Monday, February 20, 2006
Cycling's Black Socks
No, not a post about fasion faux paus, such as those exhibited by Evgeni Berzin. Rather a consideration of something I wrote last September, following the final stages of the Vuelta:
A couple [exclamation points] added in Spain as Roberto Heras actually puts in a better time against the clock than does his rival Denis Menchov on Saturday.
Extra motivation for the wearer of the golden jersey, or Menchov finding it
increasingly difficult to recover from his exertions in the race's opening half?
Probably a little from column A and a little from column B.
Of course, now we know that the little it extra came from column EPO.
There are lots of stories out there now at the beginning of the new cycling season -- foremost among them, who will rule the sport now that Armstrong has left the scene? New teams are out there to be analyzed, new line-ups, and lingering questions about the second-year of the ProTour amid the inability of the UCI and the major tour organizers to agree how to split the spoils of cycling. But all that remains a sideshow if the sport cannot once and for all decide how to deal with drug cheats.
Seven years after the scandal of the 1998 Tour, another major tour has been tarnished with EPO. Certainly drugs aren't new to cycling. There's always Eddy Merckx's comment about races not being won on mineral water alone. And to any English-speaking fan, you've been inundated with tales of Tom Simpson since you were off training wheels. (If Lance's legacy is to keep a future generation of cyclists from ever hearing the words "Tom Simpson" again, I will gladly join the legion of his blind admirers. Hell, I'll even become a Sheryl Crow fan.)
The 1998 Tour changed the dynamic, though. It was no longer the occasional use, or drug use by a domestique, but rather the systematic doping of entire teams -- even led by the captains -- that was apparently the norm in the sport. At least that is the perception much of the public has of the problem. For all the bluster from the UCI and others -- riders especially -- not much has really changed. Every year top riders are still caught cheating -- Roberto Hera, Danilo Hondo, Tyler Hamilton -- the list goes on.
The problem, however, is not that riders continue to be caught, but rather a persistent perception that the relevant cycling authorities -- the UCI, team managers, national federations -- don't really care. Sure they'll punish transgressors when caught, but really how serious are they about changing the culture? Consider the ramifications? Each year the major tours -- at least outside of Spain -- are subject to police raids, because the appropriate authorities won't police the sport. And more importantly, the inability to clean house casts a long shadow over all those involved. Would there be persistent rumors about Lance's alleged drug use if there were not consistent confirmation of the notion that the sport's top riders are dirty.
Consider the case of the Chicago Black Sox. After a criminal investigation cleared the baseball players of any charges of colluding with underworld gamblers to throw the 1919 World Series, Judge Kennesaw Mountain Landis -- installed as the first commissioner of baseball in the wake of the scandal -- nonetheless banned the players for life. His reasoning? The mere appearance of wrongdoing had damaged the reputation of the sport, and their banishment was necessary not only to rehabilitate the sport, but to also serve as disincentive for any others so inclined. In the nearly 100 years since that decision, only one moron Major Leaguer was dumb enough to bet on baseball.
In addition to a search for a new Lance, cycling also needs to consider beginning a search for its own Judge Landis.
A couple [exclamation points] added in Spain as Roberto Heras actually puts in a better time against the clock than does his rival Denis Menchov on Saturday.
Extra motivation for the wearer of the golden jersey, or Menchov finding it
increasingly difficult to recover from his exertions in the race's opening half?
Probably a little from column A and a little from column B.
Of course, now we know that the little it extra came from column EPO.
There are lots of stories out there now at the beginning of the new cycling season -- foremost among them, who will rule the sport now that Armstrong has left the scene? New teams are out there to be analyzed, new line-ups, and lingering questions about the second-year of the ProTour amid the inability of the UCI and the major tour organizers to agree how to split the spoils of cycling. But all that remains a sideshow if the sport cannot once and for all decide how to deal with drug cheats.
Seven years after the scandal of the 1998 Tour, another major tour has been tarnished with EPO. Certainly drugs aren't new to cycling. There's always Eddy Merckx's comment about races not being won on mineral water alone. And to any English-speaking fan, you've been inundated with tales of Tom Simpson since you were off training wheels. (If Lance's legacy is to keep a future generation of cyclists from ever hearing the words "Tom Simpson" again, I will gladly join the legion of his blind admirers. Hell, I'll even become a Sheryl Crow fan.)
The 1998 Tour changed the dynamic, though. It was no longer the occasional use, or drug use by a domestique, but rather the systematic doping of entire teams -- even led by the captains -- that was apparently the norm in the sport. At least that is the perception much of the public has of the problem. For all the bluster from the UCI and others -- riders especially -- not much has really changed. Every year top riders are still caught cheating -- Roberto Hera, Danilo Hondo, Tyler Hamilton -- the list goes on.
The problem, however, is not that riders continue to be caught, but rather a persistent perception that the relevant cycling authorities -- the UCI, team managers, national federations -- don't really care. Sure they'll punish transgressors when caught, but really how serious are they about changing the culture? Consider the ramifications? Each year the major tours -- at least outside of Spain -- are subject to police raids, because the appropriate authorities won't police the sport. And more importantly, the inability to clean house casts a long shadow over all those involved. Would there be persistent rumors about Lance's alleged drug use if there were not consistent confirmation of the notion that the sport's top riders are dirty.
Consider the case of the Chicago Black Sox. After a criminal investigation cleared the baseball players of any charges of colluding with underworld gamblers to throw the 1919 World Series, Judge Kennesaw Mountain Landis -- installed as the first commissioner of baseball in the wake of the scandal -- nonetheless banned the players for life. His reasoning? The mere appearance of wrongdoing had damaged the reputation of the sport, and their banishment was necessary not only to rehabilitate the sport, but to also serve as disincentive for any others so inclined. In the nearly 100 years since that decision, only one moron Major Leaguer was dumb enough to bet on baseball.
In addition to a search for a new Lance, cycling also needs to consider beginning a search for its own Judge Landis.
