Read this little opinion column in the AJC online. I will include a link fo those of you who like me want to send a little note to the editor.
Lance Armstrong's great, but pedaling's not a sport
"If the season doesn't start with a bunch of guys gathering around a keg and holding a draft, it isn't a real sport."
By JOHN KELSO
Lance Armstrong being named Sports Illustrated's Sportsman of the Year is an early Christmas present for me. Under normal circumstances, I only get one chance a year -- in summer, during the Tour de France -- to make ha-ha of bicycle riders.
But this year, thanks to SI, I find myself with this little gift-wrapped package under my tree.
It's not that I don't admire Lance Armstrong, our hometown hero, who has won the Tour de France four times, beaten cancer and managed to tick off the entire nation of France for dominating its sport, which in itself should be worthy of the Nobel Peace Prize. Anybody who can jerk the chain on those poodle-pandering cork-sniffers has my vote.
It's just that -- let's face it -- bicycling isn't a sport. Ever heard of a Fantasy Bicycle League? No, you haven't. If the season doesn't start with a bunch of guys gathering around a keg and holding a draft, it isn't a real sport. Although bicycling does have one thing in common with the upcoming SI swimsuit issue: The swimsuit models shave their legs, as do bicycle racers, to cut down on wind resistance.
At least that's their story. But I don't believe them. You'd have to be hairier than the Abominable Snowman to get slowed down on a bicycle by your own hair.
I suspect the reason bicyclists shave their legs is, they think it looks cute. And it does -- on Britney Spears.
What the heck is Sports Illustrated doing picking pedaling, anyway? What's next? Pingpong? How could bicycle riding be a real sport?
There are no U.S. Postal Cheerleaders. The Dallas Cowboys have cheerleaders. The U.S. Postal Service bicycle team does not have, say, the Stamp Sweeties, the Glue Gals or the Overnight Delivery Dolls.
Does bicycle racing have bubble-gum cards? Maybe in Belgium, which reminds me: What do you call people from Belgium? The Belch?
Ever seen a marching band take the field in the middle of a bicycle race? Nope, you don't see tubas at the Tour de France, and for darned good reason. The French hear marching music, and they think the Germans are coming.
There is no such thing as Monday Night Bicycling. OK, so on Monday nights, there is bicycling. But it's some guy whose tight pants are cutting off the blood to his brain riding over to the Wheatsville Co-Op to pick up a Tofurkey.
OK, by now you bicyclists are out of your chairs, making snide comments about how I'm a big fat slob. Every time I write something snotty yet poignant about you nerdy little bicycle riders, I get a bunch of e-mails pointing out that my picture makes me look like a canned ham.
Hey, at 5 feet 11 inches, I'm a scant 210 pounds. Stacked top to bottom, that's only 2.96 pounds per inch. Heck, I've eaten sandwiches that weighed more than that.
Besides, this is America, where it's not considered a real sport unless it comes with a beer ad. When famous bicycle riders start appearing in Coors commercials in a hot tub next to "the Twins," I'll know bicycling has become a sport. Now, I've got to go shave my legs.
Here is the link.....
This guy should go consider another occupation, he is a pretty pathetic columnist. What possible gains were made poking fun at Lance and the success of his efforts.