Lance Armstrong, American Hero

Published in the Desert Valley Times
July 26, 2005

This weekend, bicyclist extraordinaire Lance Armstrong ended his career by winning an unprecedented seventh Tour de France.
He did it without an end zone dance, without pointing at other bicyclists and calling their mamas ugly names, and without pointing to the sky and thanking God/Allah/Buddah/Vishnu/L. Ron Hubbard for the victory.
Lance did it without getting busted for possession of crack (at least, since the bicyclists gave up their biking shorts for the new full-body racing suits), without beating up his wife, and without stabbing anyone outside an Atlanta bar.
There have been rumors about steroid use, but that’s just nonsense.
First, the folks who run the Tour are extremely vigilant, with constant drug testing and monitoring of their athletes.
This year, one biker was disqualified because his girlfriend got caught with steroids in her car.
Unlike the wastrels in Major League Baseball, these people are serious about keeping their athletes clean.
Second, it’s Lance Armstrong.
This is the guy who kicked cancer’s butt in 1995.
I suspect he’s extremely fussy about what he puts into his body these days.
Of course, Lance isn’t perfect.
Like most humans, he has his flaws, like trading up to singer Sheryl Crow after ditching his original wife.
But, come on, it’s Sheryl Crow!
I think that even I could be tempted to make such a move, if it weren’t for three things.
First, judging by her current selection, Sheryl likes hardbodied skinny guys who work out three times a day.
Personally, my body is more like the “before” picture in a Trim Spa or Weight Watchers ad.
Second, I dearly love my wonderful wife.
Third, my wonderful wife knows where the cutlery is stored while I sleep.
But even with his flaws, Armstrong is a hero, a superior athlete that kids can actually look up to.
His “Live Strong” foundation helps cancer survivors across the country.
He works hard at his craft, and never takes the shortcut or the easy way when training or competing.
He conducts himself with honor and class, which are forgotten attributes in today’s world of sports.
And he avoids places that have the potential to get him in trouble, like bars, hip hop radio stations, and Michael Jackson’s house.
To be honest, as a sport, bicycling is tough to get excited about.
They occasionally have some pretty good wrecks in the turns, but nothing as spectacular as a NASCAR warm-up lap crash.
You can time the difference between first and second place with a calendar instead of a stopwatch.
They don’t have a single “Billy Bob” on their entire roster.
And it’s tough to pledge allegiance and buy racing merchandise for the guy on the 4291 bike.
It just doesn’t roll off the tongue like “that number 8 Budweiser car is running really fast for a guy in 38th place.”
(My apologies to Dale Jr. fans.)
But for the last seven consecutive years, the guy standing on the podium in Paris has been a Texan.
It’s tough to find a sport, any sport, that has featured the same champion seven times in a row.
And at a time when Americans are pretty unpopular around the world, Armstrong has risen above the politics to show that we still have world-class athletes with world-class class.
The fact that he’s able to tweak the French on their noses in their own country is just gravy on the biscuits.
(Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.)
The only cloud on this incredible victory is the fact that it will be his last.
Armstrong announced before the race that he was retiring from the sport.
And unlike other big-name athletes with big-time egos who couldn’t stay retired, I suspect this one will stick.
After all, he’s got a lot of touring with Sheryl left to do.