I’m suddenly overcome with this unclean feeling and it has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t lifted myself off the couch to brush my teeth after last night’s red meat, wine and cigar-smoking extravaganza.
This uneasiness has nothing to do with that lonely divorcee you shouldn’t have talked to at last call or what Seattle must feel knowing they’re getting a basketball team back that’s a retread Sacramento Kings team and not the one with Kevin Durant whom they once drafted.
This time, the nausea has to do with bicycles, for Lance Armstrong is about to commence his admit-all, Oprah tour and personally I can’t be more excited, yet disdainfully so.
I can’t say I’ve ever looked forward to an episode of Oprah. I actually thought her farewell tour began years ago but apparently, she’s still on the air and going strong. Or perhaps she’s coming back for Lance’s 2013 Tour de Farce.
This Friday, Oprah Winfrey will proudly railroad Sheryl Crow’s cycling and doping ex-boyfriend, slash former American hero, in what promises to be the big O’s most-watched episode, which is saying something considering she launched the careers of Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz and has had a wagon of her own fat drug on stage for all America to see.
This Friday, we’re in store for a wagon full of guilt being hauled in on two wheels not four.
Allegedly, former seven-time Tour de France Champion, Lance Armstrong, will plead his guilt, admitting that he took steroids throughout his decade-long dominance of competitive cycling. The world’s most shamed two-wheeler this side of Pee Wee Herman is set to tell the world what Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens won’t, that he took illicit drugs to enhance his career. Excuse me while I yawn, yet simultaneously pop popcorn as I sit glued to my flat screen.
I must confess, I feel compelled to watch, and I feel dirty about doing so. My DVR has already been set, not because I never thought Lance Armstrong took performance enhancers to perpetuate his unprecedented dominance of the French mountainside or that I even gave a shit.
I’m just struggling with why this has become must see TV in the SportsChump household. It’s not like Lance’s confession, after several stubborn years of admitting his innocence, will suddenly cleanse us, finally taking that toothbrush to the mouthful of cigar smoke we inhaled the night before.
None of it will matter and that’s what makes anticipating this whole Oprah thing like watching a movie we already know the ending to. Tears. Confession. Guilt. The bicyclist did it. We knew that before we paid for admission.
For years, we’ve debated over who did what and in the end, most of us could give a crap. We cheered Lance unconditionally in a sport no one ever cared about, just as we did Barry, Roger, Mark and Sammy in a sport we actually did once care about.
In the end, however, Lance’s confession will only make one person feel better and that’s Oprah because she stands to make seven figures as soon as he walks through the door. But trust me. Lance’s confession won’t bring any of us any closer to closure. Not even Lance. That’s because we already knew in our hearts what happened. So did Lance. And so did Oprah.
When we wake up the following morning and our breath still bears the stench that no toothpaste can cleanse, that’s something we’ll all have to deal with.