UCI takes hostages

By any means necessary...

Our buddy Pat McQuaid and his UCI homies are back at it, threatening the French ProTour teams that are considering participating in this year's Paris-Nice. It's unclear what "very hard sanctions" old Paddy has in mind, but that Berretta looks kinda scary. I'd like to say that the French teams in question are between a rock and a hard place but they're not, seeing as they're really in the crossfire of grumpy old men trying to ruin cycling more efficiently than a new doping scandal ever could.

Worse Than A Decep Beat-Down?

A Toast! To never testing positive again!

The cycling world continues to lament Jan Ullrich's decision to retire from the sport at the age of 33.
Even five time tour winner Miguel Indurain weighed in, saying yesterday: "Although at 33 he didn't have much cycling left in his legs, it is a shame he has had to retire in this manner."

Yes Mig, it is a damn shame, and the Cycopaths have also been deeply affected by Jan's decision.

In fact, until this week, the worst thing that had ever happened to Mr. 60 was when he got jumped by Deceps back in 1991.

And now this.

When will it get easier?

We are emotionally scared and will never look at amphetamines the same.

Guten Tag, bitch!



Jan rolls mad deep...into retirement.

Mr. 60: Hung Over

Due to Mr. 60's current state of mind, today's post must be a quiet one. This calls for a photo retrospective of our favorite asthmatic Gallego. Please enjoy silently.

Eres el mejor, Senor 60!

Gracias, guapo, gracias.

God Is Dead

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood (doping scandal -ed.) off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?
—Nietzsche, The Gay Science, Section 125, tr. Walter Kaufmann

French cycling's desperate bid for relevance backfires

French cycling hasn't had a hero since admitted doper Richard Virenque retired. Consider for a moment the irony of the "I'm a celebrity get me out of here" winner and poster-child of the Festina scandal being the Great White Hope of French cycling for so long (at least since the days of, oh, say JF Bernard or Luc Leblanc). This, perhaps, puts in perspective French cycling's pathetic need to draw attention away from its consistent lack of international success characterized by moments like this. Can't win your own big race? want a French Paris-Nice champ? Make it French only! The problem with the plan, apparently, is that the rest of the cycling world has grown a pair and is standing-up to this nonsense. We at Cycopaths have a sneaking feeling that French cycling will end-up much like Narcissus, with a long and glorious past ruined by believing it's greater than it is.

Ludo Dierckxsens: Original Jamaican Don Dada

This week we celebrate the career of Ludo Dierckxsens; Flandrian, journey man racer, and one of the hardest men to ever shave his legs.

Ludo was born on the cold grey morning of October 14th 1964. It has been said that the labor lasted three months because he was born with a chainring around his head. A 53, natch.

He turned pro at thirty years old to "see what (he) was worth."

1999 was perhaps his best year; he won the Belgian Championship and a stage in the Tour de France.

He retired this past year at 41, as the oldest professional rider in the peloton. Only legend Viacheslav Ekimov comes close in age. But let's face it, Ludo is fucking Yoda to Eki's Obi Wan.

Whenever Mr. 60 starts to feel like too much of a bad ass for racing with the Category 3's in NYC, he pictures Ludo flying through the Belgian country side. It's kind of like thinking about dead monkeys during sex. It makes sure he doesn't get too far ahead of himself.

Aw, come on Mr. 60...

Bushwick Bill's Guide to Crashing

Editor's note: Bushwick Bill is a founding member of The Geto Boys, and an avid Cycopaths reader. Today he joins us as guest editor.

The number one rule to avoid crashing: buy ten at a time.

Truly, only when crashing do you realize how good it feels to be a gangster.

It is not all fun and games. Crashes can be serious, too. The crash above put paid to Iban's 2004 Tour ambitions. Except for the time when my girl shot me in the eye, this was the saddest day of my life.

Back in the day guys would purposely crash in training. Why? To do shit like this on race day.

Don't nap until after the final sprint. Otherwise, you may wake up with a headache.

Don't race track. Ever. That's for crazy people. Heard of the Match Sprint? That's where you and your opponent take a dive on the last lap and run to the line.

Again, don't race track. See the Russian above? With the wheel on his stomach? He stood up, giggled, and said he just wanted to put on a show for the fans.

When you hit the ground, don't go knee first. That ends careers. Right, Roberto?

Relax, it happens to everybody! Even Olympic Champions cry sometimes, and not even the best doping regimen can protect you.

Lance crashed and ULE FUCKING WAITED.

By all means: do not ride a Trek.

It's not all bad. Sometimes crashing leads to tender moments between teammates.

This Guy Will Win Paris-Nice

Thanks to the beef between the UCI and the ASO, it looks like no Pro Tour teams will compete in this year's Paris-Nice.
The UCI has issued a directive to the teams stating that they cannot take part in the event.
No problem.
Mr. 60's good friend (pictured above -ed.), an amateur racer in Brooklyn, would certainly love a spot in the Race to the Sun. And he could very well win it, as long as he competes on the dolo.
UCI? ASO? Are you listening?

POST DELETED

THIS POST HAS BEEN DELETED BY THE EDITOR.
Don't ask why.
And apologies to Bernhard Kohl.
No, we did not drop a bomb on Austria and you are quite handsome.
Instead, please enjoy this picture of Bob Marley cross training in winter.

Corrections and Clarifications

A detailed study of Jason Donald's remarkable performance in the opening stage of the Tour of California has revealed a previously unknown determining factor in his stunning second place performance: the wind.
See? Mr. 60 was right!
Jason did cheat.
Fine, it wasn't EPO. But these favorable wind conditions undoubtedly contributed to the outcome of the race. This 'wind' is deplorable. The reports are all true, there is no morality left in sports.
The UCI should be ashamed of themselves. We will not tire in our campaign against this despicable 'wind'.
Floyd are you listening? Can you organize us a fundraiser?

Ghostface Loves New Blueberry Cliff Bars

Ay yo, shit is purple, son.

Word 'em up, Ghost!

Meat Gazing

This one's for all the ladies out there.

Safer Than Orange Juice

So Jason Donald made a big splash at his first professional race.

Second! Wow!

Good for him.

Quick, someone cut a check for his Doctor.

It may come as a shock, but Mr. 60 is rather cynical about this miracle ride. Are we really supposed to believe that this unheralded neo-pro pulled off the ride of his life? It's not like he's a young phenom anyway; he's 27.

OK. Miracles do happen. There is a Tooth Fairy and we've recently been to a magical land of shiny, happy unicorns.

Wait. Jason rides for (the unfortunately rhyming) Team Slipstream?

Aren't they the team that Platogrande analysed so eloquently last week?

They're the team that tests their riders more than all others, right?

Oh, well, that changes everything.

They are clean beyond question.

You see, even if Jason had won the three kilometer race by an hour, he's beyond reproach. They swear they're not doping. Who are we to judge?

Welcome to cycling post-Puerto.

Relax and enjoy this one Jason! They don't even test for EPO here in California!

Tour of California: Don't Ask, Don't Tell

The story making headlines this week concerns mistakes made in the doping controls during last year's Tour of California. It seems the sponsors are not very happy with the organizers of the race.

Last year executives at AEG, the company that organizes the race, boasted that no riders tested positive for banned substances, but have now acknowledged that riders were not tested for EPO.
Wait a minute.
Of all the scandals to have hit cycling in the past year, why is this such a big deal?
What performance enhancing aspects are on offer from the European Patent Office anyway?

And isn't Amgen the title sponsor of the race? Yes, that Amgen, the world's leading supplier of Erythropoietin.

If they really cared about anemic, cancer ridden professional cyclist's health, they'd giving that shit away. Instead, they require prescriptions, and therapeutic use exemptions. What's next, banning it's use for competition altogether? That would make at least one hero very unhappy.


And besides, this is California were talking about; shouldn't they be testing for weed?

Vino As Picthman

Is number two chain in all Kazakhstan!

Taste The Rainbow

OK, if George is David Silver, Lance is Dylan MacKay, and Bobby J is Brandon Walsh, then who is the guy on the left and what did he do to Steve Sanders?

Mr. 60: Taking Shit Too Seriously

And yes, that does say propaganda on my jacket.

New Euskaltel Jersey: Snappy or Nappy?

In honor of Unai Etxebarria's victory today in the Volta a Mallorca, Mr. 60 thought about declaring today a Cycopaths holiday. Why? Because Unai rides for a team from the Basque country, Mr. 60's ancestral land; he won a race in Catalunya, where Mr. 60 spends his summers; and lastly, Mr. Extebarria is is a Venezuelan citizen. Although Mr. 60 is not a Chavista, he does love Hugo's snappy fashion sense.



Nice early season win Unai. Now you can goof off until next year.

So a day off is in order, no?

Actually, no.

Who are we kidding? Every day is a holiday to Mr. 60.
Instead, we've put the champagne on ice, and we're all going to work. How? By examining the new Euskaltel jersey.

The new design. Proudly displayed below by Igor Anton.

You Like it, Igor? It makes you happy, yes?

It looks like they added some squiggly white lines up the sides, and a big orange thumbprint in the middle.

And the old jersey? Here it is in all it's classic splendour:

You're a good looking jersey, yes you are. Hold out that chest!

And finally, here are Manuel Madariaga's panties:

Mr. Madariaga had many wonderfull things to say to the press about Iban Mayo during the latter's tenure with Euskaltel.

So which jersey do we prefer, dear readers?
Share your thoughts in the comment section below.

All praise be to our friend Magnus for first raising the issue of the dueling jerseys.

Chavanel to join Fall Out Boy?

At the Cofidis team presentation last week, Sylvain Chavanel, France's failed expectation incarnate, announced his intentions to join the emo pop quartet Fall Out Boy.

Considering Sylvain's record of failing to live up to his hype, he'll probs just end up playing the tambourine for Platogrande's local fav: Pilates in Falluja.

Also, Virenque lives!

American team plans to never win

From the country that brings you the best in security theater comes to you anti-doping theater. US-based team Slipstream has announced plans to blow their load administer fifty doping controls per year to each team member. Apparently claiming to spend 400,000USD on team-sponsored doping tests is supposed to make us feel good. And by feel good I mean laugh and point as the riders on Team Slipstream get consistently dropped. It seems that a goal of having a "clean" team is to attract sponsors which might, understandably, given the seemingly endless doping scandals in cycling, be skittish about putting money into a team. Team Slipstream is going to need that extra sponsorship money to pay for all those extra doping tests.

Fuck Was You Thinking? All Mario Edition!

Above, Mario doing what he did best: winning and making sure his ass didn't look too big.

Hey Ma! Look, no style!

This one picture has done more damage to the image of cycling than all of the Lance's and Floyd's combined.

Maillot Jaune, Maglia Rosa, World Championship: no jersey was deemed too gaudy for matching shorts.

For a Giro prologue Mario once dressed like a chubby Mary-Kate Olsen.

Here he looks like the creepy Italian exchange student who eagerly hits on the ugly chicks at a Delta Sigma Delta party.

That's part of the saddle between his legs, right? And damn if that camel doesn't look like he's having the time of his life.

Another of his famous wacky prologue skinsuits. The Italians ate it up: Oh, there's that-a crazy Mario again!

Mario fed the children of many Flemish helmet painters throughout his career.

Many.

Life after cycling: Male Model Mario doing his best acciao azzurri.

Hey Mario! Who has more STYLE THAN YOU?

Next time on Fuck Was You Thinking: Danilo Hondo!