I’ve been thinking a lot about doping of late. Being competitive across the pond. What it takes. What it means. How it got this way. And why it will probably stay this way. My own current physical condition and how I a few handfuls of blue and yellow purple pills would make it all better. And, then I’ve been out in the garage riding the rollers while watching VHS tapes of mid-nineties European racing.
Mother fuckers were doped to the gills.
I play games to pass the time, turn circles, turn circles, what drugs was that rider rumored to be using? What’d he get caught with? What’d they tape him talking about in a hotel room? What’d he get banned for? What lame excuse did he trot out?
That guy, he dressed like it’s summer in a cold, rainy, fucking awful Spring Classic. And he looks… puffy. Look at the ass on that blimp… And he just rode six people off his wheel.
That guy, he’s wrapped up like it’s the dead of winter and it’s 75 degrees out in the Giro. His blood must be like molasses. And he just disappeared up the road. For the fourth day in a row.
Dope. Dope. Dope.
It makes you stronger. It speeds recovery. It makes you faster. Everyone is doing it.
I didn’t write anything regarding the recent signing of Tyler Hamilton to Rock Racing. Or whatever they fucking call themselves lately. What is there to say that hasn’t been said better already? New year, new name, same storied riders. Or, steroid riders. Or, whatever.
Best joke I heard about that was if Rock was going to pay his disappearing twin too. Maybe it was some kind of package deal – a twofer. You get Tyler Hamilton and his erratic blood values for one low price. They should pay him in Top Ramen.
Rock Racing – ugh. I saw these guys at the trade show. And I gave them a wide berth. Like miles. There is nothing there I want anything to do with. More cash in flashy gasoline powered bullshit than I care to see. Tattoos wall to wall. Expensive pants the like a man should never wear. Eye candy chicks hanging out. Loud music.
And this is coming from a guy who sold porn online for years and years. And years. And years.
That trainwreck will not last. I give ‘em another year, tops. After this interview with team honch and check singer Michael Ball dropped back in mid-December, all kinds of fun followed. Chris Horner felt obligated to tell his side of the “played us” line. And I’m going with Horner 100% on this one. Then, none other than the teams director sportif, Frankie Andreu ends his contract.
All this in three weeks.
Oh, it’s going to be a very interesting year for Rock Racing. Who gets popped for a doping offense first? Who won’t even be allowed to race? Who gets fired for not winning?
What are the odds riders salaries won’t be covered through mid-summer when this all goes pear shaped?by