One of the most exciting things to happen in the last year in the sport of cycling has been Team Slipstream/Chipotle emerging as a real powerhouse on the international scene. With the addition of successful veterans David Millar, Dave Zabriskie, and Magnus Backstedt, this team stands a great chance of getting a wild-card invitation to the Tour de France. That alone would be a great story, but what makes Slipstream truly amazing is its anti-doping stance, and the extreme measures the team takes to enforce its policies. Slipstream is the first team to implement its own internal doping controls, allowing it to track the natural trends of a rider’s physiology and catch any inconsistencies that would indicate the use of illegal performance-enhancing drugs.
What is exciting is that this is a team that can win races. And win cleanly. Perhaps that is the most important element, because right now the world needs to be shown that clean riders can win races, that drugs are not a necessary component of winning bike races. Not only does the public need to see this, but so do a large number of pro cyclists and team staff that support the culture of doping.
Win or lose, Slipstream/Chipotle’s presence at Protour races will shine a bright light on the ethics of cycling. They cannot lose. Even if their results are lousy, they are probably the only team that can prove conclusively that they are racing clean. And if they win, they win for everyone. When they win, they demonstrate that doping is not necessary, and they also illustrate that the public perception that doping is rampant is somewhat exaggerated. This team gives me hope. ESPN just posted a terrific article HERE.
I retired from the sport twelve years ago, in the middle of the dirty ’90s, disillusioned with the mercenary attitude of the pro ranks and the proliferation of cheating in the sport. None of us were making enough money as pro cyclists that a mercenary approach to the sport even made sense. The medical technology that was unfolding at an exponential rate was easily available to us, but the testing to control it was pathetically inadequate. As a part-time pro trying to race well, run a growing business, coach a team of top junior riders, and also have a family and a life outside cycling, I would have been a perfect candidate for doping. A simple shortcut could have made a huge difference in my cycling career. But to what end?
I was never naive about doping in the sport of cycling. The veil of secrecy that concealed the culture of doping from the public eye was very thin. Early on in my racing career I met riders who had doped, who were in the process of doping, and whose careers were about to explode due to a well-executed doping program. Luckily, I was smart enough to know that I had options. I raced a bike because I loved it, not because I sought fame and fortune. At any given moment I could walk away from it and begin another career. That is one of the benefits of growing up in America - you aren’t desperate to succeed for financial reasons, because you have other options. You have an education and you have a free-market economy.
My friend Alexandre “Sasha” Zinoviev didn’t have the same privileges. He grew up in a tiny house with a dirt floor in far eastern Russia, never having known his father, who he believed to be a military officer. He excelled at sports, and was chosen by his school coaches to participate in cycling. He won the Russian junior championships at age 14 and moved to the Soviet Olympic training center in Kharkiv, Ukraine, where he became a student of the science of cycling. The Olympic training center was a factory where athletes were developed through processes of chemistry as much as through a culture of comptetion. Sasha had no worries. Every meal was provided for him, medical needs were covered, and he lived the life of a star pupil in a private school. No one alive today knows what his diet and medical regimen consisted of, but in his years in Kharkiv he developed into a powerhouse. As part of the 1983 and 1985 Soviet National teams he won World Championships in the Team Time Trial. Glasnost gave him the opportunity to race in Europe with Alfa Lum, Carrera, and Phillips-Ruquita in the late ’80s and early ’90s.
I first met Sasha at the Tour of the Americas and we quickly became friends. Cincinnati and Kharkiv were sister cities, and since he wanted to learn about running a business, I invited him to come work with me at Wright Brothers Cyclery. He stayed as a guest in my home for several months, and we trained together, worked together, learned together, and became as close as brothers. He was an amazing training partner, totally willing to dig deep and absorb the hurt of long intense efforts, and he pushed me to ride to a new level of fitness. We once rode a metric century together in 2 hours, 22 minutes, averaging 26.4 mph over rolling terrain, and sprinting all out at the end. He dusted me. His talent was incredible. And he willingly admitted that a great portion of his strength was unnatural.
As part of a pro cycling team in Italy, he was routinely flown to Milan to see a doctor who gave him “vitamin injections”. His team had a medical budget of $200.000, which at the time was sensational. He was acutely aware of the process in which he was playing a part, but he was afraid to risk his livelihood by rejecting it.
Sasha retired from racing in 1993 and moved to the US to work with me full time. Away from racing he began a new life, married his longtime girlfriend, Olympic gymnast Lara Koshel, had a daughter, and got a college degree in IT. He still trained with me occasionally, but his fitness deteriorated rapidly, and he wasn’t able to push as hard as he once had. On one relatively easy winter ride, his heart began racing after a steep hill climb, and would not recover down to a reasonable rate. We took him to the hospital, where a cardiologist friend of mine examined him and diagnosed the symptoms of chronic amphetamine and steroid abuse. Long after racing mattered, the method had an effect.
Three years ago, Sasha died from stomach cancer at the age of 43. One can only surmise what spurred the cancer to begin, but there is ample evidence to suggest that it was the effects of prolonged steroid use. Was it worth it? Did you know the name Sasha Zinoviev before now?
Slipstream/Chipotle gives me hope. I love the sport of cycling, and it hurts to see it categorized as a “doping” sport. I believe the future can be bright. I don’t think the present is as bad as the press would have you believe, but still there are enough cheaters to make the whole sport look sordid. It’s sad that the accolades of so many clean riders have been tarnished by the doubt that doping scandals create. But clearly so many “victories” have been manufactured chemically.
Watch closely this year. If you know what to look for, you will see a quiet revolution. I believe 2008 will be the most exciting year in the history of the sport. There will be change. And for the first time there will be a policy of transparency that will prevent dirty riders and dirty teams from succeeding.
Ride clean and have fun.
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