Twitter is obviously a load of shite.
But it does cut out the middle man between sport’s superstars and the rest of us.
Lance Armstrong was tweeting earlier – explaining he’s making good progress on the road to recovery after injury. One example: “Just off the bike. 6 hrs. Amazing ride. Harder than hell tho. Oh wait, that’s the way I like it”. Hell yeah!
The seven-times Tour de France winner broke his collarbone in a race in Spain last month and has been training in the US in a bid to be fit for what would be his first Giro d’Italia in May.
If that happens, he’ll be expected to race in July’s Tour de France but French authorities may yet ban him because of a disagreement over his behavior at a doping test in March; he took a shower before giving his sample.
Whatever your views on Armstrong, yellow wristbands, doping allegations, jerseys yellow and otherwise – it’s certainly true that Armstrong’s reputation is on the line if he’s refused admisssion to the Tour. This will clearly hurt his cancer charity. A lot, maybe.
I interviewed Greg Lemond relatively recently. If you’re not up on your plotlines in the forever pedalling soap opera that is professional cycling, then you need to know this: LeMond does not where a Livestrong bracelet.
A blur of energy even now, LeMond has ADHD and punctuated the conversation with apologies for his ‘brain farts’ as he freewheeled off on another tangent. I wonder what he reckons of Armstrong’s ego-trip back to the European spotlight.
Incidentally, Lance will be in Ireland this summer according to his schedule. Let’s hope he doesn’t run into Paul Kimmage again. That’s some good YouTubing, let me tell ya.
In an attempt to ‘digitise’ everything I’ve ever written like the City Council belching rent books onto a hard drive, I’ve crowbarred in the LeMond piece below. But he has lived a page-turner: glory, betrayal, drugs, sexual abuse, guns, infidelity, money, no money and back again.
His perspective on the world varied. He enjoyed the unique loneliness only felt in the yellow jersey. He endured, through a veil of sweat and, he admits, tears, the unfamiliar view from the rear of the peloton. And when at last he folded away the bike, he got in the saddle to face down problems steeper than any feared Alpine climb. But Greg Lemond refuses to linger in the rear view mirror, a winner prefers to crane his neck at the next climb.
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