Oprah?

Oprah? Are you serious? OPRAH???

When you read the weekend NYT story, you knew it would head this direction. Lance, in a soul-bearing tell-all interview, tightly controlled, tearful orchestral music in the background. But OPRAH?

I was envisioning Phil Liggett. Phil has been a relentless cheerleader, and although recently jumping off the bandwagon, would have given him a fair forum. He would have asked tough questions, insightful follow-ups, and demanded to know why Lance even required him and Paul to undergo blood transfusions during Lance’s seven Tour wins. “You’re either with me or against me, Phil. With me or against me.”

But Oprah? I’m sure she’ll do her homework, but this seems so silly. I guess I was under the false assumption that this was some sort of sports thing.

Oprah: So let’s cut to the chase, Lance. Did you do drugs?

Lance: Yes, Oprah, it hurts to admit it, but yes, I did.

Oprah: Didn’t you worry you would end up one day like Whitney Houston?

Lance: They weren’t that kind of drugs, Oprah.

Oprah: Huh. So did you know that the Olsen twins were switching out on you throughout your relationship?

Lance: Oh, yeah. I knew.

Oprah: So the longest you’ve run is 26.2? I’VE done that too. Sissy.

Oh, well. I just wish I didn’t still feel sorry for him. And all of us who wanted so much to believe …

And then I went for a run. Just after a rain, so lots of puddle jumping. Great fun. No drugs.

 

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About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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