R.I.P. mon cherie, le Tour De France.
Sadly, although I will miss my boys in spandex, their sleek riders bodies and clownish bulges, I must bid adieu.
The race I cheered with rabid excitement and fervor for a sweet, brief interlude each July, my summer lover, is gone. Your mistress, sweet doping, has taken your soul.
Au revoir Michael Rasmussen, kicked to the curb this week after missing four random doping controls in the past 18 months.
Farewell Cristian Moreni and your positive testosterone test.
C'ya pre-race favorite Alexandre Vinokourov, thrown out for homologous blood doping following your victory on Stage 13.
Peace out Bad-Boy-Floyd Landis, your 2006 victory still a shaky question mark, an asterisk in the history books, due to an abundance of synthetic testosterone.
Step Tyler Hamilton…I can’t go on. It’s just too painful.
Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids sang it best, my loves, “Dope is for dopes, drugs are for dummies. If you mess around with them, that kind of joke isn’t funny.”