Chasse À Sorcière

French tabloid, L'Equipe alledges Armstrong used EPO in the 1999 Tour. Whatever it takes to increase circulation I suppose.

"French former Tour de France winner Laurent Fignon was more blunt in his assessment of the Armstrong brouhaha: 'I don't give a sh**. 1999? This is ancient history. What does this prove and what does this solve? What interests me now is keeping the next generation of cyclists clean and drug-free.'"

Have to agree with Fignon on this one. Here and Now--lol.


A statement by Lance Armstrong
regarding the L’Equipe article:

8/22/2005 - "Yet again, a European newspaper has reported that I have tested positive for performance enhancing drugs. Tomorrow’s L’Equipe, a French sports daily, is reporting that my 1999 samples were positive. Unfortunately, the witch hunt continues and tomorrow’s article is nothing short of tabloid journalism.

The paper even admits in its own article that the science in question here is faulty and that I have no way to defend myself. They state: “There will therefore be no counter-exam nor regulatory prosecutions, in a strict sense, since defendant’s rights cannot be respected.”

I will simply restate what I have said many times: I have never taken performance enhancing drugs."

This non-story reminds me of my favorite Kipling poem. Time for a little poetry.

This one's for you Lance.

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling