been taking win after win this year? Yes, it's crappy to compare 'im to a recently-healed Contador, but this guy has been bringing home the *bacon*, honey. And without having to worry about herding Froomey around--or even just dodging to stay out the way of Froome's ever-flailing limbs--if he can keep his cool and not have a disastrous crack, he's a known--and virtually proven--quantity. Downside: with all that hype, he's gonna be marked almost as much--even more--than Contador. I'm sure with the slick black team kit no-one'll notice you, Richie!
Rigoberto Uran: he's got a bangin' pink-skull clothing line, a suave nickname, some damn good legs, intimate familiarity with the Giro podium, and, on a completely irrelevant note, we love Tom Boonen this year--but Uran hasn't pulled off his Grand Tour overall win yet. On the plus side, his hairdo of late has knocked even Marcel Kittel off his perch. Lookin' good Rigo!
Fabio Aru: apparently, you can't say anything bad--or at least preemptively slanderous--about this guy or he'll get all prickly and sue. Ergo, even though he actually hasn't won a Grand Tour yet, he's my first choice for top of the podium, and I hear he only eats wholesome whole grains, lean cuts of organic untainted meat, and legitimately purchased all-natural sports drinks. Furthermore, his team kit is made of earth-friendly undyed hemp, he's nice to puppies, and he calls his DS promptly every night at 9 p.m. to wish him good night and sweet dreams and to ask if the nar--uh, to wish him good night and sweet dreams. Wait, what the !@#$ is this about? oh right, he's got a pretty impressive young palmares too. Good luck Fabio--Nibali sure made it clear he wasn't gonna save your !@# by riding this race for you! Wait, wrong Fabio!
Ryder Hesjedal: am I the only one who counts this former Giro d'Italia champ in with the big boys, and if so, why the hell? Besides Alberto, the only one with the final maglia rosa, and the iconic spiral trophy, to his credit. Oh, stuff it, he can so too either--remember this, suckers?
Well, there's the top five (yeah, I *know* what everyone's been whining about the rest of the field)--good luck to the lot of you, and stay the hell on Aru's good side!
Oh yeah, it's Grand Tour season at last, baby--and what better way to kick it off than with the insanely beautiful--and grossly underappreciated--Giro d'Italia! So before we get to the contenders--and yap, Alpe d'Huez, yap, it will so too be better than the Tour de France no matter who's riding it--what've these poor saps got in store for the next 21 days once they set off from San Lorenzo al Mare? This!
Stage 1: Yep, let's get our first boy into pink--it's the team time trial, honey! 17.7 k of pretty darn flat twitchy-as-hell first-day legs.
Stage 2: Sprintfest! I know, Tommeke's just coming back and this isn't his race, and Petacchi's, well, still about a hundred years younger than Davide Rebellin, but half the other fast-men have been felled by viruses this year, and these guys have got something to prove. Plus, in Ale-Jet's sunset Giro, the scene of so many of his triumphs, he'll be keen to at least be in the mix. So even if the Gorilla does get it, forza both of 'em--if not this day, then soon!
Stage 3: time to stretch the legs on the uphills before a flat flat finish. First GC contender to look weak gets mercilessly abused in the press the next three weeks!
Stage 4: Up and down again, and again, a flat end to the day. Puncheurs, unite!
Stage 5: Officially again, a "medium mountain" stage, but the first of the uphill finishes. Aru, if you haven't already been po--uh, aren't quite feeling your best yet, this is a nice place to show off!
Stages 6 and 7: Whew! More playgrounds for the sprinters. Enjoy 'em while they last, Greipel--or before the mountains kick your !@# out the race!
Stage 8 and 9: up we go! A steep schlep then slight whip down on stage 8, then a roller-coaster of a stage 9. Next up: rest day, thank God!
Stage 10: the GC contenders just have to stay the hell outta the way as the fast-men enjoy another chance to shine. But the pain is coming gentlemen, it's coming!
Stage 11: rather lumpy, but fundamentally harmless. Stage 12: flat most of the way, then a coupla big bumps and an uphill slog to the finish. Keep your cool, Aru!
Stage 13: !@#$, where are the mountains already?
Stage 14: Damn, a 59.4k individual time trial! Any bets on who gets hosed the worst?
Stage 15: The GC battle really begins! After the Passo Daone takes a serious 14% nip at the legs, the top of the Madonna di Campiglio will either bring Alberto Contador hope and glory, or a post-race team-bus !@#-whuppin' for the ages. Next up, it's the second and final rest day--as we all start to seriously contemplate, so is this "Giro-Tour Double" bull!@#$, or not?
Stage 16: ow ow ow ow ow! It's the fearsome Mortirolo with maximum agony of 18 !@#$in' percent--but that's not even the end of it! If Porte can hold it to Aprica, and get over that little matter of the 15% hump up the way, he's looking good for overall. But maybe not so good as Contador!
Stage 17: Any o' you sprinters left? Here's your reward--you won't be feeling half so great tomorrow!
Stage 18: On the plus side, it's pretty nice and flat at the end. Like anyone will have enough energy to notice!
Stage 19: Screwed on GC, but hoping for a game-changing--and stupidly unmarked--flash of brilliance, or at least a face-saving stage win from yer humiliating time trial? Cervinia's your chance--good luck with that!
Stage 20: D'oh! It's the Col delle Finestre, on the way to Sestriere. Has Contador still got it, or has the turmoil in Tinkov's house taken its toll on his resident GC superstar too? Is finally Porte going to grow into the hype? Or is an ex-Euskaltel rider going to make me not give a crap anyway? Yep, woot woot ex-Carrots!
Stage 21: finally, as the overall winner takes his chill victory lap--and it better be Contador, or it sure won't be chill with Tinkov following him in the team car screaming for 6 straight hours--everyone but the sprint lead-outs can just concentrate on staying upright and mercifully crossing the finish line in more or less one piece. Oh, come on, even if it's a bull!@#$ giveaway, like you don't think this'd be a nice goodbye for Petacchi!
And here, the entire course, with techno music--next up, our GC Contenders, and yes there are and no I haven't forgotten the other guys!
Alexandre Vinokourov: Good afternoon. We're here today to discuss UCI's controversial decision not to strip Team Astana of our WorldTour license, despite a string of doping busts that make the entire US Postal squad look like they were just poppin' a few Tic-Tacs for some extra race-day pep. First, I'd like to say, NEENER NEENER NEENER! Further--(aide taps him on shoulder, hands him phone)--dammit, I *told* you only to call me on that untraceable disposable cell phone! No, not *that* !@#$, the *other* !@#$! (hands back phone)--I'd like to point out that I've been firmly assured by UCI that this decision had absolutely nothing to do with my omnipresent screaming threat to rat every other team out and bring the entire !@#$ing hypocrite WorldTour down with me if I have to spend one more !@#$ing minute listening to this total hypocrite scapegoat bull!@#$ about *my* squad. Right, Brian?
Brian Cookson (smiles brightly): That's right, Vino! This decision had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that this entire sport would collapse, *again*, if you actually followed through with your threat!
AV: Additionally, the UCI's decision had nothing whatsoever to do with the incredibly powerful Tour de France organizers looking like a pack of complete incompetent !@#holes if the TV coverage every day had to run embarrassing Landis-esque recaps of why the 2014 Tour champ Vincenzo Nibali of Team Astana wasn't there to defend his title. Right, Brian?
BC (smiles brightly): That's right, Vino! This decision had nothing whatsoever to do with the Tour de France looking like a pack of incompetent !@#holes when the TV coverage runs an endless series of reminders why the defending Tour de France champion isn't there!
AV: Well, at least we never injected baby formula into our veins or whatever weird quack-doctor !@#$ Van Avermaet or whoever was accused of doing, ha ha! Finally, I wish to address UCI's warning that they will, instead of actually *doing* anything, be "watching us carefully" from now on. Hey, UCI, watch this! (pulls pants down, moons audience)
Piti Party: all right, own up you lying liars: Valverde's second consecutive win at a crash-marred Fleche-Wallone creeped the hell outta you too, as does the fact that this freak continues to podium straight through the entire season with no variations in form in every kind of race on every kind of terrain except--maybe--a pancake-flat sprint. !@#$, Valverde, you *want* you and everyone else on Movistar being assaulted by rubber-gloved narcs with giant needles in the middle of every freakin' night the rest of the season? Come to think of it, why aren't they doing that to you already? Oh, !&$! it, if it weren't for his Official Annual One-Stage Grand Tour Meltdown he'd already have the maillot jaune locked up in Paris...
Hard to Porte: meantime, right as Fabio Aru's epically incapacitating (and disgusting) stomach bug may already be screwing him out of the Giro, leaving Nibali to pick up team leadership (tho' a late tweet from Aru sez he's back on the bike, however shakily)--particularly in case Astana's adventures in pharmaceutical experimentation keep Nibs outta the Tour--now key Contador Giro rival Richie Porte is clearly en fuego, smashing the field at the lovely Giro del Trentino with an uphill victory. Y'know, Alberto, I *get* that Oleg Tinkov is still distracted chasin' Peter Sagan around in a hockey mask with a chainsaw over his monster Classics fail. But I hope your top-secret training regime is going precisely to plan, honey, because even Sagan might outsprint Oleg eventually and leave you as his next B-movie horror-show target if you can't step up to resounding success in both May and July. Climb, for God's--well, your--sake, *climb*!
Allez PhilGil!: finally, speedy recovery to an already Amstel-sore we love Samuel Sanchez and Philippe "Please Please Please Win Liege" Gilbert, who both hit the deck today alongside approximately half the peloton at Fleche, and whom I would desperately like to kick the rest of the field's !@# in Liege. The rest of you, same get-well wishes and best of luck--but I still hope Gilbert stomps you in the race! PS Don't worry Purito you still did great!
Oh, man, this is still somehow *so* disturbing....
Okay, to be precise, by "being on a bike tour" I mean "chillin' in the van watching the astonishing landscape sprint by while a pack of crazy Aussies and Americans actually ride these ginormous mountains", but I was being there all the same, and since I was asked to and I promised I would I ask: so why do *you* ride? Companionship? Fitness? Personal challenge? The perfect communion of person and machine? Slightly disconcerting sheer love of the pain cave? Me, I ride to go get truly superlative ice cream. So...what's your excuse?
No Pressure: let's face it: our little Sagz has lost some of his joie de vivre. Whatever tactical sense he had has disappeared like a dirtbag ahead of a drug test, he's got squat in the tank when he needs it most, and the poor kid's been so down he hasn't even had the heart to pop a wheelie onto Contador's head. So you've got *one* day to get your mojo back before your desperate boss Oleg goes completely crazy-!@# on your overpaid overhyped has-been butt--but no pressure!
Oh Tommeke!: and, it goes without saying that a Flanders without Boonen and Cancellara is a party without a cake, so while I dry my maudlin tears and grab a cold one to scream my head off watching everyone else slug it out, I gotta say, I know furry bad-!@# Luca Paolini's justly working for strongman Alexander Kristoff and all, but if *I'd* just won Gent-Wevelgem in total dominating fashion, I'd be sending that guy back to the team car to get me a refreshing lemonade while the rest of squad carried me on my shoulders on a palanquin all the way to the line up at the front of the race tomorrow, which, among other issues like a complete lack of athletic ability, is why I'm a selfish !@#hole and not an incredible gracious cycling champion. So this leaves us with a wide-open race with a slew of guys who've been absolutely blossoming in the absence of Fabs and Tommeke's long shadows, like just-dented John Degenkolb, Van Avermaet, Stybar, gutsy E3 Harelbeke winner Geraint Thomas, and former shock champ Stijn Devolder, as well as, well, realistically, everybody else in the peloton from Belgium. My dark-horse fave? Niki Terpstra. My guilty-pleasure-no-chance-in-hell-but-I-still-love-to-watch-him-anyway? The all-style GQ king Pippo Pozzato. Still, forza grande Luca!
The Forecast: 48 F and sunny. Like even *that's* gonna help you poor bastards!
Ow, !@#$!: finally, your course map is here, and while it's gonna be a bangin' bucket o' excitement from start to finish for us, it is, as always, a study in total !@#$ing bone-jarring suffering for the peloton, including three trips up the Kwaremont, a spin up the Paterberg, and, of course, the fearsome pave of the Koppenberg. Me, I'm hoping someone smashes apart a potential bunch sprint by a daring far-out attack. And to remind you, like you needed it, here, your tribute to Fabs' decisive 2014 victory, as the big guy (get well soon!) brings it in:
So good luck boys--both winning the race, and just plain staying upright in one (especially your collarbones) piece--let the pain and glory begin!
OT (takes podium with entire Tinkoff-Saxo squad kneeling before him): Good morning. I've called you all here today to stroke my insatiable need for attention and to address the recent rumors that, despite a couple of minor early-season victories from my chief riders that have done nothing to bring me the glory that is rightfully mine, something is very wrong here at Team Tinkoff-Saxo. First, let me say, nothing is wrong at all. Instead, we have cannily been distracting you and our fiercest rivals from our inevitable immediate sweep of each of the remaining Monuments, every one of the Grand Tours, and all other races by completely sucking so far this season. Hah, I can see we've already psyched you out, you gullible weaklings!
Second, to extent anything *is* wrong over here at Casa Oleg, it is absolutely and utterly everyone else's fault but mine. !@#&, what's the point of throwing more money than God at everyone who looks good on paper in the cycling world if you can't unjustly blame them for the way I'm handling the team? At the same time, until my minions can find a way to completely screw him financially and professionally, I also want to express my complete support for Bjarne Riis. ALRIGHT I'VE SUPPORTED YOU, NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT OR I'LL REALLY "SUSPEND" YOU, YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOT!
Finally, I am here today to announce my great and dazzling plan to fix this team. Henceforth, *I*, Oleg Tinkov, will be the *sole* rider in every race. Therefore, I will be my own team captain, superdomestique, sprinter, lead-out train, and bottle-carrying workhorse. I CAN CLIMB THE !@#$ING ALPS BEFORE THAT ALSO-RAN CONTADOR CAN EVEN FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET HIS BIB SHORTS ON IN THE MORNING, I WILL CRUSH YOU AT THE TOUR DE FRANCE FROOME YOU OVERHYPED PIECE OF !@#$!
This of course leaves you wondering what will happen to those team members who are still under contract until they generously agree to rip them up or I break their knees off. Be assured, each team member will be assigned roles fully in keeping with his million-euro superstar status and particular talents. Peter Sagan, being so fast in the sprint, will fetch me my coffee from Starbucks first thing each morning. (Sagan runs up to him with small cup) I SAID *FOURTEEN* SHOTS OF ESPRESSO, YOU IGNORANT WORM! (throws it in Sagan's face) Alberto Contador, with his peerless stamina and climbing ability, will be in charge of carrying my luggage up to and down from the 14th-floor penthouse suite of my hotel each day until he proves to me he's sorry for making me look like a total asshat in front of everybody. And of course Bjarne, with his great tactical expertise, will be in charge of keeping everyone's dirty cycling clothes properly sorted, washed, and returned to their owners in neatly labeled laundry bags by 4 a.m. each race-day morning. DOES THAT EXPENSIVE RAPHA SOCK LOOK LIKE SOMETHING I WOULD DEIGN TO LET THAT BLOCKHEAD PETER WEAR WHILE HE STILL FAILS SO BADLY? HE'LL WEAR UNBEARABLY ITCHY SACKCLOTH KIT UNTIL FLANDERS IS MINE, MINE, MINE!
This concludes our morning press conference. Thank you for coming and I am truly humbled by your attendance. NOW KEEP YOUR EYES GLUED TO MY TWITTER FEED UNTIL I POST A PICTURE OF MYSELF LEAPING SAFELY BACK TO EARTH FROM THE INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION WITHOUT SOME WUSSY LITTLE "PARACHUTE" OR "OXYGEN" FIFTEEN MINUTES AND FORTY SECONDS FROM NOW, YOU COWERING LIFELESS LEECHES!
Desperado: yeah, it's lookin' desperate over at Rancho Tinkoff all right, as rakish-n-almost-resultsless Peter Sagan blows Oleg's--uh, his own--first big goal of the season at Sanremo with an indifferent 4th and, at the start of his second pre-Tour showdown with Chris Froome at the Volta a Catalunya, Giro-Tour double hope Alberto Contador sez he's got a baaaad cold, so don't expect too much outta him either. Translation: the team is !@#$ed, Oleg's got no idea what to do about it, Bjarne's sacked, and Oleg's now gotta figure out some non-mutilating way to inspire his high-paid starlets but quick. !@#$, Oleg, if Alberto can't handle one cold day at Tirreno this year, what the hell do think a full-on blizzard at the Giro is gonna do to his Tour chances? Dammit, am I the only one thinkin' that if the season gets on this way, we're just gonna have Froomey and Nairo for the final maillot jaune in Paris, and that freak Valverde is gonna nail the 3d spot on the podium *again*? Fix this Oleg--I don't know if we can take this !@#$ much longer!
Degen-Stone-Kolb-Killer: meantime, the glow hasn't quite yet faded off the fine John Degenkolb's Milan-Sanremo triumph, and with this smashing run to the line after half the faves went down on the Poggio, it's easy to see why. Nice job big guy--and Cav, feel better next year!
Electric Avenue: and, after a scathing report excoriating the biopassport as a handy doping baseline (told ya), TUEs as total bull!@#$, and new-gen doping pounding the crap obsolete testing equipment, UCI's taking serious action: testing 36 *bikes* for mechanical doping at Milano-Sanremo. For !@#$'s sake, you oughta be looking for the needle marks on the riders' !@#es, not the wiring in the !@#$ing top tubes! And we *don't* need you clowns giving certain riders who creep the hell outta the whole lot of us any freakin' ideas while we're at it...
To the Extreme: alright, screw that masochistic cyclist hard-man crap--not only are notorious softies like Pippo Pozzato tweeting their outrage, even tough-guy Fabian Cancellara's finally had enough, and is calling bull!@#$ on extreme-weather stages like Tirreno-Adriatico's frozen Stage 5 to Terminillo because of some ridiculous wussmeister concern like the riders' "health and safety." What a pack a' whinin' weenies! "My !@# is frozen to the saddle" this, "I'm too numb to grip the handlebars on this icy deadly descent" that! Do you know how much you're getting *paid* to catch a slobbering cold virus for a month for our selfish pervert entertainment while we cheer you on from the comfort of our heated road-side campers, or splosh our hot cocoa right on the tray-table by the TV in gutted sympathy when you're passed within a few meters of the line? We're in *agony* here you crybabies! Oh, the soul's just gone out of the sport if it's gonna be about who's the best at basic ol' "bike riding" from now on....c'mon Pippo, you're just pissed you had to cover up your tats!
Well, I See That Little Pep Talk With the Hired Goons and the Cattle Prod Worked: and, welcome back to the Saganator, outlasting the rest of sprinters on yet another miserably crappy day at Tirreno and taking his first win of the year at last, with the generously-credited help of teammate Alberto Contador. Well well, maybe he *is* gonna pull it together for an all-out slaughterfest at the Classics this year. Amazing what a little "chat" with an unhappy fat-walleted Oleg Tinkov can do--now Contador, don't *make* him have to talk to you about handling the cold weather properly at the Giro!
What? She's Not Bionic?: Finally, best wishes for a speedy recovery to--no, it can't be possible--the indestructible Marianne Vos, who apparently has pulled a mortal human "hamstring", further dashing the last hope of the entire peloton that the whole reason she's able to kick everyone's !@# with such relentless perfection is that she's actually mechanically a military-grade clandestine-project android. Yeah, she can still probably wipe the floor with everybody--just count yerselves lucky someone else besides her gets to win a race or two this year!
The Neverending Story: yep, just when you thought you'd finally heard the last of the whining over evil Alberto Contador attacking innocent Andy Schleck when he dropped his chain in a hapless mechanical and nefariously stealing that Tour de France, the same stupid !@#$ing thing is being yapfested about agai...oh, wait, this is *Cavendish*, today, at Tirreno, wholly accidentally taking out rival Elia Viviani over what Quick Step is now saying is a repeat chain-drop problem that blew Cav's nearly inevitable win at the sprint. Whoa moly, anyone know if Cav's mechanic's okay after Mark no doubt flew at him like some rabid snarling toothy badger to chew his face off? Whoever he is, I'm sure if he's not *too* roughed up, that the problem's been analyzed and damn well fixed--or else! Here, the carnage: Feel better soon, Elia!
There's Buyer's Remorse, And There's 12 million !@#$in' Euros of Buyers' Remorse: meantime, a day after Alberto Contador thanked Oleg Tinkov for his new-signed 2016 contract by bonking at the opening Tirreno-Adriatico time trial, fellow pampered flower Peter Sagan woofed yet *again* by blowing the sprint at Tirreno today, but luckily, Oleg was so charmed by Peto's wacky post-race antics that he only *threatened* to wrap 'im up like a mummy and trebuchet him across the next sprint finish line like some creepy-!@# spandex medieval missile. Just ask Alberto, Peter--batting those eyelashes is only gonna get you so far, honey! Still, panicked Tinkov minion/cycling impresario Bjarne Riis is urging everyone not to panic over Sagan's impending Classics season just yet, which he paradoxically did by pointing out how much better than him everyone else who's in contention already is this year. Jaysus, Oleg, you're already putting Alberto under freakish pressure having him try to be the first sap to win the Giro-Tour double since the allegedly more, well, highly-provisioned era--you're really still gonna screw him by putting one pedal stroke of the Tour squad's effort behind this showoff? Oh, Sagan'll take his first win of the season soon enough, and you'll melt like buttah on hot popcorn--Alberto, you'd better start vying a little harder for Oleg's affection right about now!
Narcs That Go Bump in the Night: and, in the wake of the CIRC report, the debate rages on over UCI's threat to jack up middle-of-the-night dope testing for exhausted random riders during major races, not only leading to a deluge of hotel mini-fridges mysteriously ditched in dumpsters during Grand Tour season, but a web-clogging increase in desperate Google searches asking "who was that guy who got out of a positive by saying he was doing the nasty that time?" Me, I actually very much sympathize with some poor clean schmo whose hopes for a next-day stage win are dashed by rubber-gloved goons wrecking his much-needed sleep in search of some guilty doping assclown. Oh well, that's the unjust price of cycling purity, I guess--and lucky that at least a few 'em of 'em are already taking sedatives according to that CIRC report!
French Press: finally, congrats to the wily French Cycling Federation, using the lame excuse of 'making sure nobody was doping' to screw reigning Tour de France champ Vincenzo Nibali out of a cool half million euros in prize money 'til they're sure he, and the winners of a wunk of other 2014 French races, deserves the money. So, with retroactive testing improvements and all, you're planning on paying the poor guy when, when his senior citizen pension vests? I mean, I get messing around with the small if unimpeachale Nibali's head and bank account, if you're a total jerk and all--but really, bigger guys like Niki Terpstra? On wing span alone that guy could wring the money outta you by force!
2. Hein Verbruggen & Pat McQuaid: love means never having to say "you're guilty."
3. 20%, 90%, who cares? It couldn't possibly be the guys who are winning now!
4. Dr. Michele Ferrari--good !@#$. Dr. Eufemiano Fuentes--the *really* good !@#$.
5. Mmmm, Mmmm, Omerta!
6. Systemic team doping: out. Individual members comprising entire teams who totally coincidentally use the exact same team doctors, products, and doping regimens: in.
7. Corticosteroids: such total bull!@#$ even *we* can't justify these guys using 'em. Wait, *who's* still taking them?
8. Lab Equipment: so what if it hasn't been updated since 1976?
9. The Biological Passport: I didn't know how much I *could* get away with until you told me. Thanks, guys!
10. Crashes: not just for Tyler Farrar anymore. It's the drugs, too!
11. Lance Armstrong: yep. Still an !@#$^%$!
12. Brian Cookson: he can't be doing any worse than *those* !@#$in' clowns!
Well, I'm humbled and delighted if that's two hours outta your lives I just saved you, my dear readers--now, with Paris-Nice and Tirreno on hand, it's time to get back to the races!
Enjoy, wee climbing glory-hunters and GC contenders--if even *you* guys don't run home crying by the end of the day!
Wait, wrong Fabio! 
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