In what could be the final chapter in the T-Mobile doping saga, Deutsche Telekom elected to terminate it's sponsorship of it's ProTour cycling team. Team General Manager Bill Stapleton stated that the team will continue through 2008, though under a new name.
In a related story, the dog that knocked T-Mobile rider Marcus Burghardt to the ground during stage nine of the Tour de France was to have his appeal heard by CAS this week. Eliminated from the race for "Unsporting behavior", the dog which answers to the name "Rex", later tested positive for an autologous blood transfusion. Although earlier implicated in the "BARKO" doping scandal, Rex has continued to maintain his innoncence.
Medical experts for Rex claim that the extra blood found in his A sample was that of Marcus Burghardt. The "transfusion" apparently occured when the rider came into contact with the canine during the accident this summer. Rexs' defense team used video attained from VS to illustrate the "transferrence of biological substance between the athletes."
The USADA arbitration panel reached a 2-1 decision against Rex leading to the animals' appeal to CAS.
The lengthy appeal process was put into doubt the animals' participation in the upcoming Iditarod.
An annonymous source from the T-Mobile camp has claimed that Rex is in fact the personal pet of Lance Armstrong and has suggested that the accident was part of a plot by the American superstar to undermine the success of the Magenta Machine.
Representative from the Armstrong camp could not be reached for comment.
A week and a half ago, I had the chance to help out my friend Jason with a get together he had planned. Last year, Jason went all "Tomahawk Missle" on an SUV, in a successful attempt to attract the attention of the nursing staff at the Stanford Medical Center. For those that were able to visit him there, Jason arranged a weekend getaway as a way to say "Thank you". Class act.
The host house for the weekend was a Bed & Breakfast named "Above the Clouds". Perched atop the hills surrounding the Napa Valley, the home offered some AMAZING views of the area. Truly beautiful. Another very cool thing about the home was that it was right at the top of Trinity Grade. This road has been raced upon by some of the greatest cyclists in the world: Bernard Hinault, Greg LeMond, Phil Anderson, Moreno Argentine and more recently Levi Leipheimer, Cadel Evans and Garry Birch.
Jason planned two rides for the weekend, each one ending atop Trinity Grade. For this reason, Jason earned himself a new nickname: "Beelzebub"- Sadist extreme, prince of demons. I think it fits... or we can just amend his original nickname of Jason Van Der Sage to J. Van Der SATAN. Either way, it gets the point across.
But, seeing as he is the President of our Team, that makes me one of his loyal minions and I was more than happy to assist SATAN in punishing the mere mortals that thought it was a good idea to join us for the weekend. mwahahahahahaha.
My job was to drive support, feed the troops and massage tired legs. Putting this into the demonic context:
I drove the car behind the group, forcing them to pedal or ELSE. I "fed" the riders "energy gels"- Hells version of food. and I "massaged" their legs with enough pressure to squeeze muscle, tendon and ligaments through my fingers like a playdoh fun factory. Pure bliss.
One moment of pure, adulterated sadistic joy came as I was standing along side the road, waiting for the group to pass so I can drop...er, hand them a much needed water bottle. As I stood there, a kind woman in a car pulled to a stop near me, asking me if I needed any help. My reply?
I quickly yanked back the bottle I was holding out and yelled, "THIS IS NOT FOR YOU!!!" Satan has taught me well.
Other highlights included:
Holding up traffic on narrow country roads while I drove behind the group- just to see the enraged faces of the drivers as they passed me, flipping me off, laying on the horn. Effin Ahole, at your service!
Watching the riders ride for hours in the rain, over steep hills and then having the balls to complain that my right calf was sore from driving the car. HAHAHAHA...yea, I'm evil.
Installing the video camera out by the jacuzzi so I can capture images for my new pay-per-view feature entitled "Cyclists Gone Wild". So far, no one has subscribed to it, but I'm confident the poster of wet bibshorts will draw a crowd.
I'll leave you all with this little clip of the 10th level of Hell that Dante forgot to mention.
In this circle of Hell, unrepentant cyclists who's muslces are eternally on the verge of cramping and who's water bottles perpetually contain only a drop of warm water, find themselves forced to climb an endless road into the clouds.
Surrounded by the souls of those damned to Hell for their obnoxious lust for "more cowbell" and taunted by an "angel" that SPECIALIZES in exhibiting the unattainable ability to walk on 12% grades in stripper heals, these Hell Riders make their way through their Tour de Affliction for all eternity: their ears forever pierced by the screams of some guy named Chuck yelling "Venga, Venga" and "Allez, Allez".
Come everyone, let's join Mr. Peabody and his boy Sherman for a little journey...
The year is 1988, and neon was GOOD...
I was reppin' my set at the Bicycle Outfitter Cat 4 Sectionals (my last race as a 4). I was a dumbass, young buck with the legs to rip the field to shreds and the emotional stability of a piece of wet one-ply toilet paper. If things didn't go just right, I folded. Ah, the foolishness of youth...
Which leads me to my next admission...
What the hell was I thinking with this outfit?
That's me at a fiesty 128 lbs. Note the bad mustache and pulled up sweats. GHET-TO This was taken back when 7 speeds ruled the road, you could climb anything in a 42X21 and Wheelsmith trued my wheels every Monday.
And I'll end with this....
What the hell is going on here?!?!? How in the hell am I cool standing there with a CAMEL TOE?
