Tag: Tour de France

Slouching toward Paris

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments
Steelman Eurocross
The other day I rode my old Steelman Eurocross for the first time in a long while. It was a nice change from watching other folks ride.

Well, the Tour is sort of ambling toward the barn, and I guess I’ve officially lost interest.

Zoom-Zoom has more than five minutes on everyone now, and boy, wouldn’t this be an interesting race if he were not in it, with second through fifth separated by 47 seconds?

Not even a double helping of L’Alpe d’Huez and a bit of the bonk, exacerbated by a smallish fine and even smaller time penalty, could rattle Zoom-Zoom and his merry men.

Nor could today’s tough-on-paper stage, made tougher by a heavy rain that may have dampened the blue touchpaper back in the GC group as Rui Costa timed his attack perfectly and won his second stage. Saxo-Tinkoff is said to be focused on team GC now, since Super Spaniard apparently left his cape and tights in his other phone booth. This is right up there with kissing one’s sister.

Tomorrow brings a 125km hump from Annecy to Semnoz, the final summit finish of this Tour, and Sunday serves up the traditional Who Gives a Shit? parade stage, a festival of jackoffery that this time around will conclude in the evening, a brainstorm cursed roundly by the photographers who must shoot the race in the Parisian twilight and then try to file, eat, drink and sleep in a timely fashion.

Ah, well. Come Monday we will have our own bikes and (God willing) the time and legs to ride them. My ass is taking on the shape of this office chair, and it is an unfortunate combination, as neither has ever been a thing of beauty.

Charles Pelkey and I will be calling the final weekend of the 100th Tour over at Live Update Guy. Pop round and get your minimum daily requirement of snark while it’s hot.

¡Ay, Chihuahua!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments

Ohhhhhhhhh-kay.

I thought Super Spaniard had this one in the bag. He was flat railing those downhill corners. Bobsledders, skydivers and fighter pilots were getting motion sickness just watching him.

And then Zoom-Zoom ambles on in after an ill-timed bike swap in the rain and croaks him by nine seconds.

You could read Super Spaniard’s face like a marked deck: “Hijo de la gran puta.” He shook his head ruefully and smiled with the lower half of his face, the way one does upon being cheated at five-card stud in a strange town while unarmed.

I don’t know what to think, myself. I’m deeply suspicious of this sort of dominance — call me irresponsible — and I don’t like it one bit that Zoom-Zoom is already trying to play the patrón without even having won the fucking race yet.

Bjarne Riis called him a pussy, but he sure doesn’t ride like one. In fact, I’m starting to think Zoom-Zoom can take Mr. 60% in a straight-up Huffy toss.

Backseat drivers

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments

Super Spaniard intercoursed the penguin in a downhill corner today and Zoom-Zoom enjoyed a brief dalliance with the roadside foliage.

Afterward, Zoom-Zoom was critical of the way ol’ Supe’ was leading him down that hill.

“If you ask me, it was dangerous for Alberto to do that,” said Zoom-Zoom.

“That’s cycling,” replied Supe’.

I’m going to have to rule for Super Spaniard here. Zoom-Zoom wasn’t looking any too skilled in the corners his own bad self, and in any case wheelsuckers don’t get to talk shit. Not even one who’s wearing the yellow jersey.

So, pipe down already. Don’t make me stop this blog and come back there.

Mont Saywhat?

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 21 Comments
What are YOU on?
Hey, this guy looks familiar. …

I needed a rest day after Mont Ventoux, having thrown my back out while picking my jaw up off the floor.

The smart money was saying that Zoom-Zoom Froome would not win the stage, but would take time on his rivals for The Big Shirt. Uh huh. Not even Nairo Quintana was buying that one, and he was riding alongside the yellow jersey. For a while, anyway.

Now Zoom-Zoom has more than four minutes on everyone with a week left to race and even the dumb money is going, “Mmm hmm.” For his part, Zoom-Zoom says there is no comparison to be made between him and Ol’ Whatsisface. You remember. That guy.

“I’m not cheating. End of story,” says Zoom-Zoom.

Well, actually, no, it’s not the end of the story, Zoom-Zoom old scout. These tales take a while to spin, if recent history is any guide, and this big yellow book is liable to remain open for a spell. Sorry ’bout that.

See, the last few tenants left the maillot jaune in an awful state and we’re still trying to get the damage deposit back.

Break dancing

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 5 Comments

For a minute there today it looked like a Frenchie was actually going to score one for the home team, but it was not to be. In the final kilometer the chase swept past him as though he were the Maginot Line. One of Khal’s people got there fustest with the mostest.

But at least a break finally got ‘er done. I live for these long, doomed breaks, and now and then one actually makes it to the line. So chapeau to Matteo Trentin, who is probably no relation to Mario Trantino, the bike racer from Catanzia who figures so prominently in Jimmy Breslin’s “The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight.”

Tomorrow brings the Tour’s longest stage, up Mont Ventoux, a.k.a. The Giant of Provence, The Bald Mountain, and Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here. I don’t expect a long break, but I do anticipate plenty of doom.

Charles Pelkey and I will be rendering the action incomprehensible over at Live Update Guy, or at least I will be, so pop round and help console the consigliere for having employed such a feeble assistant.