The Lance Armstrong--Or The Donald Trump-- Of Chess?

I rarely truck in conspiracy theories. (Really!) But, every once in a while, a seemingly-farfetched explanation for something turns out to be a precursor for the truth.

Case in point:  What Elon Musk said about the meteoric rise of Hans Niemann.  The 19-year-old Californian by way of the Netherlands and Hawaii beat the then-reigning world chess champion Magnus Carlsen last month.  

Musk claimed that Niemann had help.  OK, that's understandable:  After all, almost no-one, even in the world of competitive chess, had heard of Niemann just a few months ago, and prodigies are usually well-established by Niemann's age. But Musk claimed that Niemann's "boost" came not from friends or family, or from a performance-enhancing drug. (What kind of PED would help a chess player, I don't know.  But I'm sure there must be at least one.) Rather, the world's richest man-child came up with an explanation that even I, in either of the puberties I experienced or under the influence of anything I might or might not have tried, could have come up with. The new chess champion, Musk averred, was guided by vibrating anal beads that signaled the correct moves.

You can't make this stuff up.  At least I can't.  But Elon Musk can.  Maybe that's why he's rich and I'm not.

Anyway, it seems that Musk was right on at least one count:  Niemann cheated, not only against Carlsen, but in earlier matches.  Chess.com's investigative report says as much.  Niemann responded in true Trumpian fashion by starting a lawsuit against them, Carlsen and chess streamer Hikaru Nakamura.  

Now, to be fair, other chess masters and fans have characterized Carlsen's recent form as "fragile." In other words, it's not inconceivable that someone--even, perhaps, Niemann--could have beaten him.  And participants in the major grandmaster tournaments normally have to pass through several stages of screening before being assigned to a table and chair. 

A chess "champion" and "top" cyclist?

 

There is, however, another part of Niemann's history--or, more specifically, the way he's framed it--that could lead one to doubt his credibility.  

When he was a child, he lived in the Netherlands, where his parents--one Danish, the other Hawaiian--were working in the IT industry. He started to take chess classes at the age of eight, at the same time he was in the thrall of another kind of competition.  "He liked to get on his racing bike to participate in competitions."  An eight-year-old in a bike race is not unusual in bike-obsessed Netherlands.  So one part of his claim--that he raced--is not only plausible, but a matter of record.  

However, the way he or anyone else could categorize his juvenile cycling career depends on how he or anyone else defines a single word:  "top."  As in, "top cyclist."   As in, "one of the top cyclists in the nation for my age."

Again, to be fair, there is little doubt that he was indeed racing as a child.  Nor is it a "stretch" to believe him when he says that he was "advancing much more rapidly in cycling than in chess."  But the only results CyclingTips could unearth in its investigation were from the 2012 National Championships.  In that race--five laps on a short circuit totaling 7 kilometers, or about 4.5 miles, he finished a minute behind the leader in a 12-minute competition.  That made him 25th out of the 35 young entrants.

So...Does Hans Niemann's Trumpian relationship to the truth and fair play make him a Lance Armstrong of the competitive chess world?  Or does his Lance Armstrong-like willingness to win at all costs make him the competitive chess world's equivalent of Donald Trump?

A Ride In His Imagination

One thing I would find funny if it didn't so enrage me is priests being sentenced to "a life of prayer and penance" after sexually abusing children.  Especially if said priest is old and has so exploited multiple victims.

I got to thinking about that when I heard the story of one Nicholas Clark.

Who is he? you ask.

He's someone important enough for USA Cycling to know about.  More precisely, the American cycling body has just suspended him from all of its activities for one year and from holding a coaching license for three years.

What did he do to earn such a punishment?

Oh, he more than earned it.  He'd built an enthusisatic following as a coach and owner of ProBike FC, a bike shop in Fairfax County, Virginia.  From that locale, he led training rides that included dozens of people, many of them in his thrall over his having raced for teams like AG2R-Casino on such prestigious races as the Tour of Flanders, Paris-Nice and Liege-Bastogne-Liege.

Nick Clark addresses a training ride at his shop.

The problem, as you might have guessed by now, is that his account of his racing history contained just about as much truth as any claim I could make of a blood relationship to the King of Sardinia and the Duchess of Savoie.  

Or that I gave Tim Berners-Lee that great idea he had.  But, really, I let him take credit for it because I didn't want the spotlight.

The other claims Clark made weren't so farfetched.  But his profile picture on his now-deleted Strava account shows him standing with Johan Museeuw, who gives him a thumbs-up and another prominent pro rider, Paolo Bettini, on a cloudy day in Belgium. 

 

The Casino team.  Where's Nick?

Now, I am not going to say whether that photo was "doctored."  As we say in the old country, I'll leave that up to you,  dear reader.  But it's come to light that some other things he used to burnish his C.V. were as fabricated as anything as anyone could assemble from three letters:   B.ec, LLB, MBA, CPA and CEO.  Oh, and he fudged other credentials and relationships to fit one scheme or another.

Of course, USA Cycling can't punish him for faking academic, military or corporate credentials.  But, it seems, there was some, shall we say, misconduct when he coached a women's cycling team.   

The thing that unraveled the world he fabricated, however, was recorded on that now-deleted Strava account. One day three years ago, he ascended a steep climb near his home at a faster pace--and lower energy output--than even an elite pro rider in the prime of his or her career could.  And Nick was a decade and a half past such a peak, if indeed he ever had one.

A screenshot of Clark's now-deleted Strava account.

Another Strava entry a few months later, at age 45,  showed that he rose up a hors de categorie climb in Arizona faster and with less effort than Sepp Kuss, a young rider who shepherded Primoz Roglic to second place in the 2020 Tour de France and later won a stage himself.

A few people looked into Clark's Strava account and found claims of his seeming to have defied the limits of physiology, the laws of physics and pure-and-simple reason.

Further digging revealed, among many other false claims, that he'd left his native Australia for Norway to compete in the 1993 Junior Road World Championships.  

The winner of that tournament's rain-soaked elite men's road race?  Lance Armstrong. The senior road race, that is.  That year's Junior Worlds, contrary to Clark's fable, were actually held in Perth, Australia:  his own hometown.  Still, there's no record of his having participated.

A fraud and a doper.  That's just about as rich as Donald Trump, another fraud,  endorsing Dr. Oz, a quack, for Senate.  Maybe they'll be sentenced to a life of prayer and penance--or a one-year ban from something.

These days, Nick Clark is working as a firearms instructor, claiming military experience and a background as a "former officer with the Department of Corrections having served in a number of units, from SuperMax wings, to emergency response and hostage response units and drug squad as an active drug dog handler."

If that turns out to be as true as his other stories maybe he'll, I dunno, have his license to shoot a cap gun suspended for six months or something. Of course, that's less harsh than any punishment he'd get from the UCI for any cycling-related infraction.

 

Gravel Racing Star's Killer Caught In Costa Rica

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the murder of up-and-coming gravel racing star Anna Mariah "Mo" Wilson.  On Wednesday, her suspected killer, Kaitlin Marie Armstrong, was arrested in Costa Rica.

Armstrong had been dating road-turned-gravel racer Colin Strickland for some time.  The  35-year-old Strickland and 34-year-old Armstrong reportedly took a "hiatus" from their relationship for a couple of months.  During that time, Strickland started dating Wilson, a decade his junior.

Anna Moriah "Mo" Wilson

On the 11th of May, Strickland and Wilson went to the Deep Eddy pool and then had dinner at a nearby restaurant.  That night, he dropped off Wilson at a friend's house in Austin, Texas but didn't accompany her inside.  Later that night, she was found unconscious and bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. 

An anonymous tipster told police that Armstrong, who'd purchsed two 9 millimeter handguns, had talked about killing Wilson.  And, a vehicle that looked like her Jeep Cherokee was seen at the house around the time of the shooting.  Two days later, Armstrong sold her Cherokee at a Car Max location before taking a flight to Houston, then to New York.  She was spotted at Newark-Liberty Airport,  but no outbound flights were booked in her name.  So, her whereabouts remained a mystery until she was tracked in Costa Rica.

I don't mean to make light of a senseless killing.  But I couldn't help but to notice that what might be the first major scandal or tragedy, depending on how you see it, involves an Armstrong--from Texas, no less. 

What If He'd Stayed?

Yesterday, I wrote about an effort to make Austin, Texas more bike- and pedestrian-friendly. I haven't been there, but if it's anything like the parts of the Lone Star State I've seen, the complaints of its cyclists and pedestrians don't surprise me:  Even Houston, its biggest city (and the fourth-largest in the US) can seem like an expanse of auto-centric suburban sprawl, especially if you're accustomed to a city like mine (New York), Boston, San Francisco or most major European burgs, bourgs or bergs.

Then again, I have to admit I was a little bit surprised that, from what I was reading, bike lanes and sidewalks are so poorly conceived, designed or maintained--or nonexistent outside central parts of the city.  After all, during the past three decades, many young, educated people--the ones who, during the same period, were most likely to become recreational or commuting cyclists--moved to the Lone Star Capital.  And it has a major university, which usually is enough to ensure a significant number of cyclists.

Today I was reminded of another reason why one might expect Austin to be a better place for cyclists.  Now, I know that almost anything that happened more than two years ago seems as distant as the Mesopotamian civilization but, believe it or not, three decades ago isn't so long in, as Doctor King said, the long arc of history.  

Just as there was indeed a time before COVID-19, there was also a time when Lance Armstrong was a kind of "golden boy."  He had just won the World Championship and was seen as an heir apparent to Greg LeMond and the generation of American riders who put their country on the sport's map for the first time in decades.

Well, back then, Lance lived in Austin. Professional cyclists are like other professional athletes in that they aren't "working" only when involved in a race, game or match.  Having been a racer for very brief time in my life, I know that in order to be competitive, you have to pedal for a few hours every day.  It's really as much of a commitment as going to the office, factory, school or wherever you make your living or forge your identity.  In addition, most cyclists, as well as other athletes, spend considerable amounts of time in other kinds of conditioning, such as running or weight-lifting.

Photo by Jeff Wilson for Texas Monthly

But one would think that with all of the cycling Lance--and, most likely, others--were doing, the city would have been more conscious of their needs.  You see, not only was he seen as a "rising star;" he had yet to be tainted by accusations of drug use.  In fact, he may not have been using any banned substances (at least, not in detectable quantities) in those days, before his cancer diagnosis. If you look at pre-illness photos of him and compare them to images of him after he returned to the sport, it's not difficult to believe as much.

Anyway, I couldn't help but to wonder whether Lance, had he retained his status, could have made a difference in hometown's cycle and pedestrian infrastructure.  Maybe he could have.  Then again, maybe he couldn't have:  After all, aside from people who bought Trek bicycles in the US Postal Service Team colors, I'm not sure he influenced much else. 

Still, it makes me feel old to think there was a time before COVID-19--and when Lance was revered.  

Il A Demissione Pour Gagner (He Quit In Order To Win)

 What do Dave Cowens, Rebecca Twigg,  Lance Armstrong and Theo Nonnez have in common?

Because you're reading this blog, you certainly know about Lance and probably have heard of Rebecca.  Unless you're a basketball fan (which is practically synonymous with being a New Yorker of my generation), you might not know about Dave Cowens.

As for Monsieur Nonnez--well, you might not know anything about him (except that he's French) unless you avidly follow bike racing.

OK...So what do they share?  No, not needles, Lance's revelation notwithstanding.  They all did something almost nobody expected of them:  They walked away from their careers as world-class (or, in Nonnez's case, potentially world-class) athletes.

Dave Cowens was perhaps the greatest "undersized" (Where else but in the NBA is 6'9" "small"?) center in the history of the game.  As a New Yorker, I am not a fan of the team for which he played most of his career--the Boston Celtics.  I am enough of a basketball fan, however, to respect him:  He simply never seemed to play a bad game.

In the middle of the 1976-77 season--just a few months removed from his team's most recent championship--he took a leave of absence "for personal reasons."  There was no contract dispute or feud with a coach or team management:  He simply needed to, as we might say today, re-set.  The term "burnout" wasn't yet in wide use, but if you read accounts of that time, it's pretty clear that's what he was suffering.

So it was for Rebecca Twigg a decade later.  Three years after winning a silver Olympic medal in the road race, she crashed--literally and metaphorically.  A misaligned rear wheel led to a mishap in which she was lucky to emerge with a broken thumb and mild concussion.  At the time, she said she was tired of waking up early, regardless of the weather, and pushing her body to its limits.  She took time to complete degrees and start a new career in information technology before deciding she needed to be on her bike again.  And she did so in a rather big way, winning another Olympic medal in Barcelona in 1992.

(Unfortuantely, she "crashed" again and has been homeless for the past few years.)

Now, I know it's not fashionable to talk about Lance without bashing him, but here goes:  He, of course, quit racing for two years after his cancer diagnosis.  But, before he confessed to Oprah, he talked about how he considered retiring after his fifth Tour de France win.  Had he not "juiced," he would have been, in at least one sense, in elite company:  Jacques Anquetil, Eddy Mercx, Bernard Hinault and Miguel Indurain reached that magic milestone. (They all won other races, including the Giro d'Italia, Vuelta a Esapana, some of the "classics," and various other cycling events, so even if Lance didn't have his wins vacated, I don't believe he wouldn't have been in their class.)  He spoke of something similar to what Twigg described:  He was tired of a life that revolved around training.  Few people outside the sport realize what a singular, solitary existence bike racing is.

That's what Theo Nonnez learned.  What he also said is, in essence, that if you realize that you're not willing to give up literally everything else in your life--including relationships and the foods most other people eat--you probably won't reach the heights of the folks I've mentioned.  You really have to want to be a champion more than anything else--possibly life itself--in order to keep yourself so motivated.

My previous sentence may well explain why Cowens took his leave, Armstrong almost quit and Twigg did, for a time.  I think it might also explain why she "crashed" in life:  After pursuing something so single-mindedly, and not having another suitable outlet for your adrenaline (IT?), it's easy to burn out on life, if you will.

Again, in my unfashionable all-but-defense of Lance, I think it might explain why some athletes cheat:  When you compete against someone who's spent his or her life pursuing the same goal you've devoted your life to pursuing, and the difference between you and that person is a second, or a stroke of bad luck (an accident, say), the temptation to grasp at any possible advantage, however illegal or unethical it may be, is great.

Theo Nonnez

I think Theo Nonnez may have seen these possibilties.  What he did say is that he realized, even after winning a junior championship, cycling wasn't the right career choice for him, and that he was pursuing it in part because of the hopes and expectations of people around him. Je me suis mis a pleurer sur le velo--"I began to cry on the bicycle"--he reports in the tweet announcing his retirement.  He has not announced concrete plans, but says he wants to help others.

If all of that is true--and I can't find any reason to doubt him-- Theo Nonnez is wise beyond his 21 years.  Best of all, he's still young enough to come back if he changes his mind a few months or a year from now. (He shouldn't wait too long, though:   An athlete's career is brief!)  Whatever he does, he's already a winner, and I wish him well.

What Do They Need To Believe?

Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I believe that the first major work of American fiction in the new millennium was The 9/11 Commission Report.

If that is the case, then the last major work of American fiction of the previous century may well be It's Not About The Bike.  And another major work of American fiction from this millenium may well be Positively False.

Matt Hart did not echo my opinion about The 9/11 Commission Report in his Atlantic Monthly article last month. He did, however, say that INATB and PF are narratives that "now read more like fiction" than the autobiographical narratives they purported to be.

Now, I'll make a confession:  I was a Lance fanboy/fangirl (I underwent my transition during the time Lance was racing.) almost until the time Oprah interviewed him.  At least, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt because--call me naive--I still adhere to the principle of "innocent until proven guilty."  Though the rumors echoed everywhere (or so it seemed), he had not failed any drug tests--or, if he did, the results hadn't been made public.

I started to entertain doubts about him a couple months before the interview, when the US Anti-Doping Agency released its report. Even then, I took the stories about Lance's doping with a grain of salt because many of the accusations came from his rivals, including Tyler Hamilton and, yes, Landis.  

Armstrong and Landis in the 2004 Tour de France.

Reading Hart's article didn't change my opinion about any of those riders, the USADA's report or the whole sad story.  If anything, it re-enforced something I already believed:  that Tour de France, UCI and other officials looked the other way while those riders were doping, much as Major League Baseball did when bulked-up players like Mark McGwire and Barry Bonds shattered home run records.  

In 1998, MLB was in a very similar position to that of professional bicycle racing:  Both were trying to recover from public relations fiascos.   The Festina team was expelled from the Tour de France that July for doping and the team's soigneur was arrested as he re-entered France from Belgium.  People were understandably upset and angry:  They felt betrayed by athletes they, if not idolized, then at least admired.

For the previous few years, US baseball fans felt betrayed, but for a different reason:  the players went on strike in August of 1994, cutting the season short by nearly two months.  Worst of all, in fans' eyes, there was no World Series that year for the first time in nearly a century.  The strike continued long enough to delay the 1995 season opening.  When play resumed, resentful fans stayed away through the rest of that season, and the two that followed.

So, MLB and the UCI were faced with a similar problem:  bringing the fans back.  That is why I believe both organizations did nothing while McGwire, Armstrong and others were "juicing".  McGwire's epic season, in which he and Sammy Sosa battled to become baseball's new home-run king, generated excitement and brought fans back to the park.  The following year, the story of Lance rising from his deathbed to the peaks of hors de categorie climbs in the Tours piqued interest in old and new cycling fans, especially in the US.  Skeptics--especially those in France--were seen as resentful curmudgeons who simply couldn't accept a brash American winning the Tour.

Although Hart paints Landis more sympathetically than he does Armstrong, it's clear from the articles that there are no heroes in the whole sordid saga of professional bicycle racing in the past two decades. 

It's been said that we tell the stories we need to believe--or have others believe. (Every nation in history has done this.)  Perhaps the sport, and others, will find another compelling story to get people interested again.  Then, if that story--like Lance's--is revealed to be that of a cheat and liar, or simply a fiction, some fans will walk away but those who remain simply won't trust the athletes or sport as they once did.  Thus, it remains to be seen whether those sports and leagues* will ever emerge from the cloud of suspicion that shrouds them. 

*--As bad as the UCI is, it can be argued that FIFA, the International Olympic Committee and other sports authorities are even more corrupt.

A Thriller Or A Juicer?

My uncle, who was as much a card-carrying liberal on social issues as anyone I've known (Having spent much of my life involved in the arts and the academic world, that's saying something!) nonetheless refused to watch any movie in which Jane Fonda, a.k.a. "Hanoi Jane", appeared.  

The question of whether you can appreciate the work of anyone accomplished in his or her field--whether in the arts, sports, science or any other area of endeavor--knowing that the person did something immoral, unjust or simply out of line with your values, is certainly not new.  I know otherwise well-read people who will not touch Ezra Pound's Cantos because he was an anti-Semitic Fascist and refuse to have any truck with movies, TV shows, books or other creations from folks who are--or whom they believe to be--immoral or politically incorrect.

Likewise, there are erstwhile fans who gave up on bike racing because of the doping scandals.  This phenomenon was, I believe, most pronounced in the wake of Lance Armstrong's fall from grace.  With all due respect to Greg LeMond, Armstrong was probably the first modern "American hero" of cycling. At least, he was the reason why many Americans paid attention to the Tour de France, if not to bike racing as a whole.  But even Europeans admired and respected him, however grudgingly, if for no other reason than his "comeback" story.

It would be one thing if current and former fans directed their ire solely at him.  Since he was stripped of his titles, however, it seems that some have given up on the sport.  Many more, though, look at every victory, and every current and rising star, through a lens tinted with suspicion.  It's hard to blame them, though the problem of doping pervaded cycling--and sports generally--long before Lance seemed to spring from his death bed to the podium.

So, when Alberto Contador announced his retirement from racing a few months ago, fewer tears were shed than when Bernard Hinault, Eddy Mercx, Jacques Anquetil, Fausto Coppi or even Miguel Indurain called it quits.  That, even though, among those riders, Hinault is the only one besides Contador to have won all three Grand Tours --Tour de France, Giro d'Italia and Vuelta a Espana-- more than once. (Mercx and Anquetil each won the Vuelta once, while neither Coppi nor Indurain ever won it.) Even though nearly anyone who has followed the sport will say that he was one of the most talented riders of his generation, they are not as sorry to see him go as they were when previous winners of the maillot jaune and maglia rosa left the scene.

Contador in the 2005 Tour Down Under

Contador, though, wasn't just a cyclist who won races.  He pedaled with gusto, and raced with panache.  Probably the last cyclist who won with such style was Marco Pantani, winner of the 1998 Tour and Giro.  His "juicing" spiraled into abuse of other drugs, including cocaine, and led to his death five and a half years later. The way Contador rode was often described as a "dance", and he recently admitted that in his final Vuelta --which he won--he would "attack exactly when I felt like it" instead of "calculating everything".  You might say he had his reasons:  After all, he was riding his final race, and it was in his home country.

He was indeed thrilling to watch.  Should we remember him for that--or for the titles he lost and the ban he incurred from his drug use?   

Why Aren't You Paying Attention To The Tour de France?

Funny he should mention it:  The Tour de France is in progress.  

Yesterday, "Retrogrouch" said he is "barely" following this year's race.  I could say the same thing.  In fact, other cyclists I know who've followed Tours (and Giros and Vueltas) past say that they're paying little or no attention to the latest editions of these contests.

It got me to wondering why this is so, and whether it's just an American phenomenon.  Could Europeans' interest in those races also be waning?

Now, to be fair, the Euro football (soccer) championship ended three days ago.  It's held every four years, like the Olympics, and this year's version was held in France.  As it happens, les bleus made it to the championship game, which they lost to the Portuguese side.

Then again, the tournament was held in France in 1984 and 2000, both of which the French won.  This year's final matchup brought Cristiano Ronaldo-- who some regard as the world's best player-- and Antoine Greizmann--who could become his successor, according to some experts--onto the pitch as opponents.  So, even those football fans who aren't French or Portuguese (or simply fans of those teams) could find something interesting to watch.  Also, there was the "feel good" story about the Icelandic squad, which made it all the way to the quarterfinals against France (and, along the way, beat England).  This is especially shocking when you realize that more people live on Staten Island than in Iceland, where there are no professional leagues!

Stories like those keep casual fans interested in major sporting events.   Such drama seems to be lacking in this year's Tour.  There are favorites and "dark horses", to be sure.  But there aren't the sort of compelling rivalries, in part there is no rider-of-his-generation like Bernard Hinault and, thus, no one who's in a position to ascend to the throne, if you will.   There is also not a "feel good" story like the pre-fall-from-grace Lance Armstrong's (though, even in his heyday, there were whispers that he was doping).  




And, let's face it, there's nationalism in sports.  It's no longer startling to see British riders dominate the race, just it was no longer a shock to see Americans win after Greg LeMond.  While there are some very good riders from the former Soviet Bloc countries, none of them yet poses a challenge to the established order.  One reason, I think, is that those riders tend to dominate in sprints, often at the expense of other events, just as the best British riders--until about fifteen years ago--were time trialists.  Even Peter Sagan doesn't look ready to make the "breakthrough", and even if it did, it wouldn't excite fans in the US or the major cycling nations of Western Europe.

Finally, I think some people have given up, or are giving up, on cycling because of the widespread doping.  While football and other sports have their share of "juicers", the problem doesn't seem anywhere near as rampant.  At least, that's how fans seem to see it.

Anyway, if you want to read about a really exciting Tour, Retrogrouch wrote a very nice account of the 1986 version, which had everything this year's edition seems to lack.

Would You Buy A Used Bike From These Guys?

Would you take investing and financial advice from Bernie Madoff?

You probably think that question is rhetorical, or a smart-ass answer to a stupid question.  Or a joke.

Then again, Will Rogers once said, "The problem with practical jokes is that they very often get elected".  Or that they're like fiction:  Reality is even stranger and funnier.

I was reminded of that last truism after reading a Business Insider article someone sent to me.

By now, you have heard the sordid saga of Lance Armstrong. The world needs no more commentary on it, so I will offer none.

What I will mention, however, is that pretty much everyone who ever rode with him on the US Postal Team has admitted to some level involvement or another in doping.  Some of them say that Lance, in essence, bullied them into it.  

Whether or not that was true--or whether "everyone else was doing it" (My last boyfriend used to say that whenever I caught him lying or showing his lack of integrity in any other way!), the image of those riders, the team--and, to some, the entire sport of bicycle racing--has been tarnished, to say the least.

"Le train bleu":  The US Postal Service Team in the 2000 Tour de France.  The "train" was running on...

Knowing that, if you were an aspiring racer--or simply someone who wanted to get into peak physical condition without joining the Marine Corps--would you hire Levi Leipheimer, Kevin Livingston, Tyler Hamilton or Tom Danielson?

Apparently, some people have answered that question, "Why not?"  Danielson haswritten a book on training for cycling and owns a company that runs training camps for cyclists.  Livingston runs such a company--located in the basement of Mellow Johnny's Bicycle Shop, owned by none other than Lance.  (Really, you can't make this stuff up!) Hamilton manages a like company--and sells real estate.  And Leipheimer is a cycling coach who also makes promotional videos.

Maybe you wouldn't take their advice if you want to win races--by the rules, anyway.  Perhaps you would prefer the advice of an admitted doper who's become an anti-doping advocate.  If that's the case, Jonathan Vaughters is your man.  He now manages Cannondale Pro Cycling, a team competing in the TDF.  And you thought it was all about the bikes?

 All right.  Perhaps you're not interested in becoming a racer--or willing to take the advice of the guys I've just mentioned.  But you might want to listen to what Frankie Andreu and Christian van de Velde have to say about the race you're watching.  Yep, that's what those guys are doing now:  They're commentators on broadcasts of races.

Now, if you're the sort of person that believes it's all about what you wear, you might want to look up George Hincapie.  Lance's most loyal teammate and trusted lieutenant now runs a cycling-apparel company.  Hmm...I wonder whether those jerseys have special compartments.  

Whatever the design of those jerseys, there's no point to them unless they're mated with a great pair of shorts.  Of course, even the best of shorts will get uncomfortable if you ride as long and hard as, and in the conditions, those guys rode. Dave Zabriskie has just what you need:  chamois cream. 

He just happens to run a company that makes it.  I would love to see the list of ingredients.  If one of them is, uh, shall we say,  a substance that's legal for medical purposes in a few states (including Colorado), Floyd's of Leadville should carry it.  Yes, you guessed it:  Zabriskie's and Lance's old teammate, Floyd Landis (who had his 2006 TDF title stripped over doping allegations) started the business, which sells cannabis products.

I wish the Presidential campaign could offer such mirth!

The Sad Saga Of Vladimir Gusev

Perhaps you have heard of Vladimir Gusev, the Russian cyclist who twice won his country's time trial championships. In July of 2008, the Astana team fired him for "abnormal values".  (It sounds like an accusation Ted Cruz would throw at Donald Trump, gay people or just about anyone else, doesn't it?)  On the surface, it sounds like just another doping case, wouldn't you say?

However, the story is more complicated than I've so far described.  You see, the Astana team--founded in Kazakhstan two years earlier--was kicked out of the Tour de France in 2007 after its star rider, Alexander Vinokourov, tested positive.  Needless to say, the team was in a crisis--one that could have threatened its very existence.

Vladimir Gusev:  Victim of the UCI and Johan Bruyneel

To show that Astana was taking a stance against doping (I see the eyeballs rolling!), it recruited who was undoubtedly the best man for the job:  Johan Bruyneel. If his name doesn't sound familiar, I'll tell you a little about him:  From 1999 until 2007 (Do those years ring a bell?), he was the directeur sportif  of--are you ready?--the US Postal Service Team.  Yes, the team that employed one Lance Armstrong.  And a fellow named Alberto Contador:  more about him later.

To show that he was really, really serious about running a clean team, he brought in the Grand Inquisitor of the anti-doping movement:  the Danish doctor Rasmus Damsgaard (Don't you just love that name?), who successfully established anti-doping protocols with Bjarne Riis' old crew, Team CSC.

OK, so maybe Bruyneel was ready to set his riders on the straight and narrow after all.  But soon after bringing Dr. Damsgaard aboard, which cyclist does he hire?  Why, none other than Contador, who'd just won the Tour de France under Bruyneel's tutelage with the Discovery team. 

Well, not long after, the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI), the sport's governing body, declared that it wouldn't allow the Astana team to participate in the Tour de France.  That meant, of course, that Contador would not be able to defend his yellow jersey.  But, even worse, from Astana's point of view, was that the ban would, in essence, destroy the team.

Bruyneel realized he had to show the UCI that Astana could take care of its own doping problems. So--quelle coincidence!--Damsgaard just happened to find "abnormal values" in Gusev's blood.  The good doctor informed the kindly directeur sportif--who, putting the good of the team and the sport above all else, fired Gusev.

He made the announcement in the middle of a broadcast on Belgian TV, where he was a commentator for its Tour de France coverage.

That went down nearly five years before Lance Armstrong made his confession.  During those years--and before, when Lance was winning seven consecutive Tours--accusations of doping swirled around him.  Now, I am not going to take a stand on Lance.  However, I do believe that it was hypocritical, to say the least, for the UCI to look the other way while Lance was winning the Tour but to, essentially, get Gusev to drop his suit against them so that he could continue his cycling career.

Then again, as loath as I am to defend the UCI, the organization looks pristine compared to Bruyneel, who--from all of the testimony we've heard so far--enabled Armstrong, Contador and other riders' doping but hung Gusev out to dry.

Today, Gusev is riding for the Skydive Dubai Cycling Team.  It's good to see that he's still "in the game" but, at age 33, his best years are probably behind him.  It's enough to make one wonder what sort of rider he might have become had he not gone two years (2008-2010) without racing, just when his star should have been ascending.  Perhaps we'd be hearing more about him than about a couple of other riders Bruyneel managed.

(In the near future, I will write about another Gusev who also has a connection with cycling, or at least with bicycles.)

Lance Or The Donald?

A few weeks ago, in a comment on one of my posts, a reader mentioned "he who must not be named", or something to that effect. 

That commenter was referring to Lance Armstrong.



This morning, I got into my first conversation with someone I've seen around the neighborhood for years.  We were in a Dunkin' Donuts. (shh...Don't tell anyone!)  I was sitting at a two-seat table; the only remaining seat was across from mine. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Why should I?"

So we got to talking about one thing and another, including music.  She thinks hip-hop is just awful.  It isn't my style, I explained, but I understand why some, especially the young have taken to it.  

"Why?  It's so mean and nasty."

"Exactly.  People are scared, anxious, confused--and angry.  And a lot of their anger comes from feeling that they have no control."

"But why would people choose something like that to express it?"

"The same reason why people vote for Donald Trump..."

She stopped me. "You simply must not say that man's name!"





I'm sure she's not the only one who's reacted that way to hearing about The Donald, just as my commentor probably isn't the first person to say that the one who's been stripped of seven Tour de France titles must not be named.

That got me to wondering:  Who's more unmentionable:  Lance or Donald?  Who would score lower in a public opinion poll?

Why Should Cyclists Care About The FIFA Scandal?

In a previous post, I mentioned that the worlds of cycling and what most of the world calls “football” (but most Americans call “soccer”) are so close but never quite meet.  Some of the world’s most cycling-intensive nations also happen to be football powerhouses and some countries in the Americas are emerging in both.  (The US has elite athletes and teams in both sports but, on the whole, isn’t quite on the level of, say, Belgium, Italy, Spain, France or England in either one.)  I got to thinking about the relationship between the two sports again in light of FIFA’s current troubles.

Although I'm not as avid about them as I once was, I still love sports.  I have competed in three (wrestling, soccer and, of course, cycling) and have been a cyclist in one form or another for most of my life.  I even wrote about sports for a small local newspaper.  To this day, some of the things of which I’m most proud are things I’ve done in athletic pursuits. 

I must also point out that I have never participated in any athletic endeavor for money.  That doesn’t make me more virtuous or prove my love of sports or much of anything else.  However, I also realize that having always been an amateur—and having participated in sports that, at the times I was involved with them, offered few opportunities for scholarships, let alone professional careers—I never had an incentive to cheat.  Nor did most of those I competed with and against.  Likewise, my coaches and others involved in officiating contests or administering programs in which I was involved were not tempted by the prospect of payoffs or bribes of one kind or another.

That perspective—and my experience writing about sports—helped me to understand that when money, especially large sums of it, are involved, the attitude of everyone involved with sport changes.  It’s almost trite to say that money corrupts, and large sums corrupt in major ways.  To be more exact, the prospect of a large payoff exposes avarice that might lay dormant in the absence of lucre.

What I find ironic is that nearly every fan of any professional sport acknowledges that corruption exists, at whatever level, but he or she is almost invariably shocked when that corruption is exposed.  For all the whispers that Lance Armstrong, the Festina team and any number of other riders and teams were doping, when that doping was exposed or confessed, fans expressed a sense of betrayal.  Likewise, nearly every soccer/football fan believes that the sport’s officials and governing bodies are corrupt. (Most people also have the same sense about Olympic organizations.)  But some still said the equivalent of “no…really” when Sepp Blatter and others were implicated in various kinds of graft related to the awarding of the World Cup to the countries that hosted the tournament.

 

One interesting difference I’ve noticed between cycling and football/soccer is that in cycling, the investigations, accusations and crackdowns have focused on individual cyclists and teams, while in football, prosecutors’ sights have been set on the governing bodies and top-level officials.  Of course, one reason for that is that the scandals in cycling have had mainly to do with doping, or allegations thereof, while those in football have had to do with kickbacks and awarding tournaments to countries. 

Why has relatively little attention been paid to cycling’s governing bodies?  Surely, their officials must have known about doping, or the rumors of it.  It’s also hard not to imagine that in the administration of cycling, there are money scandals and nepotism similar to what is found in FIFA and football’s governing bodies in individual countries.  I mean, if corrupt officials can take bribes to allow Russia or Qatar or some other country to host the World Cup, it’s hard not to believe that similar (though smaller-scale) deals are made so that cities can host stages of multi-day races or for facilities to be built for cycling.  Likewise, if cyclists are doping and their teams and sponsors are pressuring them to do so, who’s to say that something similar isn’t happening in football?  After all, as in cycling, the world’s best athletes are competing in it, and the difference between victory or relegation could be laid to something as seemingly trivial as whether a key performer drank one glass too many or too few of water on the day of the competition.

And, as I have mentioned, there is a lot of money riding on the siting as well as the outcomes of competitions in both sports.  The incentives exist for cheating and corruption, and are so similar in so many ways in cycling and football.  But, in that regard, as in so many other aspects, the worlds of the two sports are so close but somehow manage not to meet.