Way to go Lance... you shmuck.

I have been a cycling fan for a long time. I mean, a LONG time. Way before Lance Armstrong, way before it was either fashionable or cool, like it will be again in 5-10 years after Lance has vanished from the scene. You see as a kid in Junior High School and High School, I grew so damn fast and was so gawky and uncoordinated that cycling was about all I could do as a sport. Sure, every couple of years I convinced myself to be a total fool and try out for the baseball team, but I could get on a bike and ride... 25... 50... 100... 200 miles and more. So, while I tried to race and never was that good at it, I competed against myself daily and loved nearly every minute of it.

Someday soon I am going to buy a new bike and pick it up again.

But for now, I am getting sidetracked.

I wanted to write for a moment today about Lance. Yeah, Lance Effing Armstong, he greatest cyclist in the history of the sport. The dude who invented those annoying yellow bracelets, overcame the worst possible odds to beat testicular and brain cancer and won the Tour De France SEVEN times as of today. Way to go buddy, enjoy the champagne that will undoubtedly flow freely tonight, you have certainly earned it.



I personally became a Lance fan after reading his novel: “It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life.” Well, I didn’t *read* it, I listened to the unabridged audio book, but it’s all the same. Anyhow, I had been out of the sport a while, and other than the fact that he dominated cycling like Jordan dominated basketball, I didn’t know that much about his personal story. After reading the book I was really amazed, really impressed and so inspired by him.

Here’s a review from Amazon.com written by Jill Lightner, and it really was spot-on.

People around the world have found inspiration in the story of Lance Armstrong--a world-class athlete nearly struck down by cancer, only to recover and win the Tour de France, the multiday bicycle race famous for its grueling intensity. Armstrong is a thoroughgoing Texan jock, and the changes brought to his life by his illness are startling and powerful, but he's just not interested in wearing a hero suit. While his vocabulary is a bit on the he-man side (highest compliment to his wife: "she's a stud"), his actions will melt the most hard-bitten souls: a cancer foundation and benefit bike ride, his astonishing commitment to training that got him past countless hurdles, loyalty to the people and corporations that never gave up on him. There's serious medical detail here, which may not be for the faint of heart; from chemo to surgical procedures to his wife's in vitro fertilization, you won't be spared a single x-ray, IV drip, or unfortunate side effect. Athletes and coaches everywhere will benefit from the same extraordinary detail provided about his training sessions--every aching tendon, every rainy afternoon, and every small triumph during his long recovery is here in living color. It's Not About the Bike is the perfect title for this book about life, death, illness, family, setbacks, and triumphs, but not especially about the bike.

Especially impressive was his relationship with his mother, Linda Armstrong Kelly and his girlfriend turned wife, Kristin. The one thing I remember clearly was that when Lance Armstrong was a younger bicycle-racing stud, he was a real asshole. I knew those types from the bike stores and the local races, egotistical bastards - the better the rider, the bigger jerk they tended to be. (Like I used to say, the larger the quads, the larger the attitude - and the smaller the penis!) Apparently, not many people liked him. Not even a little bit. Not many, save for his mother who had raised him without a father being in the picture, and a girlfriend who somehow reconnected with him during his illness and stood beside him when very few would. But with the love and support of those two women and a few select friends, he made it. It seemed like a great story about enduring faith, love and friendship.

So, why am I sore at Lance? (If you don't want to read some negative comments about Mr. Armstrong, consider yourself warned and STOP READING NOW.)

I remember reading in People magazine a couple of years ago that Lance was leaving his wife and THREE kids. OK, so divorce happens. It could happen to me, so I will try not to be too judgmental. Then I watched his whole sordid thing with Cheryl Crow unfold... I felt bad for his wife and kids. I mean, why have a normal wife... when you can have a ROCK STAR wife? Then a few weeks ago, I saw his mother’s special on the discovery channel, and I was really amazed that after all she had done for him growing up as a single mom that when she finally married (remarried?) that he couldn’t take a day out of his schedule to be at her wedding.



Now, all of these pictures of Lance parading around Crow with his kids, all wearing their pretentious 10/2 crap (October 2, 1996 was the day Armstrong was dignosed with cancer), or Lance hanging with John Kerry (who is riding around in his team support vehicle) all the left-leaning politics and the schmoozing...I don’t know about the whole thing. It all looks weird, and feels weird. From asshole with a conversion to nice guy via cancer and now, it would seem, reverting to form. In the true rock star fashion he now seems to embody - just like the sponsors who dropped his ass like a hot stone when he uttered the words "brain cancer," he seem to have dropped those in his life who have sacrificed the most -- and given the most to him.

(Now granted, this is all coming from an outsider who doesn't know anything about... well, anything. However, if I am wrong, then Lance - you need to hire a new PR person, because you are really coming off like a dick, at least to me.)

So Lance, congrats on a great cycling career. I am glad you beat cancer. It's cool you dominated the Tour De France for seven years. It's nice you raise money for cancer. Maybe you should sell fewer little bracelets and donate a few of your own millions.

But you’re not a role model. You might be a great cyclist, but I don't think you’re a great human being.