As I’ve mentioned before, it isn’t thinking about all the money I make at my job that keeps me motivated; when someone told me that the people who dust out and pick-up the trash inside the aircraft—almost all of them eastern European and Horn of Africa immigrants—make $18-an-hour, it’s probably best I don’t think too much upon this anyways. No, what motivates me is my fascination with statistics. First I set a daily goal of what I hope to accomplish. Based upon my own law of averages, each day has a particular hour in which determines by percentage what number I should eventually wind-up with at the end of the day. For example, on Thursday, usually my busiest day, by 8AM I can expect the quantity of cargo I handle to be roughly half of what I will eventually do for the day, and by 10PM two-thirds. It doesn’t always work out this way, but given a reduced or increased expectation, I can start planning for the next day what I need to do to remain on schedule for what my goal for the week is. Thus instead of thinking about how much I get paid, my mind remains focused on the work at hand. This past week was particularly satisfying for me, having started the week with a single-day record quantity, setting new highs on 3 of 4 days, and eventually setting a weekly record, passing a barrier that would have been unthinkable of attainment a month a year ago. Since I work largely alone, observers have no clue that what lies behind the facade of my simple task is this complex, multidimensional process.
Of course, I’m fairly certain that all of this is entirely inconsequential to the people I observe riding up and down the Interurban Trail, wearing those ridiculous skin-tight outfits, imagining themselves in the Tour de South King County, passing through scenic drainage ditches, quaint industrial parks and historic junkyards, cheered on by the occasional curious rabbit. And probably more than a few imagine themselves to be the king of American cycling, Lance Armstrong. He was the Yankee who thumbed his nose at those snooty French and dominated their Tour de France for seven straight years, a feat no one is likely to match. Armstrong “owned” the Tour like no other cyclist in history. As for myself, I have to admit I can’t get myself too fascinated with cycling, since there are no statistics to analyze. The only “number” that matters in the cycling world is “one,” as in “winner.” The other numbers have no meaning. And if there is no American who has a chance at winning the Tour de France, even the “one” is entirely superfluous; few would know or care who possesses it.
Still, the number “7” combined with the name of Lance Armstrong cannot be anything but a source of pride for the American side. So why would anyone want to destroy that legacy? Especially other Americans? What is to be gained by that? Why cannibalize our own heroes? I am referring, of course, to the doping allegations against Armstrong that have dogged him for several years, and now the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) is beginning “formal action” against Armstrong, not based on any actual physical evidence, but upon the testimony of former USPS teammates. Last February, U.S. Attorney Andre Birotte Jr. dropped his investigation against Armstrong on conspiracy and racketeering charges; many observers believed that this was in part due to the lack of physical evidence and the fact that Armstrong’s name still carried considerable popular weight. But the USADA has continued to hound him, particularly since his ex-teammate, Floyd Landis, messed-up and was caught unclean after winning the 2006 Tour de France. Even then, Armstrong was not initially caught-up in Landis’ problem, probably because Landis denied he used any performance enhancement until 2010, when he suddenly decided to come “clean,” after another ex-teammate of Armstrong’s, Tyler Hamilton, went on “60 Minutes” and made all sorts of blasphemous claims that nobody really wanted to hear. Since then, Landis has behaved like the school kid who was caught cheating on a test, trying to dilute his shame by claiming that everyone was doing it too—including the supposed smartest kid in class.
Specifically, the USADA is accusing Armstrong—based on the testimony of “unnamed” teammates, like Hamilton and Landis—of “use and/or attempted use of prohibited substances and /or methods,” possession of said substances, and equipment. He is also accused of trafficking, administration of, assisting, encouraging, aiding, abetting and covering up the use of prohibited substance and their application. “Aggravating circumstances justify a period of ineligibility greater than the standard sanction,” opined the letter.
So what exactly are the substances Armstrong is accused of using, or assisting in their use? Erythrpoietin (EPO), which increases the number of red blood cells in the circulatory system that are available to carry oxygen. The letter’s explanation as to why Armstrong did not test positive for its use was the following: “EPO is difficult to detect from micro-dosing (using smaller amounts of EPO to reduce the clearance time of the drug), intravenous injections (injecting the drug directly into the vein rather than subcutaneously to reduce clearance time), saline, plasma or glycerol infusions, and various efforts to avoid testing by drug testers at times that EPO might still be detectable in the rider’s urine.” Of course, Armstrong and his teammates were not trained experts in this; the letter named team director Johan Bruyneel, team trainer Jose Pepe Marti and Dr. Michele Ferrari with “developed training plans dependent upon EPO use and instructed riders to use the drug…EPO injections were administered by Dr. Luis Garcia del Moral, Dr. Pedro Celaya and Dr. Ferrari.”
Armstrong’s USPS racing team apparently indulged in a smorgasbord of illegal “enhancements,” a circumstance we would never have known (only vaguely rumored) if Landis had not been careless and missed a step or two in the process. “Blood transfusions (blood doping) generally involve the extraction of an athlete’s own blood pre-competition and re-infusion of that blood shortly before or during competition. This is also supposed to help increase oxygen content. No effective anti-doping test has yet been implemented to detect autologous transfusions (transfusions of an athlete’s own blood).”Armstrong’s teammates also claimed that he and they uses Testosterone, concealing its use from drug tests by mixing it with olive oil and ingesting in orally. HGH was used by the USPS team, but it is not clear that Armstrong did so himself. Various cortisone medications were used to “assist in recovery” and “provide a burst of energy and create a temporary feeling of increased energy and wellbeing.” These drugs can be used legally for localized injuries, but Armstrong and his teammates are accused of overuse, allegedly obtaining improper prescriptions from the some of the previously mentioned doctors. And finally, Armstrong and company were accused of manipulating tests to determine if their mature red blood cells exceeding 50 percent, using saline and plasma infusion to artificially reduce the percentage.
The USPS team was further accused of a “conspiracy of silence” for many years, “because there was an expectation that team members would do whatever was needed to do the best for the team…The use of fear, intimidation and coercion to attempt to enforce a code of silence by team members and employees to prevent detection of the conspiracy or the prosecution of co-conspirators for anti-doping rule violations.” This is probably true of every team that participates in the Tour de France, but this is, after all, the U.S., and if international bodies cannot find the evidence, good old American know-how will show them how it is done.
The evidence against Armstrong seems to be almost entirely of testimony from former riders, all of whom are unnamed in the USADA’s letter. There is no specific examples of impropriety provided in the letter; but the USADA appears to be telling Armstrong that it has heard the testimony, and that it is sufficient to adjudge him guilty. The USADA’s actions seem rather draconian when it implies that Armstrong has only ten days to refute testimony and “evidence” which he and his lawyer have yet to see. For his part, Armstrong claims that "These charges are baseless, motivated by spite and advanced through testimony bought and paid for by promises of anonymity and immunity. ... USADA's malice, its methods, its star-chamber practices, and its decision to punish first and adjudicate later all are at odds with our ideals of fairness and fair play…I have never doped, and, unlike many of my accusers…(I have) passed more than 500 drug tests and never failed one. That USADA ignores this fundamental distinction and charges me instead of the admitted dopers says far more about USADA, its lack of fairness and this vendetta than it does about my guilt or innocence. Any fair consideration of these allegations has and will continue to vindicate me."
Of course, it could be said that doping is so widespread in cycling that no one thinks it is “really” wrong—only the people who catch them think it is. Considering the grueling nature of the sport, it shouldn’t be surprising that doping in cycling has a long history, dating back to the late 19th century. Strychnine, cocaine, chloroform, amphetamines, aspirin, cortisone, various stimulants and even alcohol were widely used in the early to mid 20th century. The use of EPO and blood doping are more recent. Various anti-doping agencies have had their hands full trying to catch every perpetrator, but in reality catch very few. So it is natural that the few who do get caught are indignant about it. Events like the Tour de France are so physically exhausting that it is doubtful that doping will ever be completely eliminated if anyone wants to actually win it, let alone participate seriously, and there will be newer drugs and methods discovered to increase performance and beat detection. And frankly, I doubt that there ever has been a Tour de France winner who was completely “clean.”
Update: Former MLB pitcher Roger Clemens was found "not guilty" in his trial for perjuring himself before Congress, when he claimed he never used illegal performance enhancing drugs. Although former teammate Andy Petite's suddenly cloudy memory may have played a role in the verdict, there was plenty of circumstantial evidence that Clemens may have been guilty: The photographic evidence that placed Clemens at that Jose Canseco pool party in which PED use was discussed, which he repeatedly denied attending; Brian McNamee's ex-wife testifying to the fact that McNamee did keep physical evidence, because he didn't want to be caught holding the bag by himself; Houston Astros team doctors contradicting Clemens' claim that he was injected with Vitamin B-12, which they considered useless; and the fact that Yankee GM Brian Cashman allowed Clemens to bring in McNamee as an "unofficial" trainer as a favor after viewing a physically worn Clemens. And then there is the question of what did McNamee hope to gain from lying about providing Clemens with illegal PEDS. It made no sense for him to do this if it was not true. As for Clemens, he just comes off as an arrogant, self-privileged individual of the "how dare you besmirch my reputation" type. I believe he is guilty.
Does this case have any lessons for Armstrong's case? Not as much, because Armstrong is not facing a jury of his peers who might view his accusers' testimony as self-serving. Armstrong faces an independent organization that has visions of grandeur. It's very reason for existence is to destroy.
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