Bad people.
I use this blog as a scratchpad of sorts, and most the stuff I scratch - you don’t see. Sorry I’ve been posting less and less. I found this draft, and I’m still highly annoyed/ massively irritated/ royally upset about it, so here - read it, it’s not as polished as I’d like, but that’s what I was thinking then, and now.
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End of July sometime…
On Thursday I wrote about my bike ride, a ride I needed desperately. When I asked Karen if I could ride in the mountains I was pretty near a breaking point. A breaking point it seems I can only sit a notch above most of the time.
The problem for me was the Tour de France. The only sporting event I watch anymore. I get caught up in the strategy, the pure endurance, the mountains, and the pursuit of greatness. I was sitting on the couch Tuesday night while Kristen was reading Harry Potter. I was watching the tour that I had taped earlier in the day. Alexander Vinokourov was behind by twenty or so minutes in the overall standings after his meltdown on Sunday. But this guy was up, out of his saddle, and going it alone through the Pyrenees. He was six minutes up on the rest of the pack, six minutes he desperately needed if he were to have any chance at standing on the podium this year. I was yelling, in my living room, at the TV - go Alexander! Go! Yes! blah blah blah blah. Reed was looking at me like I was plain silly and Kristen was seeing passion that had been void for so many months.
I woke up Wednesday morning to the news that ol’ Vino is a doper. A frickin’ doper. It made me sick to my stomach and it drove me down to the last notch again. What the hell is going on with professional sports? What has to be going through one’s mind that they would sell out so hard? Sell themselves out, sell their teammates out, sell the fans out? And I don’t understand how someone could even feel remotely good about winning if they knew they had cheated the field. It hurts my heart to think about those things, that people are so cold and desperate to win that they’d sell themselves out. And I darn near hate myself for cheering that f***** on.
So, Michael Rasmussen, Alexander Vinokourov, Barry Bonds, Michael Vick - I hope you all go to jail, assholes.
Filed by ryanroth at August 15th, 2007 under Life