So your saying there's a chance?

My research continues on the quest for the right sport. My latest interest seems to be cricket. I am sure that no one on the island of Evansville plays cricket, but I think that I can get a league going. I have checked the gear out and it is cheaper than replacing the SRM. I don't really know much about it, but it is a game with a large paddle that I assume you can hit people with, so it can't be all bad if there is potential blood shed.

The other interesting point is that the Cricket gloves look like they could come in extremely handing for cycling if I decide to bite the bullet and fix the SRM. They look like field sprint supreme gloves, maybe even perfect for the track and the kerin event.

Speaking of cycling, the doper is trying to get on Mob. He worships me and wants to be my bitch, so I think that with another week of begging I might relent and let him on. Wait, it isn't my team, so I don't really have any say. Oh well, he is still gonna be my bitch, plus he can hook us up with Fuentes. Well, I guess he can hook us up unless he gets implicated in the T-Mobile confessions or Joe Papp tells on him. Wait, he doesn't know Joe Papp, but neither does Floyd so it is still relevant and Joe can tell all about the dopers practices.

By the way, since I watched the tour last year on TV and all of the riders and team managers got kicked out or are at least going to be, I figure I am going to throw my hat in the ring as the '06 winner. That is right, I won the tour in '06 by default. Call the frogs, they will tell you. Wait, maybe not, I know Barker, who lives by a Menonite restaurant which makes me guilty of being on Floyds team. French logic hard at work.

From the island,

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Go Figure?

Well it looks like Softball is not going to work out. I started pricing a glove and bat. $349 for the bat and $249 for the glove. For those who do math like Trent, that is a lot, in fact more than the liars box replacement. On top of that, I have not even begun to research 1" metal spiked cleats yet.

After talking to the doper, he suggested that I look into a bowling league. I will do some further research on that. I am huge fan of the shirts, so it certainly has some appeal on that front. He likes the shoes, but I think that is because he is cheap and relishes the opportunity to dump off his beat up lawn mowing shoes for something free.

Coach Rich had mentioned selling all of his cycling gear for a gold shuffleboard stick. I mentioned curling and he was quick to point out that curling is on the ice in the cold and shuffleboard is generally played on a cruise ship surrounded by flapjacks. If there was ever any question about his coaching ability, I think that logic somes up his ability to provide stellar thought leadership.

I will continue my quest here on the island,

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$500

My season is officially done. I dropped my SRM on the ground and it is dead. Without the ability to record power, none of my rides really happen, including racing. I was so distraught over it yesterday that I went to hit a bucket of golf balls, just to be sure that I should stick with cycling before investing in a repair of the SRM. I didn't need anything to tell me that I suck at golf. I am horrible at golf, even more than I suck at cycling, so I am going to really give some thought to entering a softball league.

I sent it back to SRM and they don't work on mine anymore, so I have to find $500 to buy a power control 5. The pic above is what I can get with my $500 smackers. At first I thought that I was done with power, but I am starting to miss the little liars box. I guess I will wait to see if I come across some cash, but I really want to replace it.

I raced without it at Eagle Creek and I was lost the entire time. Actually, I felt like shit in both races that I did and faked a sprint for 3rd in the masters race. All that the liars box would have told me was that I suck, but the doper tells me that all the time, so maybe I should give him $500. My man D.A. won, so it was good that I did not let the team down and we won. The 3's race was weird and the field sprint was a crap shoot. This is something that I intend to avoid in my new softball league, that is crap shoots and field sprints. Hopefully the largest danger entails the lolly gag into the outfield. I really feel like I could contribute to a bunch of lolly gaggers.

On a more interesting note, I got to ride with the one they call Whitlock last week. It was a pure treat. If you think I suck, spend some time with him. I could contend for the Tour after riding with Joe. Just to demorialize his ego completely, I wanted to post it here that I dropped him on flat ground into the wind.

That is all for today. Hopefully I find some cash, recover from a week of training in Dayton for work and come up with something funny to write about.

The slow kid on the island of Evansville,

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Demon Crats

Just some weekend humor before the T-Rent rips it at Eagle Creek this weekend.

The demon crats have decided on a new war funding bill. Here are some of their ideas in practice.

Chatty Matty

Breaking news

Basso, aka Birillo, said that he was introduced to Fuentes by a "Chatty Matty". Authorities are begining the search for this new figure, but after Scarponi's recent admission, he believes that they are chasing a ghost. There is no way that they can catch the original doper.

Nickname

It has come to my attention that I need to add Dave Anderson to the cast list. I can't rightfully due that without an alias/nickname, so I am taking suggestions. Please comment below and we can compile the right "fit".

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Flooded & Flogged

Against my better judgment, I went to the Wednesday night ride. It was just spitting rain when I left. I hate riding in the rain, so it is an extreme stretch to get me to go. I was on my way to Barker's to ride out to the ride, when I realised that in my disdain for the weather I forgot my shoes, so I had to U it, go home, grab them and race back. When I got to the Dope House, the doper was gone. So, luckily for me, I drove to the ride. I say luckily, because about ten minutes after the ride started, it was pouring in buckets. Now I didn't have to ride all of the way to the Doper's place after the ride in the rain.

Apparently, riding in the rain like last night is a noble & character building experience. I think that it sucks and I hate it. Suzuki Shane even quoted Bill Murray in Caddyshack, reminding me that the heavy stuff isn't gonna come down for a while. This is during the time that it was flooding the road. While Shane is hilarious, that still qualified as a deluge.

Anyway, I sucked on the ride. I wasn't too motivated and kept coming off on the climbs. Near the end, the doper took some HGH and left me for dead in the water. Actually riding in without all of the road spray wasn't nearly as bad, but it still sucked. I guess the rule is that you are supposed to go harder in the rain. After Tuesday's night ride, I didn't have that kind of smack to throw down so I got some quality alone time. I am probably a month away from being decent again.

So to some up the evening, I got soaked, the roads were flooded and Barker, Shane & Brad flogged me and my new seat squeeks.

Lame.

Stay dry,

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No Green for the T-Rent

A couple of weeks ago I offered to donate an old green jersey from the C-Bus days to the MOB tempo night ride. It has cut sleeves and some miles on it, having been the intramural jersey before, but I thought that it should get back to it's intended purpose, helping motivate guys and driving some trash talk/competitive fire.

The ride leaders decided to make the sprints during the tempo night 5-3-1 for points. I told the T-Rent that I would get the jersey too him, if he could wear it. That means actually leading the points for a week. No go this week. 6 points.

Hopefully, he can avenge the loss next week and pick it up from me at Eagle Creek.

On second thought, maybe I should just give it to Scotty Hill. He will keep mopping the floor with the T-Rent anyway.

Hey T-Rent! Attack the crap out of them! Go get the right to wear the jersey.

You could look as good as Robbie Mac.

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Tour of St. Louis

I did the 3 stage Tour of St. Louis over the weekend. It went so-so.

Rule one. Don't eat sausage for breakfast, no matter how late the race starts.

The family and I went to the Crowne Plaza hotel for the weekend of racing. Everyone in my family is now sick, so that made things a little less fun for them. Anyway, we went to breakfast at the hotel and I made the mistake of having sausage with my omelet. Not so swift. Although the race didn't start until one, it still came back to haunt me. Literally!! After about 15 minutes of the crit, I felt awful and was having some foul burps. I was struggling to ride on the back, with my stomach in knots. I finally rid myself of said sausage, took another 15 minutes to use all of the water I had to clean up myself, my bike and get my wits about me and started to move up. At this point, there was a break of four up the road with almost a minute (they were gone) and a second break of 8 up the road at about 10-12 seconds. We chased pretty hard for the last 15 minutes of the race and I even made two efforts to bridge to the chasing break, but could not get there. As the clock ticked down, we were gaining, but it was slow going. In the end we caught the break during the field sprint and I ended up 8th. So-so, but good for someone who thought that they were going to quit 20 minutes earlier.

Rule 2. Don't TT up a mountain.

They had a 2.5 mile TT in the evening outside of St. Louis. It claimed a section of 24%. Basically, you start descending like a madman, get to the bottom and suffer like a dog on the way up. I hit the bottom of the incline and they were kind enough to write "big climb" on the road. Thanks, the trees way up at the top didn't give it away. Well, needless to say, I climb like a dump truck and made the mistake of taking a 23 cog, so we won't be discussing my victory here. In fact, in the 3's I only beat 1 person. At least I wasn't last. I should have figured out that I did not need to do this TT when 13 of the 58 guys from the morning showed up. HHMMM. In the end I lost 2 minutes to the guy who won the 3's. Did I mention that we only went 2.5 miles? 2 minutes! That is a sad, sad showing. This does not bode well for me considering doing Ed Soto. Hopefully, my James Bond jet pack will be here in time and the officials won't notice the turbine sound.

Rule 3. Don't come underneath me.

The crit on Sunday was much more my speed. Flat, tailwind sprint, some good corners and a big field to hide in. I stayed pretty low key during the race, trying to let the 3-4 big teams beat each other up. They were doing an excellent job attacking, covering, looking at each other and hitting it again, which made for a much better race than we get in Indy sometimes, at least from the willingness to take it to other riders and teams. They had announced that there would be 2 primes during the race, both cash for $25. The first prime, I ended up in a small group off of the front and in the run in, we got jumped by a guy who walked away with the prime. No luck there. As we hit the line, the official rang the bell immediately and we had back to back primes. I counter attacked the winner of the previous prime, kept the small group I was in rolling and jumped them out of the last corner. $25 in the bag. After that I laid low for the field sprint. With about 10 minutes left, I went to the top 10 just to play it safe. It was quite a bumpy ride with the speeding up and slowing down, constant surges and late attacks, but I was able to stay out of trouble. I was totally set for the sprint with two corners to go, double checking gears, closing the corner and focusing on the landmark that I had picked to jump from. With one corner to go, right as I enter the turn I felt someone underneath me. I closed the door and got a bit tangled for a split second. That was all it took. I went into the corner fifth, lost the draft and could not get back into it. I sprinted early from the corner, trying to get back on, but couldn't. The four ahead of me fought it out, I was two bike lengths behind and four ahead of the field. One small touch is the difference between first and fifth. Tough luck, but that is bike racing.

The slow kid on the island,

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Boom!

I thought that I knew what exploding was like. Guess not.

I talked to GI Fitz today and he sent me these pics from Army training. Fitz is a combat engineer. He gets to blow shit up.

Pic 1 is the boom. Pic 2 is Fitz and another soldier standing in the center of the the result.

That is a big frickin' hole.

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