We may never know for certain if Lance Armstrong is a cheater — though signs increasingly lead us to believe that his too-good-to-be-true story was exactly that.
And now, given his decision to stop fighting doping allegations, we must contemplate Armstrong as something else: a quitter.
The notion is completely at odds with what we’d previously come to believe about the man who overcame cancer, established himself as one of the great athletic champions of all-time and built a powerhouse of a charity.
But it may be — as we’ll explain later — that Armstrong viewed surrender as his best hope for retaining a small portion of his reputation.
Since he won his first Tour de France title in 1999, there has been debate as to whether Armstrong’s feats of strength should be viewed with awe or suspicion.
Regrettably, we are increasingly leaning toward the latter.
On Thursday, Armstrong announced that he would not defend himself against damning charges by the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) that he repeatedly used performance-enhancing drugs as far back as 1996. As a result, the agency said he has been stripped of his seven Tour de France titles and Olympic medal (Armstrong is challenging whether USADA has that authority). He is also banned from cycling and other sports that follow the World Anti-Doping Code.
He has also maintained that the USADA effort is unfair. The agency was looking at charges dating back as far as 17 years, despite an eight-year statute of limitations. Former teammates had been offered deals in exchange for testifying against him. There was no physical evidence that he had doped. He’d never failed a drug test.
In his statement Thursday, Armstrong called the USADA effort “an unconstitutional witch hunt,” a “charade” and “nonsense.”
Tough talk.
Sadly, given his decision to quit fighting, that’s all it is.
In choosing not to vigorously defend himself, Armstrong allows the USADA to declare victory and emerges as a loser in the court of public opinion.
We suspect he may have decided to take his chances that an international court for sports will rule that the International Cycling Union, not the USADA, has jurisdiction in his case. Such a move could preserve his titles — and maybe a shred of his reputation.
By avoiding the ugly fight with USADA, Armstrong may have calculated that the public will never see or hear the totality of the case built against him. As such, he can continue to challenge the motives of the handful of people who’ve publicly accused him of doping.
The agency said it had more than a dozen witnesses — as well as analytical data — lined up to make the case against Armstrong. And what if people with little to gain from calling Armstrong a doper — people like former Postal Service teammate George Hincapie — had come forward, as was expected?
Game over.
In failing to defend himself, Armstrong appears to be clinging to the possibility that this all might, somehow, come to pass.
What has certainly — and sadly — passed is Armstrong’s unquestioned reputation as a fighter.
