Editor’s Note: Jelisa Castrodale’s column will appear on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Her one-woman cooking show, “The Vegetable Monologues,” has been banned in Canada and throughout the Middle East.
Although it remains on the list of banned substances for every major sports league, the NCAA and the Olympics, it’s difficult to believe that cocaine was once considered a performance-enhancing drug. After spending the morning chewing on the end of my pen and ramming my eyebrows into each other, I could only come up with three examples of careers that were improved by that particular alkaloid: “Changes”-era David Bowie, a mid-seventies, mid-Mork-ing Robin Williams and semi-obscure French cyclist Henri Pelissier.
In an interview that followed his 1923 Tour de France win, the controversial pedal-pusher gave a reporter some insight into his training regimen. “Do you want to see how we keep going?” he asked, emptying his bag onto the table. “That’s cocaine for our eyes, chloroform for our gums, and horse liniment to keep our knees warm. In short, we run on dynamite.”
Drugs and the Tour de France have had the longest relationship this side of Alabama and illiteracy. Alcohol and amphetamine use was once so common that the 1930 rule book reminded cyclists that they would have to supply their own pills. Anti-doping legislation was passed in France in 1965; the following year, the Tour broke out the pee cups for the first time, sixty-three years after the annual two-wheel trip around the country began.
Since then, the list of allegations, scandals and disqualifications is longer than the director’s cut of Avatar. Former champion Floyd Landis was stripped of his 2006 title after testing positive for synthetic testosterone and exactly no one should’ve been shocked when it was reported that Alberto Contador — the Spaniard who spent the last Sunday in July holding the trophy over his head — was also being investigated for using a banned substance.
Contador, a three-time Tour winner, tested positive in July for Clenbuterol, which is legally used by asthma patients and illegally taken by endurance athletes as a stimulant. The drug is also administered to livestock; horses frequently take it for respiratory benefits, to keep them lean, and in case they’d like to ride for Team Astana next year.
It’s not Contador’s fault, of course. It never is, since every cyclist whose bodily fluids contain something illegal is required to act surprised, to give the same wide-eyed expression of disbelief you see when Oprah tells her audience that there’s a brand-new infant under each one of their chairs. Contador claims that he never knowingly took Clenbuterol, that it must have been in the meat that a friend brought him for dinner.
The defense is flimsy, but not altogether impossible. In China, Italy and Spain — the latter country where the allegedly tainted meal was purchased — there have been cases of Clenbuterol poisoning, where a number of people became ill after eating pork organs or bad cuts of beef. Don’t launch your half-eaten Big Mac out the passenger window yet; in the United States, the FDA bans the use of Clenbuterol in any animal they sell at Food Lion.
David Howman, the director of the World Anti-Doping Agency, isn’t buying it, though. “Clenbuterol is a substance that has been used for over twenty to thirty years. It is not anything new,” he said. “Nobody has ever suggested it is something that you can take inadvertently.”
Contador has been “formally and provisionally suspended” during the investigation and could be staring at two-years of stationary bikes and Spin classes, since Clenbuterol use comes with a complimentary two-year ban from professional cycling. In April, Fuyu Li from Team RadioShack — Lance Armstrong’s team — earned two years of free time after testing positive.
Armstrong and Contador were once teammates on Kazakhstan’s own Astana squad, although both have since swapped jerseys: Armstrong to Team RadioShack and Contador to Saxo Bank. Armstrong has been quiet about the allegations, instead using his Twitter page to update us on his workout schedule (“heading down to run”) and today’s to-do list (“shooting a new spot for @RadioShack”). Allegations of drug use have been launched at Armstrong for most of his career, although he has yet to deliver a positive test.
Contador hasn’t been quite as lucky. He and four of his former Astana teammates were named in the high-profile Operacion Puerto case, but the charges were later dropped. His new team is managed by Bjarne Riis, who has a surplus of vowels because even though there are no I’s in Team Saxo Bank, there are in erythropoietin — EPO — the banned blood enhancer that almost cost him his own Tour title.
Although Floyd Landis is the only trophy-holder forced to remove “Tour de France Champion” from his resume, the list of previous winners is marked with a Barry Bonds-sized asterisk. Several, including Riis, Marco Pantani (1998) and Laurent Fignon (1983, ’84), either had positive tests after their Tour wins or admitted after retirement that they’d been dopers. Others, like Pedro Delgado (1988) or five-time winner Eddie Merckx (1969-1972, 1974) used substances that were banned by the Tour years after they’d dry-cleaned their yellow jerseys.
The Tour officials have attempted to make examples of the riders on the wrong side of the drug tests but the problem is bigger than that one event. Cycling itself has developed a reputation as dirty as a second-tier team’s biohazard bin. On Velonation.com, seven of their top 15 stories involve riders who are currently involved in drug investigations or who have received suspensions.
Interestingly, knowing that many riders have entire chemistry labs running through their circulatory systems doesn’t diminish the allure of the Tour de France. It appeals to the casual fans who get so caught up in the mid-summer storylines that they’re willing to overlook the disappointment that frequently follows, like watching the first eighty minutes of Marley & Me, then pretending that the dog doesn’t die at the end.
The idea that if a rider can’t compete cleanly, he shouldn’t compete is becoming more outdated than a landline phone. If a rider can’t compete cleanly, he can’t compete, period. He’s buried in the back of the peloton, a faceless blur careening through Technicolor landscapes. As a result, the allegations against Alberto Contador haven’t been met with worldwide outrage; it’s hard to be disappointed when you aren’t even surprised.
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Jelisa Castrodale is a writer and comedian who has learned a lot about life by making a mess of her own. She chronicles her failures at The Typing Makes Me Sound Busy, and twitters while she waits at stoplights. Castrodale was featured in the book Twitter Wit and was named one of Mashable’s 10 Funniest Twitterers. Her column appears on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact her at jacastrodale@gmail.com.
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(Graphic by Tauntr.com).
