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A Prognostication We Hoped We’d Be Wrong About
Sometimes The Labs Confirm What Our Noses Already Sensed…

As the Tour headed into the Pyrenees in recent days we wrote that “young gun” Ricardo Ricco was positively en fiero, and we added a few innocuous words as a sort of footnote, or perhaps as a garlic clove intended to keep the vampires at bay, or possibly as wishful thinking — or maybe because our lawyers made us do it.

In any case, what we said about Ricco - besides his having brass balls and climbing like smoke - was that we hoped his performance was “all him,” or something to that effect.

We didn’t want to club you over the head by spelling out the quite obvious inference here. You get it.

We didn’t want to have to say that we hoped Ricco was clean, and that we’ve all been burnt and let down too many times when our cycling heros have fallen from grace on the heels of a stellar performance, perp-walked straight from the podium to oblivion. So we said we hoped it was “all him,” or something to that effect.

Now our man Ricco has been kindly driven to the police station in the team car with one of France’s finest Gendarmes seated next to him, and by now he’s been virtually told by now that his cycling career is over.

Those stage wins? Beautiful, but faked, so please return the yellow jersey forthwith, thank you very much.

Yes, it’s unfortunate what’s happening to you right now, Ricardo. Your career kaput and all that. The countless millions of Euros you were going to make, suddenly vanished, as if smoke — like the way you climb when your veins are full of chemicals, eh?

But at least you had a choice.

What of your teammates, Ricardo? What about Cobo? What about Piepoli? And the rest of your team? Your actions have taken them out of the Tour and into racing purgatory, only slightly less screwed than yourself — and they had no say in any of this.

So your brass balls were really undersized orbs soaked in fear and chemicals to make up for your own lack of genuine manhood.

So you felt inadequate to compete on your skills and strength alone, and thought you could outsmart the system and have fans continue to adore you while you talked trash to the guys who raced clean.

So you put a big hurt into guys who hadn’t bothered visiting the pharmacy on the way to the group start. Now those men ride on, while you, boy, are not.

Possibly the only redeeming thing anyone will ever say about you now — is that you were a good example of how to become the biggest loser. In that race, Ricardo, you are now at the top of the podium. Congratulations, and bon voyage.