Jason Atkinson: Lance Armstrong, Doping, & What It Means for the Sport I Love

When I raced in Belgium in 1992, I thought I was finally on the verge of breaking into the highest levels of cycling. I came home to Oregon, back to skiing, got run over by a bubble-gummer driving her Daddy’s Chevy Blazer and ended up in politics. Through it all, I have remained a complete lover of cycling.

As I write, the Lion of Flanders flag is a mast over my farm. I put it up for the Tour of Flanders; keep it up for the Paris–Roubaix (the greatest bike race of the season) and through the Grand Tour seasons. My son, when he was barely able to speak complete words, could say the name Paolo Bettini in perfect Italian, Paolo was the World Champion in 2006 and 2007.

I saw doping first hand. Racing on the German – Austrian border I recall seeing two Czech development riders for team Banesto take out syringes during a race and shoot up. What as amazing about this was not the openness, but the herculean speed they had about twenty minutes later. My team had four riders at the Olympic trials that year. We were not the strongest, but certainly a team deep with talent and these two dopers dropped us.

In all the reports from that era, doping was really getting widespread and more sophisticated than the rumored amphetamine use during the 1970’s. Greg LeMond, a three time tour winner, first American game changer and gun shot survivor, commented in the early 1990’s, in the waning years of his career, how cyclists were gaining incredible strength. He was openly criticized for being grumpy and past his prime, but I believed him. LeMond was a man God designed to win bike races. Even in his late 30’s, someone as good as him just does not get dropped.

Lance Armstrong and Marco Pantani

My sport has widespread doping scandals, but I remained true. The Festina mess, then Marco Pantani, “the Pirate.” I have always given the benefit of the doubt, because unlike American team sports where people are elevated with gigantic professional contracts and grow enormous egos based on them, Cyclists rarely make over $100k ($45k for a domestique in the 1990s) and in order to reach those levels cyclists spend years of countless miles training alone. Cyclist loves their sport deeply like few athletes in other sports do. There is never an off-season.

I was hit hard when Pantani was found dead in his hotel room after an overdose. He and I were almost the exact same age. I had seen him race. He was amazing. After the scandals he left cycling and fell deep into depression. I felt for him as a depressed man looking for redemption.

When the allegations surrounding Tyler Hamilton surfaced, I was among the first to sign his web-site’s

Tyler Hamilton

comments section and encourage him to stand strong. More than his Olympic victory, his solo win in the mountains during the 2003 Tour de France with a broken collarbone was perhaps the greatest testament to mind over pain and the love of cycling I had ever seen. When he made his comeback winning the US Championships by a hair’s breath, my son and I were yelling in victory at our TV.

Last night, some of the shine rubbed off as Hamilton came clean on 60 Minutes. It’s another sad day  for the sport I love and will again be a necessary cleansing agent. Other sports and their heroes – with far more money in play – are protected, but professional cycling is unique culture around the world and needs to be cleansed.

We Americans marvel and do not quite understand all the hoopla surrounding World Cup Soccer and why the teams and countries are exalted over individual players and multimillion dollar shoe contracts. In the same vein, we don’t fully appreciate professional cycling either. That is why it is hard to grapple with Lance Armstrong.

Like I have, I will remain true and give the benefit of the doubt to Lance Armstrong. I want to believe Lance did not use banned substances. I want to believe in cycling. The 60 Minutes piece was hard for me to watch, and we will all focus on the individual hero, but that is not the sport of cycling.

Five feet away, across my desk – hanging on the wall of my office – is a photo of Governor Schwarzenegger, Governor Kulongoski, myself and my son signing legislation to protect a river that my little boy is the fifth generation to grow up on. I was so proud that day and had the picture made to give my boy when the responsibility to care for the river becomes his. Just like cycling, how do I look at the picture now?

Cycling will still need its heroes next year. My river will still be there in thirty years and will still need her champions. All we want is for both to be clean and protected.