Floyd and Lance
So Floyd Landis comes forward and admits to doping — after years of proclaiming innocence — and then proceeds to pull a whole bunch of folks, including Saint Armstrong, down into the muck with him. The words of a chump loser looking to flail about and connect on a few cheap shots? Perhaps. But probably not. I think he’s telling the truth.
A good pal of mine (let’s call him Gearhead) is seriously into cycling. He races all the time, and he follows the professional circuit with the intensity of a guy who plays Fantasy Football for a living. Only GH does it out of the love of the game. He thinks Lance Armstrong doped. We had a long email exchange about Landis, and then I asked “Well, do you think Lance doped?” Him: “Oh yeah.”
Take the groupthink dynamic that led to the ubiquity of baseball juicing. Now amplify it. That’s cycling. Everyone doped. If you want to be a pro, you just do it. No questions. To NOT do it is to show a wavering level of commitment that jeopardizes your spot. (Think of the prevalence of “greenies” — uppers — in baseball. Allegedly, many starting pitchers would be straight-up pissed if they found out one of their infielders was playing unenhanced. Tellingly, to play unAdderalled is deemed “playing naked.” MLB passed a rule against greenies a few years ago. I would love to get my paws on the number of ADD prescriptions written for players since then.) If you’re part of a cycling team — and it is a common mistake to think of cycling as an individual sport — you are in. Everyone is in. No weak links. Everyone’s on the “hot sauce.
Here’s Gearhead, in his own words, on the culture of doping in cycling: “Yes, there’s absolutely a group-think effect. You hear again and again in cycling: ‘everyone is doping; doping is the only way I can stay a pro.’ There are a number of things to take from this, but two stand out for me. One: cyclists have given up their accountability and personal choice. When you assume that doing something illegal and dangerous is necessary, you already passed the threshold of considering whether or not to dope. Before the needle’s in your arm, you already believe you have to do it. Two: there no consideration of its actual benefits. Strangely, this sort of perspective is almost totemic. Doping is something you have to do because everyone does it. Everyone doesn’t seem to be doing it (according to this logic) because it necessarily works; everyone is doing it because ‘everyone else is’ (or ‘must be’).”
What seems like desperation or skullduggery on Landis’ part can, when seen through a different lens, seem downright understandable — and perhaps, I daresay, sympathetic. Landis wins the Tour de France in 2006 — another miraculous American win! He gets busted for doping. Accusations, denials, SCANDAL. Basically, Landis toed the party line: if caught, deny deny deny. Claim it was a fraudulent test. Some freak occurrence. Whatever. But do NOT blow the lid off the big, huge secret: EVERYONE is doping. It is not really a secret — cycling has been mired in doping scandals for a long time now — but, rather, the secret is that the people who are caught are not the rogue outliers. They’re just the poor bastards who got caught.
So Landis denies, denies, denies. And, finally, for whatever reason, he steps forward. There is a Jose Conseco aspect to Landis, sure: lots of fingerpointing in the media spotlight. Thing is, Conseco was right — time and time again. I think ol’ Jose is a media whore in a way that Landis is not (Landis would not, I suspect, appear on Vh1′s “The Surreal Life”). I think Landis wanted it all to go away; only it keep up, and he became a scapegoat for the sport he loves. And there one has a choice: fall on the grenade or burn the whole town down. And, eventually, he chose the latter.
Of course, Lance denies, denies, denies — the routine should be familiar by now. Lance’s battle with cancer and return to repeated glory was an amazing story. Everyone ate it up. My boss at a gas station I used to work at when younger — thick Masshole accent; love for the BoSox; hatred for the Yanks — would bound out of the garage, hollering, “Lance won another mountain stage! Holy shit! He’s done it again!” He, like so many others, was genuinely excited. Just like we were excited about the McGwire and Sosa home run battle. That narrative got crushed, of course, but Lance’s narrative of resilience and glory remains. Lance ain’t dumb: he knows damn well that if/when he gets busted, poof, it all goes down the drain. Just another tainted hero, like Shoeless Joe Jackson. I imagine that living in that world of possibility is quite stressful. But I also think that Lance has a big enough ego that he’s somehow thought around/through that. He IS that good, dammit. One has to believe the falsities to lie convincingly, we are always told. Then again, maybe Lance is just banking on everyone toeing the line and holding the secret. The big problem, Gearhead tells me, is that Landis’ story has all sorts of information, names, and details that could lead to subpeonas, court appearances, damning testimony, and so on. Lance Armstrong will NEVER admit to doping. (Well, maybe if he could score a tell-all book deal and soft-focus 60 Minutes interview….) But there remains a possibility that a ring of convincing accusations might form around him. Many people will never believe it. You see those Livestrong bracelets all the time. Lance has long since became much more than just a bunch of consecutive Tour de France victories. Beating cancer is no joke. Lance will ALWAYS have that, and, frankly, that is the most important part of his message/persona. He won. Fuck cancer. But his persona grew and disseminated, in all likelihood, through systematic cheating. Everyone was doing it, sure, but does that make it right? That is a tricky question — and it brings to mind the nauseating cacophony of hand-wrining WON’T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN!!!” articles about cheating in baseball — without a clear answer. But I do know this: Lance’s saintly persona exists because of his perceived exceptionality. He is a driver, a winner, a stoic, a champion. Perhaps so. But he probably got there by cheating like everyone else. Not so exceptional.
Here are a bunch of cool links on this broad topic. Read up and enjoy. (These articles are all courtesy of Gearhead. I’m trying to get the information out there. You know my opinions now. Go form your own.)
1. A highly informative article on Landis and the culture of doping in professional cycling. The running comparison to Pretty Boy Floyd didn’t work for me, but maybe it will for you. Essential reading. Here.
2. A rather damning instant message conversation between two pro cyclers. Guess who comes up? Here.
3. Here are two informative interviews about doping and cycling. Here. And here.
4. A rather blustery article about Landis as crazy-prophet. Here.
5. Perhaps the gem of the bunch: a long interview with Floyd Landis himself. Here.