Floyd is mounting his defense. As I expected, he is going with the natural defense. I'm skeptical of this, but I have so much compassion for Floyd that I'm willing to believe him.
But, notice the tone change in his speaking. He's clearly under the guidance of a lawyer now. He's lost his, "Gosh, I don't know" honesty and now sounds like, well, Lance Armstrong.
Actually, strangely, the person I've been losing the most respect for lately is Greg LeMond. The very guy I used to pretend to be when I was in middle school riding my 10-speed (then I discovered smoking in ninth grade and the bike was replaced with torn jeans and a Van Halen t-shirt . . . it took some time to find the bike). My problem with Greg is not his position on things, but how every time he opens his mouth he sounds like a hurt teenager. Or, sometimes, a crotchety old man. "Back in my day we rode up those mountains in ten feet of snow dragging a donkey loaded with water and we used yak bladders for tubulars. And we didn't use performance enhancing drugs. We didn't even eat! We didn't need food, we climbed those mountains by extracting power out of the sunlight!"
Funny performance enhancing drug irony of the day. At one time, cyclists smoked cigarettes before a big climb. They believed the smoke opened the lungs and aided in breathing. Back then, all cyclists sounded like Patty and Selma from the Simpsons.
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