This is a true story. When I lived in northern NJ as a wee youngster, I spent several summers immersed in the world of Little League baseball. Before I knew what professional cycling was, I had (ever so brief) illusions of playing for the NY Mets. From the highest point in South Orange, one could see the NYC skyline and for a summer or two I thought that, just maybe, my life’s path would involve playing a handful of miles away in Shea Stadium.

Well, it didn’t take too many trips to the plate before it became stunningly evident that the hand-eye coordination to hit a baseball is a skill I do not possess. The skill I did possess was crowding the plate so I could get beaned and mosie along to first. Then the fun started - I could start stealing bases. We had a green light to steal if the catcher made mistakes mishandling pitches, but otherwise we were under strict orders to wait for our coach’s signal to steal. And straight out of Bad News Bears, the signal to steal was when the coach lit up a new cigarette. No joke. One can only imagine how much smoke our bench inhaled per game, but orders are orders and I don’t think anybody intercepted our SIGINT…

Photo ©: Mark Zalewski/Cyclingnews.com (URL)

Fast forward to yesterday’s USPRO crit championships in Downers Grove, IL. TIAA-CREF DS Jonathan Vaughters is providing late-race instructions to Brad Huff and company, guidance which will soon result in a US championship for the uber-talented Huff. This is the covert sign which says, “Make sure Huff gets to the last turn in the top 2, but be well aware of carrying too much heat - those barriers are a bitch.”

Not exactly something one learns in “Director Sportif 101″, but Vaughters certainly believes in doing things his own way. At least Vaughters is still rail-thin. Be glad he’s not flaunting the physique of a Manolo Saiz. Now that Vaughters’ unconventional communications have been compromised, one can only wonder what he’ll have to come up with to direct his bevy of young talent in the upcoming USPRO road race in Greenville. I’ll be there, camera in hand, to chronicle his next move.

“Toby” belts out a tune on NBC’s Rockstar Supernova	Henk Vogels on the mic - January, 2006
Photo ©: Danny Moloshok / Blue Pixel	Photo ©: John Flynn/Cyclingnews.com

Word-or most likely baseless, unfounded rumors-on the Internets is that 2006 US pro peloton powerhouse Toyota-United Pro Cycling Team is short on cash and on the verge of not completing their inaugural season. Soon after the appearance of this speculative chatter, however, a bombshell announcement hits the ususal cycling sites: none other than Aussie hardguy Henk Vogels will once again base himself stateside and race for Toyota-United in 2007.

Huh.

Has anyone seen Vogels racing lately? Because I think he’s trying to diversify his income portfolio by auditioning for the frontman spot of made - for - tv - over- the - hill - rocker -gotta - pay - the - rent - somehow - cause - we - got -screwed - out - of - a - lifetime - of - royalties - and - now - beg - for - crumbs - on - NBC - peddling -Supernova lameness. Like I’ve mentioned before when discussing Johnny Green’s book about le Tour, there’s not much of a difference between the life of a pro cyclist and that of a rock musician. Except for those pesky drug tests. Let’s see if there’s a burning the candle at both ends rocker-racer life for Vogels next season, surely a ticket to shaving some years off one’s expected lifespan…And I realize I’m ripe for mockery for actually having viewed multiple episodes of Rockstar Supernova.

What’s going on over at CSC? Completing the Grand Tour triple header within a single calendar year has always been an occasional freakish anomaly, aside for a single round of popularity back in the 1991 glory days of EPO. But CSC seems hellbent on bringing “The Triple” back into style. 2005 saw old-man Giovanni Lombardi complete all 3 Grand Tours, and then just for good measure he kept on going in 2006 completing the Giro and nearly completing le Tour. 4.5 consecutive Tours…not bad. Not to be outdone, Carlos Sastre is embarking on his 3rd Grand Tour of 2006 with the soon-to-commence Vuelta (having started a streak of consecutive Grand Tours with the 2005 Tour de France). And upping the ante over Lombardi, Sastre is actually trying to win them. Nevertheless, Sastre can only hope to tie for 6th on the Triple Crown GC tabulator…

Let’s review the upper echelon of the GC freaks of yore, courtesy of cycling4all.com:

Sastre has a 43rd in the Giro, a 4th (maybe upgraded to 3rd?) in the Tour, and a victory in the Vuelta will give him a GC total score of 48, tied for 6th with Lejaretta. As long as Sastre doesn’t whip out his kid’s pacifier again if he wins a stage, I’ll be pulling for him.

Greenville USPRO…I’ll be making the drive down I-85 to check out the road race on September 3rd. I’m real curious to see what kind of turnout the race generates. If anyone wants to grab a beer (or beers) I’ll be in the race hotel Hilton Greenville Saturday and Sunday nights. I don’t know what kind of bars are around, but I’m sure I’ll figure that out once I’m there.

“The Jan” siting: I spent nearly a week at a conference in Washington, DC, hunkered down for long days of sessions, round tables, panel discussions, and plenary addresses in the Hilton near Dupont Circle. Thankfully, unlike many of my professional colleagues, I was not staying in the host hotel. I enjoyed the approximately 1 mile stroll between my hotel and the conference digs each morning and evening which provided the opportunity to soak up some of the DC ambience, architecture, and street life. One can’t help but notice the abundance of bike messengers making their way through DC streets each day, and I’d frequently walk past battle-weary track bikes locked to parking meters and street signs while their owners were inside a nearby building making deliveries.

On one particular morning, awash in the delirium of too much Guinness ingestion the prior evening and a lack of caffeine this a.m. (I had yet to reach the coffee shop near the hotel), I took a slightly different sequence of streets to reach my destination. And as I’m wont to do, at frequent intervals throughout the day, I was thinking about cycling. And just as Todd Wells frequently poses the question “I wonder what Gully’s doing right now”, for no particular reason the thought “I wonder what Jan Ullrich’s doing right now” popped into my brain. Still training hard? Plotting his defense strategy? Watching 1997 Tour de France videos? On vacation someplace far from Europe where nobody knows who he is? Well, I think a certain Mr. Ullrich tried to make his way as a DC bike messenger. Because no sooner than I started contemplating Jan’s fate, I came across a bike locked to a sign sporting this on the top tube:

Unfortunately, Jan’s run into a bit of bad luck regarding the rest of his ride…

Such a sad, after-school special-esque saga…from ProTour uberman to destitute, beaten down DC bike messenger in the span of several weeks.

Cyclists do not work at the Smithsonian: One of the perks of our convention meeting in Washington, DC was having the run of the entire Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History for a private party this past Friday evening. I was mostly concerned with the free food and drinking enough beer to cover the $10 flat fee I had to pay for the privilege of imbibing booze. Having already done some sightseeing in DC, I was falling under the spell of museum fatigue and didn’t overly concern myself with the cultural heritage treasures around me. The original Star Spangled Banner? Mr. Rogers’ sweater? Howdy Doody? Dorothy’s ruby slippers? Whatever…That is, until I happened to see a white Trek encased off in the distance while I lingered with North Carolina colleagues on the 3rd floor. And right away something seemed really strange, which I confirmed with a closer look:

Maybe it was just the Rolling Rock fuelling my indignation, or the indignation of having Rolling Rock as the highest quality beer at the bar, but I was horrified to see how the handlebars were not properly positioned. Whoever set up the bike for the exhibit (and I’m assuming it’s somebody within the Smithsonian) used the STI levers as a levelling cue, rather than the flats of the drops. Hence, the end of the drops were tilted upwards. Whoever set this bike up is not aware of how Armstrong, and damn near the rest of the Euro peloton, has his bars positioned. Or maybe the museum tech person in charge of the display took it out for one last spin around the National Mall, careened into a major pothole, and thought nobody would notice the wonky bar position when he sealed it away behind plexiglass. Either way, I felt like I was looking at a bike displayed in Wal-Mart. And in the grand scheme of things this is pretty minor, but one would hope that the nation’s flagship history musueum would dot their “i”s and cross their “t”s. I happened to have an allen wrench in my messenger bag, and I was tempted to breach the display case and do a quick loosening/tightening of the stem bolts to rotate the bars upwards to their proper position. The horror…

And then another funny thing happened. I was attending a national convention of archivists and librarians, professions which are largely populated with people who are, putting it delicately, not athletically inclined. While I was soaking in Armstrong’s Trek, some other convention goers came up to the display and started talking amongst themselves about Armstrong. I soon found myself answering their questions about Lance, the Tour de France, his bike, how I knew what year he rode it, etc. since the exhibit offered precious little contextual information. Within moments, a larger crowd gathered around and I found myself fielding questions about Floyd Landis and doping in cycling. If I had my wits about me, I would have got them all chanting, “Rotate the bars! Rotate the bars!” and marched them to the curator’s office to make a scene. I guess I’ll just have to resort to a one-man letter writing campaign to the Smithsonian instead.

Perry Metzler redux: And on a somber note, I re-visited the Vietnam Memorial as I had approximately 1 1/2 years ago when I paid my repects to Perry Metzler. There’s a minor addition to that entry, as this time around I was able to photograph his name with my digital camera.

Image source: http://laboiteaimages.hautetfort.com/archive/2005/01/16/nighthawks.html

Edward Hopper frittered away gratuitous amounts of time watching six-day races in Madison Square Garden in search of inspiration. Undoubtedly, the recently concluded Tour de France has attracted his attention whilst floating around the ether. I’ve been possessed by the caustic spirit of Edward Hopper today, and a 2006 version of Nighthawks has been channelled through me via Photoshop. Click on the image to start the sequence of panels…

Graham Watson photo

Because you just can’t make this stuff up…

“He’s in every aspect the toughest man, ever,” Amber says seriously. “Physically tough, mentally tough, he’s just one tough bitch.” — Amber Landis

After Floyd Landis regained the lead of the Tour de France at the top of L’Alpe d’Huez he decided that he wanted a beer to celebrate the moment. On the road down to his hotel, his team car pulled over and the American traded a yellow jersey for a six-pack of beer with a spectator. — OLN

“He told me he was going to go out in the morning and do something big,” Amber Landis told me as she watched her husband begin the final descent of the Col de Joux-Plane. “He doesn’t say that very often, but when he does, he always goes out and does it.” — Amber Landis talking to journalist Martin Dugard

As he told his trainer, Allen Lim, the morning after tumbling from first to eleventh place, “I’m going to go apeshit on them.” — Journalist Austin Murphy

Somehow, word got out in the peloton that the Phonaks were going to try something preposterous. By doing so, they would be inflicting suffering on the rest of a Tour-weary bunch. Which explains why a number of riders coasted up to Landis before the first mountain, imploring him not to attempt something so foolhardy. As Landis would later recall, “I just told ‘em, Go drink some Coke, ’cause we’re leaving on the first climb if you want to come along.’” — Journalist Austin Murphy

“Get me to the bottom of the first climb,” Floyd Landis told his pretofore listless Phonak teammates, “and then I’ll see you later.” — Journalist Martin Dugard

When the peloton reached the first foothills Floyd put the hammer down. He went way too fast for so early in the stage. Although his competition initially reacted, one by one they seemed to satisfy themselves that he’d gone mad. Landis shot them a few well-placed, wild-eyed glares over the shoulder to cement the impression. — Writer Dave Shields

If you had a chance to watch the stage on television, you might have seen Landis catch up with a small group that had launched an earlier breakaway. He lingered awhile, talking one-by-one with the riders. What you saw there was simple horse-trading. Landis was asking for volunteers, riders who might be interested in working with him to make the attack a success. He was willing to pay for that help, roughly $5,000 dollars from some reports. But nobody took him up on the offer, because the race is so wide open that Landis has few friends in the peloton. So he shot away as if suddenly bored, destined to ride alone all day, come what may. — Journalist Martin Dugard

“When Floyd went, I just thought ‘what the hell is he doing?’,” the Australian told Cyclingnews. It tactically didn’t seem like a sensible thing to do, but I didn’t know he had the legs like that… nobody did!” — Cadel Evans

“At T-Mobile, we had no tactics today. We just tried to hang on as long as possible. We thought the last climb would be the decisive one. Klöden had problems from the start; me too. We both struggled today. We never expected Landis to do so well today.” — Michael Rogers

“They didn’t let him go, but he was just so strong in the beginning,” said Schleck. “We didn’t think that he could make it too the end. But he made it to the end, so he’s a fucking strong rider. Chapeau for Landis!” — Frank Schleck

“That has never happened in the Tour, and it’s never happened in any other race I’ve done before - and it never will,” Horner said. “It was an epic scenario, which I’ve never seen in my entire career.” — Chris Horner

• 5 hours 23 minutes and 36 seconds.
• Covering 200.5 kilometers (130 km alone in the wind).
• At a speed of 37.175 km/hr.
• Averaging 281 watts when moving for the whole ride and 318 watts over the last two hours.
• Averaging 324 watts while pedaling for the whole ride and 364 watts over the last 2 hours.
• At an average cadence of 89 rpm.
• Transferring 5,456 Kjoules of energy to his Cycleops PowerTap.
• Taking, no joke, a total of 70 water bottles (480 ml each) from the car to keep himself cool and hydrated.
• Attacking about a quarter of the way up the Col des Saisies for 30 seconds at 544 watts, which settled into a 5-minute peak of 451 watts, which continued for 10 minutes at an average of power of 431 watts, and left everyone in his dust after 30 minutes at an average power of 401 watts.
• Spending 13.2% of his time or 43 minutes coasting like a rocket on the descents and another 60% between 4 to 7 watts per kilogram of body weight (aka, the pain cave).
• Holding onto 373 watts over the Col de Joux-Plane.
• Hitting a max speed of 83.7 km/hr (51.9 mph) and flying like a Phoenix on his way to the most incredible moment in sports I have ever witnessed.

— Allen Lim

What Floyd Landis did today was the sporting equivalent of lifting a wrecked car off of a loved one. And he did for hours on end, in front of a worldwide audience of millions.

Everyone could see the anger coursing through Landis at the finish. He didn’t smile, he didn’t cry, he raged. He tossed his bike to a helper and barked some orders. If someone had thrust a bunny into his arms Landis probably would have devoured it alive.

The incredible thing is that Landis sustained that force of will through the better part of five hours of racing. We are used to seeing sprinters with their killer face on, in the last meters of a race. Or opportunists like Erik Dekker in 2000; winning three stages, each in a different manner, but always with that rage. It was a state of mind the old Norse called “berserkr” that gave Floyd Landis the edge. The rage that comes from battle frenzy, when you know you have to win.

— Writer Craig Cook

“It wouldn’t be any fun if I told you what was going to happen next.” — Floyd Landis

AFP Photo as seen on cyclingnews.com

There’s a local band with the name Olympic Ass-Kicking Team, which for some reason never ceases to make me chuckle when I see it in print. I think the band needs to transfer the rights to their name to a certain Floyd Landis.

I was all set to witness Oscar Pereiro do his best Roger Walkowiak impression, and then Floyd Landis went berserk…And not just mildly, but a full fledged episode of “Circus Berserk-us”.

I’m sure every cycling publication on the planet - whether it’s print, online, video, blog, whatever - has weighed in on what went down July 20, 2006 in the Tour de France. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it in my lifetime. Sure, I remember hearing about Greg Lemond’s miracle 1989 TT while I was riding in a dizzying amount of circles during the final stage of Superweek (Fond du Lac? Manitowoc? I can’t recall), I remember seeing Claudio Chiappucci’s 1992 ride into Sestriere in the 1992 TdF, I remember watching Alexi Grewal inexplicably outsprint Steve Bauer in the 1984 L.A. Olympics, but I don’t think anything can compare to what Floyd Landis did today in the Tour de France. After Miguel Martin Perdiguero set him up with a killer leadout (and then quit the Tour) at the base of the day’s first climb, the Col des Saisies, Landis rode the 125 km TT of his life. His whole team was left for dead, all finishing 52+ minutes behind. Absolutely unbelievable.

So here’s what needs to happen…

1. I need to hop on a plane to Paris, buy about a gallon of Duvel, and douse Mr. Landis when he crosses the finish line on Sunday resplendent in yellow.

2. July 20th will forever be known as “Floyd Landis Ass-Kicking Day”.

3. The United States will annex the 200.5 km of road between Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne and Morzine and post plaques every kilometer with the play by play from cyclingnews.com in print for everyone to read.

4. Floyd needs to ride a wheelie from the flame rouge to the finish line.

5. Hopefully he can avoid this until after the finish line.

6. The bum hip of Floyd Landis could fetch 7 figures on eBay, should he be so inclined. Or maybe he could auction off rice granule-sized pieces like the parquet floor of the legendary Boston Garden.

I’m still alive. And dumbstruck by this year’s TdF soap opera shennanigans. And reading books about Basque history, re-reading Paul Kimmage’s Rough Ride (after last plowing through it about 16 years ago), and reading about 100 pages of Paul Kimmage journalism from the past decade. But more on that in the near future…

Well, there’s always Superweek. I still think Vinokourov and Kashechkin should have rolled up to the prologue start house in their TT gear, with a couple of burly Kazakh soigneurs/hired-goons in tow, and made the UCI officials/ASO staff blow a gasket. Why not let them ride? They’ve got a bus, some bikes, some fitness, and nothing else to do in July–the minimum riders on the roster rule was just a cop-out to keep Astana-Wurth out of the race. I think Tour teams have finished in Paris with 2 riders, why not let Astana-Wurth separate the wheat from the chaff from the get-go and start their Kazakh giant slayers.

Things you don’t see everyday. Take a look at this photo. Take a long look. The orange-clad speed demon front-and-center is none other than Basque Inaki Isasi. The only thing perhaps more bizarro than a Euskaltel-Euskadi rider mixing it up with Boonen and Freire would be watching Magnus Backstedt and Pavel Padrnos sprinting it out for first atop L’Alpe-d’Huez.

“Serguei Gonchar? There’s a Mr. Vinokourov on the phone…” Any bets on whether T-Mobile implodes when the roads head skyward? We’re going to see a team split in half, just like the 1987 Carrera squad in the Giro, or the 1986 La Vie Claire squad in the Tour. T-Mobile has 3 Germans, 2 Italians, 1 Ukrainian, and 1 Australian. The Germans will stick together, the Italians and honorary Italian Gonchar will stick together, and Rogers is just screwed and will be riding by himself. I’m sure Gonchar is all too aware of what happens when non-Germans on T-Mobile try to “assert their author-i-ta” in le Tour.

Redneck Kryptonite. Just in case you didn’t already think Floyd Landis is the hardest man on the planet, here’s a choice Landis factoid from a July 3rd ESPN: The Magazine feature article:

“When Landis–who spends much of the racing season in Spain–churns out 100-mile (or more) training rides through the mountains near his home in Murrieta, Calif., he’s accompanied by his wife’s 18-year old brother, Max Basile. Max follows in a small SUV, and next to him sit the tools of his trade: a can of Mace and a stun gun. These are meant to protect Landis in case someone on these back roads, maybe a redneck type with spandex issues, messes with him. But wouldn’t just one weapon of mass deterrence suffice? ‘No,’ Landis says, as if the idea borders on blasphemy. ‘We need ‘em both. That way we can blind ‘em before we shock ‘em’.

The Curse lives! I’ve discussed the Performance Cover Curse not too long ago, and it seems that Bobby Julich is still unable to shake loose from its insidious grasp. Of course, from the comfort of my living room, it’s all too easy to second guess what went down in the TT (in addition to Julich himself), but here goes:

(1) Bobby, do you remember 1989? When you were the junior national cyclocross champion? You should have conjured up your best Todd Wells skills and bunny-hopped that pesky roundabout curb ensuring a guaranteed place in TdF lore and legend.

or…

(2) You should have flipped over onto your back and put that 5-gallon Camelbak(barely visible) under your skinsuit to use as a curb cushion. This move would likely not garner as much street cred as option #1, but you wouldn’t be in the hospital and have to placate a crying daughter.

No more race radios. Except for a gutsy move by Sylvain Calzati (whose victory may have been more indicative of age-old peloton payola), all of the Tour stages have been too formulaic. Break goes. Break gets 7 minutes. Break gets caught at 5km to go. I think if riders had to do more thinking about who’s up the road, and be a bit more attentive to what’s going on of their own devices, there’d be more drama on the open road. And all that talk about “Well, it helps the riders’ safety so they’ll know about road hazards” is quite simply a crock. Just look at how many riders hit the deck in this edition of the Tour alone from coming face-to-face with potholes and shoddy paving (talk to Erik Dekker, Chris Horner, or Fred Rodriguez for starters).

Giovanni Lombardi. Unfortunately, with the latest revelations from the Landis camp, Lombardi’s “Hardest Man in Cycling” moniker may not be entirely his alone. But who cares. Lombardi is riding his 5th consecutive Grand Tour and doing the work of a small army on his own. Says Chris Horner, “Discovery had five guys protecting Armstrong, but Lombardi does it by himself for Basso” (ed.-and now Sastre). Just look at the stage finishes most days so far. Lombardi is usually only a couple of places in front of Sastre, usually rolling in just behind the sprinting frenzy in about 30th-40th. And Lombardi out TTed a hapless Levi Leipheimer:

92. Giovanni Lombardi (Ita) Team CSC @5.55.78

96. Levi Leipheimer (USA) Gerolsteiner @6.05.46

Ouch. Beaten by a man who treated that stage as a rest day.

There’s a new player in the fantasy cycling realm…Test your Tour de France director sportif acumen at FantasyCycling.com and maybe walk away with a Ridley frameset. Or at least see if you’ve got more insider uber-knowledge than yours truly, fielding the eponymously monikered “Bobke Strut” squadra. Full disclosure: the people running this new cycling retail business/fantasy cycling league are friends and good people, and I provided consultation services regarding the design of the game. So you don’t have to worry about me walking away with the Ridley, even if my “all sprinters, all the time” strategy proves prescient. I’m ineligible and only playing for personal gloating privileges. You’ve got until 12:00am EST, July 1 to register…

I’ve also had my byline published for the first time on a site other than one I run. Check out my profile of the Raleigh, NC-based elite women’s BMW-Bianchi team over at PezCycling News. The BMW-Bianchi team are also good people and friends of mine. There’s still plenty of racing on their schedule for the 2006 season—stop by and say hello at a southeastern race destination near you. And for those of you who’ve arrived here at Bobke Strut for the first time due to reading the article, welcome.

Graham Watson photo

Come hell or high water, Alexandre Vinokourov will be rolling out of the TdF prologue start house this Saturday. And he won’t care if he’s the only man left on the Astana-Wurth roster legally able to compete in le Tour. In fact, he prefers to race that way. It’s not like he’s had any help from teammates in previous editions of the TdF.

It’s really a rather straightforward proposition: when the prime minister of Kazakhstan is #1 on your speed dial, when the prime minister of Kazakhstan is also the head of the cycling federation, when the prime minister of Kazakhstan counts certain “oil moguls” amongst his innermost circle of influence, when said Kazakh “oil moguls” bankroll the national sporting hero of Kazakhstan, there really isn’t too much to debate about whether Vino will race in France this year. I guarantee Christian Prudhomme has received a phone call or two from the steppes of Kazakhstan which has made his heart skip a beat. The team will likely only be dubbed “Astana” by Saturday, but no matter.

Here’s a peak into the inner workings of Vinokourov, facts that you may not be aware of:

1. How many Kazakhs does it take to fill out a ProTour roster?
AV: To answer said query: just one, if your name is Alexandre Vinokourov.

2. Don’t you need at least one teammate?
AV: I concede victory to your point. The victories in France, they shall flow freely like the crude of Kazakhstan. You’re right, count Andrey Kashechkin in too, Vino knows not the semantic means to gift stage wins to yourself having grown bored of victory itself. Besides, somebody will have to fetch my bidons. And bring honor to his mighty Kazakh national champion jersey already gifted his direction.

3. But aren’t there rules about a minimum roster size?
AV: There is only one rule…When Kazakh ‘oil moguls’ say jump, the ASO says “How high?” Vino laughs at your rules.

4. Aren’t you afraid of getting caught up on the Spanish Operación Puerto affair?
AV: Hear my words, Alexandre Vinokourov takes nothing of the drugs. Or blood. Or hormones. In fact, I give you exclusive tip. DNA testing will show that all of the blood on ice, all of the hormones in refrigerator, it is all mine. I am so pure, so powerful, so mighty, that the European peloton dopes from my body. Tyler? His gold medal is awash with my blood. The blood of Vino flows through Jan Ullrich. The Spanish peloton? My all-natural, 49.99999999% hematocrit Kazakh blood powers them all. I am quite literally, a cycling machine.

5. Do you know who blew the whistle on the lab’s program?
AV: That would be Vino. So much the the blood, hormone, testosterone delivery program. I grew weary. Right now there is one speed in the peloton: the speed of Vinokourov. Everyone rides the fuel, the essence of Vinokourov. We need two speeds again, the speed of Vino and the slow speed of those not of Kazakhstan.

6. I just read a Samuel Abt article which stated you’re a part of the Kazakh military? Any comment?
AV: I am Major in the Kazakh army. Indeed, I am the Kazakh army. When Kazakhstan deploys its fighting force, it sends forth Alexandre Vinokourov alone to conquer. Vino is being sent forthwith to conquer France. And all holders of ProTour license.

Photographer: Gerry McManus (URL)

Methinks the UCI has a roque Captain Queeg at the helm. Patrick McQuaid must be awash in Guinness, spewing forth drunken edicts from Switzerland to national federations, as the UCI and professional cycling as we know it spectacularly immolates in public on his watch. Or maybe it’s just that June 25th is the equivalent of April Fool’s Day in Great Britain. There is just no other earthly explanation for this statement (and above photo) from cyclingnews’s report concerning this past Sunday’s British National Championship Road Race:

“One a small end note, when the riders went to sign on for the race they were faced with a ban on overshoes and oversocks. The race organisers had received an official request from British Cycling to issue the instruction as the UCI had introduced a ban that morning.”

I can’t find any mention of this decision anywhere else but that particular article. I’m having flashbacks to the days of yore in the US when crazy clothing restrictions were the rule of the day. I actually remember some poor sap getting DQed from a podium position because his socks weren’t white. Of course, what prompted this outrageous miscarriage of justice was the incessant belligerence of your classic little league parent my father and I dubbed “The Screamer”. It never failed that post-race in upstate New York, any weekend of the year when “The Screamer” and his son showed up at a race, a violent confrontation would take place between “The Screamer” and the officials on duty. Since his son didn’t quite have what it took to win races on his own, “The Screamer” would invoke the rulebook afterwards. Loudly. Hence, the hapless schmoe relegated for violating the white sock clause. And let’s not get started on the complex calculus governing the size and placement of sponsor logos on your kit.

Or maybe this is just a ploy by shoe manufacturers to take away the timeless tactic of star riders using shoes other than the team issue dregs and forever training/racing with shoe covers to hide the subterfuge.

Image source: http://www.gonzostore.com

Perhaps it is time that I run for office. Like the President of the UCI. I’m reaching the breaking point with the sport I love, just as Hunter S. Thompson was motivated to run for sheriff of Aspen as a reaction to getting his ass kicked by Chicago cops at the 1968 Democratic Convention. While I haven’t exactly been roughed up by UCI hired-goons–enough is enough, it’s time to scare the bejeesus out of the home-office in Switzerland by running on the Freak Power ticket of yesteryear.