And Now, It’s Time To Play…

A game we’ve played before. Over at Trust But Verify is a link to a Cycling Weekly article which caught my eye. After seeing the quote at TBV, I had to see what the whole article said. It starts out with the question:

Is there anything more nauseating than the pathetic protestations of innocence and accusations of wrong-doing from a rider who has tested positive?

That depends. Are we talking about someone who is guilty, knows he’s guilty, and is playing games by trying to shift discussion away from his guilt and the repercussions of his actions, or are we talking about someone who’s truly innocent and is getting the shaft?

The author of the piece takes a shot at Tyler Hamilton and Floyd Landis, presumably as cheaters who kept protesting their innocence long after they should have stopped. Maybe they should have, though not for the reasons the author initially implies. Maybe Landis should have followed Pat McQuaid’s advice right after he tested positive. (Which was, in a nutshell: Even if you’re innocent, shut up and take the punishment, because you’ll lose your case and go bankrupt if you try to contest the charges.) Maybe they are both innocent victims of a corrupt system. Given what we’ve seen because of the Landis case, that’s certainly a possibility.

The piece goes on:

It seems that the current trend is to just keep protesting until you get your way. Contest the result, contest the labs, contest the ban. Just keep appealing.

In some cases, that is undoubtedly true. And it is galling, to say the least, when someone who’s sworn up one wall and down the other that they’re clean as clean can be turns out not only to be a cheat, but someone who was lying and misleading us the whole time. Like Marion Jones, for example. She never tested positive (up to a point, anyway, but the one time she did, the finding didn’t hold up on the testing of the B sample). But eventually she was forced to admit, rather tearfully, that she’d been cheating all along. I think it’s pretty safe to say that her fans were pretty upset to find out that Marion really had been juicing during her glory days.

The damage she’s done — not only to herself, but to her sport and its reputation — is huge. But athletes like that also have a huge incentive to keep protesting their innocence up to the bitter end. That incentive comes in various shades of dead presidents (it really is all about the Benjamins — even if Franklin never was elected president).

That’s part of the problem. Self interest trumps everything else sometimes, perhaps more often than not. Self preservation can even trump one’s own sense of honor (though some are seriously lacking in the honor department, to begin with). So the guilty will scream and holler to high heaven that they’re innocent. Because if they don’t, they’re going to lose their ticket on the gravy train. You may not like it that these folks make so much noise (I’m not too fond of it, really), but they’re just looking out for themselves. What would you do, if your job and financial security were on the line?

Here’s the thing: Some of the science behind these tests is less than perfect. And there are some aspects of “the system” that are clearly flawed. Sometimes innocent victims do get caught in the jaws of “the system.”  What are they supposed to do? Shut up and take it?

For those who are innocent (however few and far between), they’re pretty well destroyed as soon as the merest whiff of an allegation surfaces and sullies their names. Gone is their way of making a living. Gone are the endorsement deals, the team contracts, and their reputation. That’s now pretty well shredded to pieces. Who wouldn’t be screaming bloody murder as they see everything they’ve worked hard to achieve snatched away by a rumor or a leaked lab result?

Problem is, it’s not just the innocent who make noise about being innocent. The guilty are just as likely to make the same kinds of noises. Except one thing. Deep down, those who really were doping know that they were cheating and what they’ve accomplished is, in some ways, a bunch of ill-gotten gains. For some, as Bonnie Ford pointed out a while back, it was not so much about cheating to gain victory, it was about using what everyone else was using in order to stay competitive and gain/keep a job as a lowly domestique (who, on a bad day, will ride stronger than most of the rest of us, no matter how accomplished we may or may not be in the amateur ranks).

For them, it’s just about making a decent living and providing for their families, in a sport where there are more who are willing to do what it takes than there are jobs to be filled. In other words, they’re expendable. They know it. And some are willing to dope in order to stay in the game. As Ford noted back in July,

Domestiques are a dime a dozen in Europe, and we now know from anecdotal and hard evidence that many have crossed the line to keep their jobs.

This is all to say, no doping case is simple. Oh, some may look simple on the outside. And some of them may actually be that way, but the truth underlying doping and doping allegations is complicated. When someone proclaims his innocence loudly, it draws attention to the fact that maybe all of this isn’t so cut-and-dried as the anti-doping authorities would like us to believe.

But, getting back to the Cycling Weekly piece, the author’s biggest beef isn’t with Hamilton and Landis — he just does a drive-by snarking on those two — the author’s beef is with Alexander Vinokourov, Stefan Schumacher and Ricardo Riccò. For the moment, Vino is still retired (as far as I know, though rumors have him contemplating a return to competition on the Astana squad, but I doubt that Johan Bruyneel would be too keen on that), Riccò is fighting to get his suspension reduced, and Schumacher is facing a two-year ban.

Stefan Schumacher, Alexandre Vinokourov and Riccardo Ricco have all been whining recently that they have been harshly treated.

Schumacher believes that retro-active testing is unenforceable and the result of his positive test should not be allowed to stand. Vinokourov reckons the laboratory made a mistake, and Ricco wants a shorter ban because, well, just because he does, okay?

Do these guys think we were born yesterday?

I don’t know about the validity of Schumacher’s contention. I suspect that if he takes that to arbitration he’s going to lose. Samples are allowed to be held for eight years for the possibility of retroactive testing. Now, it’s murkier, because the Tour was held under a French Cycling Federation permit, so exactly what the rules are in this case, I don’t know. But I’m going to guess that the World Anti-Doping Code still applies, and he’s pretty well screwed on this point. Maybe he can win, but I wouldn’t bet my next paycheck on it.

Vino could have a point, though that’s not what this author wants to hear. There are some questions about how well validated the test used to convict Vino of blood doping actually is.

As for Riccò’s contention that his sanction should be reduced — bad news for Cycling Weekly’s writer. The World Anti-Doping Code does allow for some leeway there. Riccò did cooperate with authorities, after a couple of weeks of denial. The question is: What’s that cooperation worth? Did he give them anything useful? If so, maybe he is entitled to a bit of a break. Then again, Riccò also said this about his supplier:

“I have not paid, naturally. [Dr. Carlo] Santuccione assured me you could not be found positive. So I did not give him the money.”

That sounds like what he did was pretty deliberate. If I were sitting on the CAS panel hearing his appeal, and that statement was entered into the record, and if Riccò confirmed that the context was correct in the way it’s presented, I wouldn’t be inclined towards reducing his suspension by even a second, because his actions sound very deliberate. And his current cooperation sounds an awful lot like someone who’s looking to minimize his punishment, rather than being truly converted to the cause of anti-doping (unlike, say, St. David of Millar, who appears to be a true believer these days).

But – and this is a big ol’ but — if Riccò had actually offered up information that brought down a whole doping ring, then I might be tempted to cut a bit of time off his wandering in the cycling wilderness. Maybe. And the WADA Code allows for this, even if we don’t agree with whether or not a certain athlete is deserving of such a dispensation.

Moving on:

Here’s a novel idea for Schumacher, Vinokourov and Ricco. If you feel so strongly that you have been wronged, if you feel that the sanction is unjust or the test was flawed or the rules are unenforceable, put your money where your mouth is and sue the relevant bodies.

If you believe you have been wronged, sue the laboratories for screwing up. Sue WADA for drafting illegal laws. Sue the sport’s governing body and your national federations. See how far you get with that kind of action.

Easier said than done. Suing the laboratories for screwing up? I don’t think that will fly. Just a hunch, mind you. But even if you won a suit like that, it doesn’t get you back into competition any sooner (although, if damages were awarded it might at least help recoup some of that lost salary, sponsorship and other income while you’re sitting out your suspension). Of course, I think the writer means to suggest that none of that will get you very far.

But, in the lines of “put your money where your mouth is,” I’d also note that Floyd Landis is doing exactly that, by suing USADA in Federal court. And sometime in the future — near or not so near — we’ll see just how well he does with that effort. If he succeeds, that will be quite the turn of events. Don’t expect to see anything about it on CNN or the other news networks, beyond a teaser and a 15- to 30-second mention for one story in one news cycle.

And finally, the piece concludes:

[D]o us all a favour and stop whining to favourable sections of the press, who are only too happy to help make your apologies for you and prove your case.

Otherwise, shut up, serve your ban and stop bleating, because it will only make you even more unpopular than you already are, which is jolly unpopular indeed.

Just a thought: If a case can be proven, perhaps there’s something to the athlete’s “bleating,” don’t you think? What bothers me most is the last bit. Shut up and serve your ban.

OK. If it’s a fair cop, and the athlete did what he’s accused of, I can agree with that. But given that the anti-doping adjudication system is pretty much a rigged game, one can’t really take a conviction in this system as rock-solid proof of nefarious behavior and/or ill intent. If an athlete does just shut up and go away, the system never gets examined. Flaws aren’t uncovered. And the science and process behind all of this doesn’t get improved.

Instead, bullying people into shutting up and taking their punishment does the exact opposite. Without a close examination, it just allows the flaws to continue on, undetected and uncorrected. Yeah, it gets tiresome hearing everyone and his brother crying foul when they’re accused of doping. And most of the time, it’s probably an act. But every once in a while, it isn’t. We have to keep our ears and minds open, because we owe it to the innocent ones (and they may be few) to allow them to plead their cases. Not just behind closed doors in an anti-doping tribunal, but in the court of public opinion.

Because, no matter what happens behind closed doors, an athlete is well and truly screwed just as soon as he or she is implicated in a doping scandal. Hearing all that “bleating” about innocence may be inconvenient for some people’s personal world views. But when we turn a deaf ear to the possibility that someone might be a victim of injustice, ultimately we will all suffer the consequences. Because unquestioned authority eventually leads to tyranny — in the world of sports, or in the world at large. And I don’t think many of us would willingly choose to live under tyranny.

And Now For Something Completely Different

Well, OK, maybe not. But since I started writing this post, a couple of new items have come up (hat tip to Trust But Verify, where I first saw links to these stories).

First, VeloNews is reporting that a new motion filed in Landis’ lawsuit now contends that all three of the arbitrators in his CAS hearing had conflicts of interest that may have interfered with him getting a fair hearing. It’s been a while since I read the original filing and related documents, and I haven’t seen this new filing (yet), but I’m hard pressed to see what’s new about this.

Granted, the original paperwork made much of one particular arbitrator’s conflicts of interest (Jan Paulsson, the arbitrator chosen by Landis’ side). Even so, the content of the filing made it pretty clear that there were conflicts of  interest involving not only the panel, but one of the attorneys representing USADA.

Perhaps they’ve just revised the original claim to be clearer about exactly what they’re alleging. But it doesn’t seem like much new to me.

The second item is one from Steroid Nation. Gary R. Gaffney, the post’s author, makes some good points, and then finishes up with the following:

Isn’t it starting to be ridiculously irresponsible to carry out this obsessive fight forever?  Even if the funds are donated, why enrich the barristers with frivilous motions over and over and over…drained defense funds too…and when your suspension will be expired before the Obama administration takes over (was Obama even a US Senator when Landis won the Tour in 2006?)…hey there is an idea…a Presidential pardon from the out-going Bush adminsitration.

OK, a couple of small items, first. Actually, the Obama administration will be all of 9 days old when Landis’ suspension expires (assuming he ponies up the $100,000 to get his USAC racing licence out of hock, if the fine is upheld, he is effectively suspended until such time as he can pay up). Secondly, I don’t think a Presidential pardon would work here, but either president could issue one, given the timing and all. And yes, Obama was actually a US Senator in 2006. But I think Gary knows all this and is just putting us on.

It may seem ridiculously irresponsible and obsessive, and it may be enriching a few barristers who don’t need the enrichment. But, to me, it all boils down to this: How far would you go to defend yourself if you knew you were wrongly convicted of something?

Common sense would say, “Cut your losses, save your money and move on.” That was Pat McQuaid’s advice.  I’d even venture a guess that most of us would probably do just that. Actually, most of us could never even afford the fight to begin with (barring help from the Sport Law Clinic at Valparaiso University or some other lawyer/legal team working pro bono). And that means most of us, if charged with a doping violation would be convicted of that violation, regardless of guilt or innocence. Hell of a system, eh?

But would you want to know that your name will forever go down in sports history as a convicted doper — and the first (but I doubt the last) to lose his Tour de France crown due to doping allegations? How many of us, if we could afford the fight, would do as Floyd Landis is doing? His case has seen more twists and turns than L’Alpe d’Huez, and it sure seems to be dragging on forever. It’s hard to see when all of this may come to completion. But when it does, no matter how Landis’ story turns out, no one could ever accuse the man of not fighting for what he believed in to the end. It may seem obsessive and it may seem irresponsible to some of us on the outside looking in, but if Landis’ wife and family support him for what he’s doing, that’s all that really matters.