America loves everything about Lance Armstrong except the bike he rode in on.
People unable to name one cyclist he defeated in the Tour de France admire Armstrong for beating cancer. He walks with the swagger of a cowboy. He dates a rock star. It’s all good.
But has any athlete become so famous in a sport we care so little about? Most of us learned to ride a bike at age 6, then moved on to more important athletic pursuits, like watching football on television while eating chips on the couch.
Cycling won’t get any lasting respect in America until somebody we know whips Armstrong at what he does best.
If cycling is to have a future in the USA, somebody from this country needs to dethrone the champ before Armstrong hangs up his bike in the garage.
That’s why I’m rooting for a major upset at the Tour, praying the first cyclist to Paris is either Montana native Levi Leipheimer or Pennsylvanian Floyd Landis.
Who? That’s exactly my point.
Cycling is doomed to fade from the American consciousness exactly 21 Tour stages from now, pushed back to that apathetic nether land somewhere between the NHL and men’s tennis, unless a new American makes a household name for himself at Armstrong’s expense.
The one true dynasty in American sports is showing its age. Armstrong remains the man to beat at the Tour. But he is no longer the patrón – the boss – of this race.
This is the year Armstrong should never have strapped on his helmet. There is nothing left for him to prove.
He would have had more fun being a roadie for singer Sheryl Crow than sweating with Jan Ullrich from one end of France to the other. Guaranteed.
Armstrong, however, chose not to retire when the time was obviously right, his team was clearly on top and his legacy was complete. Guess that makes him human, after all.
Although he did not knock society upside the head the way boxer Muhammad Ali did, I would argue Armstrong is the premier U.S. athlete of our generation. He’s a bigger winner than quarterback Joe Montana and an American flier who has soared as high as Michael Jordan ever did.
After six consecutive victories in the world’s toughest sporting event, I fear Armstrong returned to the Tour for the wrong reasons: ego and money.
This time, it really isn’t about the bike.
Sure, Armstrong still seems like the only guy who matters in any room he enters. That presence must be a terrible thing to feel on the back of your neck in the Pyrenees.
But the only thing bigger than Armstrong’s ego is his marketing machine. The machine prints money like a mint and turns the U.S. press all starry-eyed in a way that could turn actor Tom Cruise green with envy.
At the risk of committing blasphemy against a great American sports icon, does anybody else have the impression Armstrong decided to ride in one more Tour to please Subaru and The Discovery Channel as much as his own young kids?
There are challengers who think they smell weakness in Armstrong. If he must lose in his last race, nobody here at home wants to see Armstrong humbled by some foreigner whose name we cannot pronounce, however worthy a rival Alexander Vinokourov or Germany’s Ullrich might be.
It would be much more satisfying to see Armstrong reluctantly pass the baton to one of his countrymen.
At age 31, Leipheimer has the mixture of experience, climbing skills and mental toughness to win this race.
Cycling has never scored as many points as an extreme sport as pedaling up the side of a mountain probably deserves. Maybe Landis, who bears such an uncanny resemblance to Kid Rock that he could slip on a concert stage alongside Crow, could give the sport a rawer edge.
Sooner or later, there will be another American to ride into Paris wearing the famed yellow jersey.
But, unless he beats Armstrong, it won’t count as much.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-820-5438 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
