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Bear with me…
While I am wholly committed to staying on topic in this forum – that topic being the cleansing of my soul, so that I am able to leave my son with, if nothing else, a legacy of truth – I feel the need to stop lathering myself, ever so briefly, and acknowledge my admiration for a guy who just showed up in the adjacent shower stall.
No, I have never been an avid cycling fan, but it is near impossible to live on this planet and not have some understanding of Lance Armstrong’s longtime domination of the sport. Domination is an apt description, because it implies that his ability was superior to the extent that others were denied much of an opportunity for success on the many occasions that Mr. Armstrong chose to compete. The world knows now, of course, that he was racing with unfair and illegal advantage, so those who may have been wrongly deprived of victory had their destinies unalterably derailed. No arguing – the painful, wide-spread ramifications of his reprehensible behavior will be felt for some time.
Regarding him now, however, in his sudsy, naked, public confession – attempting to come clean – I can’t help but view him with some very measurable level of respect and recognition. Although many will argue that there must be some self-serving motivation for his sudden urge to strip down and soap up, I can’t help but believe that he must be, at least partially, driven by a desire to make things right; to make things better – for himself, and for those he has harmed. Whether or not he is fully aware just yet of the breadth and severity of the consequences to come, his decision to cycle this very rough terrain requires a massive amount of bravery, and yes – dare I say it – yes I dare – balls. This guy has huge ones. Always had, and always will, and I am happy to confess that it’s an attribute that I have always found very attractive.
In his interview with Oprah Winfrey, Mr. Armstrong admitted to many things. “I am deeply flawed,” he declared at one point. My personal belief? That particular affirmation holds true for all of us. I also believe that this specific truth is what, in the end, makes us so complexly and uniquely beautiful. In the interest of full disclosure I feel the need to admit that, as a playwright, I find poetry and romance in highly tragic characters. Joe Keller, for example, in Arthur Miller’s All My Sons, is a heartbreaking American portrait, but nonetheless an exquisite representation of the ongoing, inner, human struggle between strength and weakness. What makes Miller’s tortured character such an artful gift is that, if we allow ourselves to see them, many of the conflicted elements in our collective human nature are so clearly on display.
Unlike in art, however, in life we often find comfort in distilling people’s legacies down to the smallest possible bit: father of our country, civil rights leader, home run king, rebel, or crook, when the truth is that all of us are so much more. As the ravenous media and those who claim moral superiority continue to exploit and condemn this man who stands exposed and repentant, I hope against hope that what will become clear is the whole of Lance Armstrong’s nature; the vast range of his moral inclinations from charitable to criminal. And while he remains naked and writhing in the often unforgiving glare of public scrutiny, I hope we take the time to recognize the struggle, look for the connection, and judge with understanding.
Mr. Armstrong also confided to Ms. Winfrey that he knows this coming clean of his may be too late for some people. What’s important is that it’s not too late for him. When it comes to truth, it’s never too late.
No human truth is black and white.
No victim, no villain, no sinner, no saint.
Every soul is a broken light.
Slow shattered into a rainbow of hues,
as it passes through the prism of life’s circumstance.
Thank you for bearing with me. Now I’ll get down off my soapbox and pick up my soap. I will leave Mr. Armstrong to come clean in peace – unless, of course, he needs a hand scrubbing his back. You know, just in the spirit of trying to be neighborly.
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