Doping: The Big Issue

A cloud lingers above the world of cycling and it has done so ever since the heady days of Jacques Anquetil, the first Tour champion to openly admit taking performance enhancing drugs back in the 1950s and 60s. "It would be impossible to race on mineral water alone," the five-time winner told a government minister during a televised debate before adding that only a fool would ride without drugs.

The difference between this open declaration of drug taking and the underhand dealings that go on today is precisely the fact that the covert nature of such practices in our time is steeped in deception and distrust.

Doping is illegal, but seemingly widely practiced. As such, flagrant lying is the order of the day. "Only a fool would ride with drugs," the whole of the peloton would chime in unison.

Like any true cycling fan, I have felt let down on discovering that someone I revered as a clean rider in fact turned out to be an insincere, despicable drug cheat.

Jan Ullrich and Ivan Basso remain innocent until proven guilty - and quite rightly - but if it turns out that they were involved in Dr Fuentes's Spanish blood doping ring, then their estimation in my eyes - and the eyes of many - will plummet.

But I would still await their return to the sport with eager anticipation, bated breath and open arms. What a story it makes!

For in France, a rider who firmly denied all accusations of doping, then denied all complicity once it was openly proved that his team underwent an intense programme of systematic doping, and then who, tearful, admitted to the nation that he had in fact deceived them, can go on to maintain his place in the hearts of the masses - and even increase his popularity.

The Festina scandal of 1998 was arguably the most important phase of Richard Virenque's career. His bleary-eyed tears and white lies betrayed true human weaknesses; his subsequent ban and glorious return showed the resurrection and pure grit of a man who lived for his sport and who learned his lesson the hard way.

The Festina scandal, Virenque's fall from grace, dreamlike comeback and ultimate redemption, shaped my viewing and enjoyment of the sport over the years. Virenque is one of my heroes - and this is essentially due his doping.

Without the Festina scandal, I would go as far as saying that the interest in the sport in France - and worldwide - could well have dwindled dramatically. The same can be said of the ongoing Armstrong sagas and accusations, and now Operacion Puerto. These are defining moments of a sport - and part and parcel of cycling.

Look at the example of football. A week does not pass without people complaining about the high levels of corruption and cheating. Players dive, play act and resort to violence to win games. It often reaches levels of absurdity. But it is part of the game. A national hero - Zidane in this case, not Virenque - can head-butt his opposite number, but still extricate himself on better terms than before, even if his side lost the World Cup.

It's fine and dandy for the idealists and utopians to call for instant TV replays and on-the-spot punishment for simulation and attempts to con the referee - and yet just how interesting would the sport be without a few contentious decisions? Once the referee becomes an all-seeing deity, you lose a little of the magic.

Don't get me wrong - with this analogy I'm not trying to say that doping in cycling is rather magical. What I am saying, however, is that I have no regrets that it does take place. By all means, the UCI should continue its attempts to clamp down on the cheats, but we all know that those bent on cheating, with the motivation to cheat, will always be a few steps ahead. And if this means my enjoyment of the sport will be enhanced, then so be it.

Waiting for the next doping scandal to break in cycling is like checking the newspapers to find out which footballer has signed for which team, or reading about which two team-mates have fallen out in the dressing room due to an argument about a D-List celebrity and/or the latest Rastafarian hair style to hit the high street.

There is absolutely no validity to the claim that everything would be oh-so rosy were all the riders 100 percent clean and the Tour was a perfect litmus test of their human capacity to shine.

Utter balderdash. Cheating goes on everywhere and in every sport. While pining for the total cleanliness of cycling might be admirable, it just is not sensible. Where there is the temptation to cheat there will always be cheaters. Footballers know they can win a penalty by falling to the ground; cyclists know that drugs will increase their capacity to recover and hence their ability to win stages and races.

To move outside of the realms of sport: businessmen will always strive to make a quick buck to the detriment of the poor; politicians will never cease to be corrupt if they stand something to gain; hard-up students will always tell their friends they bought them a double, when in fact, it's just a single JD and coke. This is human nature.

A clean climate would take away the turbulent atmosphere of the sport which surreptitiously makes it all so exciting.

Floyd Landis collapses one day in the Alps; 24 hours later he takes back eight minutes and the Tour is effectively his. What a display of man's ability to revive his flagging body and drive towards his goal due to sheer inner strength, determination and the desire to realise a dream.

Well, this is what I thought. The media - and even former Tour legends - however, started to question Landis's natural ability to recover in such a way.

This, admittedly, is the downside of a sport so imbued with suspicion: there is no differentiating brilliance from cheating.

It is frustrating never knowing the full picture, but at the same time, this trait exclusive to cycling makes for an additional gripping force that is hard to explain.

It provokes debate. If you ignore the whole doping issue, the on going soap opera on a saddle that we see played out in front of our eyes remains a truly thrilling ride - regardless of whether or not the riders stick needles in their arms or replace their blood with some dangerously high-oxygenated stuff they pre-prepared in a clinic in Madrid.

To return to Anquetil's famour words, in my eyes it would be impossible to watch a Tour run on mineral water alone. Desirable, possibly, but certainly not possible.

And as I finish writing, news breaks that one unnamed rider tested positive during the Tour. I wonder who it is?