The US Anti-Doping Agency’s decision to charge seven-time
Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong with using performance-enhancing drugs the
day before this year’s Tour de France began was as pertinent as it was sardonic.
Although never having been conclusively caught doping – despite being one of
the most, if not the most, tested athletes in history – there has always been a
cloud over Armstrong’s ultra-successful career, particularly in France. Armstrong
remains innocent until proven guilty, but any exceptional performance in the
sport today leads to questions as to the ‘cleanliness’ of the cyclist in
question: accusations that Bradley Wiggins, current leader of the Tour, is now
only too aware.
The French media, and a number of outspoken journalists
from other countries, particularly the Irishman Paul Kimmage, who’s award
winning book Rough Ride lifted the
lid on the systematic use of performance
enhancing drugs (PEDs) simply to finish elite professional cycle races, openly accused
Armstrong of doping. Unlike Kimmage, who had his own experience of drug use as
a professional to refer to, many who made such accusations, without definitive
evidence, were at least prepared to put their names to such claims. Today, as
many celebrities in other realms of the public arena are aware, such
accusations may be made anonymously via the ‘Twittersphere’.
Wiggins responded this week to accusations on Twitter
that it was impossible to win the Tour without taking PEDs with a deliciously
British: "I'd say they are just fucking wankers." But Wiggins was not
finished, and said before storming out of the press conference: "I can't
be dealing with people like that, it justifies their own bone idleness. Rather
than getting off their arses and doing something with their lives it's easier
for them to sit underneath a pseudonym on Twitter and write that sort of shit..."
One of Britain’s previous yellow jersey holders, Chris
Boardman, was one of many to jump to Wiggins defence. Speaking on ITV4 after the time trial on Monday, in
which Wiggins extended his lead to 1m 53sec over the Australian Cadel Evans, Boardman
said: “The journalist wasn’t going to take any responsibility for that
question, and if he wanted to poke Bradley, Bradley was going to poke him right
back. ... It was an emotional response, and frankly that’s what people want to
see. They want to see real, not what’s laid out and written down by the press
department.”
Emotional responses to doping have been Wiggins forte,
and, like Paula Radcliffe’s outspoken stance in athletics, scathing. Wiggins’
disappointment at being ‘withdrawn’ from the Tour in 2007, after a Cofidis
teammate was caught doping, was summed up when asked what the answer was to the
doping issue: "Get more British cyclists". And it is here that the sociological
and cultural differences in the history of cycling between Britain and mainland
Europe manifest themselves.
Although British cyclists such as David Millar, and most
famously Tommy “If it takes ten to kill you, I’ll have nine” Simpson, have been
caught and died through drug use, the hangover of Victorian amateurism remains
with us in Britain today – witness the BOA’s ludicrous attempts to exclude
Dwain Chambers, as if the Olympics was some paragon of athletic and moral
purity. The commercial sponsorship by
L’Auto of the Tour in 1903, meant the event soon became professionalised,
and as James McGurn notes: “The Bicycle Union [of Britain] ... took issue with
the Union Vélocipèdique de France over the French body's willingness to allows
its "amateurs" to compete for prizes of up to 2,000 francs, the
equivalent of about sixteen months' pay for a French manual worker.”
The die was thus cast and Britain reverted to track
racing and time trialling, while the rest of Europe partook in incredibly hard
stage racing (stages were up to 300 miles
long, on virtually unpaved roads with bikes that had no gears). So hard were
these events, that stopping off for a stiffening brandy or even a hit of
cocaine, “the natural stimulant,” was not unheard of in the early years of the
Tour. The lure of financial and social rewards, along with the extreme nature
of stage racing, meant that professionalised endurance events in Europe went
hand-in-hand with ‘doping’.
Cycling in Britain was different. Although time trialling
was hard, as an amateur sport, without any large financial prizes at stake, the
taking of PED’s was never a significant aspect of British cycling culture. A
point largely misunderstood on the continent. Despite some high-profile dopers,
the history of British cycling is full of names who have reached the pinnacle
of cycling without resorting to drugs, or even being a professional. Graeme
Obree, possibly one of this nation’s most unsung sporting heroes, not only broke the hour
record as an amateur on a homemade bike twice, but when he turned professional
he walked out of his new French based team having heard he was expected to ‘chip-in’
for “supplementary medicine” costs. Such principled behaviour, as Mike McNamee,
founding Chair of the British Philosophy of Sport Association, notes: “is a
British phenomenon, we are imbued with Victorian values of playing the game
'fairly'.”
Playing fair, or choosing to gain a competitive
advantage, was a largely moral question, and testing remained rare until after the
infamous Olympic 100m final of 1988. The authorities appeal to an athlete’s
better nature remained until Ronald Reagan signed the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of
1988, which formed a part of the wider ‘War on Drugs’. Crucially, the issue of
drugs in sport was no longer a moral question, but a legal one.
The rewards for winning the Tour, or a gold medal in London
this summer are such that many are prepared to break these laws in order to
attain them. Since ‘criminalisation’ cycling supporters, who previously
accepted (begrudgingly or not) doping as a part of the sport, now, with the
press leading the way, question the integrity of their sporting heroes. Team
Sky supremo Dave Brailsford has thus invited the anonymous doubters to a
seminar at Manchester at the end of year. It will be interesting to see who
takes him up on the offer. However, until one of our current leading cyclists
is caught, our cycling heritage dictates that the benefit of doubt must
remain with Wiggins.
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