Something in the Blood

Landis is a puzzle, clearly. He doesn't fit the stereotype of the raging, egotistical American athlete, nor, it seems, has he lived up to the image of the conscientious, rule-abiding champion that so many had wanted to see.

But if Landis's personal narrative exerted a pull on us before, it's even greater now. His fall from grace brings to mind an ancient story: the prodigal son, the biblical parable of the child who returns home to his father's embrace after squandering his wealth. The lesson is that ambition can be intoxicating and ultimately ruinous -- but that after it has cost you every last shred of your dignity, your solace is to seek forgiveness.

The teenage Landis left his tiny home town in rural Pennsylvania to pursue a decidedly un-Mennonite goal: personal victory on his bike. If his ambition did get the better of him, Landis will have squandered more than just the wealth from winning the Tour. (He was promised $2.5 million from his team, and more would have rolled in from sponsorships, appearances and book deals.) He will also have wasted a decade and a half of lonely, grueling toil as he trained to fulfill his dream.

Since the embarrassment of the initial "A" test result, Landis has expressed something of a homeward pull, mentioning in interviews a week ago his mother's distress at the news, and a tearful phone call between them.

"The sad part is he's part of a system," said LeMond, who saw fellow cyclists die from overuse of the performance-enhancing drug EPO. He faults cycling's "code of silence" for covering up the extent of drug abuse in the sport.

"I hope Floyd will have the courage to be truthful about how this came about, assuming that he's guilty," he said.

That would mean revealing his suppliers and co-conspirators and how he avoided detection if he had passed other tests while doping. Let's face it: Who believes that any of the scores of cyclists previously charged with doping -- including the world's top riders thrown out on the eve of this year's Tour -- stuck needles in himself while all alone in a hotel room? It's a stretch to think that dopers operate in a vacuum, without team doctors and directors being the wiser.

One who did speak out about doping -- with mixed results -- is Matt DeCanio, a former junior national time-trialing champion and pro racer who became an anti-doping crusader. On teams in Europe as well as here, the Virginia native said he witnessed rampant drug use and was pressured to take part. After several years of racing clean, he broke down in 2003 and began taking EPO and testosterone -- a move he calls "the biggest mistake of my career."

What pushed him over the edge was being beaten by riders he suspected of using drugs. "I was like, I just can't win these races and I have the form of my life," DeCanio said.

But after he started doping, DeCanio says, he grew depressed -- partly from disappointment with himself, partly from drug interactions, he suspects. He wrote about his drug use for a training Web site and was banned from racing for a year.

DeCanio had hoped going public would lead others to do the same. "I thought I was going to spark this whole thing where all these other pros would be with me," he said. Instead, he drew hate mail and was accused of being jealous.

DeCanio says cyclists should be encouraged to come forward, rather than punished for it. But complicating efforts to get others to fess up is that not all of those who turn in drug-fueled performances see their actions as wrong.

As more and more cyclists dope and the average racing speed increases, "you either get dropped or you figure out why everyone else isn't getting dropped," said Matthew A. Masucci, assistant professor of sports studies at San Jose State University. "Then it becomes, 'Why would I knowingly give up an advantage?' It's that group mentality: 'Well, they must not think it's wrong.' "

The point is, moral choices occur in a context. Some may find it unthinkable to take illegal, even life-threatening performance-enhancing drugs -- particularly after the early deaths of football's Lyle Alzado, track star Florence Griffith-Joyner and Baltimore Orioles pitcher Steve Bechler -- but we don't have the prospect of millions of dollars and lasting fame dangling before our noses. We're tempted to believe that what is in an athlete's specimen cup reveals what is in his heart. If he's peeing out dope, he must be a bad guy. Yet it may only mean that he's a human being who made a bad mistake.

Now we'll see what Landis will do next. If his Tour crown rests on chemistry rather than on his own unenhanced efforts, continuing to deny the doping will ensure that the cycle of drug use won't stop here.