Today was the day that Frank and Andy Schleck of Saxobank either made a serious move or spent the entire stage marking Rabo Bank’s Denis Menchov as they awaited the opportune moment to pounce in a snarl fangs and claws while rending flesh and drenching their enemies in their own blood.
Er . . . um . . . ok, maybe not exactly.
Frank came in at 13th, 19 seconds back, just barely managing to hang with Menchov, who finished the stage 7th at 18 seconds back.
Baby Schleck? 103rd, 14’10’ back, behind even Garmin’s cursed and woeful Christian Vande Velde (102nd, also 14’10”).
Frank? Andy? I know you’ve been hinting at some bad blood between you and team boss Bjarne Riis (ok, between Riis and any rider who’s so much as ever ridden by Saxo’s team bus), but is this really gonna be your grand F*** Y**!? Not very sporting at all.
And Andy, you can’t seriously support dear brother Frank very well if you’re gonna spend the entire Vuelta SUCKING.
I’m just sayin, is all.
But on to Stage 3’s boy wonder.
Philippe Gilbert of OmegaPharma-Lotto (and, can’t you guys fookin’ shorten that up? I mean, damn.), who made what would have been a gorgeous break with just under 800 meters to go if he hadn’t spent the entire damned thing looking over his shoulder as if he couldn’t believe he was really pulling it off and expected that either the gods of cycling were going to strike him dead at any moment or some stronger, faster, better rider who was actually breathing down his neck and mocking his feeble excuse for a solo break was on the brink of easily overtaking him.
He slammed that shiite!
You’d think that out of respect for him, now that he’s topped the big dogs in a meaningful stage in a really, really big race, that they’d stop calling him “Philippe JillBear”, though. Again, I’m just sayin’.
Bikezilla 