Note: this post is
rated PG-13 for mild strong language.
Introduction
Perhaps, like me, you forgot to watch the Giro this
year. Well, good news: today’s penultimate stage is the hardest and most
important one, and there’s still no clear favorite to win the general
classification. So you’ve come at just
the right time. You’ve come to the right
place, too, because I’m not bound by any journalistic standards, so I’ll say
what I really think instead of biting my tongue all the time. Professional journalists covering this sport
must have lots of scar tissue on their tongues.
2016 Giro d’Italia
Stage 20 – Guillestre (France) to Sant’ Anna di Vinadio
As I join the action, the racers have gone over the Col de
la Bonette, the highest climb of the day (and second highest of the Giro, by a
slim margin). Mikel Nieve (Team Sky)
soloed on that climb and got enough points to take over the KOM jersey. He’s almost a minute ahead of a chase group
of like 7 guys. The peloton is 10
minutes back.
They’re interviewing Steven Kruijswijk (Team Lotto
NL-Jumbo). Well, actually, they couldn’t
be, because he’s racing, whereas in the interview he’s in a t-shirt and not on a
bicycle. I’m going to have to guess that
the interview was filmed earlier. Poor
Kruijswijk. First of all, he’s got these
extra letter Js in his name, meaning the highway patrol is bound to give him a
hard time when they read his driver license.
“How do you pronounce that?”
/ “KRYSE-wick.” / “Doesn’t look
like it to me. Have you been drinking?” And then there’s the gym teachers who loved
to yell, “Christ, Kruijswijk!” Though
the Dutch probably have a different word for “Christ.” Well, anyway, the other thing is that
Kruijswijk was leading the Giro until yesterday, when he totally stacked into a
snowbank and his bike went cartwheeling off like a pinwheel. (Do pinwheels cartwheel? No, but his bike did.) He had bike problems after that, and then leg
problems, and lost like five minutes and now sits third on the GC, just over a
minute back. Esteban Chaves
(Orica-GreenEdge) is in pink, 44 seconds over yesterday’s stage winner,
Vincenzo Nibali (Astana).
The racers have about 47 km (29 miles) left to go, and are on
the long descent approaching the last major climb, the Category 1 Colle Della
Lombarda.
There’s an ad at the bottom of my Internet feed that says, “Do
you want to stop snoring?” I’m expecting
it to go on, “Then stop watching bike race coverage!” Okay, that’s not fair. Bike race coverage is only boring to typical
American sports fans, who can only get interested if their countrymen are in
contention or if a bike race organizer has guaranteed lots of crashes. I gave up on expecting American bike race victories long
ago. “We” have a guy in 39th place in the GC, Joe
Dombrowski; and Nathan Brown is in 48th, then Ian Boswell in 75th, Chad Haga in
81st, and Joseph Rosskopf in 106th. I’ve
never heard of any of these guys, except Ian Boswell, and maybe I’m confusing
him with that guy on “Charlie’s Angels.”
After a fairly mellow descent the peloton threads its way
through a pretty little town. I don’t
think they much care about the breakaway up ahead, which still has about 10
minutes. Mostly they’re just dreading
the inevitable drop of the hammer, for surely the GC will be decided on this
climb. These dudes have got to be pretty
tired after almost three weeks of racing.
I wonder if they slept well, or if they’re too sore and/or
stressed. For no good reason, I slept
like crap last night and could really use a blood bag myself.
So, I’ve just realized that Dombrowski (Cannondale Pro
Cycling) is in the breakaway (which has absorbed Nieve, by the way). So I guess I do have an American to root for
today. Does that get me
extra-excited? Not really. I don’t pretend that just because he’s
American he’s a good guy. He could be a
complete dick for all I know. Think of your
worst enemy, and now imagine he’s in
the breakaway. You’d be like, “Oh no,
not that jerk! I hate him!” You wouldn’t care that he’s American, would
you? I mean, unless you’re the typical
rabid sports fan.
There are endless ads during this coverage so I’ll continue
my Theory of Bike Race Spectating. The
reason I enjoy watching this is that I can relate. I mean, no, I’ve never been that fast, obviously,
and I surely haven’t suffered as much as these guys, but I have suffered and
have a taste of the specific suffering they do.
And sometimes I can relate very specifically. Like Kruijswijk’s crash into the
snowbank: I’ve done that! It was in junior high. I was riding home from school on my 3-speed
and saw a friend way off in the distance, walking. So I started sprinting toward him, all-out,
and when I got close I yelled his name.
He looked back. Suddenly I felt
foolish: the only logical thing to do,
having gotten his attention, would be to plow into him. But that would hurt. Feeling I had to do something, I steered toward this giant snowbank. I thought maybe it would just stop me
gracefully, spraying snow everywhere, or maybe its surface would be glazed and
it would be like a big gnarly jump, which would be cool. But instead it stopped my front wheel dead,
and I flipped right over the bars, soared through the air, and hit the ground
like a sack of rocks. My friend was
aghast at my stupidity. And I lost the
Giro that day.
They’re showing footage of the finish line, where nothing
important is happening. Is this coverage sexist?
The breakaway has reached the base of the Colle Della
Lombarda. The Estonian rider Rein Taaramäe
(Team Katusha) is on the front, driving a nice tempo. His name, Rein, is an anagram of “rien,”
French for “nothing.” My wife’s name is
also an anagram of “rien,” and (as you just realized, beating me to the punch)
my own name is an anagram of “nada,” Spanish for “nothing.” See how much I have in common with these
guys?
Giovanni Visconti (Movistar Team) is on the front now, with
Dombrowski on his wheel. Whoah,
Dombrowski attacks!
He’s already got a
huge gap! A bold move, with 29 km
(18 miles) to go. But man, he’s
solid. Darwin Atapuma (BMC Racing Team) bridges up to him, and if you think I’m going to make some lame joke about “survival
of the fittest,” you’ve got the wrong blog.
The peloton still hasn’t made it to the base of this
climb. It’s a huge peloton, meaning they’ve
been loafing all day. Nibali is
practically coated with Astana riders.
They’re doing a super-slo-mo of his helmet strap—which is way too loose—flapping in the
breeze. I don’t get that. I mean, if you have to wear a helmet, why not
get some benefit from it by fitting it properly? Is this a small act of rebellion?
Dombrowski is looking incredibly strong. Atapuma, whom they call “the puma” in my
daydreams, is just sitting on. I often
have daydreams of these racers on the school playground, and it’s always a
playground in America, so I guess I am nationalistic
after all. Or just unimaginative.
There’s a guy in this race with the last name “Bongiorno.” I can’t believe that. Do you know anybody with the last name “Good
Day”? It’s as corny as “Suzy Chapstick.”
The peloton is on the big climb now. The Eurosport announcer likes to say “danger
men.” I don’t think anybody in this race
is really a danger man. I hear “danger
men” and I think of all those Texans who have gun racks in their pickup trucks,
a gun rack in their living room, and a sidearm in every drawer.
Chaves is sitting behind the big clump of Astana riders, who
are behind the Tinkoff guys. Tinkoff is
driving the pace for Rafal Majka, who sits 5th on GC, 2:14 down. He’s a damn good climber and could win the
whole thing today. Look at his teammate
with the spotty beard and thick Euro-mullet.
Up at the front of the race, Visconti has bridged up to
Dombrowski and Atapuma. Dombrowski is
still leading. He’s been in the lead the
entire climb. Why doesn’t he make these
guys take any pulls? Perhaps they have
prodigious flatulence. Okay,
Atapuma’s ears must have started burning because he finally pulls through.
The chase group of four, with Nieve, is a right fur piece
behind the leaders. I can’t be any more
precise than that. Oh, finally, they
show the split time: 40 seconds. This climb ends about 10 km (6 miles) from
the finish, so they’ve still got about 13 km (8 miles) to the summit. Man, that’s a fricking long climb. It’s almost as impressive as the Tinkoff guy’s
mullet. Tinkoff continues to lead the
peloton. I can’t wait until Nibali and
Majka start attacking each other.
Dombrowski is back on the front. You know, if this lead holds, he could move
into like 34th place overall on GC, maybe even higher!
Atapuma has taken several pulls now, but Visconti is just
sitting on the back of this trio, sucking wheel like a little bitch. Race announcer Sean Kelly is talking about that now (employing
euphemism, of course, being a professional).
Says Visconti is probably making the excuse that he’s working for his
teammate Alejandro Valverde, the filthy doper ten minutes behind him on the
road, who sits in 6th overall, tied on time with Majka and with Rigoberto Uran
(Cannondale Pro Cycling).
The announcers were saying Nieve has the KOM jersey in the
bag, but I’m not so sure. He’s not even
wearing it—he didn’t move into the virtual lead until this stage—and there must
be lost of points available for this climb.
I don’t think he can afford to get dropped. I also don’t think you even care. I guess I can’t blame you.
If this Eurosport announcer says “at the minute” one more
time, I’m going to reach through this Internet feed and strangle him.
Wow, the peloton has really thinned out. It’s down to like 14 guys.
The leaders have 20 km to go. Atapuma has just pulled off and is now
yelling at Visconti, presumably in Spanish, which Visconti either doesn’t
understand or is pretending not to. Atapuma’s
vague hand gestures are getting the point across, though not as well as a more
specific gesture. I guess he’s got his
endorsement prospects to think about, and I get that. Have you ever noticed that Eminem, though the
best rapper alive, doesn’t get any celebrity endorsements? Hmm, I guess I’m wrong about that … I just
did a little Internet search and it turns out Eminem has a deal with
Chrysler. So I think Atapuma should flip
Visconti off right now, and then get on his radio and tell his directeur
sportif, “Get my agent in touch with Chrysler!”
Michele Scarponi is pouring on the pace for Astana. And now he attacks! Nibali immediately grabs his wheel, and
Chaves is right on him. Chaves has a
pretty good poker face.
Valverde is sitting pretty comfortable in this group, which
is down to 8 riders. I don’t see any
Orica-GreenEdge riders there to support Chaves, and Nibali is down to just
Scarponi for help. It’s refreshing to
not see Sky massing at the front.
Wow, while the camera was focused on the GC battle, things
changed in the breakaway. Tanel Kangert
(Astana Pro Team) and Taaramäe have bridged up, so it’s now a group of
five. I’m sure this is exactly what
Dombrowski and Atapuma didn’t want. The
breakaway’s lead is down to 9:14 with just under 6 km (3.5 miles) until the
summit. Taaramäe takes a solid pull on
the front.
So the chase group (i.e., what had been the peloton) is down
to Scarponi, Majka, Kruijswijk, Valverde, Chaves, Nibali, Uran, and Bob Jungels
(Etixx-Quick-Step). Not surprisingly, Chaves
is right on Nibali’s wheel.
Taaramäe has attacked the breakaway! He looks really strong. His bike, however, is butt-ugly. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such an ugly
bike. Look at the half-assed decal,
dripping off the down tube. And what the
hell are those handlebars? They look
like a child made them out of a pipe cleaner.
And the brake levers are mounted so high up … the mechanic should be
stoned to death. Unless Taaramäe likes
them like that, in which case he should
be stoned to death, in front of his family.
And now Visconti attacks!
I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.
Just annoyed. I’ll admit it, I
kind of have it in for anybody on Movistar.
They just seem dopey. Not in the
sense of stupid or checked-out, but in the sense of syringes and so forth.
And now Dombrowski attacks!
Atapuma quickly responds but for now they’ve gapped Visconti.
Dammit. The announcer
just said “at the minute” again. Will
somebody tell him that he’s not allowed to make up his own expressions? Does he think he can popularize this
expression, then copyright it (like “Threepeat”), and make some money on the
side?
Taaramäe has a huge gap now.
Visconti is back with Dombrowski and Atapuma.
Jungels looks like he’s having too much fun here. Ah, youth!
(He leads the Young Rider classification and will almost certainly sew
that up today.)
Nibali attacks!
Chaves is right on him, with Valverde stuck to Chaves. They’ve got a bit of a gap. And now Nibali attacks again, and he’s got a
pretty good gap! Chaves doesn’t appear
to be panicking, but maybe he should.
Perhaps his directeur sportif hasn’t given the order to panic yet. “Don’t panic … don’t panic … okay, panic! You’re losing the Giro!”
Chaves is trying to hang on Valverde’s wheel and is just
barely getting the job done. It’s really
looking like he’s going to end up second on GC by the end of the day. Nibali is just pulling away, looking
incredibly strong. He’s got his necklace
out. I wonder if he did that to
intimidate the others. “You see
that? I’m religious. I have faith.
Therefore I cannot crack psychologically.”
Ah, and now we see some intelligent teamwork. Kangert has dropped back from the breakaway
to pace Nibali. I really like Kangert,
and I just figured out why: his name
makes me think of Kanga, the marsupial mommy in “Winnie the Pooh.” She was always my favorite character. That’s right, I liked her even more than
Tigger.
And just like that, Nibali takes off again. Either he doesn’t think he needs much pacing
from Kangert, or Kangert wasn’t going fast enough. Needless to say it isn’t enough to drop
Chaves on this climb; Nibali needs to take enough time to hold it over the last
descent and still have 45 seconds on him by the finish.
I wish I knew the gap between Taaramäe and the chasing
trio. They could pull back some time on
that descent if they work together well.
Chaves has detonated!
Poor guy. Look, his handlebars
have even slipped down. Soon his tires
will go flat. His helmet will melt. Pigeons will start shitting on him.
Atapuma dropped Visconti and Dombrowski somewhere along the
line.
Finally, Visconti takes a pull. Maybe just to get some KOM points, as he and
Dombrowski cross over the summit. It’s
only 2 km to go for Taaramäe now, so I probably don’t even need to know the
split … I think he’s got this in the bag.
Nibali is on the final descent now. He’s a great descender and it’s a pretty
basic descent … I suspect he won’t take any chances now, because he’s more than
45 seconds ahead of Chaves and will extend his lead over the final Cat 3 climb
to the finish.
Taaramäe looks totally solid as he heads for a solo stage
victory.
They’re showing Astana’s directeur sportif, Alexandre
Vinokourov, and he’s really wincing.
Perhaps Nibali is descending a bit too fast for his taste. Truly, only a crash now could rob him of Giro
victory.
I do not know how far Atapuma is behind Taaramäe,
but he is definitely running out of road. This
finishing section winds around all over the place, which may help Taaramäe …
if Atapuma could see him ahead he might find some extra motivation.
I think I just missed Taaramäe’s finish because of an ad for cat
treats. God I hate advertising. That does it, I’m never buying my cat a treat
again.
Yep, the footage is back and I’m watching Dombrowski take
third.
It’s a good thing I’m not a rabidly patriotic sports fan
because I’d be really bummed right now.
I wonder if Dombrowski could have won this if he hadn’t led the
breakaway for so long.
Chaves has been caught by everybody and her mom. He may not even hold on to second. Nibali has 1 km to go. He still looks pretty solid, and has a gap of
more than a minute. Actually, though,
his cadence is slowing. And he’s really
grimacing. Clearly this dude is
suffering mightily.
And now Nibali finishes, really straining over the last
really steep bit to the line.
The announcer says “And Visconti finishes.” What a dope.
Visconti finished minutes ago. It’s
Valverde who’s finishing at the minute,
of course.
Okay, thanks to the instant replay, you get to see a photo
of Taaramäe taking the stage.
It’s a great day for anagrams-of-“nothing”-name-bearers
everywhere! You know what? I think I like this guy. I’m even going to forgive him for his ugly-ass bike and its grotesque handlebars.
Here are the final stage
results:
Whoah, how about that! The announcer was right after all ... that was Visconti finishing well behind Nibali. I got confused because as you’ll recall, Visconti was up in the breakaway until very late in the race, not doing a lick of work. And he somehow lost 6½ minutes to Dombrowski in the last few kilometers! Here’s where the journalists have to bite their tongues ... the Eurosport announcer must have felt like saying, “Wow, after freeloading the whole race, Visconti must have fricking detonated! How do you like that. Justice is served, at the minute. That Visconti ... what a pussy!”
The GC has been calculated, and Nibali now leads by 52 seconds, meaning the Giro is essentially over, since tomorrow’s stage is actually very slightly downhill. Here’s what the final GC will probably be, with Valverde passing up Kruijswijk to take the final podium spot.
The GC has been calculated, and Nibali now leads by 52 seconds, meaning the Giro is essentially over, since tomorrow’s stage is actually very slightly downhill. Here’s what the final GC will probably be, with Valverde passing up Kruijswijk to take the final podium spot.
Nibali takes the
podium, flanked by a couple of women who must be related to him or
something. Sisters, perhaps? Because otherwise, what are they doing
there? Oh, right, they’re ambassadors of
sport, selected for their diplomatic acumen.
Look at Nibali’s goofy shoes. Man those things are goofy. Isn’t Italy known for its shoes? I see a lost opportunity here. Bruno Magli is leaving money on the table.
Nibali looks wistful as he collects his kisses. Perhaps he’s thinking, “Gosh, I should have
washed my face. I should have
shaved. This can’t be every enjoyable
for the ambassadors. Unless they really
love me….”
You may have noticed that this report hasn’t been as snide,
cynical, bitter, and seemingly biased as usual. Have I softened up? I doubt it.
Frankly, I just didn’t see anything particularly egregious today; no clear signs of a standout doper. Who
knows, maybe the sport is cleaning up!
Done laughing yet?
Yeah, I know … winning a pro bike race makes any racer look pretty
suspicious. My online correspondent has
just written, “How many bags of blood do you think it took for Nibali to win
it? Despite his obvious doping, I still kind of like his style. You could even
say that he’s one of my favorite dopers!” I like Nibali, too, especially after his public spat with the legendary doper and whiny little bitch, Chris Froome.
Speaking of doping, watch these pages in July for my biased
blow-by-blow report(s) on the Tour de France, where Team Sky will send their “good”
riders, replete with a full arsenal of game-changing substances, taking “not
normal” to new heights I’m sure!
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