Tour of Beijing Day 4

The day started with scandal - at the sign-in board, the Giant number 1 rider, Warren "Onion" Barguil signed his name as normal, then instead of handing the pen to the next person, he drew a little heart over the box for his number 2,  Johannes Frohlinger.  (Sorry, can't do umlauts.)

Is there something going on here?

Then Movistar come up to the board and once again, there they are, mucking about on the podium, pushing each other and generally having a good time. Then I realise that their number 1, Benat Exhausted (Intxausti, really, but I can neither spell nor pronounce it) is trying to sign on in the number 2 box, and number 2, Capecchi, is pushing his arm away to prevent it.

Just as an aside, I wonder what they do with the sign-on board after the race? Anyone know? Do tell...

Our coverage starts at 64k to go, Graeme Browne (always pronounced in an Australian accent with rising inflection, in the style of Leelu - gone, but not forgotten) is in the break, and we are told that once again we have missed seeing the Great Wall. This time, there was a sprint there, but the organisers decided to put it in early, before TV coverage began.

I really don't understand the Chinese: they have this massive (literally) tourist attraction, something that virtually everyone in the world has heard of, they route the race past it, but in such as way that we can't actually see it.

We would have loved to have seen it! Instead we get worrying shots of armed military-uniformed types, standing with their backs to the race: what message are we supposed to take from that? The riders need an armed guard? The people of China so hate the rest of the world that they will attack them? For this, and many other reasons, I am very pleased indeed that this is the last time we will be racing in Beijing.

At least today we have trees: in earlier stages, the trees were planted suspiciously consistently alongside the road, leading me to speculate that they were actually the same thousand or so trees, in tubs, that were being loaded up each night and set out each morning on the next stretch of road.

And at least today, we don't have what look like concentration camps along the route: lines of identical huts, crammed together, in the middle of nowhere, for no apparent reason. LLB wondered if they were holiday villages, or something left over from the Olympics, but I thought they looked more sinister - and derelict - than that.

Oh, I spoke too soon, there we have another one: and this one really is derelict, some of the buildings have no roofs on them. Very strange. And rather uncomfortable to watch.

Luckily, we get to the end, and Dan Martin and his teeth win the stage. Once again, not exactly heaving with spectators, but at least the sun was shining, and the trees were quite attractive, with what the yanks call "fall colour". Ah well, just one more day and it will all be over.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Luxembourg:

Teo: "Mummy..."
TinkerJil: "Yes, darling?"
Teo: "Ooo know Auntie Coug... "
TinkerJil: "Yes, darling. "
Teo: "Well, oo know her bog... "
TinkerJil: "Blog, darling. "
Teo: "Bog. "
TinkerJil: "Blog. "
Teo: "Bog. "
TinkerJil: "Alright, I know what you mean: yes, I know about her blog. "
Teo: "Well, umm, it dussint say IzzenUnndy no more, duz Auntie Coug not like Daddy no more?  "
TinkerJil: "Any more darling, not no more. Say it nicely. "
Teo: "Any more. "
TinkerJil: "Well done. No, it's not that Auntie Coug doesn't like Daddy any more, it's just that Daddy isn't riding in quite the same way - he's retired now. Remember, we talked about it? "
Teo: "Wetied. Wetied. No more sy-kling. "
TinkerJil: "That's right, no more cycling. Well, not as much, anyway. "
Teo: "Did Auntie Coug only like Daddy coz he sy-kulled, den? "
TinkerJil: "Well, not exactly, she admired his sportsmanship and his incredibly good temper as well, but mainly she used to write about him cycling, so she can't do that any more. "
Teo: "Oh. No more bog? "
TinkerJil: "Different bog. Blog. More about cycling in general, less about Daddy. "
Teo: "Oh. Boring bog, then. " TinkerJil: (laughs) "Yes, a little boring, now."

A bad day for Sky ProCycling...

...horrors, what a dreadful day - first we hear that Bradley Wiggins was knocked off his bike while out training, leaving him with a broken rib and a broken finger..

....and now I've just read that Sky's coach, Shane Sutton, has also been knocked off his bike, in a separate incident, leaving him in hospital with bleeding on the brain.

Predictably, there have been calls for the government to incorporate cycle-safe features in road junctions etc, but the real problem is, of course, that in this country, motorists don't care about cyclists.

Although I have to say that most cyclists don't help themselves by being "invisible", and by picking and choosing which rules of the road they are going to obey.

By skipping over red traffic lights, cycling on pavements (illegal in the UK) etc, they lead to a "them and us" mentality with car drivers determined - at some level - to get some sort of revenge.

They - the car drivers - never seem to think about the realities of aching legs, a sore bottom, getting soaking wet, having "hat hair" and so on... it's not all fun, being a cyclist.

It would be nice if we would all be a little bit nicer to each other.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Spain...

...the sun is beating down, the dust is swirling in mini-tornado shapes, and the harsh cries of a buzzard echo across the empty landscape.

Andy: "Mate, what was that?"
Jakob: "What was what?"

They stop pedalling, and the tandem coasts to a halt. The cloud of red dust around them subsides.

Andy: "I thought I heard something..."

He looks around, in a hunted manner.

Jakob: " Nah, nothing there. Come on, only another two hours and we can head back for the hotel."
Andy:  "Wait! There it was again!"

Nervously, he turns from side to side, looking over his shoulder. Jakob, on the back, looks back the way they have come. Way, way back in the distance, there is a small cloud of red dust. It is getting larger, and closer.

Jakob: (poking Andy in the back to get his attention) "Look!"
Andy:  "Ow! What?"

Andy looks back, to see where Jakob is looking.  The cloud of dust grows larger, and closer.

Andy: "Ooer, what's that? Is it following us?"
Jakob: "I don't know, but I can tell you one thing, Coug used to always be going on about zombie towns out here in the  middle of nowhere."
Andy: "Jakob! Mate, that was only a joke! There aren't really any zombies, you know."
Jakob: (a worried frown creases his otherwise perfect forehead) "But, but, she used to say that zombies ate cyclists, remember?"
Andy: (cuffing Jakob on the shoulder) "Come on! Don't be silly, there is no such thing as zombies."

The cloud of dust grows larger, and a strange whining noise can just barely be heard.

Jakob: "Right, that's it, I'm unclipping."
Andy: "What?! Don't unclip, how are we going to pedal away?"
Jakob: "Look how fast it's approaching. We could never outrun it. They must have stolen a car."
Andy: "Who?"
Jakob: "The zombies."

Andy looks at him. They both unclip, and step off the tandem.  The cloud of dust is nearly upon them.

Jakob: (nervously) "Err, mate, if this is it, well, I have to say, it's been really, really good knowing you, and I'm really sorry about that training tape."
Andy: "What training - what! Was that you?"

At that moment the cloud of dust screeches to a halt, enveloping them both in a cloud of choking sand. When it settles, a UPS van is revealed, with the driver rummaging around in the back. He approaches our Leopards with a large box and a clipboard.

UPS man: "Hola, Meester Fooogle-slang?"

Numbly, Jakob nods his head. The UPS man hands him the clipboard and asks him to sign, then gets back in the van and drives off, leaving them looking at the box.

Andy: "Well, not a zombie, then. Go on, open it!"

Jakob opens the box. It contains several sets of his new Astana kit.

Andy: "Tasteful."
Jakob: "Mmm."
Andy: "I see they went with the turquoise again."
Jakob: "Mmm."

They strap the box to the back of the tandem, get on it, clip in, and cycle away....

Even Team Sky are suffering.

With departures, that is.

Dave Brailsford, Team Principle,  took the brave step recently of announcing that every single rider and member of staff would be interviewed individually, and anyone who was unable to sign a statement confirming that they had never been involved in doping would have to leave.

"Brave" because there was every likelihood that he would be left with a team of under-25s!!

Dave Brailsford's policy has always been zero tolerance for doping, which is why the British rider David Millar is not riding for Sky, even though he and Dave Brailsford are good friends: Fran Miller, David's sister, is Dave B's personal assistant,  so they have close ties. But as David Millar is a former (reluctant) doper, even though he has served his time, been banned, been nearly bankrupt, and has come back from that to be a staunch anti-doping campaigner, he is not eligible to ride for Team Sky.

As we have seen in the news recently,  Sky were faced with a very difficult position when Bobby Julich, one of their Coaches, was forced to admit to doping 14 years ago when he rode with Lance Armstrong.

Dave had to decide: was he going to "backdate" his zero tolerance policy?

Or merely say "As long as you are clean now, it's ok."?

This must have been a tremendously hard decision to make - ok, for riders maybe you would need to take a hard line, but coaches? Does it matter if a soigneurs used to be a doper? Or a DS?  Where do you draw that line? Bruyneel is in deep trouble, but Uncle Bjarne is still running his team, and he admits that he doped back in the 90s.

Well, Dave decided to be strong, and is indeed going for the backdated zero tolerance. Everyone who admits it will have to leave the team, but they are getting a good financial send-off - the amusingly named parachute payment - and are at least leaving with some sense of dignity. He has made it plain that anyone who does not confess now and leave, and is found later to have lied, will be shot, stuffed, and used as a hood ornament on one or the other of the Death Stars.

I have to admire his strength, but I do hope that he isn't going to run out of riders and staff!

A few days ago we had the news that Steven de Jongh, DS,  admitted that he doped back when he was a rider, and he and his parachute payment are, even now, wafting down through the skies.

Today the amazingly-badly-timed news is that Sean Yates has announced his retirement as DS.

Obviously everyone is going to say "oh, couldn't sign the document, huh?" as Sean has a long history in cycling, as a rider, riding with Lance, coaching Lance, working with Bruyneel, etc etc.

But I've been wondering about Sean's health for a while now: it's a running joke between LLB and I when Sean Yates is interviewed, that he (and I know this sounds disrespectful, so I apologise in advance to Sean Yates and his family) sounds as though he is at least half drunk. He slurs his words, and seems to have difficulty following his train of thought.  It's easy to make jokes about doping or drinking, but for the past year I've been wondering if he'd had a medical problem, something like a stroke, or something that would affect his speech.

And now he's actually said “I have suffered with my health in recent years" and he also confirms that he has had the one-on-one interview with Dave Brailsford, who said “Sean has been interviewed and there were no admissions or disclosures that would have required him to leave the team.”

So that's all right - but what bad timing for Sky. At least they have another year of sponsorship contracted.. although, yes, we all know how contracts can be broken.

Which leads to an interesting thought - well, interesting for UK readers, at any rate: what happens if Sky decline to continue sponsoring the team? It's unthinkable that British cycling could allow this fantastic team to be disbanded: there has never been as much interest in the sport, and we did win the Tour this year, yay!

Fingers crossed that Sky see the value in sticking with it.

---------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, somewhere in Spain:

A cloud of dust is seen approaching a tiny, one-horse town in the middle of the desert. As the camera zooms in, the dust-cloud enters the town square and screeches to a halt outside the saloon.

The one horse rears up in fear, neighing, and is calmed by a toothless peasant.

The dust settles, revealing Andy Schleck and Jakob Fuglsang, riding a tandem. It is impossible to discern what kit they are wearing, as they are covered in dust.

Andy: "Splfff!"
Jakob: "Pfff! Thbbbt!"

The saloon doors swing open and the bar-keeper appears, holding a glass of water in each hand.

Andy: "gackkkk!"
Jakob: "kackkkkk!"

They both lean sideways to take the water, and fall off the tandem. Another cloud of dust rises all around them.

The bar-keeper looks down at them, spits casually to one side, then takes a bucket of water from the nearby trough, and throws it over them. The boys raise two identical mud-coloured faces, take the glasses of water, and drink deeply.

They look at each other, grinning, with startlingly white teeth in their muddy faces.

Andy: "Mate, whose idea was it to train in Spain?"
Jakob: "Yours."
Andy: "Oh. Sorry about that. Hey, it's five degrees and raining in Luxembourg."
Jakob: "And your point is..?"
Andy: "Well, we could be training there instead?"

They look at each other, remembering previous winters in Luxembourg (which has a climate startlingly similar to that in the UK ie lots of rain and pretty grim).

Jakob: "OK! Let's get one with it then! How's the backside?"
Andy:  "Ooh, not too bad, I reckon I'm good for another hour or so."
Jakob: "Right! Off we go!"

They swing their legs over the tandem, getting slightly tangled up as they do so - on reflection, it would be better if the one in front got on before the one on the back.... but they get their legs sorted out, and pedal off across the desert.

Would anyone really poison Frank Schleck?

It seems like a ridiculous thing to say: I find it hard to believe that Johan Bruyneel, no matter how aggrieved he felt with either of the Schlecks, would stoop to actually poisoning them.

I can almost - almost - understand the idea of someone in his position giving a rider an illegal drug in order that they would fail a doping test, just out of spite.

I can certainly imagine one team setting out to "dope" a rival rider: or a demented fan (or cycling hater) doing something like that - if you remember, when Frankie's adverse finding was first reported, that was our main thought, that Frankie had accidentally taken a bidon meant for someone else.

Whether it was a doping rider's usual "special" bidon, or  merely a randomly contaminated bidon,  both suggestions were equally valid:  likewise whether it was meant for Frankie, or whether he grabbed it by mistake, again, we would never know.

But in all those cases, it would be done by someone outside the team. I find it very hard to believe that anyone in the management would do anything to harm one of their own riders - I believe the phrase is "cutting off your nose to spite your face."

It's not as though Shack have so many UCI points that they don't need any more.

But even if that were the case, and it was done by someone within the team, either by Mr Bruyneel, or at his direction - to give Frankie something that could possibly kill him?  There's a world of difference between giving a rider something that would cause him to fail doping, and something that might cause his heart to fail.

I don't quite see that happening.

But as Inge said (comments, last post), it's a bit of a coincidence that Frankie's hearing was postponed for a week, and within that week, we have had the suggestion - it came from L'Equipe, which I would have thought was a fairly respectable sports journal - that it was deliberate poisoning, to prevent him from being attractive to any other teams.

(As though he would leave Andy behind, pffff!)

Meanwhile, Andy has had some reasonable days of riding in Beijing: we haven't seen much of him, and he didn't quite finish the race, but the DS on the Shack site said that he'd had four good days of racing, and would now be going straight on into training, through the winter, in the sure and certain  hope that next season would be considerably better than this one, in every single way.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Beijing:

Reporter: So, Andy, what's all this about Mr Bruyneel poisoning your brother?
Andy: *stony silence*, face somewhat reminiscent of small child presented with spoonful of stewed prunes and wordlessly conveying the message "no, I won't eat it."

 Is that Sprite he's drinking?

Oh, and what's that on his upper lip? No, Andy, not another attempt to grow the Caterpillar of Doom, please!

Oh, poor Stuey!

What a day Sunday was: we had the second day of the Vuelta, ie the first "proper" road racing day, along with news that one of the Astana riders, Gasparotto, had broken his collarbone in yesterday's TTT.

We also had the one-day Vattenfall classic out in Hamburg, where Orica did not have a good day, with two of their riders down in a late crash, and another down in a very, very late crash.

The first crash occurred 40k out, leaving Keukeleire with bruises and stitches in his thigh ("ouch!") but poor Stuey has bust his collarbone, and fractured "several" ribs.



The late crash was just before the finish line, and Darryl Impey went down very hard indeed, leaving him with fractured ribs as well.

Not a good day for Orica, but they've done really well overall this season, currently sitting 7th in the UCI rankings. (Yes, Stinkoff are still bottom, with just 155 points: Shack are 10th with 529 and predictably *waves Union Jack, now somewhat battered* Sky are top with 1,321 points)

Bizarrely, their website doesn't seem to have been updated since the Tour: I went to it for news of Stuey, but there is nothing more recent that the round-up of the Tour. Weird! So all we have are the news reports.

Poor Stuey, eh? Perhaps he'll go and stay with Andy in Mondorf for a while.

Somewhere in Mondorf:

Andy, Frankie and Jakob are slumped on the sofa. Andy has his eyes fixed on the tv, Frankie is texting, and Jakob is experimenting with holding different coloured sweetie wrappers over the torch that he is holding.

The TV is showing an incomprehensible children's tv programme involving a stuffed lion, two sticks of what appear to be celery, with eyes and mouths, and a woman with her hand inside a sock, which also has eyes and a mouth, and which appears to be talking to her. Luckily, the sound is muted. Andy is watching it anyway, seemingly hypnotised.

The doorbell rings, there is knocking and scuffling, then the sound of the door opening and something heavy being dropped on the floor, along with muffled curses in a strong Australian accent.

Andy, slumped on the sofa with a cushion under his backside, nudges Jakob with his elbow, without taking his eyes from the screen.

"Go give Stuey a hand, mate," he says.

Jakob returns, supporting an ashen-faced Stuey, who drops heavily down onto the sofa, but then instantly leaps to his feet again, howling with pain.

"What &&**%^$^&* left this &*%$$$£**&^ torch on the &&^%£^** sofa?" he yells.

"Whoops!" says Jakob, looking guilty. "Sorry, mate!"

The torch is removed, Stuey is swiftly re-settled on the sofa, and Frankie goes to the fridge, returning with an armful of sealed beakers of "Clean'n'Pure" fruit drink.

He offers Stuey first choice. Stuey groans. "Oh blimey, not this stuff again, can't we have some beer?"

Frankie: "No, mate, not while you are on antibiotics. And even though none of us are racing, we are still subject to doping controls, so we still have to be very, very careful."

Andy and Jakob exchange a glance behind Frankie's back.

Stuey takes the nearest beaker, and pops the seal. "What flavour is this one, then?"

Andy grins. "Close your eyes and taste it," he says, "then tell us what flavour you think it is."

This is clearly a standing joke, as they all take a beaker, pop the seal, close their eyes, and take a swig.

"Orange."
"Orange."
"Orange."
"Blue."

"Blue? What sort of flavour is blue?"
"Well, it's not orange, it tastes, well, sort of blue."

"Pass it over here, let's have a taste."

There is a confused moment of scuffling, swearing, and clashing of beakers.

"Perhaps we should open our eyes first?"

Meanwhile, somewhere in Mondorf...

Andy and Frankie are slumped on the sofa, Andy with an extra cushion tucked under his backside, both listlessly watching an unfathomable children's TV show about a family of blueberries (played by actors in fat squidgy costumes) who are dancing round in circles and holding cardboard flowers to their noses.

The door is flung open, and a Greek God enters the room, surrounded by a rich golden glow.

Andy glances wearily over his shoulder.

Frankie, without turning round, says "Jakob, mate, turn off the torch, that joke is getting a bit old."

Jakob, walking round the sofa, picks up the remote and mutes the TV: "Aww, come on guys, I have to make the most of it, I certainly won't be winning any more UCI points this year."

Andy, making an effort to perk up, smiles at Jakob. "For sure," he says, "but at least you are going out racing again. I'm stuck indoors with this damned cracked pelvis, and Frankie's still suspended."

Jakob, sympathetically, "Aww, I know. Sorry guys. How's that crack going?"

Andy, glumly: "Still bloody sore. I can only manage two hours on the bike, then it's just too painful to continue. At this rate I won't be riding at all for the rest of the year. By the time it's healed, the season will be over."

Frankie: "But there's Beijing yet, and that other China race?"

Andy: "Pfff, all that smog, what with not being on top form, I'd be coughing my lungs up. No thanks. You can do those, if you want to."

Frankie gives Andy a Look.

Andy, repentant: "Oops, sorry mate, you know what I mean."
Frankie: "Yeah, I know."
Jakob: "Come on Frankie, we all know you did nothing wrong, LADA will exonerate you, I bet they will."

Andy: "Yes, but that's where Alberto's problems started: the Spanish board cleared him, and then everyone screamed 'favouritism!' and look where that ended? And it's not LADA, as you well know."

Jakob: "At least Frankie pulled out of racing straight away. Come on, there is a good side to this, (looking slyly at Frankie) at least you aren't earning any more points for the Shack, are you?"

The ghost of a grin flits across Frankie's face.

Frankie: "Mate, don't ever say that out loud. I know we've had our differences with Mr B, but not even to spite him would I deliberately put myself in this position, trust me."

Jakob: "Yeah, I know, sorry mate, just joking."

Andy: "So what's all this about you going to Astana?"
Jakob: "All signed. 3 years, and I get a chance to ride the Tour. Maybe even the Vuelta as well. Should be good. Pity about the colour of the kit, but you can't have everything."
Frankie, sighing: "Well, we're gonna miss you."
Andy, turning to Frankie: "Mind you, there is a good side to this: (looking slyly at Jakob) we will save a fortune, without him coming round and eating us out of house and home."
Frankie (looking slyly at Jakob): "Oh yes. Not to mention all that beer he drinks."
Andy (starting to grin): "And the way he takes forever in the shower and uses up all the hot water."
Frankie (also starting to grin): "And the way he leaves his filthy cycling shoes lying around on the floor, dropping mud everywhere."
Andy: "And he expects to use our washing machine, without even scraping his chamois first."
Frankie: "Not to mention -"

At that moment Jakob attacks Frankie with the cushion that he has pulled out from under Andy, leaving Andy howling on the sofa while Frankie yells in mock terror.

The door opens. TinkerJil looks at them. There is nothing to say.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, back in the real world: LLB and I watched the highlights of San Sebastian yesterday, which prompted a few thoughts.

Firstly, are we the only ones to find that commentator really, really, annoying? I think his name is Rob Hatch, and he seems to feel that it's his duty to pronounce every non-English name as "correctly" as possible.

So instead of AG2R being Ay-Gee-Two-Arrr, he says Ah-Dzhjay-Duurs-Airrrrr with lots of rolling of the Rs.

Every rider is pronounced as foreign-ly as possible, leading to quite a lot of confusion amongst his listeners - well, LLB and I, at any rate - and he seems to think that he has to give us the names of the streets and districts that we are passing through, all of which go straight over our heads as we are not familiar with the back streets of the Basque region, thank you very much.

It all seems a little too much like "showing off".

Especially as the only word he doesn't over-pronounce is peloton, which he says as Englishly as anyone - pelly-tonn.

Secondly, there was something very strange about the camera-bike coverage - the pictures were wobbly, and not up to Tour standards, but that is to be expected: no, it was something more, there was an odd feeling that we were watching one of the Police-Stop! documentaries where you watch the criminals trying to out-drive the good guys.

Thirdly, some 25k to go, there was a five-man break off the front, and they didn't have any team cars with them. The Stinkoff rider didn't have any water bottles with him at all, and so, in the wonderful spirit of cycling, they were passing bidons between each other, which was heart-warming to watch.

But it does make you wonder: what if one of those bidons contained a rider's "special" drink? What if one of the non-GC guys, pretty sure that he won't get tested, is taking something that isn't a banned substance, but maybe which needs special permission from the doctor? What if the team car gave the "special" bottle to the wrong rider? What if the rider forgot, and let another rider have a swig from it?

Frankie, while you are compiling your lists of everything you ate and drank leading up to that adverse finding, don't forget bidons, and don't forget that visit to the medical car....

Back to the race - it ended well for Luis Leon Sanchez, he had a great run from about 5k out, and at less than 1k to go, the bunch could see him, but couldn't quite catch him. He came in 8 seconds clear, and deserved the win.

Now, at last, today the Vuelta starts: it's the TTT, this evening, Shack are 7th off the ramp, so good luck to Linus Gerdemann in particular, after all the mean things his team have been saying about him. Go get 'em, Linus!

Jakob and the Non-Payment

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EisenAndy has moved to Wordpress for a while, to see if it is better than Blogger: and I took the opportunity to get the name Schleckland back, yay!
The address is schleckland.wordpress.com
But I'm keeping Eisen Andy going for now, as it has the best SEO!
Click here for an easy jump to the new blog, see what you think of it.

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It's still in the papers, Jakob is still being reported as "suing" Leopard SA for his missing wages: although now their spokesmen, Carlo Rock (could you make up these names?)  is stating that Jakob has changed the name of his private company, and hasn't done the necessary paperwork to get the money paid to them.

But do you not think that the administrator at Leopard SA would have noticed, or contacted him, or helped him, or reminded him what needed doing... and of course, there are apparently three others also complaining about not being paid.

I do think that the payroll department have a responsibility to ensure that all goes smoothly, especially if a team member is known to be less than happy.

Anyone who has ever read any books written by cyclists will know that their lives are very complicated, they get moved around from country to country, they don't have what you and I would think of as a home routine, and unless they can afford to each pay for their own private secretary, they must struggle to keep their paperwork under control. Indeed, we know that a lot of them can't even keep their ADAMS up to date!

So you do think that the admin people would make a bit more effort to ensure that things go smoothly.

And why are riders (yes, Jakob, this means you as well) complaining to the press instead of talking to their administrators about it?

For that matter, why does Jakob have to "sue" Leopard, instead of just asking them?

Or is it a mis-translation? In some contexts, to "sue" for something means simply to ask for it, not necessarily to take legal action, whereas the news report makes it sound as though Jakob has been forced to take legal action.

Of course, this means it could all be a storm in a teacup, blown out of proportion by the media who, as we well know, just love to make a story out of nothing.

However, it seems pretty clear now that Jakob is going elsewhere next season: Cycling News have been talking to Michael Morkov, ex Sky, now riding for Saxo-Tinkoff Bank (hard to resist calling them Stinkoff Bank, isn't it?!) who wants Jakob and Matti Brueschel to go back there, on the grounds of a United Danish Front.

Jakob's manager, Moreno Nicolleti (why wasn't he the one sorting out Jakob's money, then?) has stated in that report that Jakob's situation is "60 percent Riis, 30 percent Omega Pharma, 20 percent. Astana"

Meanwhile, somewhere in Luxembourg:

The door swings energetically open, and a greek god bounds into the room, which is lit up as though by a warm yellow glow.

Andy: "Jakob, mate, put that torch down."
Jakob: "Awwww, I liked it when Coug said that I lit up the room with a golden glow."
Andy: "How old are you, 12?"

Jakob pulls a mock grumpy face, then settles down on the sofa next to Andy.

Jakob: " Any chance of a beer?"
Andy: "Not while you are making trouble in the papers again."
Jakob: "What! Me?" (affects look of injured innocence)
Andy: "Yes, you. At the very least, you are breaking the rules of physics."

Jakob: (preening slightly) "Well, although I am pretty chuffed with my win of the Tour of Australia - "
Andy coughs behind his hand "a-hhheeeer, shitsmallrace."
Jakob continues as though he has not heard "- I wouldn't say that it breaks any laws of physics. Or are you referring to my incredible good looks?"

Andy points to Mr Nicoletti's report. Jakob raises his eyebrows, as though to say "What?"

Andy: "60% Stinkoff -"
Jakob: "Please don't call them that. It's not nice."
Andy: "I know, but Saxo-bank-Tinkoff-bank is so clumsy."
Jakob: "Oh, and Omega Pharma Lotto isn't?"
Andy: "Good point. Anyway, 60% to Bjarne, 30% Omega, 20% Astana. Really?"

Jakob: "Yes: I'd love to go back to Bjarne: it's a Danish team, we got on well, I've had some conversations with him and really, he's changed since we were there. No more boot camps, he promised!"
Andy: "I know. It's good to be on terms with him again."
Jakob: "So why not come back?"
Andy: "Mate, we've discussed this, we have a contract."
Jakob: (makes rude snorting noise through his nose) "Yes, and we all know how much Shack honoured some of our Leopard contracts, didn't we?"
Andy: "I know, I know. It's not an easy situation. Besides, too many team leaders in one team leads to problems. You said that, yourself, remember?"

Jakob: (sighs) "Yes, I know. But I can dream, can't I? Maybe Conti will go back to Astana?"
Andy: (makes mock tearing-hair-out gesture) "Mate! Don't start that again! You'll set Coug off, and she'll be making up mad plans to shuffle everyone round again, it drove me mad last time! Anyway, that's not my point. 60 + 30 + 20 gives 110, and you can't have 110% of anything."

Jakob: "Yes you can - we talk all the time about giving 110%"
Andy: "Yes, but it can't happen. There are only 100 per cents in a whole thing. You can't have more. 110% doesn't exist: it’s meaningless, empty rhetoric. It’s a phrase uttered when people want to prove how committed they are to something, when they want to impress and in my opinion, adds an air of desperation to the person making the statement."

Jakob: (leans backwards and eyes Andy as though he has just turned green and sprouted horns) "Are you feeling all right?"

Andy: "Sorry, I think Coug feels strongly on that subject, and is putting words in my mouth."
Jakob: "Oh, right. OK, so perhaps Moreno can't add up properly, that's all."
Andy: "And he manages your affairs? No wonder you didn't get paid on time!"

Jakob throws a cushion at Andy, and before it degenerates into a wrestling match, we will leave them to it.

But now we know that Jakob apparently has 110% to give. Good to know.

As an aside, I saw on Twitter yesterday that Leelu has threatened Jakob that if he goes to Astana, she will personally fly over and slap him. Not sure if that's a reaction to Astana's doping history, or their pale blue kit...

Would that be so bad? Jakob in pale blue? I'd rather see him in dark blue and yellow, of course - the Stinkoff kit is really nice: it's not often that a mid-season sponsor addition actually improves the kit, but this is one case where it did.

But although as a general point, I would rather see Jakob back at Saxo, is the Astana kit really that bad??

The Yellowheads

I don't know about you, but I have never paid any attention at all to the "which team is leading the Team Classification" in major races.

It just doesn't seem relevant: I know it contributes to the UCI points-plus-several-esoteric-factors decision in which teams get Pro-Team status the following year, but I just can't get too excited about it.

In previous years, the leading team would wear yellow numbers on their backs.

This year, the UCI have decreed that they must wear yellow helmets, and apparently instructed all the teams to bring along a set of their own helmets, coloured yellow ("the colour of baby ducks" as we all know) in case they lead the classification.

Which does make you wonder if some of the smaller teams - the ones with small budgets and, without wishing to be nasty, not a chance in the world of leading the classification -  would just bring along a can of spray paint?

Well, Fabian won the TT (Yay! Go, Fabu!) so he is in the jellow jersey, and he is wearing a yellow hat as well.  Sky won the Team Classification - which is calculated on the top three riders of each team -  so they have been lumbered with wearing their yellow helmets.

I haven't seen footage of Stage 1 yet (LLB has recorded it for me) but I understand that already, the fans are complaining about it, especially with the confusion between Fabian and  team Sky,  (ooh, what a rumour that would be!) in the helicopter shots.

Meanwhile, back in Luxemboug:

Andy, with glum face : "Pfff."
Jil: "Aw, come on, cheer up, next year you will be in it."
Andy, still looking glum: "Pffff."