First of all, only about 2.7 people in America gave a whit about the Tour de France until Lance Armstrong won a zillion of them in a row despite almost dying from cancer.
Did I think the dude was blood doping and stuffing his sculpted body with EPO and testosterone?
All elite cyclists had to if they wanted to be competitive. How else could they pedal up and down mountains day after day at warp speed and still have enough energy to ask themselves at night why they didn’t take up motorcycling racing instead.
Dopiness is much more helpful than cleanliness on a long bike ride.
Still, I, among countless others, admired Armstrong for the wonderful support his Livestrong foundation afforded cancer survivors.
Nevertheless, Livestrong was all part of the man’s deceit, a man who is a fascinating/disgusting blend of good and evil.
So why did Armstrong sort of confess in his semi-mea culpa with Oprah?
After all, this brute sued or trashed or attacked anybody who didn’t allow him to control his narrative.
And the overriding, pardon the pun, theme of his narrative had been that he wasn’t dirty. He had been adamant as hell about that. Downright defiant. Perhaps all the drugs had him hallucinating.
Now he has sort of come clean, and did so without contrition, because he finally got cornered and had to quit bullying, lying and subverting the law.
Plus, there is a monetary incentive. He has lost a fortune in endorsements and he has to rehab his image to become marketable again – if that is possible.
Perhaps it’s time for Lance to star in his own reality show, where all fallen celebs wind up when they need life support.