Tour de Blah

That Bicycle Race started up again over the weekend, though you might have missed it because A) you live in America, and B) nobody in America cares about it now that Lance Armstrong isn't cheating his ass off to win anymore.

Now it's just a bunch of guys named Gerant and Julian, as in "Julian Alaphilippe," who's the guy wearing the yellow jersey right now. This is a big deal, because Julian is French, and the last time a French rider wore the yellow jersey in That Bicycle Race (aka, the Tour de France) was five years ago. So hooray for France, and now the rest of us can go back to watching the All-Star Home Run Derby and the All-Star Game and summer league NBA basketball -- which is like regular NBA basketball only with rookies, G-League imports and Oh Yeah That One Guy.

This is a shame, frankly. And I think I know how to solve the problem.

Bring back the Tour de Syringe.

I'm semi-serious. I mean, how much more fun was it when Lance, sociopath that he is, was terrorizing anyone who dared tell the truth, which is that he was sticking needles in every available vein like everyone else in the sport? Remember the jingoistic outrage in America at all those dirty foreign journalists questioning Our Lance? Remember the intrigue, the backbiting, the sheer espionage of athletes sneaking vials of cheetah DNA (or some such thing) through airports and onto buses and past the drug police?

Gave the Tour a whole international-man-of-mystery vibe, all of that. There were heroes. There were villains. There were shady mad scientists sneaking God knows what sort of glow-in-the-dark drug cocktails to their "patients"; money and brown paper bags containing gorilla testosterone (or some such thing) changing hands in seedy hotel rooms; and of course Lance at the center of it all, presiding over his vast drug-fueled empire like Tony Montana.

Yeah, the sport was dirty as hell. But at least it was interesting.

I miss that. I miss Lance and his bottomless, venomous spite. I miss the way his defenders used to emulate him, pouring out abuse on anyone who even suggested it wasn't unreasonable to wonder how he was doing what he was doing. I miss the lying, the cheating, the mafia-like intimidation.

Now?

Now the big news is a Frenchman is wearing the yellow jersey. For now.

Zzzzzzz.