C
Clovis Lark
Guest
Ahhh, Besancon! A site for poetry. A citadel watching over the Rive Doubs
and over the brilliantly languid performance of Pierre Bourquenoud who
took the time no other rider could be man enough to spare to enjoy for a
full 1.21:08 the scenery, the friendly citizens, some in the road trying
to shake hands with these giants of cyclisme ON TELEVISION! Never knowing
the finishing times of any of his rivals, Bourquenoud rode the circuit in
full knowledge that he paraded with all who lined the road! Only they, the
fans,
would be in the rain and sun longer than he! And showed his appreciation
in this languid ride of salute! It wasn't as though he
was without the rest of the four musketeers. For Gilles Bouvard dawdled
brilliantly along, assured that his sunblock was up to the marathon, to
finish at 1:19:42 barely ahead of Ludovic Martin, the frisky devil of
Alpe d'Huez, now put rightfully where he belongs at 1:19:33 and nearly arm
in arm with Christophe Laurent, 1:19:26.
But the triumph of the 4 musketeers and their unity were mere laurels on a
crown that RAGT takes to gay Paris where the, but that's yet another tale!
RAGT's dominance has been so great that this powerful group of comraes
graciously allowed Domina Vacanze a day to bask in team glory. Indeed,
the power and overwhelming iron fisted domination of RAGT is so great at
this point that CN's website didn't even dare place them on the standings
out of respect for the reputations of the other strugglnig also rans.
Sadly, all was not roses and brioches for these heroes. Frederic Finot's
brakemanship was sadly underprepared. The team directorship clearly down
on their man for lack of discipline remarked that along with his natural
talent, had he the dedication of Jimmy Casper, he'd be in red tomorrow,
but that will never happen. Instead, as Phil Liggett aptly recalled,
nobody remembered Paul Sherwen's failed monumental effort to grab the
Lanterne some 20 years ago, and so it will go with Finot.
The peloton, of course, is all agossip over the outrageous events of
yesterday when RAGT used its radio scanners to break into Sebastien Joly's
ear piece and warn him and his team manager of dire consequences were he
to proceed with a breakaway that threatened to leave Casper with the
Lanterne Rouge before the time trial even took place. Colorful language
crackled over the airwaves and RAGT made sure that others heard it as
well! Finot et sus enfants were having nothing of this gross display of
petty negative glory that hurt both the peloton and the race. Indeed,
Finot, it must be remembered, has quite a grudge stemming from Joly's
claim over the winter that he abused nitrous oxide and ether while going
through a root canal at his dentist's and this was a source of his
nonpareil brakesmanship (the dentist is on record as stating that nitrous
oxide is as safe as eating 5 cans of baked beans six hours before
entering a loaded elevator, something the UCI promises to look into). A
threat of a match of scissors/paper/rock to settle this dispute has hung
over the pro-circuit all season. It didn't take long for Joly to get the
message and he quickly abandoned the break on the slopes of the Jura
mountains to return to the peloton where the talk at his expense forced
him to cower near the head of the peloton, far from the leaders. Indeed,
as Finot declared, this is no race for pansies, girly men and while sport
may be for fun at times, but so near gay Paris, where all the girls, but I
digress.
The stress and effort of the incident may have been the coffin nail in
Finot's chances as his legendary time trialing clearly came apart on the
bridges of the Rive Doubs, in a town where the clocks never lie. A place
where the bearings in his wheels were suddenly slick and well packed, a
place where the twinkling red light seemed to round a bend and flicker out
of sight!
and over the brilliantly languid performance of Pierre Bourquenoud who
took the time no other rider could be man enough to spare to enjoy for a
full 1.21:08 the scenery, the friendly citizens, some in the road trying
to shake hands with these giants of cyclisme ON TELEVISION! Never knowing
the finishing times of any of his rivals, Bourquenoud rode the circuit in
full knowledge that he paraded with all who lined the road! Only they, the
fans,
would be in the rain and sun longer than he! And showed his appreciation
in this languid ride of salute! It wasn't as though he
was without the rest of the four musketeers. For Gilles Bouvard dawdled
brilliantly along, assured that his sunblock was up to the marathon, to
finish at 1:19:42 barely ahead of Ludovic Martin, the frisky devil of
Alpe d'Huez, now put rightfully where he belongs at 1:19:33 and nearly arm
in arm with Christophe Laurent, 1:19:26.
But the triumph of the 4 musketeers and their unity were mere laurels on a
crown that RAGT takes to gay Paris where the, but that's yet another tale!
RAGT's dominance has been so great that this powerful group of comraes
graciously allowed Domina Vacanze a day to bask in team glory. Indeed,
the power and overwhelming iron fisted domination of RAGT is so great at
this point that CN's website didn't even dare place them on the standings
out of respect for the reputations of the other strugglnig also rans.
Sadly, all was not roses and brioches for these heroes. Frederic Finot's
brakemanship was sadly underprepared. The team directorship clearly down
on their man for lack of discipline remarked that along with his natural
talent, had he the dedication of Jimmy Casper, he'd be in red tomorrow,
but that will never happen. Instead, as Phil Liggett aptly recalled,
nobody remembered Paul Sherwen's failed monumental effort to grab the
Lanterne some 20 years ago, and so it will go with Finot.
The peloton, of course, is all agossip over the outrageous events of
yesterday when RAGT used its radio scanners to break into Sebastien Joly's
ear piece and warn him and his team manager of dire consequences were he
to proceed with a breakaway that threatened to leave Casper with the
Lanterne Rouge before the time trial even took place. Colorful language
crackled over the airwaves and RAGT made sure that others heard it as
well! Finot et sus enfants were having nothing of this gross display of
petty negative glory that hurt both the peloton and the race. Indeed,
Finot, it must be remembered, has quite a grudge stemming from Joly's
claim over the winter that he abused nitrous oxide and ether while going
through a root canal at his dentist's and this was a source of his
nonpareil brakesmanship (the dentist is on record as stating that nitrous
oxide is as safe as eating 5 cans of baked beans six hours before
entering a loaded elevator, something the UCI promises to look into). A
threat of a match of scissors/paper/rock to settle this dispute has hung
over the pro-circuit all season. It didn't take long for Joly to get the
message and he quickly abandoned the break on the slopes of the Jura
mountains to return to the peloton where the talk at his expense forced
him to cower near the head of the peloton, far from the leaders. Indeed,
as Finot declared, this is no race for pansies, girly men and while sport
may be for fun at times, but so near gay Paris, where all the girls, but I
digress.
The stress and effort of the incident may have been the coffin nail in
Finot's chances as his legendary time trialing clearly came apart on the
bridges of the Rive Doubs, in a town where the clocks never lie. A place
where the bearings in his wheels were suddenly slick and well packed, a
place where the twinkling red light seemed to round a bend and flicker out
of sight!