Monday, July 24, 2006
Monday Lite: Champs Elysées
I would like to make a couple of points very briefly today about Floyd Landis' astonishing Tour de France victory:
1) I have never watched one single second of competitive cycling. You might think I'm lying, but remember how readily I admitted watching tons and tons of soccer. Do I really strike you as someone encumbered by shame?
2) My newspaper on the front page referred to the last stage of the race as a "largely ceremonial 95-mile ride." I would like to point out that since the invention of the steam engine, there is nothing either "ceremonial" or even "sensible" about riding one's bicycle 95 miles, for whatever purpose. If I ever have occasion to ride a bike 95 miles, there had better fucking well be a street full of people cheering when I get done, some free champagne, a medal, a check and an unlimited supply of soothing balm for my poor friction-destroyed giblets complete with an Amazonian spokesmodel willing to apply it for me.
3) Most astonishing of all: people are still naming their children "Floyd."
4) Floyd and his wife live in nearby Murrieta, here in Riverside County, which means two things a) I can expect wall-to-wall coverage of bicycle racing and its aftermath in my local paper for a fucking week and b) this heroic sports story's tragic coda will be when Floyd is so sad to return home to find that everyone in Murrieta is dead from heat stroke. Worst victory parade, ever.
Seriously, it's still hot.
This post on the Narcissus Scale: 5.9