I promise that this paragraph, this VERY first paragraph of this VERY third entry of my VERY first organized blog will be the last qualifying paragraph that you will ever have the displeasure of reading here at The Cloud. Things continue to unfold and improve with each passing day and, as I had thought, my passion for writing continues to increase. I'm still waiting for that moment when I will call my father and profess to him, once again, that the excitement that I had for journalism has returned and that my career path may very well be changing. Now, what is it that I wish to add? Here at The Cloud I plan on dedicating the majority of my posts to my greatest passion, the current world of Sports and all of the craziness that is brought about by the plethora of pre-Madonna, freak athletes who deserve it all. I joke and kid but at heart, I'm a fan and love talking about these things. That being said, do not complain if I tend to deviate from the sports world. Sports, being such an all-encompassing subject, ties beautifully into other subjects and brings us full circle. That's why sports are vital to not only our culture, but the world's culture. Enough small chat, let's get going with this thing.
If the title was the only thing that brought you here, I'm sorry "Wigger Nation," unfortunately you are going to have to find some other means by which you can get your hip-hop kicks. The Cloud has a strict dress policy - we'll give you three sizes of wiggle room, but if you exceed that limit and show up to this blog wearing your parent's bed sheets, you will be kindly asked to leave. There will be no hip-hop discussion today! Chamillionaire can keep his chains, grillz (the "z" adds street cred), and gats for we have other business to discuss. Today, we're talking spandex, helmets, carbon-fiber, and syringes (I had no idea how to spell this word). If you haven't guessed it, today's issue is that of the stained sport of cycling.
In America there are many common beliefs that bind us together and unite us - BBQ, the smell of a ballpark, fireworks, and the all-to-common abuse of the New York Yankees logo. In addition, the concrete belief that Lance Armstrong, truthfully, is a grade "A+" douchebag appears to be solidifying itself as just one more theme of pure, undefiled America. That very fact (using the term loosely) makes today's report from Sport Bild magazine all the more interesting. Jan Ulrich, Lance's biggest rival, during his fraudulent 7 years of control in the Tour de France, spoke to the aforementioned magazine today saying, "I would give Armstrong the Tour victories back. ... That's how it was back then. It doesn't help anyone to draw a line through the winners' list." In case you aren't the typical slow coffee-drinking, greasy hair, light beard-wearing European cycling enthusiast, it's interesting to note that Ullrich himself could never beat Armstrong! What's most sad is that Ullrich was playing by Lance's rules! In 2005 it became public knowledge that Germany's favorite, flying ginger was also using E.P.O., a popular form of blood doping among professional cyclists. Not only has Lance been stripped of his 7 Tour de France victories, but in the mess that is professional cycling under the U.C.I. (United Cycling Institution), Ullrich lost his second place finish in the 2005 Tour de France. Those who were once enemies now find themselves fighting on the same side of the "Justification Army." Be warned, these guys are a force to be reckoned with. Check what I'm talking about:
- General of Justification's Army = Tiger Woods - if you are asking 'why?', you have been living in a cave for the past decade. Bro's a literal cheat.
- Captain = Alex Rodrigues - aka, "Pete Rose 2.0."
- General Admiral = Marion Jones - hey, if women can vote, why not?
- Fleet Admiral = Maradona - you've heard of "The Hand of God" goal? If not, just ask Jim Rome. He'll help you figure it out.
- First Lieutenant = Floyd Merryweather - many say that that's not his name. I think it's spelled this way. Whatever you do, don't ask him how it's spelled mid-hug in the middle of a bout.
- First Officer = Michael Jordan - dude cheated during checkers with his mother ... c'mon man. Others forget, not this guy.
- Second Officer = George Brett - don't give me that "Pine Tar" excuse again.
- Drummer Boy = Danny Almonte - well, he is a boy. That's all I've got.
* ..... If you are wondering where Barry Lamar Bonds' name is, you are no longer invited to read this blog. If you are interested in why that's the case, stay tuned for the next couple of weeks but only under the condition that you cease to persecute one of the greatest men that has ever called himself "American." (Happy 49th Birthday, Big Guy - not taking a shot at Barry's size 8 New Era cap. Get your mind out of the gutter you pervert!)
Ol' Jan wrapped up his interview with Sport Bild magazine heroically stating, "I only want victories that I've experienced on the bike. I don't want to win anything at the green table." No matter who you are, any victory won in a lab and later on the field of sport is going to come with little sympathy when that "bet" goes south. They tried to catch you both, Lance and Jan, "ridin' dirty" and with justice on the side of the true competitor - nobody in professional cycling - it was only a matter of time before you were caught. Let the excuses begin!