It’s Not About the Bike

With any luck, this will be the last time I write about Lance Armstrong. But first, I want an apology. And I deserve one. Some readers will have followed my evolution from gullible fanboy to surprised reader to angry man.

Now I am simply amazed. If you believe the mountain of documents released on Wednesday by the United States Anti-Doping Agency (and I can find no reason not to) Armstrong didn’t just dope: he was the king—better at doping than he was at pretending to win bicycle races through grit and determination.

Please don’t write and tell me I am heartless for beating up on a man who survived cancer and who devotes his time and money (very little of which, it turns out, he earned honestly) to cancer treatment. It’s great that he contributes in that way, and those people who have had their trust in Armstrong rewarded with support have reason to remain his fans.

I am not one of them. And please don’t write to say everyone does it. I don’t care. For years I watched Lance Armstrong denounce those who dared accuse him of doping. I was with him for a long time. I even bought his basic defense, which was to say that he was accused falsely by moral inferiors who could never compete with him. I watched his now-infamous Nike ad for inspiration and made sure my daughter saw it, too. (Check it out; today it seems like a “Saturday Night Live” skit.) She and I would sit together on our couch, in Rome, where we then lived, and watch the annual Tour de France, cheering as Lance charged up the impossible heights of Mt. Ventoux or whizzed by the hundreds of thousands of people on his way to yet another victory. I wanted my daughter to know that there are people willing to sacrifice and work for what they believe in—to struggle and suffer. Yes, I was a fool.

For those who have not had time to wade through the documents that USADA has made public, “the evidence,” as the report notes, “in the case against Lance Armstrong is beyond strong; it is as strong, or stronger than, that presented in any case brought by USADA over the initial twelve years of USADA’s existence.” This is actually an understatement.

At times, the documents read like a John le Carré novel: furtive meetings in Italy with the slimy EPO doctor Michele Ferrari; undercover motorcyclists used to ferry drugs; evidence of doping from every year in which Armstrong won the Tour. There are banking and accounting records. But the most damning evidence—and there is a lot of it—comes from Armstrong’s own teammates. Eleven of them testified that he doped—and ran what the Anti-Doping Agency called “the most sophisticated, professionalized and successful doping program the sport has ever seen.” And in cycling, that’s saying a lot. One example: Armstrong has called the genial cyclist George Hincapie “his best bro” in the peloton. Now we know why: Hincapie once warned Armstrong that drug testers were at a race in Spain. (They usually show up at the end. This was a surprise visit.) Armstrong pulled out before he could be tested. But Hincapie testified that he did more than that, according to the report:

In 2003 shortly before the Tour de France, Lance Armstrong asked to use George Hincapie’s Girona [Spain] apartment to do something Armstrong could not do at his own apartment because Armstrong had house guests at the time. Hincapie observed Dr. del Moral [Luis Garcia del Moral, a team doctor] and Armstrong enter Hincapie’s bedroom with Dr. del Moral carrying what appeared to be a blood bag. Dr. del Moral asked to borrow a coat hanger and Armstrong and del Moral closed the door behind them. They were in the room about 45 minutes to an hour, which Hincapie knew from experience was “about the time it generally takes to re-infuse a bag of blood.” Hincapie also knew from experience that “when blood is re-infused a common practice is to tape the blood bag to a coat hanger and hang the hanger on the wall to facilitate transfer of the blood into the vein.” Thus, although he did not discuss the incident with Armstrong or Dr. del Moral, based on his observations, which were informed by his own experience, Hincapie was confident that Dr. del Moral was re-infusing blood for Armstrong, as Dr. del Moral had followed a similar procedure when re-infusing Hincapie’s blood on prior occasions. Hincapie was confident that Armstrong continued to use blood doping in 2003.

A cyclist once told me that if you don’t use drugs during a race like the Tour de France it’s as if you are observing a sixty-five mile-per-hour speed limit on a highway—while everyone else is driving eighty. That must be true—and it is also worth noting that Lance Armstrong was immensely gifted genetically, and that he worked harder than most other people on the tour. Who knows? He might have even won under his own power. But we will never know.

The time has come for professional cycling to acknowledge reality: cyclists use drugs. Perhaps the best approach is simply to let them. That way everyone can, for the first time in years, compete at the same level.

As for Lance Armstrong, he should do what a man who cared about the millions of people whom he inspired with seven straight victories in the Tour de France would do. He should stand up, in front of the same microphones and cameras that he has used to berate those people who challenged his honesty, and he should tell the world what he has done. And then he should ask our forgiveness. I am certain that I, and all those other fools who believed in him, have earned it.

And speaking of apologies: sorry France, you were right all along. The guy’s a creep.

Photograph by Riccardo S. Savi/Getty.