Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2025 Vuelta a España Stage 14

Introduction

The Vuelta a España is kind of the Dr. McCoy of the three Grand Tours, with the Tour de France being Kirk and the Giro d’Italia being Spock. That’s why the Vuelta might seem grumpy. (Dang, this metaphor is already starting to get away from me.) This race usually isn’t the boring blowout that the Tour is, and with Tadej Pogacar—a rider so dominant he’s the first one I mention when he’s not even here—not here, it’s actually an exciting race, with less than a minute separating the top two contenders. If you haven’t been following this Vuelta, check out my coverage of Stage 9 last week, and as I give you this biased blow-by-blow I’ll gradually catch you up on the stages in between.

What do I mean by “biased”? I’m not a journalist, I’m not neutral, and I tell it how it is, which either means pointing out obvious doping—which so far I happily haven’t noted in this Vuelta—and poor behavior of any kind.

Vuelta a España Stage 14 – Avilés to La Farrapona/Lagos de Somiedo

As I join the action, there’s a very large breakaway a little over five minutes ahead of the red jersey group. There are about 60 kilometers (35 miles) to go, meaning the riders still have two major climbs ahead. The commentators on my Peacock coverage, Christian Van de Velde and Bob Roll, are talking about a heroic feat achieved by Victor Campenaerts (Team Visma – Lease A Bike) today, which was to bridge up to this breakaway mostly by himself, scooping up Gijs Leeimreize (Team Picnic-PostNL) in the process. Actually Campenaerts had been in the break but punctured and lost almost two minutes and had to chase back on. This last detail I gleaned from cyclingnews.com and their blow-by-blow report. Which begs two questions: 1) am I cheating? and 2) why wouldn’t you just read the cyclingnews coverage, instead of this? Answers: 1) yes, of course, and 2) because they don’t give updates often enough, and they don’t even try to be funny. Whether or not I make you laugh, I will always try, which means you can silently mock me when I fail. Which is even better than laughing.

So, who is Gijs Leeimreize, and how do you pronounce his name? And, will I continue with this question-plus-response format? Answers: 1) who knows, I’ve never heard of him; 2) I have no idea but I’m guessing it’s pronounced “jizz”; and 3) yes, probably.

Imagine going through life with a name like “jizz” in a country where pretty much everybody is fluent in English. That can’t be easy. No wonder this athlete is so driven.

With about 52 kilometers (32 miles) to go, the breakaway is on the foothills of the fearsome Puertu de San Llaurienzu, a Category 1 climb. Here’s the profile of that bad boy.

The breakaway has 6:25, which is starting to look like a big enough gap to produce the race’s winner. It’s a pretty big group, two dozen souls, almost all of them complete nobodies (which is why they’ve been allowed to go up the road like this). There are only two riders in this group I’ve heard of before: Campenaerts and Marc Soler (UAE Team Emirates-XRG). These two are heavy hitters whose main job is to support their team leader. For Campenaerts that means supporting the current GC leader of the race, Jonas Vingegaard, and for Soler it means Joao Almeida, who sits second, only 46 seconds behind Vingegaard. So what are these two domestiques doing up in this breakaway? Well, I’ve been waiting for one of these commentators to use the word “satellite,” and bingo—one just did.

What is a satellite rider? It’s a rider who has achieved such a high speed he’s gone into low earth orbit and will probably be purchased by Elon Musk, possibly in a hostile takeover. Ow! Damn! My fact-checker just punched me in the neck! No sense of humor, that guy. (Full disclosure: I have no fact checker.) Actually, “satellite rider” is one of these  terms that the American announcers have invented and that they use so often, we viewers are expected to know what they’re talking about. This is a big step forward, mind you, from the early days of cycling coverage when the viewer was assumed to know nothing, and commentators would explain things like, “Near the finish line everyone will go even faster. This is called a ‘sprint.’” I am not making that up, and you could call it mansplaining except it was the former Olympic champ Connie Carpenter who actually said it. Anyway, other terms these American announcers have come up with are “daylight,” “back on terms,” and “the cat is among the pigeons,” all of which I will explain in due time, after I (finally) tell you what “satellite” means and how it pertains to this situation.

But wait, something is actually happening on the road! They’re interviewing Sepp Kuss (Team Visma – Lease A Bike). Or, rather, they’re playing a previously recorded interview with him, which arrangement they don’t bother to explain. How confusing this sport must be to the newcomer, who is already confused by all these strange terms and is now looking at a rider just standing there while a race is on. The newb must be like, wait, did they get this guy to stop and stand in the road for a bit to do this interview? And then the rest of the racers have to go around this cameraman? Is that even safe? Anyway, here’s the interview.

INTERVIEWER: Today is another big mountain day. Will you get the victory Jonas tried to get yesterday?

KUSS: Do you mean will I get the victory? Or do you mean Jonas?

INTERVIEWER: I don’t know. Either, I guess. I confess I didn’t really plan what to ask you; a staffer was just running around trying to find a friendly person willing to be interviewed, and came up with you.

KUSS: Friendly? Me? Really? Did he say I was friendly?

INTERVIEWER: Not in so many words, but yeah, he must have decided you seemed friendly.

KUSS: I ask because not everybody thinks I’m friendly. I try to be, but my girlfriend’s BFF said I was kind of a dick. Which my girlfriend decided was worth bringing up to me.

INTERVIEWER: What’s going on? How did I get here?

KUSS: I have no idea. This is the weirdest Vuelta stage ever.

If you’re new to albertnet, I guess I should disclose that I don’t try very hard to capture these interviews verbatim, especially when they’re boring, which they typically are. I’m forced to invent things, such as everything you just read other than the opening question. Kuss’s actual response was some roundabout way of saying, “We’ll try.”

Gianmarco Garofoli (Soudal-QuickStep) attacks the breakaway, quickly establishing a huge gap. This doesn’t warrant an exclamation mark because he has no chance, no hope.

See? Look at this, mere moments later: the breakaway has reassembled itself, loosely, though a handful have fallen off and will gradually get scooped up by the peloton.

Okay, so, a satellite rider is a domestique who gets into a breakaway so that when his team leader needs his help, he can just drop back and provide it. Since dropping back means loafing, he’ll be pretty fresh and can then bury himself for his leader. This is a lot more feasible than a domestique who’s been sucking wind on the back just trying to keep up who is now expected to go to the front and put the hammer down (or whatever else his leader needs). Why does this satellite tactic work, when presumably the breakaway riders had to work pretty hard to be in the breakaway in the first place? Simple: politics. Breakaways gain time when the peloton is loafing. So it’s circumstance, not heroics, that lead to their big gap over the field. (Note that there is brutal work involved in establishing the breakaway, and in the case of Campenaerts, catching back up after his bike problem.)

With about two kilometers (1.2 miles) to go on this climb, the GC group has shrunk to maybe a dozen riders, with UAE Team Emirates-XRG driving the pace on the front. Leading is Juan Ayuso, which is somewhat remarkable because it’s really the first time he’s actually worked for his team leader, Almeida. Ayuso will be leaving this team after this season and has evidently lost his desire to support it, riding instead for himself (to good effect, it must be said, as he’s won two stages). He’s gotten a lot of well-deserved bad press for this, and maybe he finally read the memo. (Do you like what I did just there? Tweaked the cliché to be “read the memo,” suggesting it’s been sitting on his desk the whole time? You won’t get that on cyclingnews.) Just behind Ayuso in this group is Jay Vine, in the silly polka-dot KOM jersey and (unfortunately) matching shorts. Vine won a stage here in truly badass fashion and gave a great interview afterward … I really like that guy.

So here’s what’s happened since Stage 9 (i.e., since my last report). Stage 10, which featured a Category 1 mountaintop finish, is the one Vine won, solo. In stage 11, a lumpy circuit starting and finishing in Bilbao, Vingegaard and the rider sitting third overall, Tom Pidcock (Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team), broke away together and it looked like a very exciting showdown was brewing until a bunch of damn protesters wouldn’t get out of the road and the officials had to end the stage early, taking everyone’s time with three kilometers to go. (Needless to say the protestors had zero influence on the world affairs they’re concerned about.)

The breakaway is over the summit of this penultimate climb. It’s down to ten riders. I can’t get a good photo because I’m too slow on the draw. Peacock, in addition to showing endless ads (for products I will now boycott, on principle), blocks screen grabs. An anonymous commenter on my last post suggested I switch to a monthly FloBikes plan (requiring a VPN that makes it look like I’m in Canada), and I might investigate that, but a) I already paid for Peacock and am the world’s cheapest man, and b) that sounds like a lot of hassle. On the other hand, this commenter added, “No ads and you can join me in speculation about whether Hannah Walker and Koen de Kort are an item.” That certainly sweetens the pot.

The GC group (what’s left of it, that is) crests the summit, just a little over three minutes behind now.

Getting back to my recap, Stage 12 had a couple big climbs, and Ayuso broke away with Javier Romo (Movistar Team). If Romo took the stage it’d be the first for his Spanish team in years, but at the end Ayuso outsprinted him pretty easily. Then, yesterday, on the queen stage of this Vuelta that finished atop the fearsome beyond-category Angliru climb, Almeida and Vingegaard broke away, with Vingegaard sitting on Almeida’s wheel the entire way, as poker-faced as a mannequin. Almeida took the stage with absolutely no victory salute because it was a sketchy finish stretch and he was completely knackered. He took some bonus seconds and shrank his gap to Vingegaard in the GC. And then it was now.

This is amazing: I’ve seen more ads during the two weeks of this Vuelta than cumulatively all year. It’s like five minutes of coverage, then five minutes of ads. Maybe I will look into this FloBikes thing. In the current ad, some redneck-looking football player is sitting on a deer in a living room eating Little Caesar’s pizza with some fans. Weirdly, the pizza doesn’t even look good in the ad. Couldn’t they use CGI to make it more appetizing? This will be an easy boycott for me.

With 20 kilometers (12.4 miles) to go, Ayuso goes out the back. At least he did his job today and can feel good about that. When Almeida won yesterday, it must have felt weird for Ayuso at dinner, not getting to celebrate with the others because he hadn’t helped. Maybe that’s why he finally stepped it up today.

The breakaway is on the final climb. Everyone is grinding away at a steady pace right now so I’ll define some more of these made-up American commentator cycling terms. “Daylight” simply means a gap big enough that you can see daylight through it, which isn’t really that descriptive (though it alludes to how closely these riders draft one another). I would say “getting some daylight” isn’t among the most useful cycling terms we have, but I suppose it engenders camaraderie between the announcers to throw it around together. “Back on terms” simply means to catch up and regain the pace of a group you’d been briefly dropped from, and I can’t even hazard a guess as to its etymology. It reminds me of a frequent feature of my horoscope when I was a teenager, when the astrologer, Omar, would advise me, “Define terms.” What did it mean? I never knew.

With 17 kilometers (10.6 miles) to go, two riders have attacked the breakaway and have—wait for it—daylight!

It’s Soler and Johannes Staune-Mittet (Decathlon AG2R La Mondiale Team). Hard to see what their gap is but—wow, look at this, Soler accelerates again, and drops Staune-Mitttet!

At some point Campenaerts dropped back to the GC group, and now he’s fetching bottles for his teammates. In terms of the satellite metaphor you might say he’s splashed down.

Soler continues his solo effort, his hips rocking like he’s some kind of dancer. Kind of an odd looking rider, honestly. Gangly. He has no bottles and nobody to bring them right now.

I thought once the final climb was underway I’d get respite from the ads. But it’s yet another commercial intermission, this time an ad for the Ryder Cup, some golfing event I was already boycotting (because it’s surely much less interesting than, say, a documentary about how golf balls are made).

This final climb is a beast. Not as steep as the last one, but hella long:

I can’t see how this is a very smart move for Soler. First of all, he’s probably doomed, because once the GC battle gets going, that three minutes isn’t likely to be enough. Second, he ought to be focusing all his effort on supporting Almeida, who will need all the help he can get to unseat Vingegaard. Third, given his own well-earned reputation for riding for himself instead of his team (famously, in a 2019 Vuelta stage when he was on Movistar and threw a tantrum when told to sit up) and within the political climate of his team, he should be extra careful about looking selfish. So by the end it may well be a case of trying—if not failing—to do the wrong thing. So I’ll employ another commentators’ cliché: it’s like dogs and cats living together. (Okay, no Peacock announcer has ever said that. It was Bill Murray.)

With 10 kilometers (6 miles) to go, the GC group is still at steady tempo, with Vine on the front. More and more breakaway riders have been diapered (to coin a new cycling term of my own).

Soler takes a bottle from his team car. Depending on how organized the team staff is, that bottle may contain a powerful laxative, to put the self-serving rider in his place.

Peacock now shows two Capital One ads in a row. Can they do that? I wish I could boycott this bank twice. Fortunately, Peacock isn’t advertising its own coverage of this race. That would present quite a conundrum.

Who knows, maybe the UAE team management is on board with this move. (After all, their director, Mauro Gianetti, is a complete maniac.) Maybe they’re thinking hey, we’re already known as a cesspool of infighting, we might as well go all-in with that. It’s pretty funny to see Soler off the front while his team leads the chase group behind. Of course they’re not really chasing, but just setting up Almeida for a big attack. So … if Almeida “gets daylight” on Vingegaard, then will Soler drop back?

Given how awesome a rider Vingegaard is, it does seem unlikely Almeida could actually beat him in the GC, but then Almeida is fresher because didn’t ride the whole Tour de France this year (having had to abandon after a crash), and you never know when a relatively young rider like him will find a new level. And yesterday, he put down such a high pace, Vingegaard couldn’t do anything. The Dane might not have shown it, but he must have been on the rivet. Almeida well deserves the full sacrifice of every teammate, like Vingegaard has been getting. (Not that his team has always done the right thing…)

Vine pulls off and it looks like he’s done for the day, cooked.

Felix Großschartner is taking up the effort for UAE. He has the hardest name to type in all of cycling. Most of the time when I see it onscreen it is represented as “Grossschartner.”

I opine, to my online correspondent, that I think Soler is being kind of an idiot. My correspondent replies, “UAE are dipshits.” I have to agree. They should call Soler back because even if he does get this stage win, he’ll be too fried from the effort to support Almeida very well in the final week. UAE needs to run their tactics as though Almeida actually had a chance. It can’t be good for his morale to have the team authorizing all these stage win efforts.

Vingegaard has two teammates with him, Kuss and Ben Tulett. Whoa, maybe I spoke too soon … Tulett is now blowing chunks at the back. (That is a standard cycling term, but not one these commentators ever use, oddly enough.)

They keep showing the gap between Soler and his next closest chaser. Which is totally irrelevant. What’s the gap to the GC group?

OMG, look at this climb.

Back in the GC group, Giulio Pellizzari (Red Bull – Bora – Hansgrohe) is driving on the front for his leader, Jai Hindley, who rode really well yesterday and sits fourth on GC, three minutes behind Vingegaard.

Presumably Hindley will attack soon. I’m surprised Almeida hasn’t. Once one guy makes a big move, though, this détente should finally get blown to bits. I long for that.

And there it is, Hindley busts a move!

Only Vingegaard and Almeida can respond! Hindley is flying! He’s left Pidcock in the dust and may overhaul him on GC!

Wow, we’re closer to the finish than I thought. Soler approaches the line and has now got the stage win. He does a weird victory salute where it looks like he’s trying to nibble his friendship bracelet. Maybe trying to chew it off, because Almeida gave him the bracelet and Soler knows they’re not friends anymore?

The GC group comes in not long after. Vingeegard and Almeida duke it out for second!

Vingegaard takes the sprint and another few bonus seconds.

Almeida needed to take time today, not lose it. It’s hard to know what the UAE leaders are thinking, if they even are.

Here’s the stage result. Kind of remarkable how close the top ten was, given this hard a stage it was and this far into the Vuelta.

Soler gives an interview.

INTERVIEWER: We are 14 stages into this Vuelta, and UAE have won seven of them.

SOLER: Unbelievable. I cannot explain. Fifty percent of the stages we’ve won, so, yeah.

INTERVIEWER [withdraws, without asking a single additional question. Presumably he only collared Soler to settle a bet: is this big dumb jock able to do arithmetic?]

Tomorrow’s stage has a couple categorized climbs but they’re in the first half, so it most likely won’t be an important GC day. And here is the new GC.

Check it out, three Americans in the top 10! It’s been an interesting fight for the white jersey of best young rider, with Pellizzari and Matthew Riccitello in virtual lockstep, finishing sixth and seventh today and staying just over 30 seconds apart on GC.

Here is Soler on his phone, probably ordering some Little Caesar’s pizza.

As a special treat, Vingegaard, when getting his red jersey, gets to interact with a podium girl, the first I’ve seen in this Vuelta.

Now Vingegaard poses with the former Spanish champion Sammy Sanchez.

Instead of flowers, Vingegaard gets a stuffed bull. I wonder if it has testicles. Probably not. So it’s technically a steer. Why give a rider a stuffed steer? There’s no such thing as steerfighting, no Running of the Steers. This animal represents nothing, expect perhaps castration. Is that any way to honor the race leader?

They interview Vingegaard.

INTERVIEWER: So, is today’s second place sweeter than yesterday’s?

VINGEGAARD: No, second place is never sweet.

INTERVIEWER: How would you describe the flavor, then?

VINGEGAARD: It’s a complex flavor, redolent of gauze and young moss, that initially caressed my tongue, but then took an unexpected detour into light fizz, like fermented peaches at a salad bar, with just a hint of bong water.

INTERVIEWER: So not such a good taste, then. How do you think the victory tasted for Soler today?

VINGEGAARD: Sweet as honey, of course, but the taste in his team’s mouth must be like hard, bitter scab.

INTERVIEWER: Who eats scabs?

VINGEGAARD: Exactly.

I somehow missed Soler’s podium ceremony. That’s okay. I’m tired of that guy.

And with that, my coverage is almost complete. All that’s left is, as promised, to define the last US-commentator-buzzphrase: “The cat is among the pigeons.” To be honest, until Bob Roll said it today, I’d never actually heard it. Looking it up, I see “throw the cat among the pigeons” is a British phrase describing an outsider causing a disturbance. I’m delighted to discover there’s a similar expression in Dutch, “De knuppel in het hoenderhok gooien,” which literally translates “Throwing the bat into the chicken shed.” I love it. Who has ever done such a thing and what would a bat even do among chickens? Granted, a bat is a predator, but chickens are so much larger! But then, if it’s a vampire bat? I’m going to start using that expression constantly.

For various reasons, I probably won’t cover next Saturday’s final mountain stage, but you should check back here anyway. There will surely be something for you to read.

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Biased Blow-By Blow - 2025 Vuelta a España Stage 9

Introduction

Of the three cycling Grand Tours, the Vuelta a España gets the least respect. And yet, it can be among the most exciting, since the Tour de France insists on being a blowout, year after year. The Vuelta, or I suppose I should say La Vuelta (though that sounds pedantic, doesn’t it?) is often a chance for a top rider who missed out on Tour glory to have another crack.

So it is with Jonas Vingegaard (Team Visma – Lease A Bike), the favorite here, who keeps losing the Tour and is wise to try to win something else just to remind his sponsors he’s still capable. And we’re all in luck: his nemesis, Tadej Pogacar (UAE Team Emirates-XRG), who is so dominant in this sport he’s turned it into a joke, is not doing this race. I guess he felt like leaving some scraps for the others. Maybe his mom chided him for not sharing. The official story is that he needs rest, but that’s ridiculous. Pogar is so endlessly strong, some commentators still consider him a favorite for this Vuelta despite his non-participation … he’s that good.

Anyway, I’m here to give an unvarnished, no-punches-pulled  blow-by-blow report, where I’ll cast aspersions as I see fit about a rider’s cleanliness, dorkiness, etc. I’ll also provide a brief recap of the first eight stages.

2025 Vuelta a España Stage 9 – Alfaro to Estacion de Esqui de Valdezcaray

As I join the action, the riders have about 70 kilometers (43 miles) left in the race, and it’s starting to rain. Looks like pretty miserable conditions.

Trigger warning: I might say some things in this report that could be upsetting to vegans. I want to be clear that although I respect the position of vegans, and cede them the moral high ground, and am even pretty sure my bike saddle is made of pleather, I do sometimes make a meat-loving comment.

There’s a breakaway of five riders with a lead of 2:26. I’m not sure I want to share their names. That’s kind of like naming the lambs that you’re going to feed to your family. Arguably tasteless. The practice, I mean, not the lambs. They are very tasty. Among land animals, I think they’re my favorite. I had antelope once. I ordered it rare but even still, it was so lean it wasn’t that good. Stick with lamb, or beef.

They’re interviewing Jonas Vingegaard.

INTERVIEWER: Consider this photo we just took of some fans basically panhandling along today’s route. What do you think of this practice?

VINGEGAARD: Well, they’ve done a pretty nice job on the sign. The heart is a nice touch and would naturally incline riders to donate. Also, I like the specificity of “water bottles” even though it reduces the size font they can use. Because you wouldn’t want riders throwing, say, beer bottles. That could be dangerous.

INTERVIEWER: That’s a great point. In fact, I’m guessing you speak from experience: did someone throw a glass bottle at you? Is that why the bridge of your nose is bandaged?

VINGEGAARD: No, I just put this tape on my nose so I’ll get really weird tan lines.

INTERVIEWER: Why pink? Why not a flesh tone, like band-aids have?

VINGEGAARD: I don’t think you understand: I’m trying to look as goofy as possible.

INTERVIEWER: Got it.

Full disclosure: it’s so rare for riders to say anything interesting in these interviews, I typically take some liberties, such as fabricating the entire dialogue as I’ve done here. Strangely enough, Vingegaard actually did say something interesting in this one—namely, that part of why he and his team declined to defend his red jersey (more on this in a moment) is that he doesn’t like all the ceremonies that the leader has to deal with after the stage, which can take like 45 minutes during which he could be resting. But by the time he said this, I was committed to my alternative narrative and saw it through.

With 60 kilometers (54 miles) to go, the breakaway’s gap has dropped by about 20 seconds. Probably it’s better you don’t bond with them.

Here’s what’s gone down in this Vuelta so far, while you were too busy watching the Great British Baking Show or the Great American Barbecuing Show. Stage 1, a flat one for the sprinters, duly went to Jasper Philipsen (Alpecin–Deceuninck), who seems back on form after crashing out of this year’s Tour de France. In Stage 2, there was a dramatic crash with almost all of Team Visma – Lease A Bike going down. (There was some concern that their leased bikes had been damaged until the director assured us they’d bought the optional no-fault insurance.) Vingegaard was among those who crashed, but obviously wasn’t hurt because he ended up edging out Giulio Ciccone (Lidl-Trek) for victory in the hilltop finish. Needless to say Vingegaard took the leader’s jersey in the process. In Stage 3, David Gaudu (Groupama-FDJ) took the win ahead of Mads Pedersen (Lidl-Trek) and Vingegaard.

Back to the coverage: the breakaway’s gap is down to 1:44 with 38 kilometers (23.6 miles) left. The Peacock commentators, keeping up a lively banter despite having basically nothing to report, are arguably working harder than the racers right now. Christian Van de Velde is talking about somebody getting a cease-and-desist order from AC/DC. I’ll confess I’m a bit lost here.

Getting back to my recap, on Stage 4, Ben Turner (Ineos Granadiers) won and weirdly, the red jersey changed hands because Gaudu and Vingegaard were the same on time, but Gaudu finished higher in the stage.  It’s certainly possible that Vingegaard could have worked a bit harder to hold on to the jersey (since Gaudu was only 25th on the day, after all) but based on what Vingegaard (actually) said in his interview, he purposely gave it away. Stage 5 was a team time trial, and though Visma – Lease A Bike lost by eight seconds to UAE Team Emirates-XRG, they took enough time from Groupama-FDJ to put Vingegaard back in the red jersey, against his wishes. Vingegaard filed a restraining order against the jersey, and it worked: in Stage 6 the jersey stopped harassing him and jumped onto the shoulders of Torsten Træen (Bahrain Victorious), who was in the breakaway with stage winner Jay Vine (UAE Team Emirates-XRG). In Stage 7, Juan Ayuso (UAE Team Emirates-XRG) soloed to a stage win and Træen held on to red. Yesterday was another sprint stage with Philipsen winning again, and no change in GC. And then it was now.

The break is doomed, their gap plummeting, now down to 1:11. The peloton isn’t even playing cat and mouse, they’re just thundering toward the leaders. Why do cats toy with their prey? Easy: because mice just aren’t that tasty, even to a cat. I’ll bet a cat would sooner eat day-old ground beef than a fresh, still warm mouse. As would the peloton. If you think this metaphor is getting away from me, you’re right. But what can I say? The road is straight and long and flat and nothing of note is happening in this stage. But fear not, it’s a Category 1 climb at the end, and it’s looming nearer.

OMG! Something actually happens—it’s a crash in the main peloton!

It’s Victor Guernalec (Arkéa  – B&B Hotels), somehow finding a way to stack along a perfectly straight, flat, well-paved road. Amazingly, nobody crashes around him. So we get to see both sheer incompetence and expert bike handling showcased together in the span of just a few seconds. You know what else? His sponsor, B&B Hotels, is an oxymoron. As we all know, a B&B (i.e., Bed & Breakfast) is an alternative to a hotel. Idiots.

As the breakaway hits the big climb the peloton overwhelms them. Just like that. Aren’t you glad you didn’t learn their names? It would be so sad.

With 12 kilometers (7 miles) to go, Lidl-Trek takes the front to set up their man Giulio Ciccone so he can have another crack at a stage win. It made me wince to see him lose that earlier stage despite having launched a hellacious sprint. He lost by inches. At one point during the sprint he looked back to see if anyone was matching him, which was his fatal mistake. Looking back not only isn’t aerodynamic, but gives your rivals more hope. It’s a terrible misstep. But I like Ciccone’s style, and even his name. You know what’s weird about his name? It always makes  me think of charcuterie. Isn’t that strange? Does his name do that for you, too?

Matteo Jorgenson (Team Visma – Lease A Bike) attacks! It’s a brilliant move! Why do I say it’s brilliant when actually it’s a fairly predictable thing for the top team to do? Because America!

Man, it is so hard to get good photos for this report, thanks to Peacock blocking screenshots. Why do I even bother? Sheesh.

And now Vingegaard attacks! But he’s blatantly defying my sage advice from just a few sentences ago, by looking behind him!

Then again, it’s 11 kilometers (6.8 miles) to the finish so this is a lot different from a final sprint. Only Ciccone can respond and tucks himself in behind the great Dane.

And now, like it’s nothing, Vingegaard saws off Ciccone. Ciccone’s open-mouth frown is so pronounced, he looks a bit like Darth Vader.

So the race is finally heating up, figuratively speaking. In terms of actual temperature it’s cooling down as the rain starts up again.

Now that it’s finally getting exciting, Peacock goes to more ads. It’s really annoying—I mean, I’m already paying for Peacock Plus or Peacock Premium or whatever. Thieving bastards.

Speaking of bastards, it’s raining like a bastard now! Behind Vingegaard is the chasing duo of Thomas Pidcock (Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team) and Joao Almeida (UAE Team Emirates-XRG), 24 seconds in arrears. I had a boss once who didn’t realize that “payment in arrears” was the expression—he’d say “payment in the rear,” a serious gaff unless (or especially if) he was trying to be funny.

Speaking of “the rear,” Vingegaard is hauling ass, and his lead is growing. He may even take the red jersey again, as he started today only 2:33 behind. Træen is out the back and hemorrhaging time.

Almeida and Pidcock are working pretty well now, after having bickered earlier, but it’s not helping. The gap is up to 32 seconds.

Everyone in the peloton is big-ringing it up this climb.

Pidcock flicks his elbow and Almeida pulls through. What is this weird Q36.5 team? Where the hell did they come from and how did they manage to sign a talent like Pidcock? Answers: Q36.5 is an Italian clothing brand and nobody knows where this team came from; its only rider besides Pidcock I’ve even heard of is David de la Cruz who hasn’t won a major race since 2017. And how did Q36.5 get Pidcock? Three words: HOT CASH MONEY. (I guess I could have pared that down to one word.) According to one source, the team is paying him between 7.5 and 8.5 million euros a year ($8.8 to $9.9 million), making him the second highest-paid cyclist in the world (after Pogacar, of course).

Vingegaard has got the win. Man, that climb was over in seemingly no time.

Pidcock outsprints Almeida for second. The two managed to make up some ground by the end there, losing only 25 seconds, so they’ll consolidate their standing in the GC.

Pretty sweet sprint, but the bikes are ridiculous. Pidcock’s bars, the way they flare out, look like something from an ‘80s touring bike, and Almeida’s are worse, like they’re trying to look like a ram’s horns. Heaven will take note.

And now, 1:36 after Vingegaard’s finish, the much depleted chase group crosses the line. Check it out, Træen is just visible in the back there, on the right … he chased hard and managed to regain contact, thus rescuing his red jersey!

They’re interviewing Vingegaard.

INTERVIEWER: When I talked to you earlier you said this stage wasn’t hard enough for the GC riders to try anything on. And yet you just made a big move. Were you lying earlier?

VINGEGAARD: No, I never said that. You’re putting words in my mouth.

INTERVIEWER: I have video footage of that interview.

VINGEGAARD: You mean you have a deepfake of that interview. Nice try.

INTERVIEWER: A commentator referred to you earlier as “the great Dane.” Do you like this nickname and do you think it’ll stick?

VINGEGAARD: That wasn’t a commentator, that was a blogger. And a failing one. Complete disgrace.

INTERVIEWER: What gave you the edge today?

VINGEGAARD: I think it was the pink tape on the bridge of my nose. It’s a game-changer.

INTERVIEWER: Do you think the entire peloton will have pink tape on their noses tomorrow?

VINGEGAARD: Could be, but just you wait … I have even more up my nose. Er, my sleeve.

Here’s the stage result.

And here is the new GC. Almeida and Pidcock limited their losses but the way things are going, they’re not looking like much of a threat to Vingegaard.

Vingegaard mounts the podium to celebrate his stage win. Oddly, the Vuelta is not following the Tour de France’s lead in gradually bringing back podium girls (or at least one girl, with a handsome dude to balance things out). Instead they have three random dudes, none of them attractive, all dressed very poorly, whose role is completely unknown. They’re not dignitaries, and nobody even presents a bouquet, perhaps due to the risk of allergy. And no champagne, because underage kids could be watching. It’s the most stripped-down, awkward podium presentation I’ve ever seen.

Træen mounts the podium—wait, that’s overstating it, he’s not mounting it because it’s not a proper 3-tier podium, it’s just a crappy little box to step up on—to get his red jersey. They have another random dude now, just as poorly dressed. One of the randos is wearing a medal, as if they literally forgot who is supposed to be honored here. Træen gets the same dumb Lucite plaque Vingegaard did, nobody’s even pretending there’s a precious metal involved.

Træen doesn’t look that happy, and I can’t blame him. This award ceremony is a joke. He really looks like he’d rather be just about anywhere right now. I can see why Vingegaard is willing to give up the red jersey just to avoid this.

Now they interview Træen.

INTERVIEWER: Did you expect to be able to keep the [red] jersey today?

TRÆN: In the climb I was thinking I would not be in the jersey so I’m glad to hold on to it.

INTERVIEWER: Were you expecting Vingegaard to make such a big move?

TRÆN: I did not expect him to go that fast.

INTERVIEWER: Your name sounds like the word “tryin’.” Are you relieved that no commentator tried to make a stupid pun around that, like “at least he’s Træen?”

TRÆN: I had been, until just now, you dork.

INTERVIEWER: Where did you find the energy to close the gap by the end?

TRÆN: I think the Jumbo [sic; i.e., Visma] guys held back, they did not want Jonas to have the jersey. So I’m thankful for that.

Remarkably, much of what I’ve recorded from that interview is real—everything but the “tryin’” bit. I’m pretty impressed at Træen’s humility in acknowledging that it was Visma’s tactics, not his own strength, that let him keep the jersey. If I were ever in such a position, leading a Grand Tour into the second week, I’d be yelling, “WHO’S THE MAN? I’M THE MAN! BOW DOWN BEFORE ME! I AM A GOD!”

Well, that’s about it for today. It’s tempting to say this could be a close Vuelta, given the strength Almeida and Pidcock showed today. But how can their teams possibly match the amazing support Vingegaard gets from Visma – Lease A Bike? There are problems within UAE Team Emirates-XRG with Juan Ayuso, who was supposed to be a co-leader, not only losing almost seven minutes to the GC favorites during Stage 6 but then pulling a Pee-wee Herman by saying, effectively, “I meant to do that.” And Ayuso was nowhere to be seen on the big climb today when he should have been supporting Almeida. As for Pidcock, his team is so rinky-dink, its next highest-ranked rider on GC is Damien Howson, who is all the way down in 41st place and has more grey hair than I do. Howson was similarly useless during today’s stage, finishing almost five minutes down. Nevertheless, Almeida and Pidcock are less than a minute behind Vingegaard overall, so it’s still pretty close. Check back on Saturday because that’s another mountain day and I may decide to cover it…

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Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2023 Giro d’Italia Stage 20

Introduction

This has been a super exciting Giro d’Italia, with most of the hard mountain stages crammed into the final week. With just today’s time trial remaining (and tomorrow’s silly flat course for the sprinters), the general classification is remarkably tight: Geraint Thomas (Ineos Granadiers) leads the race, with Primoz Roglic (Team Jumbo-Visma) just 26 seconds behind him, and Joao Almeida (UAE Team Emirates) rounding out the virtual podium, only 33 seconds behind Roglic. So why am I waiting for a boring-as-fuck time trial to finally post a blow-by-blow report? It’s complicated. (For some reason “complicated” seems to be the favorite word of the cycling announcers this year, especially cycling legend Sean Kelly, e.g., “I have a feeling this finish is going to get a bit complicated.”)

But don’t worry, I’m here now, and I’ll give you a recap of the last three weeks as we go along. In fact, I’ll give it right now: all you need to know is that the pre-race favorite, Remco Evanepoel, won the first time trial, took the pink jersey, and then promptly came down with COVID and abandoned. Since then, no particular rider or team has stood out, and the GC has been so close that no single stage had any particular importance. So it all comes down to this time trial.

But this isn’t just any time trial. Look at this crazy course profile:

It’s a good thing for that final climb (almost 3,000 feet of gain!), and for the GC being so close, because I’m going to start this report without coffee. We have houseguests and only one bathroom so I dare not get my, uh, system running just yet. These are the sacrifices I make to bring you unvarnished, no-tongue-bitten reports on these heroic riders and their dorky helmets.

Giro d’Italia Stage 20 - Tarvisio to Monte Lussari Tudor, 18.6 km (11.6 miles)

As I join the action, an amazing thing happens: three riders pull almost even! It’s not uncommon, this late in a Grand Tour, for a rider to overtake the one who started before him in a time trial, but two passes at once is almost unheard of.

Oh. Wait. That’s not what’s going on. I’m confused. It’s the lack of coffee, I guess. This appears to be some kind of previous footage, some replay of an earlier stage. Jose Azevedo is being interviewed about Almeida. “I guess he’s a dedicated rider, but he never did his dishes,” Azevedo says. “As for his chances today, how should I know? I’m just his old college roommate.” All right, I made that up. I haven’t sorted my audio out yet. Azevedo is probably Almeida’s directeur sportif. And come to think of it he’s a former pro racer too. So they brought him in to pass the time before the GC leaders are on the road. Man these time trials are boring.

Among the few hopefuls for a stage win, Rohan Dennis (Team Jumbo-Visma) is in action, getting a totally illegal push from a team staffer. I don’t know how he thinks he’ll get away with this. It’s probably all over YouTube already.

Dennis has been a great support for his team leader, Roglic, despite being added to the Giro roster at the last minute. He’s a bit of a nutter, having been released from Bahrain-Victorious a few years back for refusing to start a Tour de France time trial because they couldn’t get his bike just right. He’s like the kid who owns the marbles and takes them and goes home when he starts to lose. So it’s no wonder he thinks he’s allowed to get a push. If he’s not disqualified, I think he has an outside chance at winning this stage, because he’s an awesome time trialist and he won the Mount Diablo stage of the Tour of California one year so he’s no slouch at climbing.

Okay, I was just messing with you about the illegal push. As with the World Time Trial Championships a few years back when it featured a giant climb, the organizers are allowing riders to switch bikes at the base of the climb. They’re allowed to receive a push until they cross a strip of tape on the road.

Here’s Jay Vine (UAE Team Emirates) doing his bike change.

Vine has ridden heroically for Almeida, pacing him until the very final kilometers of a couple of the big mountain stages.

Michel Hessman (Jumbo-Visma) clearly couldn’t care less about this time trial. Not only is he moving his bike computer over to the climbing bike, but he’s stopping for a little chat with his team staffer. “This model [of computer] has an average power reading which I like, though I miss the lap timer,” he’s saying. “Um, dude, shouldn’t you get going?” his pal replies.

Okay, things are looking up: my houseguests, probably annoyed that I didn’t make them any coffee, have apparently left in a huff, so I can finally use the bathroom. They’re from Europe, so they don’t understand about my blog and really don’t care about the Giro. I know this is exactly the opposite of what we would expect, but in fact I’ve never met a single European who gives a rat’s ass about cycling. Sometimes they want me to explain American football to them.

The commentators are interviewing some random “expert” about who he thinks will win the stage. This is how they try to keep viewers awake, but it almost always backfires. “I think Primoz Roglic will win today,” the rando says, “and while I’ve got your attention, have you ever noticed how in the movies when a character has a gun, he always holds it in his left hand? Watch for that. It’s weird. My nephew is an artist and drew this picture you see over my shoulder. But it’s of a starting pistol. I’m not a gun nut like some crazy American.”

Wow! Amazing! Something is happening! Santiago Buitrago (Bahrain Victorious) has thrown his chain!

Poor guy. I feel bad for his mechanic, as well. If the mechanic doesn’t have the decency to commit seppuku, surely his boss will flog him mercilessly.

Okay, a fast rider is starting his ride: it’s Einer Rubio (Movistar Team), who won Stage 13 of this Giro in fine style. He was in a three-up breakaway with Thibault Pinot (Groupama-FDJ) and … gosh, some other guy, I can’t remember. Pinot and the other guy kept yelling at each other and launching these pissy little attacks, like teenage girls slapping each other, and each time Rubio would just claw his way back on. I was watching with my brother and said, “Wouldn’t it be great if Rubio ended up sucker-punching these guys at the end and winning?” Which he did, launching exactly one attack, all-in, right at the end when it mattered. What a stud. Here’s a fun fact: Rubio doesn’t need cycling for an income, being the heir to an American fast-food taqueria chain. (Yes, of course I’m bullshitting.)

Here’s Vine higher on the climb. Wow, what a badass road. I freaking love it.

Vine is going well, but not as well as his teammate Brandon McNulty, who won a stage earlier in this Giro. ‘Mer’ca!

Lennard Kamna (Bora-Hansgrohe), last year’s Giro champion, hasn’t had the best form this year, as he sits eighth, almost six minutes down. What’s worse, I’ve deliberately grabbed a really unflattering screenshot of him. Poor guy just can’t get a break.

Vine flies across the line and has the new fastest time so far! That doesn’t change the fact that his helmet is ridiculous. On that basis, I don’t have his back. At all.

They just flashed up the current standings and there are three Americans in the top ten, with McNulty still out on the road. That’s pretty remarkable, though at least a couple will be pushed out as faster riders come through. Needless to say these top guys don’t make nearly as much money as a run-of-the-mill American football player, but at least concussions aren’t part of their job description.

This is weird: Allessandro De Marchi (Team Jayco Alula) has a runny nose and a fan has handed him the largest handkerchief I have ever seen. He better make sure it doesn’t go into his spokes.

Daaaamn, McNulty is finishing strong! He’ll take the lead by a huge margin!

As he reaches the finish line, he’s so cross-eyed he almost plows into some drunken spectator who has wandered into the road!

You’d think security would be a bit tighter here. Sheesh. Oh, wait, it’s not a spectator, it’s a staffer dressed like the kind of dork you meet at a suburban nightclub, or at traffic school. Anyway, McNulty now has the lead by a whopping 46 seconds over his teammate, Vine.

UAE now has four riders in the top ten. Interesting.

Damiano Caruso (Bahrain Victorious) is in the start house. He’s wearing one of those silly band-aids on his nose. His four-year-old daughter asked him to wear it. She’s superstitious. Yeah, I made that up. In reality he probably cut himself shaving. Anyway, he’s a good rider and sits fourth on GC.

OMG, they’re saying Sepp Kuss (Team Jumbo-Visma) has a faster split than McNulty! Kuss has been an absolute hero during this Giro, pacing Roglic on all the important climbs and totally saving his bacon when Thomas and Almeida attacked in stage 16 and opened a gap. Kuss expertly paced his leader and held the loss to under 30 seconds. He’s been amazingly strong all week.

Oh my god. Roglic’s helmet is the dumbest I’ve seen so far.

Just look at that stupid thing. Has Roglic learning nothing since he threw away the 2020 Tour de France during its last time trial, when he not only lost his overall lead of almost a minute but also all of his dignity, as his terrible time trial helmet crept up on his head like a half-ping-pong-ball straddling a potato? He looked so terrible that afterward some cruel journalist—quizzing him about the most spectacular Tour loss since Fignon in ’89—asked about the helmet and Roglic replied simply, “Let’s not talk about the helmet.”

Thomas is about to start. His helmet is pretty goofy too. What do these guys think they are … downhill ski racers? Puh-leeease.

Here’s one of those touching human interest stories. This rider is rocking a head scarf, even though it’s a warm day, because his mom warned him it’s windy today and he could get an earache.

Whoa, Kuss is flying! It would be so cool if he won today … he’s got stage wins in the Tour and the Vuelta, but none yet in the Giro. He’s just had to slave for Roglic day after day despite having amazing form. Look at him go!

As Kuss goes for the line he’s actually grinning! It’s not the standard death rictus, but an actual grin! He knows he’s killing it!

And Kuss has got the new provisional best time, with only fourteen riders still on the road.

Roglic gets his bike change, and—I’m not kidding—the announcer says, “Bike change goes without a hitch, and his helmet isn’t slipping off the back of his head.” Seriously! He said that! An announcer after my own heart!

The Balaclava Kid heads for the line. Note the symmetry between his dorky helmet and the picture on his sleeve of Napoleon’s hat.

Thomas gets a very slow bike change. I think he may be a bit of a moron. He rode up toward the new bike from the left side, and dismounted on the left of his bike, meaning the bike he was discarding was in between him and the bike he was switching to. Super, super awkward. He also wastes some time getting a fresh helmet, presumably because his pads were getting a little sweaty and he didn’t like it.

Thomas comes through the time check having lost two seconds to Roglic, whose helmet is still hanging on beautifully.

It’s kind of a shame larger gaps aren’t opening up between these two. This time trial looks like it might be as boring as they usually are. Wouldn’t it be cool if the organizers let a giant herd of sheep out onto the road? And then maybe send out after them some herding dogs that are high on cocaine? Just mix things up a bit?

Laurens de Plus (Ineos Granadiers) finishes strong. He has been an amazing domestique for Thomas in this Giro, slaying himself endlessly at the front, always with this same dippy expression, to the point that I’ve actually grown tired of looking at him.

Andreas Leknessund (Team DSM), who had worn the maglia rosa for a number of days, finishes pretty well but man, he looks like he’s seen a ghost!

What happened out there? What did he see out there on the course? Some kind of demon changeling child? Is he hallucinating?

Yikes, what’s this? Pinot is hauling ass, even while disrupting his aerodynamics by letting his tongue flap around in the wind!

And now he retracts his tongue, as if reading my mind, and is richly rewarded with the fastest finish yet, six seconds ahead of Kuss! This will seal his lead in the King of the Mountains category.

Meanwhile, on the lower slopes, Thomas has now lost 14 seconds to Roglic!

But, OMG! Roglic has a problem!

It’s a disaster! He’s dropped his chain!

WTF?! The announcer is saying Roglic hit a big pothole and that caused his chain to come off. My god, he must be so pissed. Unbelievable. His bike is sporting the one-by configuration popular among mountain bikers (i.e. just a single front chainring). I have long felt this isn’t the best setup because a front derailleur actually does a pretty good job of keeping the chain on. One of the high school mountain bikers I coached lost her first Varsity race due to a thrown chain in the last quarter-mile (yes, with a one-by). What a drag for Roglic! But hey, this time trial just suddenly got really exciting! Roglic gets his chain back on and resumes his frantic charge up the mountain.

Lower on the course, Thomas is just absolutely hemorrhaging time. It’s unbelievable—he’s waited until the last real stage to finally have a bad day. But it just doesn’t seem like he could possibly lose enough time, what with Roglic’s mechanical problem, to lose the Giro … could he?

Caruso is flying, and his suffering is written all over his face!

Caruso is one of those riders who I think is doped, but I can’t help liking him anyway. Such a blue-collar vibe, a real salt-of-the-earth working man. And it looks like he’s got the new provisional best time!

But Almeida goes through 13 seconds quicker than Caruso, also suffering like a (cocaine-fueled herder) dog!

And now Roglic approaches the line, putting out a blistering pace that will give him a stage win, at least! Best of all, he’s shed his big stupid visor … I hope it broke when it hit the asphalt.

And Roglic indeed has the best time! He doesn’t look exactly jubilant, of course, but I can’t blame him.

He has absolutely shattered the previous best time, but could he actually take the GC, even with at least ten seconds lost for his mechanical?

Oh my goodness, Thomas is just dying out there. It’s painful to watch … he’s clearly had the stuffing knocked out of him. His time is pretty poor and as he approaches the line—it’s just a total nail-biter.

They’re showing Roglic’s teammates … they’re on pins and needles.

Thomas crosses the line, and he looks to be over 26 seconds down!

The announcers are doing the math (or “the maths” as they put it) and, It’s unbelievable, but Thomas has actually lost the Giro on the final (real, non-parade) stage, despite Roglic having an incredible bit of bad luck!

It’s all jubilation in the Jumbo-Visma camp, needless to say…

Roglic looks truly moved. I hope that after tomorrow’s stage, a mere formality, he can reflect on this amazing achievement and, just as importantly, eat a big sandwich and a milkshake or something; I mean, look at those ribs.

Here’s the new GC … probably the closest margin of victory in history for a Grand Tour, except for LeMond’s 0:08 margin in the ’89 Tour.

Pinot moves up to fifth overall ... a nice consolation prize after he failed to win a stage.

They’re interviewing Kuss about his leader’s amazing victory. I’m going to do something new today: I’m going to try to transcribe what they’re actually saying instead of just making shit up. Here we go.

INTERVIEWER: Amazing, huh?

KUSS: It was really stressful, everyone asks about the last TT in the Tour in 2020, and then Primoz had a problem with the bike, but that’s Primoz, he deals with adversity, he comes back stronger, it’s beautiful for him to be here with all the Slovenian fans…

INTERVIEWER: Thomas seemed so confident, what gave you the confidence [to win]?

KUSS: Primoz was just waiting until the right moment, with such a hard TT like today you can really make the difference.

INTERVIEWER: Have you ever noticed how in the movies, guys always hold a gun in their left hand?

KUSS: Oh geez, are we really doing this interview albertnet style? Seriously?

INTERVIEWER: I’m sorry, some of these bloggers just can’t help it.

Sean Kelly says, “I don’t believe Kuss at all.” I don’t either. Surely nobody would leave it that late on purpose…

Now they’re interviewing Jumbo-Visma’s Michel Hessman.

INTERVIEWER: It’s your first grand tour, and you’re on the winning team, how does that feel?

HESSMAN: [untillegible] … really, yeah, and also … fuck.

INTERVIEWER: This will be the first time Roglic has ever worn the pink jersey.

[Interview is interrupted as Thomas comes over and says, “congrats, brother.”]

HESSMAN: But yeah, I mean, like, it’s, it’s kind of been our plan from the beginning to not be in the [pink] jersey too early, but doing it like this was cutting it close … to pull it off like this really showed strong nerves.

INTERVIEWER: Has anybody ever told you you look exactly like Waldo, as in Where’s Waldo?

HESSMAN: Yeah, I get that a lot.

Okay, so I caved at the end of that exchange. It was getting boring.

They’re interviewing Thomas. This time I promise  to get it right.

INTERVIEWER (in a heavy, possibly exaggerated, British accent]: Geraint, hell of a fight, mate, absolutely unbelievable, you’ve done us all proud. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, man, but tell us about that time trial.

THOMAS: First off, people like you need to stop buggin’ me, mate, because I’ll get emotional. But uh, naw, it’s just that I could feel my legs going okay enough at the top of that climb, yeah, I don’t wanna sound like I’m makin’ excuses, but you know, the bi-carbon stuff was a different feel, and I just didn’t feel like a had that real grunge, but I guess it’s nice to lose by that much rather then a second or two, at least he smashed me, Primoz deserves that, even with the mechanical, so chapeau to him. If you’d told me this back in Feb/March, I’d have bitten your hand off, but now I’m devastated, but now with the season I’ve had up to this point, I can be proud of that, and of the boys too, they worked so hard.

INTERVIEWER: Well, G, the season’s not done yet, mate. And there’s a big race in July…

THOMAS: It’s over for me now, I’m on the piss for the next two months.

INTERVIEWER: Right, I’ll join you.

THOMAS: In your dreams, ya cheeky bastard.

Dang it! I had that almost verbatim until the very last sentence! I just couldn’t resist! Now, about that bi-carbon and grunge bit, I really have no idea what the hell Thomas was even talking about. He was just babbling, as far as I could tell. I just typed what I heard. You’d probably be better off with my normal BS, honestly.

I’ve been waiting for them to show the stage result so I could grab a snapshot. Otherwise I’d have wrapped this up already. I guess I’ll go ahead and cover the post-race analysis from Hanna Walker and Alberto Contador.

HANNA: Alberto, here’s how this is going to work. Even though I’ve also been a professional cyclist, I’m just going to ask you leading questions, and then you can mansplain everything to me as though to an idiot. My boss seems to think that’s what the viewers want.

ALBERTO: Yes, you have different all the time with the radio.

HANNA: Roglic has been in this situation, in the 2020 Tour, when he was in the lead in the last time trial, up against Tadej Pogacar, and then he crashed out last year … he’s a real fighter.

ALBERTO: Yes, for sure, you know, and Primoz was also very happy, because also the tactic, and then in the last time time trial, and in this case, the other wheel, and I have one reflection, I’m sure it’s in the head now of Roglic, that he has won the Giro, and maybe he can change the time, to him, maybe, why not, he can change the time, the team, if he want try win the Tour de France.

HANNA: You’re saying he needs to change teams if he wants to win the Tour…

ALBERTO: Yes, that what is I am trying to say.

HANNA: Thank you for your insight, or at least your effort there, I could barely understand you, and maybe someday you will say something interesting. Until then, have you tried Duolingo?

Okay, yeah, I made most of that up, but I think my rendition is truer to the real spirit of their dialogue than anything they actually said. And now I have officially given up seeing the stage result. Here are some podium photos, anyway: Roglic for the stage and GC; Pinot for the KOM, and Almeida for the best young rider.

Now they’re showing an ad for some post-race show where—in defiance of the progressive attitude that led to the retirement of the podium girl tradition—they’ve got a woman in a very short skirt showing a lot of cleavage, to offset the numbing dullness of the male commentators.

What an amazing stage. More satisfying, even, than that final Tour time trial in 2020, because there wasn’t really any lesson to be drawn from that, other than to make sure your helmet fits properly. This time around, I think we can be truly inspired by Roglic’s incredible composure. I mean, to begin with Roglic only had an outside chance of taking the necessary 26 seconds out of Thomas today; after all, Thomas beat him by 16 seconds in the first time trial and seemed to be climbing just as well as Roglic yesterday. And even though Roglic’s TT was going well, in the flat section he’d only taken like two seconds—and then, just when his lead starts to go up, he throws his freakin’ chain! But he calmly put the chain back on (not waiting for the spare bike), climbed back on, clipped back in, and got right back to it, probably only losing ten seconds. Many a rider would have been completely undone psychologically by that. Myself, I probably would have pissed myself, maybe vomited, started bawling, who knows. Actually, it’s more likely none of the above because a) I’d never be in a Grand Tour, b) I’d never be in contention in any individual time trial, and c) I’d never have thrown my chain, as I don’t run a one-by…

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