Danilo di Luca still racing despite suspension. It's just not bike racing.
Danilo di Luca, the man they call “the killer,” is racing, folks. No, not on his $5000 LPR Brakes bike — he’s racing from lawyer to lawyer. These are busy days for the soon-to-be-banned star.
We’ve sketched an imaginary day for the now disgraced and terminated rider, nailed with an A & B sample positive for CERA-EPO.
9am. 5 cups of espresso. He’s depressed, down on his heels and needs a pick-me-up for the long legal days ahead.
10am to 12noon. Meetings with lawyers in desperate attempt to come up with a legal strategy that people won’t laugh at.
12noon. Conference call with accountants. Talking on the UCI, WADA and CONI costs money. Jeez, first the Ferrari breaks down, now this! Contemplate bankruptcy.
Quick call to wife to remind her no expensive vacations for the foreseeable future. Tense moment: explaining that manicures and pedicures are also off her spend list.
12:30 to 1pm. Lunch at the house. Save money, avoid the press and those people just staring and pointing fingers at him.
1 to 2pm. Nap-time. Crawl into bed and pull the blankets up. Sweating, restless, keep putting my thumb in my mouth. Why?
2-3. Put the LPR team race bikes up for sale on ebay before they’re confiscated by sponsor. Fire off rambling cell phone rant about innocence and honor to Italian sporting press.
2-5. Meetings with 2nd group of lawyers in desperate attempt to come up with another legal strategy that people won’t laugh at.
5-6. Bernard Kohl, Stephan Schumacher, Mikel Astarolza, Riccaro Ricco, Michael Rasmussen, Roberto Heras, Ivan Basso, Davide Rebellin, Emanuele Sella, Jan Ullrich, Tyler Hamilton and Floyd Landis call to offer condolences. What nice guys! They know I’m innocent!
6 to 6:30. Attempt to start autobiography How “The Killer” Was Killed. Too depressed to write — where’s the happy ending? Drink bottle of wine — what? It’s almost dinnertime anyway.
6:30 to 7. Wander aimlessly in backyard. What is the meaning of life? What is fate and destiny? Why has no one pulled these weeds?
Dinner. No appetite except for chocolate. I’m getting fat already. Could take an appetite suppressent but those UCI pigs would be all over me.
9 to 11pm. Watch American Idol in Italian. So angry Paula Abdul is leaving the show. She’s still hot at 47. Loved that Opposites Attract CD.
Midnight. Am I sleepwalking? Why am I standing naked in front of the fridge holding this celery stalk. I’ve won the Giro, for crissakes. What’s happening to me?
1am. Call to lawyer with another outlandish legal strategy. Bedtime.