The Last Word On Nothing

Tyler Hamilton has finally confessed.

I am not inclined to give him another hug. In 2007, I wrote a Bicycling magazine feature about Tyler, his supporters and why I don’t believe. (You can read the story here.)

While writing the Bicycling story, I spent a lot of time with Tyler and his fans. Tyler— a former teammate of Lance Armstrong— was under suspension at the time, having tested positive for blood doping at the 2004 Tour of Spain (a technicality allowed him to keep the gold medal he’d won in the 2004 Olympics). Tyler insisted that he’d never doped and following his positive test, “Believe Tyler” t-shirts started turning up at bike events. One thing that always struck me was how often people would tell me that they believed Tyler, because he was such a nice, down-to-earth guy. Again and again, Tyler’s defenders would invoke the “nice guy” defense.

I used to think Tyler was a nice guy too. Back when we rode together as teammates at the University of Colorado, he was the most gracious guy around. But I changed my mind after watching him interact with his supporters, who were actual nice people. Tyler didn’t just lie to defenders like former Tyler Hamilton Foundation executive director Deirdre Moynihan, THF donors such as Curtis Brown and his own father. He also stood by and watched these kind-hearted friends and family members spread his deceptions. It’s hard to fathom something less honorable or nice than exploiting someone’s faith in you to advance a bundle of self-serving lies.

My quest for the truth put me in the uncomfortable position of accuser. Even though Tyler Hamilton was the cheat, his lies made me the bad guy. It was painful  to find myself genuinely liking Tyler’s supporters and yet coming to the conclusion that they were wrong. Moynihan was one of Tyler’s fiercest defenders and she worked tirelessly for THF. “I believe Tyler because he looked me in the eye and said he didn’t do it,” she told me. I admired her verve and enjoyed spending time with her. I also knew that she would hate me the moment she read my story.

By concluding that Tyler was a doper and a liar, I wasn’t just accusing him, I was also calling into question the judgment of his supporters. Because ultimately, the decision to believe says more about the believer than it does about the liar. As I wrote in my Bicycling piece:

In the end, the choice to believe or not isn’t about Tyler. Standing there after the interview, I faced a choice about the kind of world I was going to believe in. Down one path lies a place where the freckle- faced boy next door can dedicate himself to the most beautiful sport in the world and succeed without selling his soul. Down the other: a world where my ability to judge character has failed me and where someone I admired is a cheater capable of looking me in the eyes and lying.

I’m glad that Tyler has finally come clean and returned the gold medal, but he owes his supporters much more than a mass email addressed to “Everyone.” The people with MS that donated to his foundation, the friends who stood by him and the fans who sent money for his doping defense deserve better than a lame email confession ending with a cheerful assurance that he’s doing well and just had “the best 80’s themed surprise party in the history of the world!”

The Tyler I thought I knew in college was not the kind of person who would look his friends in the eye and lie to them. He was not someone who would stand on the Olympic podium and accept a gold  medal for a victory he accomplished through cheating. He was not someone who would deny, deny, deny when caught. He was not a person who would collect money from fans for a fraudulent defense.

Tyler had an opportunity for redemption when he was caught back in 2004. He chose not to take it. He told the truth only after being subpoenaed to testify before the grand jury investigating Lance Armstrong, where lying could land him in jail, ala Marion Jones.

This story has many victims, but Tyler isn’t one of them.

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Christie Aschwanden is a freelance science writer. She is a contributing editor for Runner’s World and her feature story “Pet Project” was a finalist for the 2011 National Magazine Award. She lives with her winemaker husband on a small farm in western Colorado where she raises heritage poultry and spends her spare winter hours snowboarding and coaching her local college ski team.