My broken Landis

Dear Floyd,

You have hurt me. I watched the Tour this year with more delight and more fervor than ever before. I watched and cheered for you in a boyish way, in a way I have not cheered for a stranger since I was a boy myself. You see, long ago, baseball burned me. They broke my heart and I still haven't forgiven them. I stopped cheering after those baseballers struck. I stopped tuning in on my transistor radio. I stopped being glued to television screens. I found out that there was very little power and very little satisfaction in pouring my heart out in hopes that my little hollers could somehow affect the universe enough to force in one more run, or basket, or field goal of professionals. Professionals were people doing a job. Some focused on the money. Some got caught up in drugs. Either way, it didn't take long to find a more appreciative audience. I found my teammates. They don't get paid and ideally they don't cheat.

Every so often, I dabble in fanaticism again. I start to believe. I start to think that I can be more, I can be great, because I get to witness greatness on that 20 inch box. Then you come along. I devoured your amazing story. The difficulties you have overcome. Your dedication. Your gritty determination. And I watch. I watch hours of men pedaling through France.

Floyd. Some places torture war criminals by making them watch men pedal through France. But I watched on the edge of my failing couch. I tried to will you to success. I believed in you. And you did not let me down. You delivered a stirring victory. An epic story. One for the ages. It seemed glorious. Instead, it teeters on tragic. Whether you're innocent or not, and oh, I cling to the hope that you are, the victory is tainted. I'm shaken. You didn't deny it like an innocent man. But how? How could you be that stupid? Or if this is some vast conspiracy... It's too much. I can't go on. One parting shot- suddenly Zidane, the man who lost his temper in a heated battle looks like a hero. Assuming he wasn't on drugs, at least he was competing on an even playing field. Is that really too much to ask of professional athletes?

I don't have tears to cry. Please make it go away.

-Dave