That is correct, we bring you reading pleasure for lunch. Top amongst the news, the Tour, clean through Paris, has finally been dealt its first doping casualty.

Mikel Astarloza, the Spaniard who  and won the race’s 16th stage, was provisionally suspended after his “A” sample tested positive. Should his “B” sample also test positive, the Euskaltel man will be suspended for two years.

What is perhaps most sad about Astarloza’s positive test is that it shocks no one. It was really more surprising, I think we can all agree, that the Tour itself went off without at least one or two dopers getting popped. Sadly, while Astarloza is the first, it’s hard to believe he’ll be the last.

A bit of news equally as unsurprising: Alberto Contador officially turns down Astana’s offer to extend his contract. What’s more, he’s looking for a way out of the final year of his current deal, which would effectively finish tearing up what was likely one of the most talented Tour teams ever assembled.

I know, I’m absolutely shocked, too.

Purple Bar Tape has been traveling hither, thither and yon these last weeks, and was thus sadly deficient in the duty of bringing you the (un)witty commentary to which you’ve become so accustomed.

But it’s 1:30 in the a.m., and what can we say, we’re back.

Before we begin, this is awesome. And now, back to our regularly-scheduled programming.

It seems someone around here promised you some old-fashioned Tour wrap-up blabber-chatter.

But where to begin? Surely, we can’t wrap all of this up in one or two or even three posts.

And so, it is for that reason that, well, we’re going to be working through five installments — short installments, but installments nonetheless (and thus, a record for single word usage was set) — on the 2009 Tour and its eventual successor next year.

Tonight, we begin not with Lance (*gasp*), but instead with someone way faster. That’s right, the Manx Missile, the British Bomber, Mr. Spitfire himself, Mark “on my mobile” Cavendish.

Hushovd took the green jersey, and serious props to the Norwegian for pretty much bumming a leadout off Columbia like, all the time, but I think we can all agree that Cavendish was both far and away the field’s best sprinter.

There’s not much description for it, really. I mean, back in the day (three years ago), sprint finishes in the big UCI stage races were a veritable Baskin Robbins of sprinting variety.

Boonen was huge and powerful. Hushovd had the guile. Robbie McEwen liked to headbutt people, and damned if it didn’t work.

But Cavendish doesn’t really have a style — he just rides away. He’s simply hands down the fastest person in the world on a bicycle right now, no one can touch him. He is the Usain Bolt of cycling, and like the rangy Jamaican, every sprint finish is just his play toy.

Sometimes he breaks it, because he’s young and petulant and raw. But most of the time, he’s just so ridiculously, blindingly, mind-bogglingly fast, that it wouldn’t matter.

But the thing about Cavendish is that, to those of us in the English-speaking world anyway, he’s a symbol.

Seriously. I know it sounds kind of dumb or cheesy to the average American, whose preferred sports are relatively homogenous (with the slight exception, perhaps, of baseball).

But other than Lance Armstrong and some of his former Postal/Discovery boys, this generation of bicycling America doesn’t really identify culturally with most of the riders in the field. It’s nothing prejudiced or personal, just different people in different places, that sort of thing.

Now, though, with Cavendish and Bradley Wiggins exploding cycling’s popularity in Britain and Armstrong coming back looking less like a robot and more like America’s favorite everyman, there’s something to really get behind.

There are even two American-sponsored teams in the Tour — Garmin and Columbia — and both were prominent players in various facets of this year’s Tour. And they will be joined by Team Radio Shack (RadioShack? Radioshack? I dunno) next year.

Even Christian Prudhomme, long an Armstrong antagonist, gave the Texan credit for bringing some thrill back into this year’s race (foreshadowing ahead: possible future post idea?), and in turn also complimented the entire contingent of predicate-loving riders.

“After lagging behind in cycling compared to their success in other sports, the English speakers are starting to make a real name for themselves in cycling,” Prudhomme said. Heady stuff from that mouth.

Take from this what you will. Perhaps it doesn’t register to you, or it doesn’t matter. Honestly, until I read Prudhomme’s comments yesterday, it never really registered with me.

But I think there is at least some truth to it, and if nothing else, I’ve never been so excited for the next Tour de France as I am for the 2010 edition. Bring it on.

Oh boy.

First, Alberto Contador basically press-slapped Lance Armstrong, saying at a press conference in Madrid today: “My relationship with Lance is non-existent. Even if he is a great champion, I have never had admiration for him and I never will.”

Well, I sincerely hope he wasn’t holding back. Lance certainly did not, responding with his own thoughts.

(via Twitter: lancearmstrong)

“Seeing these comments from AC. If I were him I’d drop this drivel and start thanking his team. w/o them, he doesn’t win.”

He then continued.

“hey pistolero, there is no “i” in “team”. what did i say in March? Lots to learn. Restated.”

Setting aside the hilarious audio I have running through my head of Johan Bruyneel calling Alberto Contador “peestolahroh,” it appears well and truly on.

The cycling world — at least this part of it over here — tuned into the last three weeks of the Tour hoping to see two things: Lance vs. Contador on the bike, and Lance vs. Contador off the bike, with the rest of Astana playing the part of the dysfunctional teammates, like those old Yankee teams of the 1970s.

They got their wish on the first, with the spindly Spaniard besting America’s favored son of cycling, along with everyone else. With a few small exceptions, however, part deux would have to wait.

Not for long, it would appear.

There will be naysayers and detractors, most likely within the ProTour community, who will condemn this, saying that cycling is a gentleman’s sport and trash talking isn’t befitting men of such stature.

But sport needs rivals, it needs enemies, it needs this kind of storyline. Tell me you can wait for next year’s Tour right now. I can’t.

Lance had his adversaries during his historic run — Zulle, Pantani, Ullrich. But those relationships were always professional and courteous. We never saw Armstrong ride against someone he truly wanted to beat just to watch them lose.

Now we will. In 49 weeks. And counting.

I haven’t touched on this yet, and for awhile, I wasn’t really sure why. A blog about cycling not talking about such a tragedy, it just doesn’t make sense.

But the truth is, what is there to say? Death is tragic enough, certainly. When it happens at a sporting event, it’s just as sobering, and it’s just as tragic.

Whether it be the Tour de France, or Hillsborough in ‘89, there just aren’t words.

When we as a global society watch sports, we do it for relaxation. We do it for entertainment. We do it for suspense, for joy, to be made happy and sad and pissed off and confused and despondent and non-plussed and knees-to-the-ground, hands-in-the-air overjoyed all at the same time.

Never do we — never should we — have to go to a Tour de France or an FA Cup match or a Super Bowl thinking that our lives might, at some point, be in jeopardy.

My heart goes out to the family of the victim, and to all involved in this terrible tragedy.

There are no words.