Bad Blood

by Jeremy Whittle

  ‘What happened?’ I asked him.

  ‘They put a gun to my head,’ LeMond said at the time. He still stands by that comment.

  ‘Yeah, they did,’ Greg says. ‘I was under incredible duress from the whole Armstrong camp and my whole business was at stake.’

  LeMond says that the press release, disowning his earlier comments to Walsh, came straight out of Lance Armstrong’s office, through his agent, Bill Stapleton. ‘I didn’t even sign off on it. I just said, “Fuck it – do what you have to do. I’m off to Montana, I can’t stand this.”’

  Enraged at the time, LeMond now finds Armstrong’s defensive tactics amusing. ‘Lance set the template on how to be the master of spin. Convince everybody there’s a conspiracy, convince everybody that it couldn’t be him, that it’s always somebody else, that it’s got to be a conspiracy against the Americans.’

  But as Lance’s popularity and power mushroomed, LeMond became increasingly withdrawn. He steered clear of the hate mail he attracted on message boards, but remained conscious of the anger that some felt towards him.

  ‘People keep saying I don’t have anything positive to say about American riders. Well, why should I? Why should I have to be a supporter just because they’re Americans? I support the riders who speak out, I support the riders who come clean, who say this sport needs to be cleaned up because I don’t want my sixteen-year-old kid racing in cycling.’

  In April 2008, the Trek and LeMond relationship finally came to an end.

  THE VALLEY OF THE TROLLS

  ‘Fucking trolls!’ he said … Others might have been tempted to ignore the trolls, or at least pretend to ignore them, but not Armstrong. He watched them obsessively, getting ready to fight, to go to battle, to take the bastards on.

  Daniel Coyle, Lance Armstrong: Tour de Force

  IT IS WINTERTIME in Britain. The sludge brown earth of Cambridgeshire is as far from the humid scrubland of the Texas Hill Country as is imaginable. The ground is barren and wet. Fog swirls in across the fens and flatlands, slowing motorways to a crawl and grounding flights across south-east England.

  On a Sunday morning, the trolls’ witch-finder general stands on the touchline of a windswept football pitch, exhorting a bunch of kids to greater efforts. David Walsh, back from yet another trip, is at home near Cambridge. He is this football team’s coach and, since 2001, the king of the Lance Armstrong sceptics, the torch bearer of the ‘witch-hunt’.

  After the confrontation in Pau, Walsh published two unflattering books on Armstrong. The most recent, LA Officiel (2006), was the sequel to the best-selling LA Confidentiel (2004). As before, it was co-authored with former L’Equipe journalist Pierre Ballester.

  Once, back in the days when EPO use in the peloton was still just a rumour, the American had been the subject of an admiring portrait in Walsh’s 1993 book, Inside the Tour de France. But Inside the Tour de France is to the two LA books what The Sound of Music is to The Exorcist.

  Amid all the celebration of Armstrong the hero, Walsh became a consistent voice of dissent. Since 2001, the pair have fought their battle in flurries of legal activity in Britain, France and America. Like a brawl in the street, their battle for supremacy was an ugly but fascinating sight.

  ‘He is the worst journalist I know,’ the Texan said generously of the award-winning Irishman. And surely, the most bloody-minded.

  Walsh just wouldn’t let it lie, while Lance was hardly one to back down. In some ways they were more like each other than perhaps they realised. Much of their time seemed to be dedicated to getting mad – and getting even. Plotting the downfall of others is stressful and exhausting, bad for the soul, yet they both seemed to relish it. Armstrong never failed a drugs test and has always denied the use of performance-enhancing products. He never tires of pointing out his long track record of negative test results. When the Sunday Times published material from LA Confidentiel, Armstrong sued the paper and David Walsh for libel. He won.

  Walsh has some allies but they are less powerful than Armstrong’s. At first Walsh had the upper hand, but as things heated up, Walsh found his credibility under attack over the articles he authored questioning Armstrong’s ethics.

  But perhaps what the purist Walsh disliked most about Lance was the fact that he reversed the roles of the Tour and the Tourist; he flung tradition back at the French by debunking the notion that no rider is bigger than the Tour itself.

  Yet even this is a myth. What of his French hosts? Armstrong’s success was warmly embraced by the Tour, French television and even the hoteliers and restaurateurs of the hexagon who somehow put their misgivings to the back of their minds as the dollars rolled in. Only when Armstrong had retired from racing in July 2005 did they suddenly voice their concern. Armstrong exploited the Tour and in much the same way that the Tour had always used the riders, the old race exploited him.

  For the most part, he deserved his bad press. Armstrong had his ways of controlling the media and he could be cunning. On the pretence of according an interview, Lance, through his press officer or other journalists, would obtain home or mobile phone numbers of his critics and call them unexpectedly, out of the blue, before launching into bitter tirades.

  ‘It’s Lance. You won’t need your pen,’ the Texan would hiss at a hapless journalist, cooking Sunday lunch for his family, before launching into an expletive-peppered denouncement of his work. At the same time he revelled in reminding them of his status, of how much they relied on his name to sell magazines or newspapers. ‘Waddya gonna do when I’m gone?’ he’d taunt in his inimitable growl. On the few occasions that failed, he became increasingly confrontational. But he never backed down.

  Towards the end of his final Tour, as I stood in a finish-line huddle with Johan Bruyneel, there was a lull in the conversation, which had turned towards the irritating detail that, despite his domination, Lance had yet to win one of that year’s stages.

  ‘You know that some French people are saying, given that it’s his final Tour, that maybe Lance should throw caution to the wind, try to win a stage and show a little more panache …’ I suggested.

  Bruyneel snorted in derision. ‘Panache, panache! I think winning seven Tours is enough panache!’ My old mate Andy Hood, standing alongside, guffawed in amusement.

  Two days later in Saint-Etienne, Lance was midway through his final press conference when my ears suddenly pricked up as he answered a question unrelated to panache (or my suggestion of his lack of it) by turning it into another diatribe against his critics.

  ‘You know, some guy shoves a microphone in Johan’s face and says, “he doesn’t have any panache – where’s the panache?”’ he said, eyes scanning the pressroom, a threatening edge to his voice. ‘Seven Tours gives you panache.’

  A few rows ahead of me, I heard Hood’s familiar guffaw once more.

  In a sport that had never had a star of his status before, belittling his critics was a tactic that worked well for Lance; some journalists, terrified of finding themselves on the blacklist, ostracised by the biggest star they had ever known, wilted in the full force of the Texan hairdryer.

  But this was hardly Sir Alex Ferguson and the BBC. Lance’s hectoring and secretive behaviour only fuelled the suspicion that he had something to hide. His lack of transparency, his control freakery, highlighted by his woeful relations with the European media, worked against him. Isolated in his tower of perfection and obsessed with winning, winning, winning, the whispering got louder and it made him madder than ever – madder than hell.

  And winning, year after year, didn’t seem to help. In fact, the more Lance won, the angrier he got. By the end of the 2005 Tour, Lance seemed very angry indeed. He couldn’t even leave the Champs-Elysées without launching into another rant against the sceptics, although he spared the crowds in Paris the four-letter words. Like Michael Schumacher, whose unsmiling domination of Formula 1 only served to make him less popular each year, the Texan’s po-faced persona did little for his relations with the Tour’s homela
nd.

  Walsh had homed in on this sentiment amongst the French, fuelling the notion that Armstrong Inc. had raped and pillaged the Tour and that all that would be left afterwards would be the wreckage of his dominion. The content of LA Confidentiel, in particular, stirred up a hornet’s nest.

  In 2004, the fuss about the book pricked the interest of SCA Promotions, a stateside risk insurance company. SCA Promotions, who provide what has been described as ‘risk coverage for promotional contests’, had been poised to send Armstrong a cheque for $5 million – his share of a bonus scheme taken out across three companies and worth, in total, $10 million. But then company president Bob Hamman started reading Walsh’s and Ballester’s damned book.

  SCA became curious because they wished to explore the possibility that Armstrong had used performance-enhancing drugs to win six Tours – and to cash in on what was effectively a bet he had made on himself. John Bandy, one of SCA’s legal team, confirmed that payment was delayed because Hamman wanted to follow up some of the claims made by Walsh and Ballester in LA Confidentiel.

  Initial media coverage of the case was deemed less than flattering by Armstrong, so through Bill Stapleton’s offices at the CSE agency, he issued a statement, in which the standards and reputation of the French anti-doping laboratory at Châtenay-Malabry were relied upon.

  Armstrong’s statement, reproduced here in its entirety, set out his case:

  Austin, Texas, 25 September

  CSE is issuing the following statement in response to widespread media reports by CNN, the Associated Press and USA Today containing false and reputation-threatening information by SCA. This information pertains to the terms of an incentive bonus insurance policy with SCA on behalf of Lance Armstrong. The US Postal Service (USPS) Team, which Lance Armstrong leads, is jointly owned and managed by CSE and Tailwind Sports.

  CSE is shocked and disappointed by public statements being made by SCA regarding this situation. Lance’s record-setting six consecutive Tour de France victories, along with his inspirational story of cancer survivorship, is one of the greatest comeback stories of our day. With this achievement comes reward, including an incentive bonus structure common in the sports business. Lance’s bonus structure was put in place in 2001 by his team to incent him to win six Tours de France, all in a row. At the time, the idea seemed far-fetched: he had only won two, and he had to win four more to get this year’s bonus of $10 million. The bonuses were insured by three companies, one of which is SCA, a Dallas-based company that is responsible for $5 million of the payment to Lance. The insurance agreement is simple and clear: if Lance achieves six victories, he is paid his performance award. There is simply no question about the ‘validity’ of Lance’s victory, and it has been confirmed by the organisers of the Tour de France and by the Union Cycliste International (UCI), the international governing body of cycling. SCA’s failure to pay the final instalment of its bonus incentive insurance policy is a shameless and baseless breach of contract. Lance’s 2002 and 2003 performance awards were insured under the same contract and, upon his victories, the sums were paid by SCA as required.

  An SCA attorney’s quote in USA Today stating ‘We’ve requested drug test [results] to disprove the allegations – clean test results that should be easily attainable’ is simply untrue and not supported by the facts.

  Contrary to SCA’s disingenuous and self-serving quote in USA Today, SCA is not interested in valid and authenticated ‘testing results’; to the contrary, SCA, before considering payment, demanded free and unlimited access to ‘every medical record and medical provider of Mr Armstrong; his complete medical history; all records of all Armstrong’s past bonus awards; and all contracts involving Armstrong, Tailwind, US Postal Service, Capitol Sports & Entertainment, Disson Furst, and all related entities and individuals.’ Even if SCA did have any legitimate interest in the drug and doping test results, ninety per cent of what SCA has demanded would have no relevance and further reveals the falsity of its statements. The actual testing protocols, consisting of fifty-two detailed pages, and the results of those tests were provided to SCA over a month ago.

  On 16 August, 2004, CSE provided SCA CEO, Bob Hamman, with a letter from the UCI, which administered and enforced the anti-doping regulations and testing for the Tour de France, authenticating Lance’s clean testing record at the 2004 Tour de France. In the letter sent to SCA by the UCI’s anti-doping manager, Christian Varin, he stated:

  ‘I confirm that Mr Lance Armstrong was tested several times and all of the laboratory results were negative. I would also point out that the tests are performed in collaboration with the French Ministry of Sport. The laboratory is a “WADA accredited” [World Anti-doping Agency] laboratory [Châtenay-Malabry]. This year, we proceeded to urine anti-doping tests and blood anti-doping tests. Mr Armstrong was submitted to both kinds of tests. Also, all the test results are managed by another French independent body: The CLPD [Conseil de Lutte et de Prevention du Dopage] according to French legislation. As a conclusion, I reiterate the fact that Mr Lance Armstrong was tested several times and that all results were negative.’

  Needless to say CSE is puzzled by SCA’s accusations when we not only documented testing validation from the UCI over a month ago, but provided contact information and access to Mr Varin and the organisations that developed, applied and analysed the tests. Lance has made it unambiguously clear over the years that he does not use, nor has he ever used, performance-enhancing drugs. The baseless and mean-spirited doping allegations against Lance are not supported by any facts. He has been tested more than any other professional athlete in the world and has never failed a drug test.

  Unfortunately, it appears that SCA is changing the rules when it is time to fulfil its obligation. The SCA website states: ‘The concept behind Performance Coverage is simple: offer a professional athlete a cash bonus for an outstanding performance. When the athlete meets the stated mark, SCA funds the bonus in full and promptly.’ We met our ‘mark’, and the bonus should be promptly paid – as advertised.

  * * *

  The Paris laboratory cited here as a model of efficiency is the same French laboratory that in 2005 ‘leaked’ evidence fuelling allegations of EPO use by Armstrong in 1999 and that in 2006 returned two positive testosterone tests for his former teammate Floyd Landis. It is the same laboratory that Armstrong once described as having an ‘excellent reputation’. Yet both Armstrong and Landis have now questioned the Châtenay-Malabry lab’s ethics, competence and professionalism.

  September 2004 was a busy month for Armstrong and his lawyers. In the same week, he opened proceedings against David Walsh and the Sunday Times and against SCA Promotions in the United States in pursuit of payment. The action against SCA Promotions was filed in Dallas by Lance and Tailwind Sports, the management company that owned his team, which, at that time was still sponsored by US Postal Service. Both cases were settled in Armstrong’s favour. But Walsh and Ballester persisted. Armstrong’s legal team said that the claims in LA Confidentiel were groundless and pointed to his long run of negative tests, both in and out of competition. Meanwhile, SCA hired private investigators, and with a ruling not expected for up to eighteen months, began turning over rocks to see what they could come up with. This forced some of Lance’s former confidants, such as Frankie Andreu, to choose sides.

  Walsh’s campaign against Armstrong made him the black sheep of the press corps. Suddenly, he found that friends were hard to come by. When we spotted the Irishman trudging his way around Liège on his own as the 2004 Tour started, we joked as we sped past that this was because nobody wanted to be seen car-sharing with the troll king by Lance’s spies.

  Incredibly, this turned out to be true.

  So paranoid had Armstrong made other journalists that Walsh became a virtual exile. The combined efforts of Lance and The Entourage, his team manager Johan Bruyneel and US Postal’s press officer, Jogi Muller, aided by some press-room cronies, strong-armed others, clearly of little resolve, into distanc
ing Walsh. If Walsh was spotted travelling or even talking with other journalists, Muller would scuttle back to Lance and Bruyneel. Armstrong wanted us to choose between his way and the highway. Being responsible international sports journalists with high-minded ethics, most of us just sat on the fence.

  With Armstrong’s popularity at its peak, few who worked in cycling could afford to be blacklisted, and those who maintained their friendship with Walsh were tarred with the same brush. On one occasion, journalist Rupert Guinness and Bruyneel almost came to blows, when the Australian was reprimanded for being too friendly to Walsh. Guinness, one of Lance’s close confidants in the early years when he had taken his first uncertain steps in Europe, was disgusted. He too became persona non grata in the Armstrong camp.

  Towards the end of his career, if Armstrong and his associates had been able, they would surely have printed the same press release in every newspaper and magazine. His inability to achieve total control made Armstrong increasingly surly, although his face lit up when a TV camera turned his way. Printed media he could do without, but moving pictures he loved.

  That was reflected by his choice of press officer. The hapless Jorg ‘Jogi’ Muller was ill-equipped for the job. An unremarkable ex-professional, Muller spoke many languages, but showed little understanding of the subtleties of the press. Once, I emailed him a simple query on the status of Lance’s relationship with Sheryl Crow. ‘I know nothing,’ came the reply.

  On another occasion, when Armstrong’s paranoia was at its height, Muller forcefully tried to persuade a leading American sports writer to hand over a tape of a conversation she and other journalists had had with Walsh. Stapleton and Armstrong scrambled to apologise.

  Muller’s ability to say no to all requests became legendary, as did his inability to remember a name. Eventually, I became firmly established on the blacklist although I don’t think that Muller, with characteristic vagueness, really knew why. Somebody – Lance or Stapleton, or maybe Bruyneel – had just told him to add my name to it.