The attitude has even permeated into cycling fashion:

Yet it has become clear to me that all professional sports are about gaming the system. The drug testing procedures and policies are open and published. Take the NBA for example. You may be tested up to 4 times per season. But after the 4th, you’re all clear – you can juice all you want. During testing, all an athlete needs to do is hire a doctor who knows how to work the system.

Doping in American Cycling

In Tyler’s book, he draws you in to the scene, explaining how the American cycling team was getting crushed in Europe – getting passed by European teams like they were riding motorcycles. They had to dope just to keep pace. He puts you in his shoes. You sensed that doping was inevitable if only to prevent further embarrassment. Their use of EPO seemed downright recreational, just give yourself a small shot into some fatty tissue.

Transfusions

Then the rabbit hole got deeper: cyclists doing autologous blood transfusions in a sly game to store your own blood and have your body to produce more, and then to re-inject extra later before a race, or in-between race stages. Let’s face it, at-home or in-hotel transfusions are not normal. Transfusions are normally reserved for medical patients who need a transfusion to survive. Clandestine blood-bag operations with anonymous delivery people add an extra layer of confusion that could lead to an athlete receiving a transfusion of someone else’s blood – which may have happened to Hamilton.

The Future – Paniagua?

This term, meaning “bread and water” (from Spanish pan y agua), is used to describe cyclists riding clean – like they’re just fueled by bread and water.

A friend of mine just assumes that all star athletes are juiced up to just below the point where they’ll get caught. Cycling is especially tainted. As Hamilton explains, the Festina affair in 1999 merely shifted the drug carrying responsibility from the team to the cyclists themselves. Teams and riders claimed they were riding paniagua, but Operación Puerto in 2006 showed that things had just gotten more secret and sophisticated.

We can thank Tyler Hamilton (and to some extent Lance Armstrong) for coming clean. Tyler telling all gives insight into the lengths riders would go to get their fix. He broke the omertà so that the sport can start anew. Now teams, besides taking a stance against doping, are sharing their power data. Even without obtaining rider’s power data, it can inferred through well known climbs like L’Alpe d’Huez.

The entire sport including riders, team directors, and doctors, needs to prove that it can ride clean. Some argue that it will make the sport less exciting, but I think it will do the opposite. No longer will you have super-human multi-day efforts. A rider that dominates one day will be spent, opening the door for “fresh” riders to overtake them the next day. I don’t want to see a race where the yellow jersey only trades riders during the first week. I’d like to see it be contested right up until the end.

So is everything clean? Probably not, but it’s heading in the right direction. The peloton is slowing down towards mere mortal speeds. But as an insider, Tyler Hamilton has heard rumors that small autologous blood transfusions are still happening – and he believes it.

While current pro cyclists may not be using drugs – storing blood for a performance boost later is not normal. Transfusions should be used for saving lives, not underhanded winning.

One of the arguments is that by entirely eliminating doping, the lack of super-human efforts will drive fanatical fans away from the sport:

Hardcore fans hooked on heroic, drug-fuelled performances may not care about the extent of doping, but may leave the sport when those heroic performances become fewer and further between.

I watched the 2012 Tour de France, and you know what I thought was heroic? On stage 10, there was an uphill finish where five breakaway riders partook in what commentator Paul Sherwen called

The slowest sprint I have seen in the Tour de France.

Co-commentator Phil Liggett said he has “never seen a sprint quite as slow as this” and used the anecdote of The Tortoise and the Hare to describe how the slowly the riders were attacking each other as individuals ran out of steam:

The only thing that would have made that finish better was if there were some sound bytes of  the loquacious (and outspoken doping opponent) Jens Voigt telling his legs to shut up.

Splitting the Field

The Conversation article suggests having two categories of racers in the same race: one with zero-tolerance for drugs, and one where they simply don’t test.

Apparently in the Australian bodybuilding scene, they’ve already adapted to the widespread drug use in their sport by creating a separate “natural” competition for drug-free athletes.

The Conversation op-ed, coins the other half – the potentially drug-enhanced group “excellence,” which I feel gives the athletes more credit than they deserve.  Emphasis on potentially because it assumes that clean riders might like to compete in this class as well – but I think after finishing mid-pack (or more realistically at the end of the pack) they probably won’t find their competitive level fulfilling.

If you’re going to split the field in two, why not just split them into different leagues?  You can have what’s left of the clean racers, and then start a new, garish, WWE-style, entertainment-based cycling league funded by Vince McMahon – shown Sundays on NBC (and Versus). <Insert XFL Joke Here>

It’s too bad Mario Cipollini was never convicted of doping, he’s just the macho-womanizer this new league could use as a spokesman to jump-start the ratings: