There was a time I followed bicycle racing. It was an exciting sport to watch in person, if only from a turn or two. Comes along a Texan with superhuman powers. Lance. We groupies all loved him. I read his book--inspirational about beating cancer.
But now this:
http://www.independent.co.uk/sport/general/others/cycling-usada-claim-conclusive-and-undeniable-proof-in-doping-allegations-involving-lance-armstrong-8205794.htmlHeroes (or models), sports and otherwise, are flawed, some more so. I take back my admiration, my interest, my pride in anything anybody represented for me or "my country" on a bike. And I take it back from Lance, who now seems more sinister than ever because of his silence. His consistent denials and protests were what Shakespeare claimed more cleverly--Guilty. Until the next go round.
However, there doesn't seem to be another in the offing--unless it is a bestseller confessional which would be typically opportunistic, typically--pathologically--over-competitive. Thoroughly dastardly.
New sayings to comfort us in our disillusion.
- Americans who beat thy chests, get over thyselves.
- One testicle doth not diminish a man's testosterone, or audacity.
