This past Sunday marked the conclusion of the Tour de France, and a sixth consecutive tour win for Lance Armstrong. This is the second greatest feat in modern athletics (second only to the 1995 Medford Babe Ruth Gold team and their miracle run through the losers bracket of the June all-star tournament (Yes, I'm awesome, and I'm sure only Smith remembers that one. (well unless Tom Irwin is reading...Tom Irwin can't read...nevermind))). So it's been a few days, and the effects of the race have yet to wear off. For me, it ranks as the third most exciting recurring sporting event there is:
1. FIFA World Cup
2. NHL Playoffs
3. Tour de France
91. WNBA Finals
As I find it that enthralling, like I said, my life and the tour have merged to become one (but not in a creepy Captain Planet sort of way). For example, I drove into Jersey to escape the terror (W. Jean, The Carnival, Track 2) this past weekend, and I could have sworn that Stage 19 of the Tour was the 83 mile (133km) stage from Le Source d'Argent and ending at the Arc du Newark.
I found myself spending most of my time in the peloton (read: group of cars stuck together). All was smooth until that RAV 4 and the Camry made a break for it just south of Ellicott City, while I was busy trying to communicate through clever head nodding (which Sara would have LOVED). I found a strange alliance with all the other silver cars on the road, and our drafting techniques led the peloton into the heart of Baltimore. The escape group from Team Toyota stayed strong up until the Chesapeake House (whereupon the RAV 4 abandoned the Tour, probably for some Cinnabons). Left all alone out front, the Camry (who I named George Hincamrie) was reeled back to the pack. I'd like to thank my team (The Silverados) for this stage win, my sponsors Honda and Gatorade, and would like some help from anyone reading this. The tour officials insist I paint my car yellow for this weekend's stage.
Posted in memoriam of Leroy.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Taking on the U.S. Postal Service
Written by Chris Condon at 9:22 AM
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2 comments:
I don't know, I think Lance might've taken the gold on that one. We did LOSE that tournament, remember? Hey, it helped me get into college, though (best "inspirational" essay I wrote, man those things sucked to write)
Head nodding will only be acceptable by those deemed worthy - like Stevie Wonder. Or by those trying to be subtle in pointing out someone who looks so ridiculous that it is imperative that I look - i.e. the lady my friend Jordan and I saw last week who probably weighed at least 250 and was wearing purple bike shorts (yeah, the spandex ones) and a yellow bikini top. People who bob their heads because they're too lazy to say hello, however, had better watch themselves.
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