No problem, said the dermatologist, we’ll just inject a little steroid right there and it should clear up. And she was all ready to stick a needle in the side of my neck immediately, until I said, “Whoa. Whoa. Whoooooaaa.”
Lance Armstrong raced a local 35K trail race this past weekend in Woodside. A lot of people think he shouldn’t have been allowed to, and it’s not like that argument isn’t without merits. I don’t think, though, that it’s for us to ban him from every local race ever.
Look, I get the argument for lifetime bans for dopers. I do. You want to raise the stakes, make the incentive to dope less appealing, because right now there’s way too much to gain and not enough to lose. (Plus, there’s increasing scientific evidence that there may be lifetime benefits to part-time doping.) So ban anyone who gets caught doping from ever competing in a race with a prize purse, from making any money off it, from WADA-sanctioned events. They violated the rules of their profession, so never again let them partake in that profession again. Fine.
But to argue that they should never ever be allowed to participate in any kind of recreational race just doesn’t even make sense. And in the vein of not perpetuating the insanity of the Republican debates, let’s try not to make vast proposals that are neither reasonable nor logical. How are you going to ban every doper from every small local event? It’s not possible. Here in Marin, we have these monthly pick-up running races that cost $5 and are definitely not sanctioned by any governing body. How would you even stop someone from doing one of those? You think there’s some kind of master database of every informal competitive gathering ever? People wouldn’t have even know about this race except that he’s Lance Armstrong.
What it really comes down to is if the individual race directors want to ban dopers from their individual races (assuming they’d know by name and be able to spot every doper who registers for every small race). To a degree, race director can let in or not whoever they want, with some obvious exceptions—you can’t not allow women, for example, or minorities.
What you’re fundamentally arguing then is that there is some line past which people are too terrible to be allowed the privilege of getting on a starting line. OK, fine. So you get to decide what that line is? And you think it’s doping?
Yeah, doping is cheating. Yeah, it’s really bad for the sport. But you’ve read a newspaper this week, right? You know that there are a lot of worse people than Lance Armstrong, right? And, yet, we aren’t banning racers based on the crimes they’ve committed. In fact, we acknowledge the ability of running races to help former inmates, former criminals. Either you believe in rehabilitation and you believe in the power of sports, of goals, to give focus and structure to people’s lives. Or you don’t. You can’t just believe in it for some people.
Would it make a difference if Lance was really really sorry?
Because, fundamentally, what it seems like is that people really want to stop being confronted with the conundrum of Lance Armstrong. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: when we vilify an individual, instead of actually examining the entire system that helped create that individual (which includes our role in that system), what we’re really doing is trying to get out of actually fixing the problem.
There was evidence for a long time that Lance Armstrong was not a good person. But people ignored it because they wanted to ignore it. They fed the machine that created the incentives for him to do what he did in the first place. To pretend that he did those things in a vacuum absolves us of our responsibility. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching so much Law & Order: SVU it’s that the line between victims and perpetrators isn’t always dark and straight. I don’t know exactly how many of those Russian athletes who were asked for bribes to cover-up positive tests were part of what is clearly a corrupt Russian system and how much they were the instigators. I think we now know that many of the Eastern bloc athletes were victims of their country’s system, and some weren’t. Yes, I think Lance Armstrong organized and masterminded much of the doping push within the cycling world at that time. But if you really want to fix the whole thing, then heaping punishment on one person isn’t going to do that. It’s only going to make you feel a little better for a little while.
Now, if I was Lance Armstrong’s PR person, I would probably advise him against getting back into competitive sports. I’d suggest laying low. But he’s clearly pathological and I’m not his PR person. So it’s not for me to tell him what he can and can’t do with his free time. I don’t have the right.
There was a small story the other day, not widely read, that I found fascinating and indicative of some of my concerns about how we deal with doping. Carolina Kostner, the Italian ice skater who took bronze at the 2014 Olympics, is probably going to get in trouble with Italian authorities for skipping a hearing where she was supposed to share information about her racewalker ex-boyfriend’s doping. Here’s what I find interesting about this:
Now this is taking place in Italy and, obviously, Italian law is different than US law, but I’m not sure under what authority she can be demanded to appear at a hearing about someone else — especially given that she retired from competition. This was, in part, the same problem I had with the federal criminal investigation into Lance Armstrong. Doping isn’t against the law, at least not here, at least not most of the drugs you can take. EPO, HGH, and testosterone are all legal drugs that can be acquired with prescriptions. Using them is not against the law, it is only against the rules of the sport, which — however much we think otherwise — do not govern the land.
(Clearly, yes, I understand the laws under which the federal fraud case against Armstrong can continue: because he accepted Postal Service money. But, that’s a whole other discussion about whether or not the Postal Service knew what they were buying. I’d argue when you pay for end results instead of what goes into them, then you get what you pay for.)
That also means that the system by which doping cases are decided is not within our legal system. It does not meet the standards we require in all court cases. It is not an innocent until proven guilty system. Sure, that’s what athletes agree to when they become athletes — though there isn’t another option — but it’s also something that the general public, up on a high horse and railing about how they were lied to, doesn’t seem to understand.
They don’t seem to understand that it’s a different system, which can be complicated, difficult, and expensive to prove your innocence, if you are actually innocent. And, even basic statistics would suggest that at least a few people who test positive have to be innocent. Not that you’d know that from how the system works.
Sure, most people who test positive probably doped. Sure, the testers are steps behind the dopers. Sure, you’re responsible for whatever you put in your body. But, if contaminated multivitamins never gave a false positive, then a banned swimmer wouldn’t have won a lawsuit against the multivitamin maker in an actual court of law.
Kostner likely has something to hide by not showing up at this Italian hearing, or else she’s just insanely stupid to disappear. But, for the Italian doping authorities to discuss stripping her retroactively of her medals and banning her from private commercial skating shows — for an allegation that is about her ex-boyfriend, not about her — seems beyond their scope of authority. How can they even control who does what in private commercial shows?
What Kostner, in this case, was supposed to testify to was that she had helped her ex-boyfriend avoid a doping test and also that she had seen him use an illegal altitude tent.
Altitude tents, which you sleep in to mimic the red blood cell boosting effects of living at altitude, aren’t illegal here. Living at altitude isn’t illegal in any country. Having a naturally higher level of red blood cells can’t possibly be illegal. On a theoretical level, it seems strange to me to draw a line and pretend that makes everything fair.
Caffeine isn’t banned. Cortisone isn’t banned, as long as you have a doctor’s note. Having the fastest equipment and the best trainers isn’t banned. Simply being bigger or taller or faster isn’t banned. There are clearly advantages people have — natural and not — that we allow. This raises a few intellectual problems for me. Banning some things creates a false sense of a level playing field, when that field hasn’t been level in a long time, if ever. It also seems hard to decide where you’re going to draw that line. If the legal hematocrit level is 50, then we’re saying there is no way anyone could naturally have a hematocrit over 50. They must be doping. And, yet, I have friends who have hematocrit levels in the mid-to-high 40s. One must assume that if I know people, who are fast but not that fast, in the mid-40s, then conceivably there is someone in the world who is naturally over 50.
Of course, I think doping is wrong and shouldn’t be allowed in sports. Of course, I recognize that doping distorts and corrupts who does well in what sport. (For example, cyclists who perform better at lower hematocrits have the most to gain from a doping regimen and then see the biggest jumps in performance.) But, I also recognize that a lot of our vilification of doping and dopers comes from our own need — “us” being the watching public — to believe that people can do these things and still be normal people, that they pay no consequences for their feats. We ask them to pretend and then we’re disgusted when they lie to us.
For one of my classes we’re reading a lot about Lance Armstrong and doping in cycling (oddly, not much about it in other sports), so I re-read one of my favorite books on the topic, “The Secret Race.”
Yes, there’s a lot that’s been said on the subject by a lot of people with varying degrees of nuance and sophistication. Out of all that, I would add to my general list of readings I find interesting about cycling and doping: “From Lance to Landis” and the whole USADA investigation. But, “The Secret Race” is still one of my favorites and one of the most detailed descriptions of how things were in professional cycling of a certain time (and still are to a degree I’m sure). Doping is a part of how things were, a large part, but it is not the only part. Losing stupid crazy amounts of weight is a pretty big part too. Oh, and training.
The main reason this doesn’t read to me like just another professional athlete tell-all raking in the money from their own misdeeds is because Daniel Coyle, who wrote the book with/for Tyler Hamilton, is a good writer and a good reporter. He confirms facts and puts in rare footnotes what other information you might need as a reader. The other important reason is that I don’t think Tyler Hamilton is necessarily trying to cash in. I think he’s trying to make a confession of sorts, a coming clean, etc. I think he feels really bad about the lying, but not as much about the choices he made in the first place. Which is interesting. I mean it doesn’t take a psych student to watch his 60 Minutes interview and know that he was wrestling with a lot of demons.
If you really are interested in the sport and in sports, in the questions of how to address doping, instead of just depicting the problem as an individual problem, which makes it easy to dismiss as a moral failing instead of examine as a systemic failing, if you’re really truly interested with an open mind, then I’d suggest reading the book.
At one point, in passing, Hamilton writes/dictates-to-the-writer that he’s known some great guys who decided to dope and some really shitty ones who didn’t. And that’s probably true.
Random doesn’t mean random.