The Boss

The silence in the Tour de France pressroom was palpable, the typing and chatter hushed by an unbelievable announcement on race radio: "The yellow jersey attacks!"

That Lance Armstrong should go on the offensive was not the shocker -- the American rode the 2004 race from on high, attacking at will to pocket five individual stage wins (six including the team-time-trial) during the three-week, 20-stage race.

The mind-bender early on this July 23 afternoon was why on earth would Armstrong attack here: On the heels of Domina Vacanze rider Filippo Simeoni, looking to bridge up to a six-man breakaway 30 km into Stage 18's 166.5 km medium-mountain race from Annemasse to Lons-le-Saulnier, France.

Stage 18 was the day after the high Pyrenees, a return to more mortal altitudes where the Juan Antonio Flechas and the Juan Miguel Mercados of the pack -- riders out of the overall contention but hungry for a shot at a stage -- were expected to duke it out at the day's end.

Flecha and Mercado -- both members of the six-man escape -- were about to get backstabbed by Armstrong.

With the yellow jersey in the midst of the break, the rest of the race's overall contenders (Ullrich, Kloden, Basso) would have no choice but to chase, obliterating the breakaway's advantage.

Armstrong, of course, had nothing against Flecha or eventual stage winner Mercado.

His beef was with Filippo Simeoni.

Far from friends, Armstrong and Simeoni are mired in a war of words that has escalated to charges of defamation brought against the now six-time Tour champ by Simeoni.

The Italian found himself the target of Armstrong's anger after publicly condemning the alleged doping activity of Dr. Michele Ferrari, an Italian who is recognised as the chemical architect behind some of cycling's more dubious teams.

"EPO is no more dangerous than orange juice," Ferrari once famously told French sports daily L'Equipe.

Armstrong, who has never hidden his friendship with Dr. Ferrari, took umbrage with Simeoni's statements, lambasting the Domina Vacanze cyclist as a "liar and fabricator," which hence prompted the launching of the latter's defamation suit.

"[Simeoni] is not a rider the pack wants to see off the front," Armstrong said after Stage 18, speaking briefly on his successful effort to deny Simeoni from sweeping up even the slightest stage crumb.

"If he had won, I'm sure he would have attacked the sport, taking to his soapbox to say bad things, that he was a clean rider, blah, blah, blah."

"I [chased him down] to protect the best interests of the peloton," Armstrong said, adding that when he and Simeoni -- the Italian having gotten the message -- drifted back to the pack, Armstrong was "patted on the back. A lot of riders thanked me," said the 32-year-old Texan.

The real reaction in the peloton may have been more tempered, nervous smiles and amused shrugs of shoulders.

What the boss wants, the boss gets.

"Simeoni should have been allowed to do his job. He's a professional cyclist who should have had the right to join a breakaway without being swarmed upon by the yellow jersey," former pro and now French television analyst Laurent Jalabert said after the incident.

Diplomatic and self-assured, Lance Armstrong has created an ironclad media skin. He knows how to spin a question and he knows how to punctuate another with emotion-perfected sound bytes.

Every aspect of his PR personae is tailored to project an image: Armstrong as the irreproachable CEO of cycling.

To see Armstrong, therefore, brandish a personal vendetta on the public stage of the Tour de France is more than disquieting -- it's uncalled for.

"I have to admit I was disappointed to witness what he did," said former world road race champion Luc Leblanc, echoing the sentiments of race director Jean-Marie Leblanc and chief race judge Mirco Monti, who defined the incident as "regrettable."

Armstrong is -- usually -- an exemplary patron of the pack. He's earned the job, fully filling the shoes of Bernard Hinault and Eddy Merckx before him.