Showing posts with label victory salutes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label victory salutes. Show all posts

Saturday, June 14, 2025

Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2025 Critérium du Dauphiné Stage 7

Introduction

Bicycle road racing has gotten harder to watch. Part of this is due to the poor TV (or shall I say Internet) coverage in the U.S., with various pay-for-me networks, each carrying only a few races. But the bigger problem is boredom: a few riders are so dominant, the victories tend to be blowouts. Particularly troublesome is Tadej Pogacar (UAE Team Emirates XRG), who seems to win everything in sight: stage races, classics, the World Championships … he wins all season long and he makes it look easy. Thus it is with great trepidation that I cover today’s queen stage of the Critérium du Dauphiné. I promise I will do my best to make this entertaining, even if that means bagging on riders I don’t like, and on their equipment, and even on myself if necessary. Hence the “biased” blow-by-blow.

(If you haven’t been following this Dauphiné thus far, fear not: I will recap the first six stages as well.)


Critérium du Dauphiné Stage 7 - Grand-Aigueblanche - Valmeinier 1800

As I join the action, it’s 5:40 a.m. Pacific time and my kettle hasn’t even boiled yet. The riders are cresting the Hors Categorie Col de la Croix de Fer. There’s a breakaway with only about 20 seconds over a depleted peloton. I’m not going to bother with the riders’ names other than a couple standouts: Sepp Kuss (Team Visma - Lease A Bike) and the French favorite Romain Bardet (Team Picnic PostNL). Kuss is American, so I naturally favor him, plus today is Flag Day in this country (so I hope you hoisted Old Glory!). Bardet, meanwhile, is in the last bike race of his career, obviously looking for a stage win to go out on a high note. For more on Bardet, including his saliva, click here. What, what? Saliva? Yes! As Google’s AI Overview helpfully explains, albertnet “includes observations on other aspects of races, such as rider’s saliva issues and podium presentations.”


Speaking of AI, here’s a fascinating hallucination. While watching the time trial a couple days ago I thought I saw last year’s Dauphiné winner Primoz Roglic (Red Bull - Bora - Hansgrohe), but only fleetingly. I checked the results later and didn’t see him listed. So I asked Google if he dropped out. Here’s what the AI Overview had to say:


What’s remarkable is that Roglic didn’t even start the race, as he’s still recovering from injuries he sustained in the Giro d’Italia. It’s also worth pointing out that nobody has won the overall 2025 Dauphiné classification because the race doesn’t end until tomorrow. Granted, it would be permissible for AI to declare that Pogacar has already won, since nobody can stop him, but Roglic? No. He has about as much chance of winning this race as I do.

The Peacock coverage today started too late for me to see these guys go over the first two climbs, starting with the Hors Categorie Col de la Madeleine. “Hors Categorie” is French for “Whore’s Category,” which means the climb is a total bitch. Naw, just messin’ with ya. It’s “beyond category” meaning, “This climb is so hard, there is no way to categorize it. The human mind cannot conceive of a category like ‘hardest’ or ‘even harder than what we’d normally call hardest.’ Words fail us.”

The great thing about the Col de la Madeleine is that, in accordance with the strong tradition and culture of the sport, the riders ride up it in two straight lines. Hmmm. I think it’s too early in the morning and I’m confusing this race with the children’s book about the little French girl who gets her appendix out. I apologize.

But seriously, these climbs are horrific. I’m not just relating what the commentators are saying (because after all, they could totally exaggerate). I am speaking from experience, having ridden both of these climbs myself, also back-to-back, the year before last. You can read about that here. Suffice to say the Madeleine kicked my ass. And, in a crazy coincidence, so did the Croix de Fer. They’re just brutal. In fact I think I still haven’t recovered. You should probably click that link and read that instead because today’s race will probably be boring.

Can you tell there’s nothing to report right now? It’s just a long-ass descent (with a couple short climbs) before the Whore’s Category Valmeinier 1800, a climb about which I know basically nothing except that it’s 16.5 kilometers (10.25 miles) long at an average grade of 6.7%. So it’s gonna be a smackdown.

The breakaway is stretching out its lead a bit on the fairly straightforward descent toward Saint Jean de Maurienne, a town notable mainly for its excellent pizza. At least, that’s what I remember it for.

Now Bardet has dropped the rest of the breakaway. The peloton will hang him out to dry for a good while before wadding him up in a ball and tossing him halfheartedly toward the wastebasket.

Here’s what’s been going on so far in this Dauphiné. The first stage, designed for the sprinters, was actually kind of exciting because Pogacar and the other GC favorite, Jonas Vingegaard (Team Visma - Lease A Bike) were in a small breakaway with a very narrow lead heading into the final kilometer. It looked like the break would ultimately get caught but it just barely held on, to where its slower finishers were actually passed by the fastest sprinters of the peloton. One rider burst out of the mêlée, and at first I couldn’t tell who it was, but it ended up being—Pogacar. Huh? A stage racer launching a hellacious sprint and beating out big strong rolleurs like Mathieu Van Der Poel (Alpecin-Deceuninck) and Remco Evenepoel (Soudal Quick-Step)? Yep. To put this in perspective (if you’re not a diehard cycling fan), this would be like if for some reason a football team sent its quarterback out to kick a 65-yard field goal and he nailed it.

Anyhow, some bike racer won Stage 2, who cares who won Stage 3, and then in the time trial Evenepoel, the Olympic time trial and road race gold medalist, stunned everybody with a big win. His helmet had this really goofy visor that covered everything except what was right in front of him, where there was this big gap, so it was like an anti-visor. So many of the time trial helmets were so ugly, it just overshadowed everything else and made me want to curl up in a corner and try to sleep it off. But the good news was, Vingegaard took 28 seconds out of Pogacar in the TT, giving us viewers hope that maybe he’d have a chance in the GC.

Stage 5 was another for the sprinters and a sprinter won, some guy named Stewart. It was only in Stage 6 that things got insanely boring, with Pogacar absolutely destroying everybody. He dropped Vingegaard (and everyone else) without even getting out of the saddle. It was demoralizing to watch: you’ve got Vingegaard, a two-time Tour de France winner, out of the saddle thrashing like he’s in a final sprint, and Pogacar looks like some bored commuter on an e-bike pulling away from him. Pogi took just over a minute out of his so-called rival on a mere Category 2 climb that wasn’t even two miles long. So today is really unnecessary, like that soft-serve cone you unwisely decided to eat, for reasons you cannot yourself understand, at the end of your thorough drubbing at the hands of the Sizzler buffet court.

They’re interviewing Evenepoel, who got shelled yesterday and lost his yellow jersey.

INTERVIEWER: You got shelled yesterday and lost the yellow jersey. How does that feel?

EVENEPOEL: Well, I wasn’t going as hard on that climb as I had in the time trial, so that was a mistake.

INTERVIEWER: Are you actually telling me you forgot to hammer?

EVENEPOEL: I am using this race to learn and to study the values and the team is [undecipherable].

INTERVIEWER: Well that’s just bullshit. But before we discuss how badly you blew it yesterday, I want to back up a bit and talk about your Olympic road race victory where you crossed the finish line, stopped, climbed off your bike, and stood there at line, flexing because you were far enough ahead to do this, except what if you weren’t and caused a massive crash among those sprinting in for second as they tried to steer around you?


INTERVIEWER: And then, still standing on the finish line like an idiot, you pantomimed hanging up a phone, almost like slamming it down. Totally over the top and it doesn’t even really make sense. Who were you angrily hanging up on? And do you expect young fans, who’ve never even seen a landline phone, to understand what you were miming?

EVENEPOEL: You’re kind of hurting my feelings.

INTERVIEWER: Oh, I’m just getting started! I haven’t even asked about those giant goofy sunglasses you’re wearing! What the hell are those about?

EVENEPOEL: I have to go.


I have to confess, Evenepoel’s interview was so boring, I had to freestyle a bit there. Most of what you just read is pure fabrication. Evenepoel really did say, though, that he “wasn’t going as hard on that climb as [he] had in the time trial, so that was a mistake.” He makes it sound like a tactical decision, but I saw what really happened … dude got shellacked.

Bardet is still solo but his lead is coming down. There’s really no way he can stay off. The descent is simply too long. Now he’s starting the final climb but has only 40 seconds or so on the GC group.

I left for a while and now I’m back. With 12 kilometers to go, the GC group is on the final climb and Pavel Sivakov (UAE Team Emirates XRG) is drilling it on the front, setting up his leader, Pogacar.


As they overhaul Kuss, who I guess must have attacked at some point when I wasn’t looking, Sivakov pulls off, clearly blown.


And now, of course, Pogacar attacks. Oh my. This is blistering. But Vingegaard was ready for this and is right on the wheel!


It’s a crazy attack! Florian Lipowitz (Red Bull - Bora - Hansgrohe), the German rider in the white jersey of Best Young Rider, who was third yesterday, is immediately gapped!


Can Vingegaard respond? No. Of course not. Nobody could. Look at this gap open up. It’s like an adult beating up a little kid. The peloton, of course, is shattered.

Evenepoel is off the back. I guess he’s “not going as hard as in the time trial” again. That is, he’s just not trying. And I can’t blame him. I mean, why try when Pogacar is taking all his marbles and going home, again?


Pogacar fiddles with his bike computer. Maybe he’s bored, or has realized he might set some sort of PR today for power output or something. Behind, Lipowitz has clawed his way back to Vingegaard. He’s having an amazing Dauphiné, sitting in third on GC after yesterday’s awesome ride.


Vingegaard flicks his elbow for Lipowitz to take a pull. Lipowitz doesn’t come forward. He probably can’t due to being on the rivet already.

I will say that Vingegaard is holding the gap down fairly well. He’s a fighter, for sure. But of course he needed to attack Pogacar today, not the other way around.

As Vingegaard buries himself, Lipowitz gradually comes unglued from his wheel.


With just over 9 kilometers to go, Pogacar is only 14 seconds behind Bardet, whose ride will be a footnote at best to this stage.

Oh, wait, my bad. While I wasn’t looking, Bardet was already overhauled. The 14 seconds is over Vingegaard, and I don’t think it’s accurate. He seems a lot farther back than that.

My online correspondent says, “😴😴😴.” I see his point.

I feel really bad for these professional commentators. I mean, I share their struggle to describe this race in an interesting way, but I’m just a rank amateur—my livelihood isn’t at stake. And at least I get to make shit up if I want.

And now Pogacar falters! He slumps over the handlebars, his bike careening this way and that! I don’t understand what I’m seeing! Oh, wow, you’re not gonna believe this, but Pogacar has actually fallen asleep while riding because this is even more boring for him than for us! Yeah, okay, I confess, I’m lying right now. Disregard this entire paragraph.

Pogacar does look bored, though. His official gap is now 20 seconds, though the essential gap—that being between a cyborg and a human—is insurmountable. He looks over his shoulder. Note his expression. He’s not worried in the slightest that Vingegaard is making any ground. He’s just curious. “I wonder what’s going on back there in that different galaxy. Maybe Jonas is actually bearing down on me and I get to attack again. That would be fun. Nope … can’t even see him.”


Bob Roll, one of the Peacock commentators, is talking about the beautiful little village at the top of this climb. That’s probably where he should focus his commentary. Let’s go inside one of those cute little cafés! Let’s interview the proprietor!

Lipowitz has lost 25 seconds to Vingegaard so far. Like you care. Like Vingegaard cares. Like Lipowitz cares.

Vingegaard gives another flick of the elbow. Is he hallucinating that somebody is still with him? No, probably just a tic, or a minor muscle spasm. It’s what passes for news on a day like this.

Do you think Team Visma - Lease A Bike has a big enough budget to hire some thugs to kidnap Pogacar before the Tour? Maybe they could hire some real dumbasses on the cheap, who screw it up in various ways, such that high jinks ensue. Or maybe Visma could hire a sexy actress to come on to Pogacar, a femme fatale, like Nancy was to Sid Vicious, who could derail Pogacar’s training? This is what has become of our sport ... leading me to fantasize. I can’t believe I paid for Peacock Plus in advance so I could watch the Tour next month. Maybe I’ll see what other programs Peacock Plus might have that would be more interesting, like NASCAR maybe, or old episodes of “The Office.”

Vingegaard, despite being off the back, is big-ringing it up this 7% grade. In any other era he would still be a champion. And actually he’s doing really well at keeping this gap down, which would be more useful if he didn’t start the day 43 seconds behind already.

The commentator Christian Vande Velde speculates that Pogacar isn’t even going all-out. It sure doesn’t look like it; his expression is the same as mine when I’m reading the paper or doing the Wordle. I’ll bet I could beat Pogacar at Wordle. Maybe Vingegaard could as well. They should just cancel the Tour and set up three weeks of puzzles.

What was Pogacar looking back at earlier? He had to know his lead was almost half a minute. Did he see some kind of interesting animal? A pika, maybe? Pogacar is an animal himself of course, but not an interesting one. Actually, I just did some light research (with nothing better to do this close to the end of the Dauphiné’s queen stage) and it turns out there are no pikas in the French Alps. The animal that Pogacar may be looking at (but let’s be honest, probably isn’t) is (or would be) a marmot.

Blah blah blah Pogacar has only one kilometer to go, who cares, la la la. He looks even more bored than I feel.

Pogacar wins again, and he’s pioneering a new victory salute, looks like. Is he miming something? Playing a banjo? Shooting a rifle? Or scratching his armpit like chimps are purported to do?


Vingegaard heads for the line. He looks really bad.


As he crosses the line he looks like he may actually collapse.


The phone rings. My mother-in-law is calling. Normally, when I’m watching a live sporting event, I would let the call go to voicemail, but whatever she has to say will be more scintillating than this. I won’t share any of her tidings here ... why steal my own thunder?

Lipowitz comes across 1:21 behind Pogacar. He looks absolutely miserable. He’s questioning his life choices, surely. But he’ll be happy later, I think ... with this ride he has solidified his podium position on GC, and he’s only 25 and it’s his first Dauphiné. He has a bright future ahead (if he can be content with second place at best).


Evenepoel lost another 2:39 to Pogacar today, 2:25 to Vingegaard, and 1:28 to Lipowitz. Hang up on that fool, he’s done.

What expression is Vingegaard wearing here? It looks kind of obscene, actually. But I like his sunglasses. They don’t cover up half his face like so many modern styles do.


Pogacar is being interviewed.

INTERVIEWER: You must be unhappy because you didn’t get to the finish in time to see [unintelligible].

POGACAR: Yeah, that sucks.

INTERVIEWER: Do you like my shirt? I got it at a thrift store.

POGACAR: Today we wanted to take control. Visma tried with all their tricks. I am happy with how I rode. Sort of defense today. I launched it and maintained a good pace.

INTERVIEWER: You never worried even though you were outnumbered?

POGACAR: Toward the top of Croix de Fer I think they wanted to drop me on the downhill. I did not like that but it’s modern cycling. And then we were in control again.

INTERVIEWER: I though “modern cycling” consisted of a rider being so totally superior to the others, he just makes a mockery of the race, and the sport.

POGACAR: Jonas was pretty strong but I also didn’t want to go too deep  myself. I was lucky I had enough time to ease up in the last few meters.

INTERVIEWER: Your eyelid keeps twitching. I think that means you’re lying. Do you want to come clean?

POGACAR: Fine. I admit it. I stole the bus money.


Let’s play a game. You try to guess which part of that interview was legit, and I’ll tell you if you’re right. Ready? Go. Okay, the answer is, Pogacar really did say, “Yeah, that sucks,” “I was lucky I had enough time to ease up in the last few meters,” “it’s modern cycling,” and “Visma tried with all their tricks.” That last bit sounds like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.

Bardet is nearing the line, over 12 minutes down. The cameraman pans over to Bardet’s father watching from the sidelines and looking pretty pissed off, honestly.


Bardet’s dad will have strong words for his son, I’m sure. “It’s Father’s Day tomorrow ... is this what you call a gift? I bought you your first bicycle! I drove you to all those races! I came all the way out here to watch you today ... and this is the best you can do? Your mother and I are very disappointed.” Bardet will retort, “At least I don’t wear cycling sunglasses when I’m not cycling. You dork.”

The commentators keep talking about how Pogacar was loafing in the last kilometer or two. How boring is this sport when the guy who solos to victory doesn’t even have to ride hard? This is like Mike Tyson pummeling a smurf. Which I’d actually really prefer to watch, to be honest. I would buy Peacock Plus for that. I wonder if I can get a refund?

My online correspondent declares, “The scenery is always good but super boring racing ... it’s like watching some Cat 3 race.” Hear, hear.

Pogacar mounts the podium to celebrate his stage win. The sport, which had eschewed podium girls entirely, is gradually bringing them back. Today we get only one, offset by an old white guy just to make sure the ceremony isn’t too pleasant.


Pogacar looks pretty baked, actually.


Whereas top professional cyclists used to have to specialize, Pogacar actually leads almost all the competitions: maillot jaune (GC), maillot pois (mountains), and maillot vert (sprints). The only one he couldn’t nab is the maillot blanc (young rider). So really, the only thing I have in common with Pogacar is that neither of us can deny the march of time … we both age. But he’s a mere 26 years old and (weirdly enough) went through puberty just a couple years ago, so he’ll have many years ahead to rack up the most distinguished palmarès in the history of cycling.

Here is Pogacar getting his green jersey. Look at his eyes. He really does seem stoned. Perhaps after the race he took some hits off a big ol’ stinky bong. Maybe that’s his secret?


Now he gets the polka-dot jersey. Climbing the steps to the podium is probably more work for him than dominating the stage today. Look at him. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open.


Lipowitz gets his white jersey. Man, he looks wasted, too! Was he pulling tubes with Pogacar right after the stage ended?


One more rider gets to mount the podium: Bardet, for the the Combative award. Some little kid is there and hands Bardet ... what? It looks like a toy skunk. Let’s assume it’s that. “Here is a skunk because you stink,” the kid may be saying.


And now Bardet’s dad has joined him on the podium. It looks like he’s about to whisper something in his son’s ear. “You suck,” perhaps.


Tomorrow has six categorized climbs, but it’s clear that Pogacar has the GC in the bag. That goes for the Tour, too. Even so, you should check back in July for my Tour de France coverage … because you never know, something interesting might happen with a rider’s saliva.

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Email me here. For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.

Saturday, November 7, 2020

Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2020 Vuelta a España Stage 20

 Introduction

To me, sport seems kind of pointless during this pandemic. The articles on the front page of the sports section of the paper (yes, I get an old school paper newspaper, a phrase which seems redundant but obviously isn’t) seem almost insultingly trivial: “Niners face weak defense next week,” or “Smith starting in St. Louis despite hangnail.” And yet, we have to do something during shelter-in-place so I’m bringing you an (almost) live report of the final and decisive stage of this year’s Vuelta a España, a brutal course finishing on an hors categorie summit (or “especial” as they call it in Spanish).

Don’t worry: if you’ve ignored this Vuelta thus far, I’ll bring you up to speed along the way. And if there’s any funny business around a rider doing something “not normal,” I won’t bite my tongue.

2020 Vuelta a España Stage 17 – Sequeros to Alto de la Covatilla

As I join the action, there are about 52 kilometers left in the stage, which means nothing really is happening as the course is merely lumpy for a while. The announcer is describing some castle, reading off his cue card. You know, they could just make shit up, nobody would know. “This was the fortress of the 98th king of Spain, Juan the Bloated, or ‘Juan el Hinchado’ as they called him, the inventor of the gordita, named after his daughter, who was chubby—but cute! Hinchado famously had his chef executed for substituting ground turkey in his gorditas.”


A rider has punctured and needs the service car. To be clear, the rider himself didn’t puncture, it was one of the tires on his bike. Can you imagine if it were the rider himself? He’d need more than Shimano neutral support. Speaking of which, it’s sad not to see the yellow Mavic neutral support cars anymore. I guess Mavic folded. Anyone who enjoyed the wonderful reliability of GP4 rims back in the day will be sad about this.

So here’s what’s been going on over the last three weeks. Primoz Roglic (Jumbo-Visma), last year’s champion, is on fire, winning several stages and holding the GC lead (as well as the points jersey, the extra layer being welcome as the weather has been chilly). He looks bigger and beefier than he did in the Tour de France this year, which was his race to win until he spectacularly faded in the final time trial (though to be fair, it wasn’t such a bad ride but was overshadowed to say the least). In a post-stage interview recently, Roglic even called himself a sprint specialist, which is noteworthy because it’s the first interesting thing he’s ever said.

Missing from the lineup this year is last year’s third place Vuelta finisher, Tadej Pogacar. Pogacar is just plain worn out, after winning the Tour de France along with its KOM competition, its young rider competition, its Bic Best Handwriting competition, and its Lola Ascore Most Elegant Rider competition. He was even Prom King at his junior high this year. He’s wise beyond his years to insist on resting now.

I’m not hugely fond of this Aussie announcer, and I’ve just realized whom he sounds like: Borat. It’s not the same accent exactly, but there’s a similar mournful quality to his delivery. Joining him is this British gal who, being British, sounds super smart.

Getting back to my recap: sitting second on GC is the Ineos Grenadiers rider Richard Carapaz, who is only 45 seconds back. He lost five of those seconds on a sprinter’s stage yesterday, because Roglic contested the finish and took second—like a boss! It’s so rare to see a GC rider duking it out in a bunch sprint … I was pretty impressed. Plus, you can watch Roglic yelling, “Fuck!” at the end, as if it were a great shame not to beat all the real sprinters at their own game. I watched this a number of times because I needed to confirm he really said this. (“Fuck” is not his native tongue, of course. Being Slovenian he should have yelled “hudiča!” though that would be more cumbersome.) Notably, Roglic lost yesterday to Magnus Cort (EF Pro Cycling) who recovered from COVID just a few weeks before the Vuelta started. I know this sounds like the kind of crap I would make up, but it’s actually true. Click here for details.

As the riders approach the base of the penultimate climb, it’s starting to rain. Good, good. I want this to be epic!

So yeah, Carapaz is only 45 seconds back, and is a damn good climber. He’s also a very aggressive rider, as we saw during last year’s Giro d’Italia, which he won handily (despite starting as a domestique for the always-disappointing Mikel Landa), having impressively soloed to a mountain stage win in the process. Carapaz’s Ineos team kind of sucks right now (which warms my heart) but he can’t be counted out. Could Roglic falter today? Wouldn’t be the first time.

The announcers are talking about the riders’ shoes. Insoles, to be precise. So you know you’re not missing anything as I ramble on about the current GC.

Hugh Carthy (EF Pro Cycling) sits third on GC only eight seconds behind Carapaz, and has been named the strongest rider in the race by no less an authority than Alberto Contador. Carthy won the queen stage this year, on the famous Alto  de l’Angliru climb. (Don’t worry, the announcers are talking about a church right now, where, they say, two bored nuns invented the bikini—no they didn’t—so you’re still not missing anything.) If you want to see a thrilling stage, go back and watch that one (it’s Stage 12, from last Sunday). Roglic faded that day, and Carapaz tried to do maximum damage, but Roglic’s stalwart teammate, the American Sepp Kuss, did an amazing job of pacing Roglic and helped him minimize his losses.

The announcers are talking about pedal systems so there’s still nothing to report, so I’ll alert you to a great tale from years past, that being my own coverage of the Angliru stage of the 2013 Vuelta. That was an amazing stage, the penultimate test of that year’s Vuelta. I reread it last year just before getting to do a fundraising ride with Chris Horner, the winner of that Vuelta. I wanted to be able to recount that stage if I happened to have the chance to chat with Horner during the ride. Amazingly, I did … in fact, he gave me the whole story as we rode up Wildcat Canyon. Talk about a biased blow-by-blow! It was great. I told him, “I always kind of liked Nibali,” to which he replied, “Oh, he’s an asshole!”


Movistar is on the front, driving the pace to set up their leader, Enric Mas, who sits fifth on GC, 3:29 down. Mas is very good, and is rocking the white best young rider’s jersey (as he did in the Tour, IIRC), but he had a fairly lousy time trial.


Marc Soler (Movistar Team) attacks! Why would he, with a teammate to support? Well, he has a history of this. I guess so long as he doesn’t drag anyone with him, it’s fine … a second stage win for him would be a bigger deal than Mas taking fifth on GC.


I guess I should mention there’s a breakaway. It has only 1:15, down from over three minutes when I started watching, so it’s not likely to stay off. Speaking of doomed efforts, twice a Deceuninck-Quick Step rider has tried to solo in a stage in this Vuelta, only to be caught with like 2 km to go. Yesterday it was Remi Cavagna … pretty heartbreaking to watch.

You know it’s a cold day because Soler is sporting full leg warmers and arm warmers. You almost never see that despite the guys’ single-digit body fat.


Soler’s numbers are colored red. I reckon that’s due to his team leading the overall.

One clever thing about Soler’s attack is that it takes the burden off Movistar to do any pacemaking. Of course, that burden was Movistar’s own choice anyway. Now Jumbo-Visma dutifully takes up the chase.


Soler’s teammate Imanol Erviti, who’s been up in the breakaway, comes back to help him. Classic move, nicely played.


With 24 km to go, the riders finish the Alto de la Garganta and descend toward the final climb.

Now the breakaway hits the climb. Mark Donovan (Sunweb) attacks as they hammer up the cobblestone street.


What an awesome, narrow little road. This climb would be hard enough without the riders’ world being pixellated!


Interestingly, the breakaway’s gap is going up with 16 km to go. It’s at about 2:30 now.

The upcoming Alta de la Covatilla is pretty tough: a 7.1% average grade, with ramps of 10 to 12% for 3 km straight. Wouldn’t it be funny if I screwed up and called it the Col de la Covitalla? Because that would mean “the cabbage of the Covatilla.” Yeah, you’re right. That wouldn’t actually be that funny.

The breakaway is very large and their gap is up to 3:09. This is a bit annoying because now I have to try to figure out who they all are. I’ll give you the first three: Ion Izagirre (Astana Pro), Gino Mäder (NTT Pro Cycling), and Donovan. They have a 39 second gap to the rest of the break.

Here’s Izagirre. He looks suitably badass.


Back in the GC group, Rui Costa (UAE Team Emirates) detonates. He’s supposed to be helping his teammate David de la Cruz, who sits tenth on GC, but clearly Costa doesn’t have the minerals today. On top of that, he was relegated to last place in the lead group yesterday for a dangerous sprint. Maybe that demoralized him. Should we care, with 9.5 million Americans falling victim to the coronavirus? Probably not.


As the GC group begins the final climb in earnest, Carapaz doesn’t have a single teammate left. What happened to Ineos? Did their medic quit in a huff? Did they have supply chain problems getting their “marginal gains” products? Who knows, and who cares. By the way, as far as doping, I’ll give Carapaz the benefit of the doubt at this point. He only just joined the team this year.

With only 7 km to go, it’s clear the GC group doesn’t care about the breakaway. Jumbo-Visma is just watching Carapaz, hoping he doesn’t have the ability to attack. Everybody is pretty blown of course, after 15 stages. Sam Bennett and Kuss set the pace for their Jumbo-Visma leader.


Up in the break, Izagirre attacks!


Mäder is able to react, but Soler is shelled! Now it’s just between these two.

Back in the group, you know the hammer has gone down because the riders are all stretched out. Ide Schelling (Bora-Honsgrohe) is on the front with Jumbo-Visma still vigilant.


Plot twist! Donovan has made his way back to the leaders and now goes right to the front.


In the GC group, Schelling continues to hammer on the front.


The fog gets thicker as Izagirre makes his way, suddenly solo. When did that happen?


No sign of anything from Carapaz. Perhaps he’s just knackered.

Crazy! Up in the break, David Gaudu (Groupama-FDJ) has come out of nowhere, caught Izagirre, and now attacks!


Gaudu quickly gets a gap!



And now, back in the GC group, Carthy attacks!


Carapaz (in the green points leader’s jersey, on loan from Roglic) is right on Carthy! The cameraman is so excited he’s trembling and can’t hold the camera still, so the picture is all blurry!


Kuss looks like he’s in trouble! Roglic has to chase the attack down himself!


Now Mas attacks but Carapaz is right on him! This group is dwindling fast.


And here it is—Carapaz attacks! Roglic has nobody to help him! He chases, but the gap immediately goes up! Carapaz is aided by the blinding sunlight, diffused as it is by the mist!


It’s head-down time for Carapaz! The camera guy is so fired up, he continues to shake! Maybe he needs a cigarette! Maybe he’s got the delirium tremens!


Mas fades and it’s all up to Roglic now!


Carapaz suddenly has 21 seconds! He’s totally drilling it! He’s halfway to closing up the GC gap and winning the Vuelta!


The grade eases and Carapaz is in full TT mode!



Suddenly Roglic has a teammate. It’s Lennard Hofstede. Wow, he really got his ass in gear and now might just save this Vuelta for Roglic.


Carapaz passes some guys from the break. He’s crushing it! And yet, without a steep climb at his disposal, his gap over Roglic is bound to shrink.

At the front, Gaudu is still solo. I think he’s got this, unless he has a headwind or something. Note the windmills in the background.


Carapaz has 25 seconds. Remember, he needs 45.

Gaudu takes the stage win!




It’s really unfortunate that he did the cheesy make-a-heart victory salute. He’ll probably regret that later, when the euphoria of the stage win (his second in this Vuelta) has worn off.

Now Carapaz is at the 1 km kite. But his lead has dwindled to only 19 seconds.


Second and third are taken by breakaway riders, so there are no more time bonuses.

Carthy heads for the line solo, giving it everything, in his bid to move up on GC. He must be thinking of the 8-second deficit he started the day with, not the greater deficit that now exists due to Carapaz’s big attack. I can’t blame Carthy for getting confused … it’s been a long Vuelta. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably get so confused I’d ride in the wrong direction entirely and have a head-on collision with somebody.


Carapaz hits the finish line, and it looks like he won’t have a big enough gap! Still, it’s impressive he made the attack, despite having no teammates on the final climb and probably being a bit wappered.


And now Roglic is solo, giving it everything, looking a bit silly with his bright yellow arm warmers but nonetheless defending his Vuelta with aplomb.


Roglic approaches the finish line, with plenty of time left. But suddenly there’s another rider, some Astana guy, trying to beat him to the line! But the Astana guy is going the wrong way! He’s heading for the wrong end zone! What the hell is he thinking?! And now he’s pulled his foot out of the pedal! He’s a disaster!


All is well. Roglic’s catlike reflexes carried the day. Turns out the Astana guy just wanted to be the first to shake Roglic’s hand.

They’re interviewing Gaudu, the stage winner. The interviewer asks him something in Spanish, probably some version of “How’d it go?” The probable language barrier doesn’t seem to matter because Gaudu just starts spewing—I mean, he’s just talking up a storm, doesn’t need any prompts. He’s like the opposite of Roglic. Unfortunately, it’s all in French, and despite having studied this cryptic language for years, I can’t quite keep up. Here’s my best effort:

“I’d like to thank my teammates because that’s kind of, like, required. Also, I want  to apologize for that stupid make-a-heart-shape victory salute. I don’t know what got into me. In the moment you just get emotional, you know? See, I woke up this morning and I said to myself, the cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness, so today has to be my day, my soul’s escaping through this hole that is gaping,  this world is mine for the taking, make me king, as we move toward a New World Order, a normal life is boring, and I’m sorry—did you say something?”


Here’s Roglic on the podium, having valiantly defended his GC lead today.


And now here is the stage result:


Here is the (almost) final GC (heading into the final, nothing sprinters’ stage tomorrow):


Now they’re interviewing Enric Mas, who consolidated his 5th overall today along with the Best Young Rider jersey. “Would you like to do this in English or Spanish?” the reporter asks. “Oh, English is fine,” Mas says. “I’m working on my English. Today I tackle the hypothetical subjunctive: I would have liked to have had a better day today and perhaps make the podium.” Wow, he nailed it! Unfortunately, the cameraman seems to have abruptly bailed so we don’t get to hear any mo.’ No Más.


And now, finally, they’ve found Roglic, who had gotten lost in one of the changing rooms, to interview him. “It is very nice to defend my lead today,” he says, and then suddenly I can’t hear anything else because he’s drowned out by a sudden burst of noise from a bunch of fans’ vuvuzelas. It’s crazy, they just came out of nowhere, and there’s also the clanging of a bunch of pots and pans being banged together. It goes on and on. And oddly enough, the sound isn’t coming from my laptop, but from outside my house. Something is going on right here, in my neighborhood. Oh, I’ll bet it’s about the election! In fact—I gotta go!


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