posted on October 19, 2012 00:00
American icon, hero, survivor, inspiration…
Tragic figure, hypocrite, liar, cheat…
Pick your list of adjectives, but they both describe the same man, Lance Armstrong. I would also add smug, condescending, pompous asshole for good measure. His castle is crumbling and I personally enjoy watching old tetherball take a fall. My opinion and words are worth about as much as “hope and change” are now, 4-years later, but they are mine and I’m about to spew (great word) them.
Sure, old Lance’s battle back from testicular cancer to the top of the cycling mountain, literally, was as inspirational a story as there’s been in humanity, much less sports. I admire the fuck out of that man’s wherewithal and determination, which FAR exceeds what I’ve got in my crooked-ass pinky. What he went through was heroic and to rise to the level of competition he was able to afterward is most admirable. Except for one little thing – he cheated.
He cheated like a motherfucker and now looks as bad as Barry Bonds, Ryan Braun or Roger Clemons ever did. Not because of the fact that he cheated in the high level sporting profession. Shit, I’ve done a column about that and clearly expressed my desire to juice them all the fuck up if they have no problem with the potential ramifications to their own bodies. Regardless of what we’re led to believe, professional sports is still rife with performance enhancing drug use, with nobody being guiltier than the cycling community.
My problem lies in his “holier than thou” attitude of being better than all of those who got caught and his adamant denial in the face of the ever-mounting evidence. His asshol-edness as a teammate is well documented, so it should hardly surprise any of us. But to stand up there, high and mighty, ala the aforementioned baseball players and a particular cigar-sodomizing former President, pointing your fucking finger and proclaiming innocence – well, you can kiss my white ass.
The kicker with the Armstrong deal is that the argument can be made that the very act of his cheating likely aided tremendously in raising enormous amounts of funds for cancer research from the “Livestrong” foundation that he just stepped down as chairman of in shame…well, not really, the man has none.
Had Lance still beat cancer and returned to moderate success in cycling, his story may have hit “30 for 30” or a nice little segment on “60-Minutes”. And hell, his foundation may still have gotten up and running, with very good results. But the fact that he won SEVEN now stripped Tour de France titles after such an incredible, and highly tainted, comeback is what drove that foundation to epic heights. It’s the reason 87% of the world now wears some form of silicone bracelet on their fucking wrist, if not the yellow one that started the whole thing.
So how do you assess the damage? Do you get pissed off knowing now the incredible success the foundation turned out to be? No, how the hell could you? Who could be angry at money going to help very sick people, children included? Not even my dick ass can turn an eye to that. But we can be angry at the lie that unfolded.
Again, I’m not angry that he cheated. But, for all that he has done to promote awareness and generate money for the cause, a heartfelt apology would’ve gone a LONG way and certainly garnered him far more forgiveness than venom. Shit, he could’ve even expressed his motivation to keep using being the unbelievable outpouring of support and attention it brought to his cause, provided he actually believed that.
Part of that may very well even be true, but we’ll never know. Instead, this smug little Lilliputian prick stared at me like that hill-jack from Arkansas did, full well knowing his Presidential dick of a syringe had gone right in the fat mouth of that White House intern that was Professional Cycling. He had his shot and he blew it (no pun intended), on SEVERAL occasions, each time digging the denial hole even deeper as the truth became ever more apparent.
When a lie lives so long, it grows that much harder to kill. Ask Pete Rose, ask Bill Clinton and ask my soft, gentle college roommate from 1990. Denial is a germ and it spreads like the false hope of an up and coming young candidate. It will make you rue the caricature you’ve become and regret not consummating that undeniable, drunken attraction on a filthy mattress on the floor of a dorm room back in the day…but I’ve said too much again.
Lance Armstrong is not the first “hero” to falsely portray himself as some kind of goddamned saint only to let us down in the end and he certainly won’t be the last. I was never caught up in his bullshit web and saw this coming a mile away. The best thing is that he did raise a lot of money and awareness for cancer research. The worst thing is that his sham also got him into Sheryl Crow’s lovely little panties, and that’s just pure bullshit.
“I want to ride my BI-cycle, I want to ride my BIKE”…KMFP-out!
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