Should We Applaud?

It’s 30-something degrees in the Adelaide Hills. Two cyclists are battling their way to the top of a climb. The crowd is cheering both as they struggle to get the advantage, one rider just nudging the other out for the victory as they cross the line. Alejandro Valverde has just made a triumphant return from a two-year doping suspension.

The crowd certainly doesn’t seem to mind his history, applauding him as much as his Australian opponent, Simon Gerrans. The Spanish fans love him too, holding him with the likes of Luis Léon Sánchez and Alberto Contador. In truth, it hardly seems fair. After his actions, does Valverde actually deserve to be applauded? It’s hard to say. And this begs another, more serious question:

If we applaud after they cheat, are we applauding the cheating, too?

Are we unreasonable for wanting to applaud? Is it wrong to admire David Millar for his strict anti-doping stance, wrong to worship Dave Zabriskie for daring to be a vegan pro-cyclist when no-one thought he could? Is it wrong to esteem George Hincapie as one of the heads of state of the peloton, a loyal, capable rider? Or should we be shaking our heads and saying that everything that we love and believe about these guys has been washed away with the flood of guilt? That the moral high ground should take precedence over everything; that their right to be applauded was stripped the moment they admitted to doping?

I hold all of these riders among my favourites for these reasons, but I feel guilty in saying that now. I feel as though I should wash my hands of them to set a good example for other fans and riders; to show that we, the fans and the media, will not condone doping either. But I just can’t shake the desire to thank George Hincapie for being the capable lieutenant and road captain that led Cadel Evans to victory. I can’t shake that desire, and yet I can’t shake the question: does he still deserve our thanks? Or did he resign the right to that kind of admiration when he said yes to the drugs?

Should knowledge of redemption and the chance of returning to the fold form part of the doping culture in cycling? If riders admit, or repent, should their mistake be acknowledged and they be embraced upon their return? Or should complete ostracision by the cycling community and rescission of all respect and status be the unwavering punishment for doping? I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone is.

It’s not just the riders, either. Half of the support staff of the pro peloton is made up of former riders. Some are former dopers. What about Matt White, Bjaarne Riis, Jonathan Vaughters? Do we lump them in the same group as the riders, too – and what group is that, exactly? Can we admire their work as team managers and trainers without admiring their decision to dope? Is that even possible? I don’t know. It’s cycling’s version of a rock and a hard place – either we clap every good achievement, and provide no further disincentive from doping, or we draw a line and only clap clean riders and staff, and therefore clap far less often.

I really do feel guilty for saying it, but I think that, at least for now, I’m going to keep applauding. As much as I despise doping and think that desperate times call for desperate anti-doping measures, I still want to applaud these riders, even knowing their doping history. Despite everything they’ve done wrong, I keep finding that I can’t ignore everything they’ve done right, either. But I’d feel so much better if I could applaud them for their clean pasts as well. And I bet they feel that way, too.