Today's firework somehow got wet by last week's rains, I guess. It went off, but then it just puffed up the mountains. The final bouquet needed a replacement champion to jump in, Charlemagne's Rolland who thought the Alps were the Pyrenees and the Schlecks were Saracens, and he blew his horn at Alpe d'Huez. Nicely done, beating the real Saracen Alberto. A good consolation for the team and its leader who lost his yellow jersey. It was a tough day, but a heroic one for him. Sometimes alone, he looked more and more like Mrs Doubtfire struggling with that yellow outfit. But no one can doubt he was doing all he could.
The Tour is now decided, except that we don't yet know for sure if it is decided in favor of Schleck or Evans. Which of course we can blame on Johny Schleck, Andy's and Frank's father: we are talking about poor planning here. Why isn't there a third brother Schleck?! One who would have 3 minutes on Evans now? And anyway, when by tomorrow Cadel Evans is beaten by both your boys, weren't you aware that a podium has three steps, and could accommodate three Schlecks!?
I unfortunately haven't any other wisdom to share for tomorrow. In all Evans (sic), the clock will be the enemy.
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