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Sin,
Sin, Sin. You're all sinners.
Burt Lancaster I. What Do We Tell The Children For the past week the Self has had the tireless interns at Chronicle World Headquarters looking for a phrase, a story, or some combination of words that would help explicate the hopeless void that exists between the collective ears of what passes for the cycling press. The laziness of this witless cohort is, we think, best demonstrated by a section in "Lance Armstrong's War" by Daniel Coyle. He is discussing a conversation with David Walsh and Walsh is recounting why he is convinced Lance uses drugs. Walsh relates that during the 1999 Tour he was listening to Lance talk about his run in with Christophe Bassons, at that time the only pure at heart and soul racer in the Tour. So, how does Walsh come to the conclusion that Lance must be using-a revelation that will drive his life and tax all his investigative skills? Imagine that a cycling reporter would relate the following without a chuckle:
The overwhelming syntactical miasma of the paragraph would itself seem sufficient to caution a six year old familiar with The Weekly Reader. But, we are talking about sports writers, a peculiar breed that believes redundancy the essence of eloquence. Thus, they write about "scoring the ball" not even bothering to notice that the only way to score a ball is to give it a distinctive mark. But luminaries as author Coyle can't be bothered with reason- that might foil the pleasing novelization of Mr. Walsh's Crusade. A writer concerned with more than whether the pre stage buffet would have fresh cream might take a moment to consider that the silliness of the products of the Crusader's years long investigation inveighed that the chapter might better have been titled "Lunatic Zealot." But no, that doesn't fit the script. Instead, he tells us that Mr. Walsh only made fifty thousand dollars from his book as if this itself proved Walsh' s selflessness and purity. The notion that perhaps the book made no money because it was so phony and devoid of provable fact never entered our salon's mind as he spent his Tour nights looking for a late night drink of Rhone. No, instead he writes that the Crusader is just because he is fortressed by the memory of a son who ratted out a classmate for throwing a spitball and thus saving the rest of the class from a teacher stare down. We will explain. There is a psycho motor anomaly in which some accident victims relate they can see spoken words in colors and forms and thus discern the speaker's honesty or sincerity, but, there is no evidence that David Walsh possesses this unique savant type affliction. So, how did Mr. Walsh come to have synesthesia, and thus the ability to know how someone FEELS by looking at words as they are spoken? We are not told; but, what we do find out is that his motives are ivory pure as his quest is all about the children; specifically it is about the tragic death of his son John in a bicycle car accident at age 12 in 1995. Now, don't send us hubristic pedantic mail about ravaging this man's tragedy. We aren't the ones using his horrific loss to justify and somehow give credulity to the gossip and bilge waste that ultimately became his fantasy tale. No, Mr. Walsh chose to use his child's death in this way-we just don't understand how telling libelous tales serves a memory. Never the less the point is why would author Coyle spend the entire Chapter 17 titled The Crusader on this nonsense? Why does he nowhere point out the vacuity of the charges, and the sheer ridiculous inanity of the entire sentence-Walsh goes on a crusade because he "senses" that Lance will not be the one to take cycling to the no drug promised land. No, Mr. Coyle tells us that Walsh is "The Crusader" but perhaps if he "took a good look, A REALLY GOOD LOOK," at the words, it would reveal a tortured soul. But, hey that would require thinking and perhaps being banned from the LeEquipe Pastry Tent. But, it is instead the state of things that the most fatuous folderol goes unchallenged so long as it is connected to being "about the children." And this was so well demonstrated by the most recent press coverage of "Sour LeMondade."
They opened a new theme park somewhere in Northern Kentucky and it has a science section proving that the Bible is all you need to know about science. This is apparently where the cycling press went to cover the Landis Hearing. The interns and staff could barely keep from spitting up their legal substitute EP No Bars when it was learned that VeloPuff was sending a "Real Sport's Attorney" to cover the Hearing. Note please that a Sports Attorney is synonym for "agent" and an antonym for "lawyer." So, as expected our aspiring "sports agent" spent his preparation time watching Jerry McQuire and dreaming of 'cycling bra models' seducing him with "you had me at 'mass spectrometry'". So, it went that VeloBuffonery reported each day that USADA says the science proved Floyd cheated and Floyd's lawyers asked boring questions that were all about science and icky stuff that had nothing to do with dinosaurs and the flood creating the Grand Canyon. Can't we get some romance into this trial! Ah, but the press came alive the day they opened a sour can of lemons. This was the stuff of movies-the kind of story that could get someone invited to jump up and down on Oprah's couch. For months USADA had derided Landis for discussing the science of this case in public. This was just not ethical. USADA, as with President Bush, just couldn't comment on a pending case. But, boy when it gets to the Hearing Floyd is going to reap the whirlwind-be caught without an echelon as it were. USADA sure provided. First, it argued that Floyd could not argue the science of the case. He could show that the "test" actually showed a normal testosterone level. No the science is settled. Why if the rules establish the test for testosterone to be that urine turns black when injected with black ink then by golly that was the approved test and not only that but if it turns blue/black that is close enough for ruining a man's career. Further, it matters not the slightest that the technicians running the test did not even know to load the software. Hey, not even the Church of Scientology requires its Auditors to know how the engram detector works. Of course the intrepid cycling press was all over USADA's shaky case. You'd think that if you have been living another planet for the past year. This somnambulant hatchery couldn't tear itself away from Gilligan's Island until Greg came to splay. Forget the math; USADA is here with the magic. Now, here is when our Chronicle interns expected the VeloFlummery 'sports' lawyer' to show his stuff. He would point out that no lawyer who had ever been within a block of a courthouse would cross examine Greg on his unfortunate childhood. And a lawyer who had ever been in a courtroom would have pointed out that if USADA was concerned about it being brought up in public then its lawyers would have asked for a hearing in private. And if the 'sports lawyer' had ever tried a case he would have perhaps been suspicious that USADA desperately wanted the matter brought out in open court because it would draw attention away from the weakness of USADA's 'science case'-you know the one that it just couldn't get to court fast enough to run away from. No the cycling press is made up of men and women who draw syringes on note pads when not checking to see whether the chocolate croissants are buttery enough. So it was hardly surprise when the press ignored the fact that no one on Floyd's side asked any questions about his childhood. Nor was it a surprise that they could not even report that Lemond did not say that Floyd had 'confessed' during this strange conversation. No, it just repeated that Floyd must have cheated because Greg was there to testify only because his son was taking up bike riding and "what would he tell him." If this were not enough this coterie of nimrods couldn't clean the smeared jelly from their keyboards fast enough to report that Floyd's team had likely committed a crime by perhaps implying to Greg that his unfortunate childhood might be brought up in court. Now, again a lawyer who had actually been close to a trial would know that there is nothing the slightest bit illegal about talking to a witness and even telling him what he might be asked. It might be a dumb tactic, and it might even not be nice; but, it is hardly illegal. Why, someone whose brain was not clustered with last night's Stale Ale might even come to wonder why a person who didn't want someone to know about his childhood secrets wouldn't keep them to himself. But where's the fun in wondering why dinosaurs didn't eat Adam and Eve. Joe Papp's Smears Just in case USADA's case of questionable lab techniques, sort of confessions and scandal was not enough our tax supported drug enforcers brought us anecdotes. Floyd presented a recognized expert in the use of testosterone-an endocrinologist. The Self had the occasion to work with one of these kind doctors who treat children who lack growth hormone. USDAD's lawyers did not even attempt to impeach the doctor's testimony which was to the effect that Floyd's test results did not show the use of exogenous testosterone. The press cohort yawned and asked if the espresso needed one or two sugars. Nor did USADA bring in its own growth hormone expert. The press dunked a French cookie. But, USADA was up to the challenge." Enough of this medical certainty cloudiness "they told the arbitrators. We have a genuine caught and confessed chunk of pap for your consideration. Forget the peer reviewed medical texts; forget the studies, forget the consensus of scientific opinion, forget that we have no doctor. What we present is piffle from a fraud-the stuff that drives the supplement industry and keeps the dreams alive. Mr. Papp 'used testosterone' or at least something he bought at a reputable pharmacy in Africa. "I used just a little" he said, "but it set me right and I would have won the Tour had I just had the chance." "And did I tell you I was weak to use it; but, my mother was not always supportive of me and I so wanted her to think well of me and when my yet to be conceived child asks me I want to tell him I could have been Robert Millar." Our interns were by now learning. They no longer asked: "Self, why didn't the VeloPuffington Post note that Papp's Smear could be an example of the placebo effect." Properly cynical they confidently noted that perhaps Papp's confession was just a special "DIDJASEEME" moment for a dying 12K Dreamer-a last chance to cash. The script was written long ago: the repentant Gantry goes from shame to fame, from disgrace to grace, and from criminal to counselor-the Charles Coulson dodge. But, it is a story the sports writes know and they can dash it off without spilling an olive tinged drop of cheap gin. And so we close today's lesson with the brilliant analysis of the Sports Reporters and Daily News Columnist Mike Lupica. Completely ignorant of the facts of the affair LeMond this increasingly unctuous blatherskite decried that "Floyd should just go. Please just go." Prophetically, this voice of conscience passes as his own the words the Oliver Cromwell being that charm is best when stolen. The actual quote is from Cromwell's statement to the Long Parliament: "You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing! Depart, I say, and let us have done with you! In the name of God, go!" An even partially sentient or perhaps even marginally conscious press would likely conclude that the quote is more fitting for Dick Pound, USADA, and its playlist of witnesses. ESPN had a reporter following Floyd in the lead up to his Hearing. The Self even spoke with her. The network couldn't get around to it. Why, she might even have noted that the Cromwell quote was used by the rebel Tory Party Member Leo Amery upon his late night speech to Parliament preceding the no confidence vote against Neville Chamberlain. (See, Lynn Olson, "Troublesome Young Men" page 294.) But, as usual fact has no purchase when it doesn't fit the pleasing tale; and in this one Floyd the "bad man" must be disappeared.
MKA took up some water sport related to surfing. He wanted to interact with a better class. He wrote yesterday that while on the water some laid back fellow stole his money, shorts, wallet and cell phone. But, this is good because he cannot for the moment call the Self from the seat of his motorcycle and extol the virtues of his "new life" away from the dim of nimidiot bike racers. But, his inspiration lives in my soul.
Billy
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