Wiston Papers

Lance Armstrong turned the  Tour de France into  the Tour de Farce.

American cyclist Lance Armstrong has admitted what many observers suspected for years--that he was guilty of doping during his professional career.

Late summer the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) stripped Armstrong of his seven Tour de France championships dating back to his first victory  in 1999.  And this week the 41-year-old Texan told TV talk show host Oprah Winfrey that he had, in truth, taken performance-enhancing drugs despite years of denial.

The morning before the historic interview, John and I met for our weekly coffee klatch.

“Dope, dope, dope!”  John shook his head as he plopped on the chair across from me.

“Don’t be so tough on yourself, John,”  I comforted.  “Just don’t make another comment about Beverly’s appearance and this week you’ll get some coffee.  Careful, here she comes.”

“Say, you look stunning today,” John brightened as he saw our waitress Beverly.  “Wait, where’s your habit?”

“Thanks for noticing, Big Wheel,” Beverly smiles and begins pouring two cups of coffee.  “I don't have to hide myself anymore. My boss’s wife made him find another job so my attractiveness wouldn’t threaten his marriage,” Beverly fluffed her hair conceitedly.

“Why did you call me Big Wheel?” John asked.

“Oh, today’s when your bicycle hero Lance Armstrong spills the beans, fesses up to his drug use, and asks us to forgive him.  Speaking of beans, tell me later how you like the Guatemala Antigua I just served you.”

““Dope, dope, dope!” John shook his head again.  “Armstrong lied to us for years.  He said he didn’t take drugs.  I don’t trust any athlete anymore.”

“Cheer up and enjoy your coffee, John,” I consoled.  Maybe this will be a transformative moment.  Maybe this year the Tour de France and all the riders will wake up and smell the roses”

“You mean the Tour de Farce.  The only smelling will be the cyclists sniffing Poppies for cocaine,” John snorted.

“I’m sure you’ll feel differently come June 29th...the start of this year’s race.  It’s the 100th anniversary of the Tour.  Just remember the number 100,”  I beamed.

“Yeah, 100.  That’s how many kilos of drugs the bikers will take this year,” John popped off.

“No, no.  Think of the 21 stages of the race,” I blew my hot coffee carefully.  “There are seven flat stages...”

“That’s how the riders feel before they get a fix.”  John chased his first coffee sip.

“And the five hilly stages...”

“Probably the biker’s rocky feeling before the drugs kick in,” John pushed his chair closer to the table.  

“Don’t forget the six mountain stages with their four summit finishes,”  I injected.

“Phooey.  That’s just a euphanism for the drug high,”  John rolled on.

“Well, the team time trial may let the athletes support each other to stay clean,” I touted another attribute.

“You mean the team trials of different substances,” John relapsed.

“But think how inspiring the individual time trial can be,”  I hit up my next swallow.  “You’ve got to be clear headed for that speed stage.”

“It’s speed all right,” John nodded. “But it ain’t from the bike.”

“John, you’re forgetting all the pagentry, all the color...all...all...the color,” I blasted.

“Sure. Like the Green jersey for the leader of points classification?  Now I know it’s just a signal to other contestants to tell them who’s selling Marijuana...the weed, dude.”

“What about the Red Polka Dot jersey?” I tried to get through.

“Oh. That’s for best climber...got it?  The guy who can get you the fastest high.”

“John, surely the White jersey symbolizes purity of competition and love of sport,” I bit my lip slightly.

“Pure all right.  The youngest riders don that to signal they’ve got the purest quality cocaine.”

“And the Yellow jersey, John.  The Yellow one...” my eyes blazed.

“Mellow yellow, bro.  Yup.  Lot’s of ways to get stoned with anything from daffodils, to marijuana to banana peels.”

“But Armstrong says he took performance enhancing drugs,” John” I tried to clear up.  “Not these...these...these other kinds.”

“What have you been sniffing, man? Why does anybody take any drug?  You use them to boost your performance, but they also boost your mood, supposedly boost your perception, and even boost your coping mechanism.” John dabbled his spoon slowly in his cup.  “But it’s phoney.  It ain’t real.”

“Hey, guys.  Want another boost?” Beverly suggested.

“What!”  John and I both jumped.

“Whoa, fellows.  I’m just doubling up your cups,”  Beverly commented as she  dropped off her bill and started to walk away. “You guys are really jittery.  Let me get you a poppy seed muffin to calm your nerves.”

Steve Coon

January 16, 2013