We Have A Winner! - Part II

Don't let the soccer ball motif on the medal fool you: you’re looking at the winner of the second non-annual albertnet Amateur Product Review contest! As you will surely recall from my blog post back in November 2015, “1-Star Reviews: The Fun & The Folly,” I ran a contest to see who could spot the fake reviews that I wrote and hid among actual one-star amateur product reviews. As you can see, I was very generous with the contest entry time period but I’ve decided to finally cut it off and announce the winner: John Lynch of Ithaca, NY. He is pictured above at his victory party in Albany last night. His prize: a First Endurance EFS Liquid Shot. That and untold glory.

[I feel I need to come clean about something: I doctored the above photo because John wasn’t actually in it. Last-minute logistical issues prevented him from attending his victory party but we held it anyway. I did manage to take him out for a celebratory dinner, but for some reason he ended up paying the check. Anyway, I used A.I. to add him to this photo and it didn’t come out quite as convincingly as I’d hope so I figured I better just fess up.]

Amazingly, John is the same close reader who won the first non-annual Amateur Product Review contest. (Rumors that he is the only reader of albertnet are greatly exaggerated.) This time, he upped his game and actually nailed every single question. That’s right, a perfect score. This is particularly impressive given that I myself, taking my own quiz some eight and a half years after I wrote it, scored just 4 out of 5.

When asked to comment on his contest victory, John replied, “Sure, I won again, and by definition the award has to be given to just one person: me. But it must be said that I can’t do any of this without my team. My publicist, my agent, my assistant, my driver, my foot masseuse, my macchiato guy, my dental hygienist, the guy I pay to say ‘top o’ the mornin to ya, guvn’r!’, my landscaper AND my manscaper—they all played an important part! And I want to thank them all from the bottom of my heart, because without them I could never do what I do—which is to tell the difference between actual poorly written Amazon reviews and fictitious poorly written Amazon reviews created by Dana Albert. It’s a hard job—not a job I’d wish on my worst enemy!—but it’s one that I love, and one that I am truly blessed to do (at least once every 3 to 5 years). Thank you.”

Contest background and correct answers

To review: after my discussion of the strange phenomenon of the one-star amateur product review (click here for details), I provided a list of five products, each with three reviews. In each case two of the reviews were real (however improbable they may have seemed), and the other was a fake one that I wrote. I did my best to stymie everybody.

Below are the questions again, for your convenience, followed by John’s responses with his colorful commentary. If you like, you can pretend you’re yelling at the TV during a game show by guessing the right answer before checking the response. (Of course it is far too late for you to enter.)

Review #1: The Turn of the Screw (novel)

a) The Turn of the Screw is quite possibly the stupidest and most pointless story I have ever wasted my time on. Purportedly a ghost story, the “ghosts” are nothing more than occasional appearances by the former governess and valet, both of whom are now dead.

b) A friend told me “I couldn’t put it down.” Couldn’t put it down? I couldn’t pick it up! So hard to read...took me weeks to get through. If Henry James wrote this today, he would NOT get laid.

c) The story is lousy, the characters are unbelievable, the protagonist is annoying, the plot development is glacial, and the ending is absurd. But what makes this book really bad is the writing.

John’s response: “ALL of these reviews are just amazingly good. Review (a) is angry that it is a ghost story about “ghosts” who are actually just people who are now dead! Genius! Review (b) first suggests that the book is an immovable object, and then impugns the author’s potential sexual acumen in the present day—for no reason! Double genius! And review (c) is a straight up list of grievances that ends with a wallop of an insult. I love it! Isn’t the internet marvelous?!? I honestly don’t know which one to choose… But of the three, I guess (b) has the most Dana-ness to it (“I couldn’t pick it up!”). I’ll be sad when I find out that I was wrong.”

Review #2: Apple Watch

a) I had a hard time charging the watch.. The instructions read that that the charger attached magnetically to the back of the watch. When I placed the charger to the phone it seems to repel the watch instead of attaching to it. I tried resetting the watch twice but that did not help. I was finally able to get a charge by physically holding the charger to the phone and strapping it down, but this took 8 hours and I only got a charge 62%. It is our assumption that the magnet was placed backwards in either the watch or the charge.

b) this is poop

c) i thought this watch would replace my iphone (or actually I wouldnt have to buy one and watch is actually reasonable compared to phone cost) but it turns out WITHOUT THE PHONE THE WATCH DOES ALMOST NOTHING also battery life sux

John’s response: “Review (a) is not by Dana, but it almost is. By that I mean that it was clearly written by Harry Albert. Who else would so gamely try to make a defective product work and then reverse-engineer where the manufacturer had gone wrong? Review (b) was written either by my friend O— or his son, C— (both of whom are total poop aficionados, and know “poop” when they see it). So this leaves (c). Review (c) is one of those “Hapless” reviews, or maybe “Irrelevant” reviews, but it hews close to the formula for Terrible Reviews by A) misunderstanding the product and then blaming the product for the buyer’s ridiculous expectations for a product to do things it clearly was never intended to do (e.g., “This stupid external 1TB hard drive doesn’t sort my paper clips by size when I drop them in the little slots in the top! Total garbage!!!”) and B) uses ALL CAPS TO EXPRESS THEIR DISBELIEF THAT THE PRODUCT DOESN’T DO THINGS IT WASN’T DESIGNED TO DO, and C) adds a final jab to the review that looks like an afterthought, but is actually the only relevant part of the review. Well constructed Dana — I think (c) was yours. Again, abject sadness when I find out I’m wrong.

Review #3: toaster

a) Mostly works well except something is catching on the bread and tears bits off that get “stuck” down in the toaster and hard to get out. So I tried to fish it out with a knife (with the toaster off, by the way) and got this big electric shock! My wide actually laughed at me and said next time just turn it upside down and shake it. So I tried that and burned the crap out of my hand! Toaster is going back for sure.

b) I was so excited to buy a four slot toaster, morning arguments solved. However, this toaster was highly disappointing. The level that lowers the slots down is thin plastic and wobbly. The right side of the toaster quickly stopped lowing. The left side often burns part of the bread, while the rest of it is still cold. Overall, a shotty machine. Do not buy.

c) I looked on line and read reviews and decided to get this one, HA! This does not even pop the toast up high enough to grab! It says that you get even toasting on both sides, not! It worked for about a week and after that half the side of toast would cook and then only half of a half, When I use the Bagle button the Bagle is cooked on both sides, not one like it should have been.

John’s response: “Oh goodness… I can’t decide. Is this a trick? Did Dana write all of these? Each one has critical misspellings that seem impossible unless you were impersonating an internet troll (‘wide’ for ‘wife’, ‘lowing’ for ‘lowering’ and ‘shotty’ for ‘shoddy’, and ‘Bagle’ for ‘Bagel’). Sticking a metal object in a plugged-in kitchen appliance?! With ‘wide’ laughing at you?! Complaints about a toaster that has stopped moo’ing?! And let’s consider this sentence: ‘It worked for about a week and after that half the side of toast would cook and then only half of a half…’ They’re describing the Zeno’s paradox of toasting!!! So much genius. In the end, I guess I have to go with (a). Something about fishing out toast bits with a knife while a man’s ‘wide’ is laughing at him suggests a Dana story. But (c) is so good! With that bit about the toaster not even popping the toast up high enough to grab! Ugh. Too hard. But I’m going with (a).”

Review #4: Tom Danielson’s Core Advantage: Core Strength for Cycling’s Winning Edge (book)

a) I would buy this book but not from somebody who was suspended for doping-specifically for using Testosteron-as a Physiciian I know that Testosteron is useful in the recovery and healing of tissues, especially muscles.If his training was as beneficial as he describes why did he need Testosteron-also being as long in the Pro Peleoton as he ,he must must be pretty stupid not to know how easy it is these days to discover Testosteron.Therefore with me he has no credibility and I will not buy the book

b) It’s a shame how these books get published. The so-called co-author, Allison Westfahl, actually knows a lot about core strength training and theres lots of useful info here. Problem is she’s a nobody and couldn’t publish a book without tying it to a celebrity name so she let TD (aka Total Douche) pretend to co-write this. Almost worked but she should have hitched her wagon to a clean rider, if there are any left.

c) I noticed the chapter on doping was missing. Can’t trust a doper. Maybe I will wait for the B sample of this book before buying again.

John’s response: “All of the reviews focus on Tommy D’s doping career, so there’s no hint there. Only the one that is supposedly written by a ‘Physiciian’ is terribly written and full of grammatical and punctuation errors, and I think this is a red herring — it reads like it was written by a doctor for whom English is a second language and who may in fact be hopped up on ‘Testosteron’ RIGHT NOW. Review (c) was short and snarky, which I don’t associate with Dana’s prolix proclivities. This leaves (b), which might actually be right. ‘Total Douche’ sounds like it could have been written by Dana? Maybe? ‘Hitched her wagon’ sounds like Dana? Maybe? Yeah, I’m going with (b).”

[I got this one wrong, having no recollection of writing any of these reviews and supposing that the little bit of research I’d have had to do for response (b) above would have been more than I’d bother with. I underestimated myself!]

Review #5: cordless drill

a) never should have bought cordless drill, remember when drills had a cord and you could just go whip it out and use it, now i always have to plan ahead and charge the batteries, this one particularly bad won’t hold a charge and tajkes forever to charge up do not buy!

b) Only lasted two years and stopped working while my son was assembling soccer goals. Thought it was the battery and installed fresh one from the charger. My son came running to me yelling the drill was on fire. When I got to the drill smoke was pouring from the battery.

c) came with black marks along handle, tip and back of drill. case had interior scratches, battery had a charge, and scratches, second battery had scratches. im not talking about scratches you could blame on rough shipping, this thing was dropped a few times outside of its case. nobody wants somebody elses tool. *cough*

John’s response: “Jeezus, another hard one. I am suddenly feeling a lot of sympathy for Dana for having to read through (I assume) so many on-line reviews to find just the right utterly ridiculous ones to throw us off. I’m going to rule out (c). Sounds like a legit review with a snarky joke at the end about using other people’s tools (*cough*). Looks real. That leaves Mr. ‘Whip Out Your Drill When You Need It’ and Ms. ‘Drill Almost Burned My Son and His Soccer Goals’. I’m going with (a), Mr. ‘Whip It Out’. I love the idea of whipping out a drill with you need it. Also, the punctuation and the insertion of the ‘j’ in ‘tajkes’ (just to remind us that Dana still remembers what a QWERTY keyboard looks like) looks contrived. Then again, most things on the internet look contrived. I’m probably wrong. But (a) is my final answer.

“Dana — your fake reviews are all so inventive and creative. You’ve really mastered the genre! You have a great future ahead of you as an internet troll.”

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Old Yarn - The Cinelli Jumpsuit

Introduction

What do I mean “old yarn”? Well, I thought about using “spun yarn” in the title but that phrase has been taken and I don’t want to confuse the search engines. What I mean is a story that would be from my archives, except I’ve never written it down before. It seems as though I have enough good old yarns, I might as well write them up, and where better to put them but albertnet? (Isn’t it odd, by the way, that “write it down” and “write it up” mean the same thing?) So here is the first of what may become many old stories I’ll post here.

Cinelli jumpsuit

A cycling pal was in Italy recently and emailed our club a photo of a cool t-shirt he found at a bike shop, featuring the word “ciao” with its first letter being the classic winged “c” from the Cinelli logo. (I had a Cinelli bicycle for a while but that’s another story.) This photo got the team chattering, of course, and another pal posted a photo of his niece rocking a sweet tomato-red Cinelli jumpsuit.

I myself have a similar Cinelli jumpsuit in canary yellow, and sent around this old video of it to the team:

It’s been a while since I wore that jumpsuit, but I’ve got some fond memories of it, and you’re in luck: I’m going to share them here. (If that doesn’t seem like luck to you, click here.)

I bought the jumpsuit wholesale when I was working at the High Wheeler (aka Thigh Feeler) bike shop in Boulder, Colorado in 1989. The head mechanic, JB, had one, and as soon as my brothers and I saw it we had to have them, too. (I worked there with my oldest brothers, twins B— and G—, following in the footsteps of our brother M— who’d paved the way years before.) Summer in Boulder is hot, and the lightweight cotton was nice and breathable, but obviously that was just gravy … the real point of the jumpsuits was how awesome they looked, if you didn’t mind certain people thinking you were a complete idiot. That wasn’t much of a problem; at the Thigh Feeler, we mechanics weren’t allowed on the sales floor and in fact were encouraged to enter the store through the alley out back. We in turn tried but failed to ban the salespeople (whom we called “retail scum”) from the workshop area, where they tended to borrow but not return our tools. It was damned unfair.

I suppose part of the flair of rocking the jumpsuit is that it showed you weren’t scared of getting it dirty from greasy bike parts (vs. wearing the standard-issue shop apron). I thought frequently of the line in the classic cycling documentary “Stars & Water Carriers” (at least, I think that’s the movie) where someone says, “The Italian mechanics are so slick, they wear silk shirts.” To complete my look—and because my hair was so long it kept getting in my face—I wore a bright red bandanna with the jumpsuit. Of course, in Boulder when I’d venture out for my lunch break nobody really noticed my attire anyway, as Boulder had all kinds of exotic birds already.

(According to Thigh Feeler lore, when it got really hot some mechanics, possibly including the three Albert boys or perhaps them specifically, worked wearing absolutely nothing but an apron and shoes. I’m not going to say this legend is true, but I’m not saying it isn’t.)

When I moved to California for college of course I brought the jumpsuit, though I didn’t have much occasion to wear it. As a student at UC Santa Barbara, I worked at the Associated Students Bike Shop, but only for very short shifts arranged around my classes, and there wasn’t time to go home and change. I didn’t suppose it would be a good look for a college kid anyway, especially one like myself who was hoping to attract the ladies.

The AS Bike Shop was actually a very good place to be if you were looking for ways to chat up pretty young things, because helping customers fix their own bikes was actually part of our job. Not surprisingly, the guys never asked for help because they were too proud, but the girls often did. And they were invariably pretty. What’s more, almost all their bikes were cheap beach cruisers so the repairs were easy. One dazzling blonde brought her bike in one day and said, “Oh my god, the tire is completely flat!” I replied, “Gosh, that’s too bad. If it were just kinda flat that’d be better, because we charge by the PSI.” She said, “Oh, no! What’s a PSI?”

So what does this have to do with the Cinelli jumpsuit? Hold tight, I’m getting there. There was a supervisor on staff named Willie, who was an older guy who, it was said, had done a bit too much acid in the ‘60s. He was generally fairly grumpy, particularly (it seemed) with me, because he said I spent too much time with the coeds. I would remind him that it’s my job, and these tricky beach cruiser repairs take as long as they take, especially when a total novice is receiving patient instruction. Willie and I would go around and around on this but got nowhere, as the real issue was unspoken: he was apparently discouraged from instructing the customers himself; perhaps that opportunity was supposed to be part of the student employee experience.

The other thing Willie didn’t like about me is how I tended to squeeze in short shifts between classes. Truth be told, I didn’t have enough hours, or a high enough wage, to really earn much money at the shop. This was supposed to be a work-study job where the shop paid half my wage and the university the other half, but I didn’t qualify for work-study. My dad made too much money, you see, and declared me on his income taxes (thinking he was some kind of wise guy, since I’d lived with my mom after their divorce). So I was making half what I should have at that shop, barely over minimum wage. I mainly worked there so I could buy my bike parts wholesale (though factually the cute coeds did factor in as well). The short shifts were a problem because, being a more seasoned mechanic than most, I took on the more complicated repairs, but often didn’t have time to finish them. “Sorry, Willie, I gotta get to class!” I’d say cheerfully. Nobody likes taking over a tricky repair midway, least of all a tired-out guy like Willie, but it was what it was. One day, as I abruptly abandoned a repair, he grabbed the rag off my bench and gave it a vigorous, angry shake, only to discover that the rag was where I’d put all the eighth-inch ball bearings of the headset I was repacking. The bearings flew everywhere and I couldn’t help but laugh.

When it came to what Willie took as my poor job performance, he didn’t have much recourse because I was on great terms with the manager and the school administration. The manager liked me due to what modern corporate America calls “affinity bias”—we were both from Boulder. He’s the one who bent the rules in hiring me in the first place. The school administrator liked me for a similarly non-work-related reason. We were required to submit a daily report with our hours and a description of what we were working on. The answer—“fixing bikes”—was just too boring for me, but I was unable to wiggle out of submitting the reports. So I just made up something inane every day, according to my whim. “Cultivating raisins,” I’d write, or “Stroking my ego.” One day the administrator phoned me up and drew my attention to my highly unorthodox reports. “Am I in trouble?” I asked. She replied, “No, not at all, I just wanted to tell you to keep ‘em coming! My job is really boring and your reports are the highlight of my day.”

So what does all this have to do with the Cinelli jumpsuit? Hang on, I’m getting to that. So, every year our cycling team put on a race weekend, including a criterium on campus. The riders (when not racing) had to help in various capacities, and the AS Bike Shop chipped in, and I volunteered to help Willie with the pre-race bike inspections. The main thing we checked was that the tires were glued on properly. Most racers back then used tubulars, aka sew-up tires, which didn’t have a wire bead that hooked into the rim, but were rather glued on to the rim with this messy cement, and it was hard to get right. An improperly glued tire could roll right off the rim during hard cornering, which almost always caused a crash and frequently a pile-up. So we’d try to roll the tires off with our hands during the inspection; if we could, the bike wasn’t safe to race, and the rider was basically screwed because he’d have just a few minutes to try to find another wheel to put on his bike. Most guys got really pissed off about this, but Willie and I backed each other up. “Hey man, this guy did you a favor,” we’d say. “Better you flunk the bike inspection than cause a big crash.”

Willie seemed to really relish flunking bikes. He even wore gloves, to increase his chances of successfully rolling tires. When a wheel/tire passed inspection, we’d stick a colored sticker on the rim to indicate it was race-ready. (The color wasn’t determined until the day of the race, so riders couldn’t cheat and bring their own stickers.) Every time we flunked a bike, we’d put a sticker on Willie’s wheel truing stand, like a victory marking on the fuselage of a fighter plane. Our cooperation during the bike inspection marked the best we’d ever gotten along.

And that, finally, is where the Cinelli jumpsuit comes in. Here I must confess I’m a bit hazy on the details … either I showed up wearing it and Willie looked so totally envious that I rode back home, changed, and brought it back for him to wear; or, perhaps I just figured he’d enjoy wearing it even more than I would and brought it just for him. Suffice to say, he got to wear the jumpsuit. He had kinda long, scraggly hair, a big moustache, and wire-rimmed glasses, and those features—along with his zany personality—made the jumpsuit a perfect fit. He was so stoked to be sporting it.

Well, the next year, a day or two before the annual criterium, I was working away at the shop and Willie came over and—without the normal brash, tetchy tone he used for nagging me about the coeds—he said, “Hey, um, you’re working bike check with me at the race, right?” I assured him I would be. “So, yeah, well, I was wondering if, uh, well, like last year, if you could—”

“Sure,” I interrupted him. “I’ll bring the jumpsuit for you.” He grinned hugely (a rare sight, to be sure), and the next day he again enjoyed rocking the jumpsuit at the race, where we added many more stickers to his truing stand. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he hassled me less at work after that … but actually, when I really think back, it was no different. He was still a pretty grumpy guy.

During my second year at UCSB, I applied to transfer to UC Berkeley and was accepted. That June, after my last final exam, I made a final visit to the AS Bike Shop. “Done with your last final, huh?” Willie said. “That calls for a beer!” As he opened the mini-fridge he remembered I was transferring and said, “Wait, this was your last final ever here, right? That calls for champagne!” I kid you not, he had a bottle chilled, and popped it open. There weren’t too many guys at the shop at that moment, so I ended up drinking a fair bit of it. And then I realized, “Oh, shit! I’m supposed to meet the guys to go ride!” I raced home, changed, and met a few of my teammates for an 80-mile road ride. The first 15 miles or so were just awful, trying to get my rubbery legs and buggered motor skills to cooperate. Then my body seemed to burn through the alcohol, and everything was just fine. Kind of odd, that.

Well, I moved away, up to Berkeley, where I got a proper bike shop job, with real pay and real hours (due to the higher cost of living in the Bay Area). I wasn’t teaching the art of bike repair to customers anymore, so it wasn’t as much fun, but it paid the bills. I was still racing, now for the Cal team, and in the spring we headed down to do the races at UC Santa Barbara. Obviously I wasn’t on the hook for helping with bike checks anymore, but nevertheless I headed over first thing to say hi to Willie. He seemed legitimately glad to see me, asked how I liked Berkeley, etc. Then his expression changed and he said, “Hey, I gotta ask you something. By any chance, did you … did you—”

“Yeah, Willie,” I said. “I brought the jumpsuit.”

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From the Archives - Death Ride Photo Quagmire

Introduction

In the year 2000, I did the Markleeville Death Ride with my friend J— and my brother B—. This lead, years later, to a dispute that stretched the bonds of our friendship almost to the limit. Read on for the full transcript of our increasingly heated email exchange.

The Death Ride Photo Quagmire – January 13, 2005

From: Dana
To: J—, W—, & B—
Date: January 13, 2005
Subject: We Are Owed…

J—, W—, & B—:

Check out this link:

http://www.deathride.com/course/ [Alas, this link is dead, this having been 19 years ago.]

I was astonished, when perusing the Markleeville Death Ride website, and reaching the above page, to see this photo of us.

Upon reflection, however, it seems perfectly obvious that the ride organizers would want to use such natural poster boys for their promotional materials. Not everyone looks so healthy, so athletic, so—okay, let’s just say it—so sexy, especially when clad in humble garbage bags. I imagine we’ll end up on the posters and jerseys and such as well, if they can get our skeletons right.

J—, I found the original photo on your personal website. Clearly that’s where the Death Ride folks stole it from. Naturally, we are in a position to demand royalties, and it would be downright un-American to let the opportunity go. If we don’t get some kind of remuneration for this, then the terrorists have already won.

The question is, who should get the money? Obviously, B—, J—, and I are the subjects of the pirated photo, but then W—, I believe you took the photo, so you may own the rights to it. And J—, it’s your website they grabbed it from, so it may be that you own the rights to it. (The fact that you and W— are married may end up being very helpful here, as long as you don’t keep separate bank accounts.)

J—, before we go after these guys, you might want to throw some boilerplate up on your site along the lines of, “All photos (and other data) on this website are the exclusive property of J— L—, and any reproduction of said photos, in any form, including but not limited to promotional materials, romance novel cover art, screen savers, and collectible plates, is strictly prohibited.”

So who has a lawyer friend who owes him a favor?

Dana

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From: W—
To: D—, J—, & B—
Date: January 13, 2005
Subject: Re: We Are Owed…

It should be obvious to everyone that I own that picture! I make my living writing about and photographing other people - imagine if they all came out asking for a piece of the pie!

W—

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From: J—
To: D—, W—, & B—
Date: January 13, 2005
Subject: RE: We are owed…

Dana et al,

Sorry to disappoint you, but I was contacted by a guy named M— who asked permission to use some of my photos for a new Death Ride website. Thinking this was my shot at the Big Time, I gave my consent for their use. I can only assume that this free publicity will bring an avalanche of requests for ... something. Anything. All I know is there is no such thing as bad publicity, so I’m banking on that.

J—

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From: Dana
To: J—, W—, & B—
Date: January 13, 2005
Subject: RE: We are owed…

J—,

I’m afraid your apology won’t be enough for B— and me, and perhaps not for W— either. Who gave you the authority to grant that fellow that permission? Sure, I let you put the picture on your site, as a personal favor, never imagining that you’d abuse our friendship by giving out an image of me. What if a collectible plate makes its way into circulation, and said plate makes me look fat, or dumpy, or something?

Have your lawyer call my lawyer. But tell him to talk quickly, since my lawyer is expensive.

Dana

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From: J—
To: Dana, W—, & B—
Date: January 13, 2005
Subject: RE: We are owed…

My lawyer will call your lawyer, but I can tell you now that we’re going to win this one. Our lawyer is the best. Okay, to be clear, our lawyer, for now, given our penurious state, is S— [J—’s one-year-old son]. But I’ll tell you this: what he lacks in terms of knowledge of the law or putting words together to make sentences he makes up for in determination and an uncanny ability to get his way.

You’ve been warned.

J—

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From: Dana
To: J—, W—, & B—
Date: January 13, 2005
Subject: RE: We are owed…

Determination and persistence are one thing, but he’ll have my attorney’s charm to contend with. It probably won’t be any surprise to you that my attorney is A— [my four-year-old daughter]. See you in court.

Dana

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Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2024 Critérium du Dauphiné Stage 8

Introduction

Bike races are becoming hard to watch, in every way. First, you have to subscribe to a different streaming service for practically every event. Second, so many races seem to be dominated by a single rider, it’s getting super boring (e.g., Tadej Pogacar winning the Giro d’Italia by almost ten minutes, picking up six stage wins in the process). Finally, our eyes are getting bad … at least, mine are. And the Critérium du Dauphiné is particularly hard because the coverage starts at 4:00 a.m. Pacific time. So if you’re looking at all the text on this page and thinking, “Oh, it’s so long, and there are so many photos, I’m not sure I can commit,” consider that it could be much, much worse.

(The good news is, as I’m adding this particular paragraph after the fact, I can tell you today was not boring! Read on!)

Critérium du Dauphiné Stage 8 - Thônes > Plateau des Glières

As I join the action I’m pleased to hear Christian Vande Velde and Bob Roll announcing. The guy Peacock has narrating the replays sounds lugubrious, and of course Phil Liggett has become nonsensical. Not that Bob’s commentary is always scintillating. “That is the peloton,” he now says emphatically. Not sure whether his emphasis is this French term, or he just really wants us to understand what’s going on.

As early as I arose this morning (4:40 to be precise), the riders have just 15 kilometers (9.3 miles) to go. Fortunately it’s all uphill as they approach the Category 1 Plateau des Glières.

Michal Kwiatkowski (Ineos Grenadiers) is taking like six bottles from the team car. Not sure why on earth he’d do that so close to the finish, except maybe these bottles contain PEDs. (This is Ineos, after all.) It’s also puzzling that he’s even being allowed to take bottles because the supposed rule is no feeding after the 20-kilometer-to-go mark. Maybe Kwiatowski ran afoul of team management and is being made to haul these up the mountain as ballast. Kind of the equivalent of dropping and doing twenty pushups, which protocol they’d have to modify because as everyone knows, most pro cyclists are incapable of doing pushups.

There’s a breakaway of nine riders with just over a minute on the peloton. They’ll probably get overwhelmed. I don’t think the term “overwhelmed” has been used for describing a break being caught but it’s actually the perfect word. Let’s see if it catches on.

Wow, the gap is plummeting. I’m not even going to learn the breakaway riders’ names. They’re like temps in an office. Do companies still hire temps? Like the Kelly Girls of old? Let’s revisit that later.

The peloton is still pretty huge. I guess race leader Primoz Roglic’s Bora-Hansgrohe team hasn’t decided to lay down a fast tempo yet. The GC favorites are waiting until the last minute, totally ignoring their moms’ perennial warning. These guys!

As usual for France, the towns and countryside are gorgeous.

Marc Soler (UAE Team Emirates) is in the breakaway. I guess he didn’t learn his lesson yesterday when he soloed from like 40 km out and then got caught with just a couple kilometers to go. He lost like seven minutes on the last climb. D’oh!

The breakaway is dissolving like animal crackers in hot soup. I don’t believe that metaphor has been employed before. Fellow race commentators take note.

Sean Quinn, an American on EF Education First Easy Post Whatever, is leading the breakaway, wearing some kind of stars-and-stripes jersey. Either he won a national title or he’s just hella patriotic.

Giulio Ciccone (Lidl-Trek) attacks! He sits ninth on GC so we can presume he’s just looking for a stage win.

I’m kind of rooting for Ciccone right now because he seems to be such a good sport about riding with the equipment he’s given, which includes in this case these totally goofy handlebars and levers that stick out at a crazy angle, bringing to mind fallen arches. I would refuse to ride with such silly equipment but he’s not only getting on with it, but trying to solo!

Looks like all the breakaway riders have been stubbed out in the race ashtray. Ciccone has 22 seconds on the GC group which has maybe 15 riders left.

Here’s what’s gone on in this Dauphiné this past week. Nothing major happened on GC until the time trial which Remco Evenepoel (Soudal Quick Step) won handily. Then there was a massive crash in Stage 5 following which they neutralized the race. The yellow jersey changed hands in Stage 6 which Primoz Roglic (Bora-Hansgrohe) won (typically enough), and then the GC got really boring when Roglic won Stage 7 as well. I’m only deigning to watch today because Roglic does have a knack for losing stage races on the final day.

This is interesting: David Gaudu (Groupama-FDJ) is going out the back. He was kind of considered a GC contender this year and was his team’s protected rider. He’s one of many promising racers who just fizzle out. Also of note is that he’s cooling himself off … this might be the first hot day of the race. The only interesting thing Roglic said in his post-race interview yesterday was, “When will summer be here?” I’ve been wondering the same thing.

Laurens de Plus (Ineos Granadiers) is leading the GC group and they catch Ciccone. Ciccone’s brake levers were just scooping up too much wind for him to be able to stay off. I hope he learns his lesson and switches to more aerodynamic equipment after this.

Whoa, this is interesting! Carlos Rodriguez (Ineos Granadiers) is driving the pace on the front, and Roglic has let a gap open up! Best yet, the American Matteo Jorgenson (Team Visma – Lease A Bike), who sits second on GC just 1:02 behind Roglic, is right on Rodriguez’s wheel! This could actually get interesting!

(Jorgenson is a baller, by the way. He won this year’s Paris-Nice stage race, as well as the Dwars door Vlaanderen. He was born in Walnut Creek, right here in the Bay Area. He’s young enough to be my son, and  he stands 6’2” which is pretty rare for a dude who can climb so well. Amer’ca!)

Cicconi tries to close the gap, with Roglic sucking his wheel. Where are Roglic’s Bora-Hansgrohe teammates?

Derek Gee, the Israel-Premier Tech rider on the front, has been riding a great Dauphiné, having won Stage 3. Moreover, he’s sitting third overall, just 11 seconds behind  Jorgenson and 1:13 behind Roglic. He flicks his elbow but nobody pulls through. By “nobody” I mean Jorgenson and Rodriguez (who is very hard to see … probably part of his strategy). All the others are gone.

The break now has 15 seconds. That’s a quarter of what Jorgenson needs, but there are only 3.6 kilometers to go. It’d be a long shot for him to unseat Roglic but you never know. Now Jorgenson comes to the front and you can see Gee is really suffering.

Roglic, who takes over from Ciccone, is going pretty well but his socks are the wrong color and they’re too tall. They’re kind of a lemon yellow and the jersey is more canary. I can’t root for a rider with such poor aesthetic taste. Maybe he’s colorblind? But then, why hasn’t a teammate or staffer jumped in with sartorial advice? Are they afraid of him? Is he a tyrant? Probably.

Evenepoel, who was evidently dropped at some point, starts to close the gap to Roglic. Evenepoel got totally shelled yesterday. He’s like that … he does a huge effort and then pays dearly the next day. Roglic’s heroic domestique, Aleksandr Vlasov, is on Evenepoel’s wheel and if they catch up, maybe he could help Roglic. Vlasov was amazing yesterday.

There’s still a chasing duo behind the leaders. It’s De Plus and Santiago Buitrago (Bahrain Victorious), but they won’t catch back up. As if to prove my point, Buitrago chooses a very poor time to engage in literal naval-gazing, which is not only annoying but non-aerodynamic.

Up in the break, Jorgenson attacks!

Gee is dropped but Rodriguez manages to close the gap.

The two leaders are under the 1-kilometer kite! They’ve got almost 40 seconds, and there’s a 10-second bonus! Jorgenson needs only another 11 seconds to take the GC win!

Heading for the line, Rodriguez is stronger and Jorgenson can’t come around! Rodriguez takes the win!

He almost forgets his victory salute, but pulls it out! Look how dejected Jorgenson is … he needed that first-place time bonus, and of course a stage win would’ve been nice, particularly if he doesn’t manage to steal the GC.

Roglic drills it, knowing full well he could totally lose this Dauphiné!

He’s gotta be shitting bricks. He lost the 2020 Dauphiné on the last day, remember, by crashing like two or three times. And then he famously lost the 2020 Tour de France on the final stage, with his silly time trial helmet creeping off his head. To lose this second-rate stage race on the last day simply by not managing to ride fast enough … that would be just too humiliating.

Roglic crosses the line and it looks like he made it just in time to hang on to his GC. Note the silly piece of tape Ciccone has on his nose, which is somehow supposed to improve his breathing. I’ll bet he has a really dorky tan line there (which I find just as interesting as Roglic winning another stage race).

Here’s the stage result.

They’re interviewing Rodriguez.

INTERVIEWER: You picked up the stage win. So I guess your parents were wrong about you.

RODRIGUEZ: I felt really good. As hard as the team worked, we had a plan, yeah, get in a breakaway, try to go for the stage win.

INTERVIEWER: That’s not really a plan, per se, that’s just a goal.

RODRIGUEZ: After that I just raced as hard as possible in the finale, on the last climb. I couldn’t do enough to get on the podium so I wanted the stage win.

INTERVIEWER: You kind of ignored my last comment. That really hurts my feelings.

RODRIGUEZ: The legs feel good. This result was for my teammates. See you at the Tour.

What the interviewer evidently doesn’t realize is that nobody is translating the questions for Rodriguez, so he’s just saying whatever he feels like. Also, I’m just typing whatever I feel like. So it’s a win-win.

Here’s the final GC result. I’m tempted to say it was a nail-biter, but I refuse to normalize that disgusting behavior. Let’s just say it was a close one (in fact the closest in Dauphiné history).

Now they’re Interviewing Roglic.

INTERVIEWER: Yesterday you said something interesting about the weather. Do you think you can do similarly well today, or will we be back to your mind-numbingly boring, anodyne statements like “my team did great”?

ROGLIC: No, not really, it was quite crazy actually, I’m happy to be able to win the Dauphiné, with everything happening in between, it’s beautiful.

INTERVIEWER: Did they tell you [Jorgenson] was gaining time?

ROGLIC: Yeah, exactly. Both dudes in the car were spouting off, like, “Primoz, you fool, he’s destroying you!” and I was like, “Shut your pie-holes ye bleedin’ pricks!”

INTERVIEWER: Were you suffering?

ROGLIC: Did you really just ask me that? [Note: the interviewer actually did.]

INTERVIEWER: Are you confident for the Tour de France?

ROGLIC: Definitely. But, one is Dauphine, other is Tour. One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.

INTERVIEWER: What does that even mean?

ROGLIC: I have no idea. They switched to a teleprompter this year and I think someone is screwing with me. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have got to take out these contact lenses. My eyes are getting really dry as I age.

David Gaudu smiles incessantly as his fans pose with him for photos. What’s he so happy about? He’s supposed to be a GC favorite and he didn’t even crack the top ten today. He finished all the way down in 30th, over four minutes behind. Still, that’s better than his teammate, the hapless Chris Froome, who was third-to-last almost 27 minutes down.

They’ve just announced that the team director of Bora-Hansgrohe suffered a fatal heart attack while watching Roglic almost lose the GC. Okay, I made that up. It was just a joke. Was that in poor taste? Perhaps. Could I delete this paragraph? Yes. Will I? Obviously not.

The camera loves Roglic. They just keep zooming in on his face, trying to get some footage with actual emotion in it. Here’s perhaps the best they could do.

Not a bad shot, really. In fact, when he sees this post perhaps he’ll download that picture. He could use it as his new profile photo.

Rodriguez mounts the podium to celebrate his stage win. After eschewing podium girls entirely, the race organizers are gradually bringing back approximately half of the tradition. The new UCI rules dictate that there can only be one female; there must also be a dumpy man; the female must be called a “podium woman”; and, she must look like Taylor Swift.

Jorgenson takes the podium having sealed his victory in the best young rider competition. Will he lead Visma-Lease A Bike for the Tour? Who knows. I haven’t been following the sport too closely now that cyclingnews.com put up a paywall, the bastards. All I know about Visma’s prospects is that last year’s Tour winner Jonas Vingegaard may not even race it this year as he continues to recover from a bad crash in the spring, and last year’s Vuelta winner Sepp Kuss was sick during this Dauphiné (and didn’t even start today), so it’s impossible to know how his form is.

And now, Roglic steps on to the podium for his final yellow jersey presentation. As he likes to do, he drags his kids up there, little realizing how confusing and upsetting this surely is for them. His younger son nervously bites his fingernails. How sad to be taking up this disgusting practice at such a very tender age. Roglic tries to intervene, but it’s surely too late for this kid. Oh well. At least the Slovenian champ has another stage race victory to add to his palmarès.

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