OCD'n on the OTB

After days of hand-wringing over amazon's ever-shifting ship dates, I decided to put a copy of the Floyd Landis book on reserve at my "local" Borders. I figured, at least I can get it on the 26th if amazon really was going to push shipping back to July. Lo and behold, I get the e-mail saying the book is there at Borders, ready and waiting for me to pick it up. I call, and ask the guy at least five times if he's sure I can pick it up today. (Borders is almost an hour and a half away for us boonie-folk, I need guarantees.) He says yes, he's looking at it, it'll be right there behind the counter for me. I finish out my work day, and off I go to the city. Yes, I'm avoiding the title, Positively False - I hate it, and I'm not in love with the cover art. I always thought One Tough Bitch would be the perfect title, but I guess Arlene wouldn't want that on the coffee table. But the hard cover, underneath the jacket, is pure yellow, you go Floyd!

I'm just about to turn into the mall, when NPR is doing a little satire about how it will be when Barry Bonds breaks the home run record. It's clever enough, but I'm flexing my stomach muscles, waiting for the punch, I know it's coming. And sure enough, their big finish - Floyd Landis presides over the on-field ceremony, in lieu of the Commissioner. You know, even if Floyd actually doped that would sting. As it is, it burns. And I know it shouldn't, it's just people being stupid, but it's not right, they shouldn't be in the same sentence. Anyway, not the point of the story, so I'll move on. But suffice it to say it left me even more primed.

Fair warning: if you want to have your own personal first experience with this book, read no further. And if you're averse to overwrought sentimental goo, well, what are you doing here in the first place? I walk into Borders, with plans to hit the restroom first (did I mention it was a long drive?). But along the way I have to check the new release stacks, see if the book is actually sitting out there, not just hiding behind the counter. (I'm still not convinced they're going to give me this book, though I'm sure I'm not leaving the store without it.) And there it is, tidy little stack. Who knew? Of course I pick it up immediately and start paging through. And the tears start coming. Not actually streaming down my face, but a hard blink could get that going at any moment.

The pictures bring actual sniffles, right alongside laughs (the captions are a hoot). The earnest young boy, the Postal days, with Amber, with Ryan (please, tear my heart right out of my chest, I don't need it), with a walker last fall. And then I notice the photo credits, and my heart breaks just a little more, because it's all of these precious family moments. The final photo just about brought me to my knees - Floyd in yellow on the stage podium, flanked by Hinault and Merckx, and looking straight at Amber, who is taking the picture. I manage to read a few more passages, then realize I really do have to make that pit stop, now also to compose myself a bit.

I realize I'm not going to make it to the movies as planned (hey, we don't get to the city often, it's usually best to multi-task). No way I'll be able to forget about the book and enjoy the movie. I wander around, pick up a CD, then check out and get my reserved copy. And stand in the foyer of the store and read it. And go sit in my car and read it. I'm blind in one eye, so I'm already vehicular-ly challenged, thus I resist the urge to read it while driving home. Not that I actually considered it, of course, but I had to laugh as the thought passed through my mind. I glance over to it, though, making sure it's still there on the long drive home.

Anyone who shrugs this book off as ho-hum boilerplate has no soul. Er, I mean to say, perhaps has interests other than cycling. You see, we who are obsessed always want more, and are enthralled by every new detail. We watch at least six hours of the Tour a day in July. We see our boys ride, eat, drink, warm-up, cool-down - if the cameras aren't paying attention, we even see them pee occasionally. But we want it all - we want to know what they were saying to each other, at breakfast, during the stage, on the bus, at dinner, over booze and Johnny Cash. We want to hear about the endearing Amber-Floyd courtship - when two OTBs collide. We want to hear about the lean days, the training days, the heartbreak days, the wear-a-suit days, the hometown love. You know, we heard a lot about Floyd's "choice of company" after The Call. But take a look beyond that, and you see a pretty extraordinary group of people that Floyd chose and that chose Floyd - from his parents, to Amber, and right on down - strong, straightforward, take-no-crap people who know what's what.

Alright, now I have to actually go read the thing cover to cover, but I think I can safely say this so far - you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cringe (Will), you'll wince (Lance), you'll cheer, you'll hiss (guess who), you'll see TBV immortalized in print, and generally satisfy your itch. I don't know if this book will make it beyond the choir, but I certainly hope so, because folks could learn a thing or two, and wouldn't that be refreshing.

How Do You Spell Panache?

As the raids and accusations continue to fly, let's look forward. There's hope that the current difficulties are ushering in a new, cleaner era of cycling. So what does a clean Tour winner look like in this rosy future? Hmmm, a consistent rider, using measured efforts and tactical moves. Stays with the leading group in the mountains, but doesn't fly so far ahead that he can file his nails and still win the stage. In fact, he doesn't fly at all, he just rolls along, grinding it out day after day. Maybe he wins one or two stages, with one or two big efforts, and then is just consistent for the rest of the race. He's even likely to have one bad day, it's only natural, a big stage race wears you down.

Oh wait - we had that, last year, and his name was Floyd Landis, and people bitched that he had no panache. Make up your mind, folks, do you want it real or do you want it pretty? But let's set aside that question for now, and review how real it was for Floyd: he took yellow the first time by coming in 3rd on the stage. He knew that he and his team were human, so he let the jersey go on a leisurely stroll that would've seen him eliminated from the race if he didn't have the entire peloton with him. He regained the jersey by coming in 4th on the glory stage up L'Alpe d'Huez. Then he promptly lost it again on the aforementioned bad day. Definitely not pretty there. He got his one stage win with a solid effort as the peloton filed their nails. The final TT saw him regain yellow by coming in 3rd. If ever there was a picture of a non-doping winner, it's Floyd. (Yes, you've caught me with my hand in the cookie jar again, watching my DVDs of the 2006 Tour - all 12 hours.)

That one stage win, of course, was Floyd's brief flirtation with panache - hailed as brilliant tactics one day and held up as proof positive of a cheat the next. I remember 17 well, I couldn't tear myself away and when I arrived late at work, I happily proclaimed that I had just seen the greatest day of cycling in recent history. So I'm the last one who wants to break up the party, but in the cold light of day, the racing itself wasn't that spectacular. It was very emotionally satisfying, and a hell of a ride by Floyd - the descents were mind-boggling - but until CSC woke up before the final climb, there wasn't much racing going on.

After bridging up to the breakaway, Floyd noodled around with them for a little bit, catching his breath and looking for allies. He soon got back to his steady pace, but had company for quite a while. He was with one or more riders from that breakaway for two hours. He was alone again only on the final climb and descent, with about 24K to go, and for less than an hour. Meanwhile, the rest of the field was playing the Life cereal game - you chase him, no you chase him, I'm not gonna chase him. It wasn't until just 48K left to go when they finally found their Mikey - Jens "I'll chase anything" Voigt, god bless him. One imagines they had to strap him to another rider to keep him from going before then; I'd love to know what he was saying under his breath all those dreary miles. Probably something like, "Carlos could wrap this thing up today if they'd just let us drop the rest of these lazy bums now…" So the chase began, and lo and behold, the gap went down - sorry Dick, no Harleys here, just some really lame tactics.

Even USADA gave up the idea that 17 was some superhuman ride propelled by Testosterone. No, their theory was that Floyd took T throughout the race, in micro-doses, to recover. Yeah, that must be why he bonked miserably in 16. Oops, forgot to take it last night - I know, I'll take it before the parade stage into Paris, just to make up the dose.

Mr. Suh and Mr. Jacobs are still finalizing their summaries for the arbs, presumably. I think they should toss in the Tour DVD set for good measure. With all the science and the rhetoric and the legal tactics and the easy jokes at Floyd's expense, it seems many have lost sight of just what went on over there in France last July. And that is, Floyd took a dead hip and a less-than-ideal team and endured a grueling three weeks of racing in a steady, workman-like fashion with great skill and great humility. I don't know if that's panache, but I'd put him on my Wheaties box any day.


Random notes on reliving Le Tour: plenty of laughs, especially with the ever-dry duo of Gary Imlach and Chris Boardman hosting, but a few heartbreakers: Floyd in a "borrowed suit" for his hip press conference - those were the days! Axel Merckx working like a dog to attain his dream of helping a Tour winner; I hope he still considers that dream fulfilled. Floyd just so damn happy after the final TT. I hope he can still find that somewhere in the echoes of his mind.

Diamonds and Stones

"A diamond is a diamond and a stone is a stone, but man is part good and part bad.
I recognize the fact that I'm part good and part bad."

That was Johnny Cash on 60 Minutes many years ago, in the first line paraphrasing a Roy Orbison tune, in the second line owning up to his manifestation of it. Johnny Cash's whole life is a profound lesson in acceptance and forgiveness, and his crystallization of it there has had a lasting effect on me. And so we continue the discussion alluded to in the previous post - the flood of admissions this week by members of Team Telekom in the '90s. (See Cyclingnews for extensive coverage.) I suppose Riis is the bigger fish, but it was Rolf Aldag and Erik Zabel that had the biggest impact on me. (Side note to Basso: g'head, you can have a confession do-over, but make it quick. We have the retired and the soon-to-retire, you can lead the charge for the young and active.)

The irony of it is, all during the Ten Days de Floyd Landis, I kept meaning to take a break and watch Hell on Wheels, as relief, as a reminder of what I love about cycling. And I tell you what - I watched it Thursday night, after Erik and Rolf's confession, and it still did just that. It was more poignant, watching Zabel wistfully lament about being a step too slow, watching Aldag gently sift through his newly-acquired polka-dot jerseys and softly talk about paying for each dot with a year of his life. But it was also a solid reminder of how much the drugs don't change - these are still highly-trained and highly-talented amazing athletes who go through indescribable pain and suffering over the course of a Grand Tour, let alone a career. Hell on Wheels should be required viewing for any member of the ignorant general public who wants to make snide comments about cyclists.

I don't know how one could watch Hell on Wheels without falling in love with cycling and the Tour. And without falling in love with Aldag and Zabel. Roommates for a dozen or so years, their mutual love, admiration, and gratitude comes shining through in the film as a moving testament to the team aspect of cycling. Zabel pulled out of Catalunya to join Aldag at his press conference on Thursday. I have to think Zabel, whose EPO use was much more limited, simply didn't want to let Aldag go it alone. One of the more moving passages in Hell on Wheels is Zabel talking about how much Aldag sacrificed for him, and how humbled Zabel was by it. Zabel is the bigger name, and still an active rider, so it was a shock to see that he was there on Thursday too, but also fitting, and comforting to see them side by side again, supporting each other through a rough day.

I think the horrible irony of all this is the question of how much the drugs really change the overall results. Does it just re-level the playing field and the best still win? Joe Papp took everything under the sun and didn't reach the top tier. Basso and Ullrich still didn't beat Lance. If you think Lance doped, do you really think he had a secret stash of some new Wonder Drug that no one else had? For seven years? We have yet to know the full story of the 2006 Giro, but 2nd-place Gutierrez is a Puerto guy, too, and Basso still beat him by nine minutes. All of these top cyclists showed their talent and promise as teenagers, before - if you want to be the most cynical about it - they could afford drugs. And they all trained hard, and suffered hard, and battled with every fiber of their being. Of course the clean riders in the peloton have more than a legitimate gripe about who suffered more, and so be it, but nobody skates by to win a Grand Tour. In terms of what it takes to be a top racer, and what goes into winning a Tour, drugs are just a wave, they're not the water.

The point is not to say all is forgiven, but to acknowledge that these are not "dopers," some evil other, they are human beings, part good and part bad. Many of them with some very redeeming qualities and much still to give to the sport of cycling. I was encouraged to hear that so far, Aldag at T-Mobile (with the full support of his riders) and Christian Henn at Gerolsteiner are keeping their jobs, and that both companies as well as Milram plan on honoring their sponsorship agreements. Zabel's future with Milram is uncertain, but T-Mobile has said they will welcome him back if need be. The general cycling knowledge and experience of these riders is valuable, but so too can they be valuable in the fight against doping. Apologies for the comparison, but it's like ex-cons helping kids on the street avoid the bad choices they made. You need someone who's been there, who knows what that choice looks like, and what the personal consequences are of making the wrong ones.

One of those insights into suffering in Hell on Wheels comes when Zabel and his endearing mother-hen of a soigneur Eule describe the process of taking a brush to road rash. The rider scrapes the wound raw to let it bleed. They can use ointment as an alternative, but it takes longer and isn't quite as effective. The scraping is insanely painful, but lets all the bad stuff come out and the healing begins. Well, you see where I'm going with this - what's happening in cycling right now is painful for the riders, the teams, and the fans. But it seems that some bad stuff is finally starting to get out, and only then can we even think about starting to heal and save the sport we all love so dearly.

When The Walls

From the Floyd Landis case, to Bjarne Riis' press conference, and all that fell in between, I couldn't help but have Mellencamp running through my head this week, as any number of walls came tumblin', tumblin'.

The walls of LNDD, as we left the sillier conspiracy theories behind and got some concrete evidence on the startling incompetence and inexperience of those who would decide the fate of world-class athletes. Even if they believe they got the right guy, and even if they won't clean up for the sake of the athletes, maybe they will yet clean up, if only to avoid having their incompetence be such a credible defense for those accused in the future. (And, as an added bonus, not so many will be accused!)

The walls of WADA, wherein everyone is expected to be a good citizen and toe the party line, damn the consequences, full speed ahead. Catlin's unabashed candor on this issue was intriguing to say the least.

The walls of Will Geoghegan's life. I'm afraid I don't have the open heart of Paul Landis, Will gets little sympathy from me for his horrendous act. But I wonder if he can ever recover mentally, so devastating was his blow to his longtime friend. The damage it did still leaves me dumbfounded; I imagine Will curled up in a ball somewhere for some time to come.

Floyd's got some pretty strong walls, we'll have to see how that one shakes out. Next week, as the intensity of the hearing wears off, will surely bring a flood of issues and emotions pushed away in the immediacy of the battle. Butch Reynolds' walls crumbled under similar circumstances and it was some time before he built them back up.

The walls of doping - these are falling so fast I hesitate to post, wondering what new confession will have missed the wire. Joe Papp's testimony in the Landis hearing was ridiculed by many as irrelevant to the case and a sacrifice of Mr. Papp to USADA's cause. Whatever the case may be on all that, it was still an important glimpse into current doping practices, and something we need to hear more of.

While we're on the subject of Papp, a few words about TBV and Bill Hue. It's been said ad nauseam, but I don't think it can be said enough - their work, especially during the hearing, was invaluable. I got cranky with Bill and his dancing monkey, as one does with a traveling companion after being together in a car for days on end. But it was a passing thing, on both sides, and what I am left with is overwhelming gratitude and awe for what both he and TBV did, and continue to do.

In one of those bizarre twists of fate, I found this on the inside cap to a bottle of iced tea I had recently:

"Success without honor is an unseasoned dish; it will satisfy your hunger, but it won't taste good." - Joe Paterno

Some found Floyd's similar reasoning in his testimony to be trite, but it rang true to me. And I couldn't help but think of Joe Pa's sentiments in relation to USADA, who relied so heavily on The Call in their closing statement. Is that really how they want to win this case, would that really taste good? We have seen in recent days that some don't seem to much mind the taste, and felt it was the only dish on the menu. But for more on that, I'm going to have to make like Rant and do a two-fer today.

I Remember Mama

I never intended for this blog to *all* be about cycling, it's just worked out that way so far (can you say special interest?). So, on this Mother's Day, I remember my Mama, ten years gone, with a piece I wrote about her some years before she passed.

Not Even By A Diamond

“Her beauty is outshone only by the diamond on her left hand,” read her nursing school yearbook. Some thirty years later, the beauty still shines through. Her silver hair is swept up into a bun, with a wisp or two escaping to frame the delicate features of her face. Her skin is smooth and has a healthy glow about it. She has a bright smile and her warm eyes are not hidden by the reading glasses propped on her nose. The bun and glasses may bring to mind a grandmother, and she has been one for a year now, but a kindly old woman she is most definitely not. Kind, yes -- a loving and giving family woman, but her young face and slim body show that she is an active, vibrant woman as well.

Though short by most standards, she carries herself with a graceful confidence and is a strong presence wherever she goes. She is intelligent and knowledgeable; her soft, clear voice maneuvers deftly through both difficult and fun conversation. Her hands have worked hard in the garden, house, and office, but are still soft and smooth. They have provided years of gentle comfort to fevered brows and broken hearts, as well as strong support for faltering steps and frightening moments. She has saved countless lives, in the emergency room or wherever she was needed. With her husband, she raised five fine young adults and maintains a big, beautiful house and property. She is by no means done with all this yet. She will continue to nurture her family, home, and self, as well as enrich all the lives she touches. As her son said at Christmas dinner, “She’s a constant inspiration to us all,” much more precious than any diamond.

A New Dick In Town

Moby, that is. Sorry, Floyd, I know you didn't want this to be the story from your press conference, but it's hard to let it pass without comment. Not a bombshell really, but provides some unpleasant insight into the motives and tactics of Travis Tygart (or whoever is whispering in his ear). I've been trying to keep an open mind on Tygart, because he hasn't yet been able to speak for himself, so I'll listen when he does get that chance. Having said that, right now it's looking something like this:

Tygart: Floyd Landis, you've just doped to win the Tour de France, the biggest race in cycling, but we don't really care, we just want to get that Lance guy, the one who worked his ass off and brought positive attention and a legion of new fans to a great sport and never tested positive for anything and who doesn't even race anymore. So we'll let you get off with a month suspension, a month you of course wouldn't be riding anyway, 'mkay? We may not actually win a case against him, because your testimony will be torn apart as that of a man trying to save his own career, but at least someone will be casting aspersions on Lance again, because, you know, it's been a while, we miss it.

Now, I don't know if Tygart is the Ahab in this scenario, or if he was just the messenger for someone else's unhealthy obsession, but either way, it calls into question their tactics and motivation. Is this why they're playing such hardball, trying to bleed Floyd dry and obscure evidence? So he will finally break and give them what they want? Is this the only reason they're pursuing a weak case? I'll answer this one myself, it would appear to be the reason they went after those FFF records, looking for hush money I suppose. As if.

I understand pursuing a case with vigor. Maybe we'll hear differently next week, but all indications have been that the ADAs have gone well beyond vigor in this case. I understand wanting to get at suppliers, compliant team directors or doctors or whatnot. That's all important, and I'm fine with deals being made to get at the larger truths about doping in cycling. But a month for cheating to win the Tour? To get at a retired guy? That just smacks of desperation. Mind you, I don't think Floyd cheated, and I don’t think Lance cheated. I'm just talking about the ADA perspective, and how blinded and irrational it appears to be.

As Lance has become resigned to, there will always be questions. But why does that have to be so? There has always been a simple explanation for Lance's success - he was more meticulous, more willing to suffer, and worked harder than everyone else - 365 days a year - indeed, to a fault, but it made him a winner. Wayne Gretzgy, Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan, Roger Federer - those who stand head and shoulders above the rest is nothing new, nor unique to cycling. The commonality among these, Lance included - certain physical gifts, an uncanny ability to see the playing field, and by all accounts, each are/were the first to arrive and the last to leave the "practice field."

If someone wins by a mile and doesn't show all of those characteristics, that bears a second look. And as we've seen this week, that may well be the result of cheating. But if there is no evidence, and there are logical explanations, what is the obsession about? Where does that venom come from? Internal politics beyond me, no doubt. But it makes you look pretty silly to the outside observer.

Oh yeah, Floyd talked about his case too. Censuring Pound - symbolic, but I'm glad they're doing it, the man just shouldn't be allowed to get away with such outrageous statements. Sticking with the science and not the show - I certainly hope so. Team Landis has used the show too much as of late, I'm glad they're planning on getting down to brass tacks next week. The danger of whipping the faithful into a frenzy is that everyone's on about the kangaroo court and leaving the science behind. Improper procedure is important, but the facts are the most important. If you have a cool customer like Tygart explaining things away and sounding rational (wild deals aside), you need to calm down and go toe to toe on the facts. Here's hoping it gets back to that next week, as Floyd has indicated he wants it to. One gets the idea that Floyd is the one calming his team down, not the other way around. Stop. Look. Listen. Breathe. Here we go…

Update: As it turns out, it appears Tygart did not mention Lance by name, see Floyd's actual statement at TBV. It may have been clear that Tygart intended to include Lance in the cyclists he was speaking of, but still, the offer was not as stark as it first appeared in news reports. This just underscores my call for caution and trying to avoid tunnel vision. It's hard, when it all seems so unjust you can't stand it, but it's a trap that must be avoided, especially by Floyd's team.

Patience

Another Manic Monday has me ruminating on patience…

Floyd Landis - One can hardly ask Floyd to have patience these days, but I do marvel at how much of it he has displayed. I don't know how he does it, I picture him pounding pillows to a pulp every night when he gets home or something, but he manages to present a steady, self-assured, and good-natured self at event after event. It's easy to say getting angry and bitter doesn't do any good, but much easier said than done, so good on him for that. Keeping all that in mind, I do hope he and his team are careful about how they lash out at the system. They're getting royally screwed by certain individuals, and naturally and justifiably come out swinging. But I hope they take care not to paint everyone with the same brush. I'm not suggesting he kiss anyone's ass, but at least leave some room for some of the less rabid people involved to save face and come around to your position.

Fair-weather fans - you know, the ones that throw up their hands and say they're through with professional cycling - I've never had any patience for them, but I wish they had the patience to still love cycling. Oh well, their loss I guess. If you truly love the sport, the doping stuff is very painful, but you should also be able to see that there is still plenty of beauty, excitement, and tradition to enjoy every week. Despite an unfortunately-named show on an unfortunately-named channel, I laughed my ass off this weekend watching the Tour of Georgia and L-B-L, the racing was that fun. I could try to name everything I love about cycling, but suffice it to say, it's all still there if you just learn to take the good with the bad. Deal with the bad, sure, but don't let that bathwater keep you from years of joy with the baby.

The so-called authorities - some of them appear to be blinded by impatience in their quest to get all the bad guys. They leak results, take preliminary findings and run with them, and treat the accused with bitter disdain and utter unfairness before a case even begins. If they would only step back and take a breath, they might find themselves wondering where all these baseball players came from. I know, bad irony, baseball, but really, it fits so well. Those of us on the Kevin Costner side of things see it so clearly, and can't for the life of us figure out why the Timothy Busfields (calling Mr. Pound, Mr. McQuaid, perhaps Mr. Tygart?) don't have a clue.

Dopers - yeah, it's tempting to get all high and mighty and say they should be banished from the earth forever, but in the end, it's just sad. Sad that some with obvious natural talent lack the patience to ride on training and preparation alone, to rush what very well may have come to them cleanly. I don't know if Basso falls here or not, seeing how wrong the press can be, who knows what the actual facts are. But stepping away from the Tour quietly last year, and stepping away from Discovery quietly now, it's disheartening. Regardless of what happened in between, he showed great promise as a young rider, and showed great class and teamwork at the Tour of California this year, so it would be a crying shame if he didn't just let that carry him through a great career.

Johan Bruyneel - the Basso decision aside, what a gift it is to cycling and the fans that Johan has a great eye for promising young riders, and the patience to let them develop properly.

Levi Leipheimer - He could've curled up into a whiny ball when Discovery unceremoniously shifted him from the leader spot. But instead he showed his class, talent, and determination and let the riding speak for itself. Godspeed for a safe and healthy journey from now through July, can't wait to see what he does at the Tour.

Some will smile and snicker about how Levi's patience has paid off, how he must be relishing his restoration as top dog. But however much he's never stopped gunning for the Tour, I can't imagine he's happy today. He gained new respect for and friendship with Basso in California, and he loves cycling, and all of us who love cycling struggled with yet another tough day.