Pro Cyclist Cites Outback Steakhouse Bloomin’ Onion for Poor Race Performance

With claims of stomach virus rising to unprecedented levels as an excuse regarding rider race performance (or lack thereof), there are some who still take responsibility for their actions. Greg Ballard of the Outback Steakhouse presented by Maalox squad is one such rider.

“We were finishing a training ride and I noticed an Outback on the way to the hotel. They’re our principal sponsor, so it just seemed like a good idea.”

“With the Hurp Blord race the next day, none of the other riders wanted to take a chance. But at the team dinner that night, I just picked at my food and went to the Outback afterwards.”

The allure of the “Bloomin’ Onion” was too much for Ballard to resist.

“It was the first thing I saw on the menu. It looked so enticing, I couldn’t take my eyes off it,” recalls Ballard. “With no teammates to share it with, I ended up eating the entire thing myself. Big mistake.”

The concentration of greasy fried batter had a devastating impact on Ballard’s digestive tract.

“There’s nothing like two pounds of deep-fried onion to turn your intestines into a knot – or a superhighway depending on how you look at it,” describes Ballard. “It sure tasted good going down, but it wasn’t so pleasant…er,…later.”

The grease-laden onion delicacy presented a new level of intestinal distress.

“I’ve been all over the world with the team and eaten some questionable things – from some sort of spicy battered insect in Jakarta to boiled chicken feet in China,” continues Ballard. “But the Bloomin’ Onion beats them all hands-down.”

“Forget about irritable bowel syndrome. My bowels were downright pissed off at me. You could have hung a ‘two exits – no waiting’ sign around my neck. That’s one sure-fire way to get a hotel room to yourself, though. My roommate couldn’t clear out fast enough.”

Ballard’s race performance the next day suffered considerably due to the dietary indiscretion.

“After a night of backflips on the toilet, I was completely knackered at the start of Hurp Blord. It’s a good thing I was at the back of the pack.

“It would not have been pleasant for anyone behind me.”

Unknown Rider Wins Prestigious Bike Race, Tests Positive for Spinach

“Everybody just went ‘Whoah…who the hell is that?’ when he shot out of the bunch,” explains Kjel Schokked. “Immediately the speculation began. Riders began whispering he’s probably leafing.”

Leafing is the common slang of the pro cycling peloton for eating spinach – the iron-laden vegetable banned for its potent and often unpredictable performance stimulation.

WADA has yet to perfect testing protocols to detect the presence of the highly nutritious leafy green. Abuse is feared rampant among pro cyclists, however only the most seasoned riders are able to avoid suspicion by controlling the boost in strength eating a packet of spinach can bring a rider.

“Some say he popped a LEG (leafy edible green) packet back among the team cars,” continues Schokked. “The surge of vitamins and nutrients made his legs swell abnormally. I guess he’s more of a climber, but when he went by me, he made (Eric) Heiden look like (Alberto) Contador. They were circus-freak massive.”

WADA is frustrated in their efforts to catch leafers.

“There are no effective tests for leafing,” bemoans WADA president, Dick Pound. “In the absence of the ability to directly detect spinach, we look for external signs. Sudden and often violent performance bursts are key indicators. Freakish swelling of leg muscle tissue is usually a dead giveaway. Add to that an unhealthy attraction to abnormally skinny, homely, and whiny women and you’ve probably got yourself a case of leafing.”

Other tell-tale behaviors can betray a potential leafer.

“Sometimes a leafing rider goes into a mysterious, euphoric state and can only utter ‘Ack-yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk’ repeatedly. Strangely, we’ve often found a corn cob pipe in the possession of riders suspected of leafing, but we’ve yet to determine its purpose.”

The shroud of mystery around the rider doesn’t stop at leafing, Pound continues.

“We believe he was also gussing (loading up on asparagus before a race) to benefit from the combined effects of the two incredibly healthy, vitamin-rich vegetables,” Pound suspects. “But again, gussing is something we’re unable to test for. No-one will go near their urine sample.

“Man, does their pee stink.”

Study: Wearing Cycling Shoes in Cafés Linked To Posture Disorder, Abdominal Distension

In a recent study concluded by the Cycling-Related Ailment Panel (CRAP), researchers found evidence pairing frequent stops at coffee shops to increased incidence of acute posture disorder among the ranks of road cyclists. Additionally, rates of abdominal distension cases were elevated as well – both afflictions frequently occurring in the same subject.

Dr. Horst Grubner, Research Lead of CRAP, explains the findings.

“Roadies clomp about cafés in their cleats never noticing the effects the odd gate is having on their posture as they load up on bagels, muffins, and coffee. Little do they realize that the unusual angle created by the cleat when they walk is slowly turning them into spandex-clad Quasimodos.”

“But spinal alignment isn’t all these cycling respites is affecting,” Grubner continues.

“On top of hunching, we found a direct correlation between frequent café visits and elevated rates of abdominal distension cases. Though (Prof. Julius) Hornblatt would have you believe it’s just from them eating too much. Pfft. What a quack. He should just go back to breeding crop seeds already and leave real research to the big kids.”

Various cycling clubs from around the country were chosen as subjects of the three-year study observing nearly four hundred recreational and competitive cyclists. Over the period, participants logged a total of 187,313 stops for coffee and spent over US$1.8 million at cafés.

“Starbucks doesn’t want this study getting out for fear of lost revenues,” Grubner complains. “Panera, Noah’s and others are also trying to stall the release of our findings. If you extrapolate to the broader cycling community, losses could be in the billions.”

Those that want to squelch the study have CRAP in their crosshairs.

“This morning, when I entered the lab, someone had broken my favorite mug and scrawled “Silencio!” on the autoclave with a coffee bean. It was clearly the work of the Italian cappuccino collective.”

Grubner is undeterred.

“Their message was clear, but I will not be silenced.

"It is my solemn duty to let the cycling public know the ugly truth. Though you could probably argue that the posture degradation and developing belly paunch has just as much to do with the aging process of the subjects over the course of the study. I mean, it’s been three years.

“I’m sure I walk a little differently and have loosened my belt a notch or two.”

Sleep-Deprived Feed Zone Worker Hands Rider Musette of Biohazard Waste

Yort Fergnid, a third-year pro with Klerd Throopmor (Danish manufacturer of industrial insulation spackle) was finding this running of the Werg Plloopfrap challenging enough – before being accidentally served a musette filled with spent growth hormone vials, blood bags, and syringes. “It’s only my fourth race with the squad, and they’re already trying to kill me.”

Fergnid describes the scenario.

“I went through the feedzone and instinctively grabbed the first bag handed to me by someone wearing our trademark pea-green and chartreuse jerseys. Though to me they’re really more of a drab olive and lavender. With just the slightest hint of eggplant. But I digress.

“When I went to grab an energy bar, I was stabbed by about fifteen needles. There are a lot of unusual things about our team, but that’s just messed up.”

An absent-minded soigneur was soon implicated.

“I thought immediately that that glassy-eyed stoner probably had something to do with it. That guy is completely spaced out half the time. I mean, he once tried to apply ten Newton-meters of torque to my stem bolts rather than nine. Unbelievable! I’m also forever reminding him that I need a hypoallergenic pillow, and prefer a lemongrass hair conditioner. Sheesh.”

Tristan Warner, a soigneur for the squad blames a lack of sleep. “From washing down bikes, doing laundry, confirming reservations, rider room assignments, mapping the route to the next day’s stage, etcetera, I’m working on, like, 14 minutes of sleep since Saturday.

“Everyone on the team thinks I’m stoned, but in reality, I’m just loopy from not sleeping. But what I wouldn’t give for a joint right now.”

Warner explains the mix up.

“I was supposed to have dumped it outside the hotel where some other teams were staying, but somehow, in the rush to get everything together this morning, it wound up with the feedzone musettes. I think I must’ve dumped the team’s mail instead. Oops.

“The authorities didn’t believe that the medicine was for my sick iguana, Quincy. He’s got some weird glandular thing that makes him look like a horny toad with leprosy. No-one will take care of him while I’m gone, so I’ve got to bring him with me. It’s really unfortunate that he’s been prescribed transfusions and EPO. It’s all really just a big mix up, but WADA has no sense of humor. I swear, their own mothers don't love them.”

The UCI levies their initial findings.

“Even if it was all for his goddam lizard, how the spent medicine ended up with the feed bags indicates a staggering lack of rider safety controls,” proclaims UCI spokesperson, Klaus Molle. “I had an iguana once too and am sympathetic to Mr. Warner. The bond between man and reptile is very special. But that's no excuse… I miss my scaly little guy. Godspeed, Mr. Pickles!”

Though no riders were immediately named, the incident likely spells the suspension of the team’s license until the investigation is complete.

The squad has been under intensifying scrutiny ever since the Ronde von Frondenfloom spring classic during which its star rider, Lars Pluf, was disqualified for taking a fistful of Flintstone chewable fruit-flavored vitamins from his team car.

Although Pluf claimed to have a Therapeutic Use Exemption permitting the vitamins, observing race commissaire, Rolf Tressier, was quick to point out sub-clause c.3d.F.34534 of section 8U.3.e.X9t.k of the UCI regulations which clearly forbids riders from ingesting “any crunchy children’s vitamin even remotely shaped like cartoon cavemen.”

With the team now embroiled in Iguanagate, Tressier explains that “the incident could extend to the broader peloton. We also found in Mr. Warner’s possession a list of what he claims to be his iguana’s pet names.

“No way we’re not falling for that one again!”