Category: Bad news

Lanced

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 40 Comments

It may be the only fight he ever walked away from. Still, you have to hand it to the guy.

Had Big Tex gone to arbitration the outcome probably would have been the same, but he’d have come out looking like he’d done a thousand-mile low crawl through a Third World leach field. This way he remains as clean — on the outside, anyway — as is humanly possible. Lance Armstrong, Cancer Killer.

It’s a cliche, of course, but I think it would have been good for the sport to have had a no-holds-barred, bare-knuckle fistfight over the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency’s charges and a final decision at the Court of Arbitration for Sport. We could point at something then, claim to have an answer, even if it was the wrong one.

This way, the thing will never end. Believers will continue to believe, and haters continue to hate. Nothing has changed.

And for the immediate future, at least, nobody will give a shit about what happens in the Vuelta a España, the USA Pro Challenge or any other two-wheeled sporting competition. They’ll all be gazing upon Cancer Jesus, hanging up there on the carbon-fiber-and-titanium cross that he’s built for himself.

Bats, man

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 17 Comments

Jesus H. Christ. It’s awfully tough to take a bike race seriously, even The Big One, when nutters in tactical gear are shooting up movie theaters.

Seventy-one shot. At least a dozen dead. And the shooter apparently got it all out of his system — whatever “it” might be — because he just chilled out afterward, waiting to tell the cops about his booby-trapped apartment.

Is it a good thing that this maniac survived to tell his macabre tale? I’m not so sure. We’re all going to hear a lot more about this guy and the spiders in his skull than will be good for us.

Oh, yeah: And it’s long past time for Louie Gohmert to shut the fuck up, and for his constituents to repent for inflicting this festering pustule upon the body politic. Seriously. That nobody has pounded this fuckwit’s teeth right down his yammering gob and out his asshole continues to mystify me. I’d take an honest satanist over his class of blustering “Christian” any day.

Ka-Pau!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 26 Comments

Poor Fränk Schleck. I can’t find it in my heart to judge him if he resorted to a diuretic. Think how he must’ve felt all these years, lugging around that hideously unattractive water weight.

Arrest day

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 10 Comments

Les flics came for Rémy Di Grégorio on the first rest day of the 2012 Tour de France, dragging him off to the Bastille on suspicion of using products other than baguettes and mineral water to fuel his race around France. Zut alors! Say it is not so!

His team, Cofidis, as you may recall, is all too familiar with this sort of thing. David Millar and Phillipe Gaumont in 2004; Cristian Moreni in 2007; the party never stops. Each time the team trots out the old zero-tolerance twaddle. Same shit, different day.

Come to think of it, Bradley Wiggins — presently wearing the maillot jaune in the Tour de France — was among the Cofidis riders who went home after stage 16 in 2007. I don’t suppose any of the cunts or wankers in the press corps will wish to shake off their bone-idleness, get off their arses and apply themselves to discussing those dark days with him.

Speaking of which, Sean Kelly, a man with his own flair for language — whatever language it is that he’s speaking — thinks that Wiggo’s press-conference tirade is an indicator that while he may be strong in the legs, he’s weak between the ears.

“Bradley has always been fragile,” Kelly told Cyclingnews.com. “A puncture or another upsetting incident can make him lose his head. Last year, (Cadel) Evans experienced some mechanical problems behind (Alberto) Contador, in the stage to L’Alpe d’Huez, and if it had been Wiggins, he would have panicked. But to win the Tour, you have to know how to stay calm, overcome adversity, whatever it may be — and that, I’m not sure he’s able to do.”