Maybe it was because the holiday fell on a midweek Wednesday, but I just never got that patriotic lift that typically accompanies the 4th yesterday. The Torso and I had a good, long ride up to the North side. Taking 2-3 weeks off the bike turns out to be not so good for your form. I felt like Christ crucified the whole time, but gamely held on without stopping to cry or calling a cab. The golf clubs stayed holstered, true to my word. We grilled out with friends, lit fireworks, but it still just felt like Wednesday to me, not the birthday of the United States of America. I should have rented Saving Private Ryan instead of season 1 of Deadwood. That might have helped.
I know, love it or leave it right? Don’t tempt me.
Luckily, that most American of times is upon us this weekend, Le Tour de France! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to see Phil Ligget, Bob Roll, and even that putz Al Trautwig back on the air ad nauseum breaking down the ins and outs of the course, the contenders, and the drama.
No need to search for inspiration anymore. I will have it beamed directly into the house for the next 30 days.
Now that some time has passed, and tempers have cooled, I must ask; do some of you still really believe Floyd Landis was clean, or framed, or able to generate synthetic testosterone from whiskey? I’m just saying- the suicide of his father-in-law/ best friend, blackmailing Greg Lemond with sex abuse stories from his childhood, the absence of a hearfelt statement like, “I have never taken any performance enhancing drugs, especially not last year” from Floyd.
Does he look like an innocent man?
I think he is about as innocent as Dick Cheney.
If my main man Magnus Backstedt does not enter the race, then I will be supporting the crazed Kazkahkastani Alexander Vinokourov. He wants it bad I tell you, really, really bad. The Americans in the field are just not very inspiring to me this year, except maybe that fella Chris Horner, because he doesn’t stand a chance.
Rooting for Team Discovery has become like rooting for the Lakers or the Yankees. All the talent, all the money, none of the mystique.
-Go Big Mags!
I’m ready to see the grand debacle again this year, too. But this year it’s more tainted than ever for me. Everyone you’ve ever heard of is under suspicion,or investigation for use of PED’s(performance enhancing drugs)! Unfortunately, much different than our country’s fearless leader’s search for threatening acronyms, PED’s are found everywhere, every day! I used to hold on to the ideals that only a few risk their health and longevity for more money or glory. Naive, huh? Now I’ve turned to the realization that this is the rule, not the exception. With another icon coming out of the closet every week, I can’t keep my head in the sand any longer. RAAM went through Floyd’s homeland this year, and I promise you that riding in that terrain would make you an animal, but there are a lot of animals in the pro peloton. These cats will do whatever they can to gain that extra 2-3% that makes the difference between $100,000 a year and $500,000 or more a year. I have a friend that raced in Europe as a junior, and he had stories of JUNIORS using the juice just to get noticed so they could get pro contracts! And that was 15+ years ago! The writings on the wall. The powers that be will need to come up with completely vicious penalties, or eliminate the bans entirely before the biggest news in bike racing is “who was strongest today” versus “who had the funniest nickname on their frozen, blood doping bags”.
Magnus is out this year. His team was announced last week and he has some kind of injury that’s keeping him home.
I can’t speak for tour riders, but I have been dropped by Worm several times after seeing evidence of BBQ on his face and person. Suspicious gases emitted from him and then I was unable to hold the pace, I saw things can’t talk about.
Now I should probably admit that I am past my prime and not as fit as I once was, but like LeMonde, I am going to call foul and blame the “secret” substance in Sonny’s sweet sauce!
When I confronted Worm about it, old band photos of me in embarassing hair styles appeared on my door step with a note saying (among other things)that it would be a shame if something happened to my new puppy, of if anyone saw pictures of me rocking the mullet.
My children can’t sleep and they wake up at night yelling that their Dad looked like John Melloncamp in the 80’s!
It’s sad for cycling and for zippernecks everywhere.
My 2 cents.
I’ve only got one thing to say about P.E.D.’s. — I want some!!
I’ll try any and all varieties, in whatever quantities I can get my black market coach to prescribe. I will stop shy of a shriveled willy, but up to that point I’d be a grateful host to a little P.E.D. action. You know, I’m a naturally curious person, and lord knows I could use the help.
If they’re everywhere, why don’t I ever see them? Who’s the P.E.D. man around here? Does he wear a lycra trench coat and hang out at Sunshine Cycles?
And hey, is there a P.E.D. that allows you to get big air, or maybe even teaches you to bunny-hop?
All this P.E.D. talk makes my blood feel oxygen deprived and my legs feel tired. I need some damn juice!
What is this delicious Sonny’s?