"The Leaf on the Water"

The wind tears a leaf from the willow tree;
it falls lightly upon the water,
and the waves carry it away.

Time has gradually effaced a memory from my heart,
and I watch the willow leaf drifting away on the waves;
since I have forgotten her
whom I loved,
I dream the day through in sadness,
lying at the water's edge.

But the willow leaf floated back
under the tree,
and it seemed to me
that the memory could never be effaced
from my heart.

-Ouan-Tsi

A Fine Bromance: Schleck and Contador on the Col du Tourmalet

"Jacques Anquetil was the first cyclist to win five Tours de France; in 1961, he held the Yellow jersey from first stage to last. Anquetil was the first to win all three grand tours. He held the hour record. In 1965 he won the gruelling 557km Bordeaux-Paris, the day after taking victory in the week-long Dauphine Libere, an amazing achievement. His generally defensive racing style meant he was less successful in one day races, but even so he won Liege-Bastogne-Liege, considered by many to be the toughest of the Classics. Anquetil was imperious, uncoubtedly the strongest rider of his era. Yet he was never world champion, despite finishing in the top ten on six occasions. Why?

In Master Jacques, Richard Yates argues that it was spite that ensured Anquetil would never win the world title. His rivalry with Raymond Poulidor was so intense that he spent more time preventing Poulidor from winning the world title than trying to win it himself. In other words, it was more important to Anquetil to stop his rival from being world champion than to be world champion himself.

It’s incredible that a great athlete would pass up the opportunity of winning one of the most prestigious titles the sport has to offer for the sake of personal animosity. Yet there it is. Anquetil hated Poulidor; he couldn’t bear it that the French public loved Poulidor, the loser, more than he, the imperious winner. It was jealous, small-minded and magnificently petty. One of the great cycling images is of the two men riding elbow to elbow up the Puy de Dome in the 1964 Tour, neither giving an inch, neither allowing the other to have even half a wheel. Riding like that was to neither man’s advantage. Yet it’s as compelling a moment as the sport has to offer; it is the essence of sport.

Schleck and Contador climbing for almost certain victory on the Tourmalet in this year’s Tour could – and should – have been as compelling. But there was – there is – something missing from this rivalry: spite. We came close, in stage 15 when Contador powered on as Schleck dropped his chain and seized the yellow jersey. Many argued that this critical counter breached a basic convention of the sport – you don’t attack the yellow jersey when he suffers an accident or a mechanical. Schleck was furious, Contador at first indifferent as he celebrated taking the race lead at the end of the stage. For a few gossip-filled hours, the rivalry seemd to light up. Then Contador apologised, Schleck accepted and we were back to the fine bromance that reached its pinnacle with the stomach-turning spectacle of Contador patting Schleck’s face for just a little too long after gifting him the Tourmalet stage..."

Read more of "A Fine Bromance: Schleck and Contador on the Col du Tourmalet," at The Fixed Factor, here.

Love Hurts, but so does Pittsburgh's Dirty Dozen

Think-a to za future: itza Saturday dopo Thanksgiving eeeeen Pittsburgh...Love Hurts, but does it-a hurta worse-a than za Dirty Dozen, Pittsburgh's hardest percorso in bicicletta? Non lo so and itza better that-a youa ... deeeecide! Ciao ciao!

Vs.

I-a personally think-a they'll both a-leave you tired-out in-a zee end...

Love Hurts

Love hurts, love scars, love wounds
And mars, any heart
Not tough or strong enough
To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud
Holds a lot of rain
Love hurts... ooh,ooh love hurts

You are young, I know, but even so
I know a thing or two
I've learned from you
I really learned a lot, I really learned a lot
Love is like a flame
It burns you when it's hot
Love hurts... ooh,ooh love hurts



Some fools think of happiness
Blissfulness, togetherness
Some fools fool themselves I guess
They're not foolin' me

I know it isn't true, I know it isn't true
Love is just a lie
Made to make you blue
Love hurts... ooh,ooh love hurts
Ooh,ooh love hurts

I know it isn't true, I know it isn't true
Love is just a lie
Made to make you blue
Love hurts... ooh,ooh love hurts
Ooh,ooh love hurts...

To write or not to write (a book) + How an Anti-Doping Control was Defeated

Several times it's been suggested to me by everyone from friends to members of the mainstream media (and friends in the mainstream media) that I should write a book about my "life story." The saga of Yuliet's escape from Cuba and flight across Europe before being kidnapped and forcibly repatriated is terrible - but compelling - and my insights into the dark world of doping in sport (ie., what really goes on and how it happens) are two segments of what could be an engaging (if short) read. Think an American version of "Breaking the Chain", except not just about doping (and with a better cover)!

Love, betrayal, international intrigue, Apache gunships, juvenille humor (for that I'd consult Burt Hoovis), crime, punishment, redemption, confusing sentence structures, gratuitous use of foreign words...it would be a classic in our time!

Until then, I thought I'd provide you all with an anecdote about one way in which I saw an anti-doping control defeated...BUT - I'll have to get back to this later as I have a meeting in Robinson in 45min.

"Love"

Lingering, lingering,
Pulsating, pulsating
Two hearts beat in one.
Fine as gossamer,
Vast as the waves,
Inconstant as the moon,
Frail as a flower,
This strange thing we call love,
What a prolific source of sorrows it is!

-Wu Yung
T'ang Dynasty