Paris Calling

Tour de France: Divided and Conquered

According to last night's C'est dans l'air, the Tour de France doping scandal is being partly informed by a turf war between the organizers of the Tour and the Switzerland-based International Union of Cyclists (UCI is the French acronym).

Not surprisingly, money is the key. UCI wants in on the Tour de France. But the Tour is operated by a French family-owned media conglomerate, Amaury Group, which owns l'Equipe, France's hugely read sports daily and Le Parisien, a tabloid.

UCI says the dividends of the Tour should be spread more democratically, so that the rest of world cycling can benefit; the Tour de France, in other words, can help pay for a pro-am race in southern Bavaria, much like the revenues of the Premiership football league pay for second and third divisions in England.

The Tour answers that the sheer media spectacle of the tour helps in itself to pay for a Bavaria tour. Sponsors and athletes join cycling everywhere based on buzz created by the Tour in France. The great race creates a love of the sport whose benefits are felt globally.

The union chaffes at this. And Tour operators argue that in rebuttal, UCI destabilizes the Tour by delaying the announcement of doping-related discoveries until the race is well underway, and for too late for the organizers to preemptively take action. Thus, it was only announced weeks after the fact that Rasmussen had failed to make himself available to Danish anti-doping officers in the weeks leading to the Tour. Why wait until he's wearing the yellow jersey to announce information that is weeks old? The conspiracy theory is that the UCI is trying to so completely shake the foundations of the tour that the operators will have no choice than to turn to the UCI for help and anti-doping coordination; a Trojan horse, Tour loyalists say, for economic cooperation as well.

Unsurprisingly, L'Equipe and Le Parisien (and French media in general) are huge advocates of an independent tour. As acquiescing satellites of the Amaury empire, the newspapers work double time to thoroughly demonize the dopers, while exonerating and boosting the Tour (a headline in the Parisien yesterday even specifically targeted UCI without ever mentioning the newspaper's ownership ties to the Tour).

Knowing about this turf battle puts the Tour's recent history into perspective. When Lance Armostrong began lining up his Tour victories, the operators could never really go after him, and all the other dopers, without a careful cooperation with UCI. Seen as a slippery slope towards opening its coffers (and a de-Frenching of the French tour), the Amaury organizers launched a Cold War against Lance Armstong (using L'Equipe as its chief weapon) instead of very officially (and more efficiently certainly) cooperating with UCI and making it difficult for a Lance Armstrong and his infamous doctors to so assiduously put the fix in.

Ethiopian Run

Eye-witnesses report all sorts of opposition chants from yesterday's Great Ethiopian Run. The kids were clearly taking advantage of the only event of the year with a mass international media presence. There have been no reports so far of arrests or serious altercations, so restraint was  shown all round apparently.  One of the funnier, more ironic slogans (like I love 'em) was "Woyane Out, Somalia In." Not sure Ethiomedia will be reporting that one! "Na! Na! Na!" outside the Ministry of Justice was particularly poignant.

Zidane, History and Roger Clemens

An integral part of baseball,  what can make the game great, is that a pitcher will sometimes ignore larger game considerations and take care of his business. Roger Clemens, one of the greatest hurlers in the history of the game, was notorious for this. For some reason, certain players (like Mike Piazza) earned his ire over the years and even with a huge game on the line, Clemens rarely  refrained from throwing a 100-mile an hour fastball at the batter's head. A game that seemed so rigid and rule-laden suddenly became  deadly.

When such incidents happen, the commentators denigrate it; it's unsportsmanlike, it tarnishes the game. But the honest truth is that it's a crucial part of baseball. And it also made Roger Clemens a legend.

Zidane's head butt last night fits in the same category. Commentators all over the world can chastise the midfielder for his outburst, but I can't help admiring him. With the whole world watching and national pride on the line, Zidane takes care of his own business. He doesn't let a game get in the way of his honor.

I'm no fan of violence, but I am a fan of a man having the instinct of putting his own journey first. Zidane has had a whole career of racist trash talk, and he's a warrior. If that last spit of Italian bile was something that had to be responded to then and there, I say kick his ass. 'F' the World Cup.

And I think other players feel this way too. The image that stays in my mind is the one of Buffon consoling Zidane just before his ejection. How could the message, from his honorable opponent, be nothing else than Materazzi had it coming?

L'Equipe is complaining today that Mohammed Ali or Pele would have never behaved in such a manner (no head butt from Ali? Please) , but I think that's actually an argument for staying true to yourself. Pele and Ali (and Michael Jordan and Joe DiMaggio before) are all viewed as teddy bears today, B-list limelight fillers. They've been turned into living statues (pace Ali's disability) and seem vaguely miserable every time you see them step into a gala or in the stands shaking hands.

With the head butt, Zidane staves off this velvet coffin. Like Clemens (or Eric Cantona) he enters the rest of his life as unpredictable as ever. Publicists and knee jerk nostalgics will have to wait half a beat before clamoring to embalm his legend. Zizou was great but he'll kick your ass, too.

Thank God for Ghana, Angola (Ivory Coast avenged)

World Cup fever can be a little disconcerting if, like me, you disdain the business side of big time sports and celebrity worship. During the match between England and Trinidad, an American friend and I were at a bar in Addis. Whenever Trinidad chipped or tapped the ball anywhere close to the English nets, we bellowed with anticipation. The Ethiopians around us were nonplused. Gerard, Beckham, or even that Crouch were their favorites.

Strangely, it pissed me off. Trinidad is obviously not Africa, but save one player, it is a team of black men. As a former colony, I thought it welcome justice that the West Indians bring fear to the Man.

But celebrity justice won the day, in this bar anyway. Admiration for British football clubs runs deep. But where my Ethiopian neighbors in the bar see football demigods, I see image-enhanced super stars supported by stadiums often filled with yobbo racists. Because, to say the least, many of the supporters of premiere European clubs are (shall we say) not very nice people.

Racism is a huge problem in world football. From my vague notion of all this, FIFA desperately tries to obfuscate the reality of who exactly sits in stadiums during the top flight matches the world has come to love. Obviously not every team is supported by nationalists and reactionaries, but the likelihood is real.

Apparently Ethiopians, like the rest of the developing world, support these clubs primarily because football federations have the wisdom to broadcast matches on TV stations that offer little else of much interest. On ETV, football is all the pizzazz you're going to get. Women have come to love the game.

And that's depressing to me. Ethiopians, like many citizens of poor nations, have come to idolize characters that just below the surface aren't worthy of their admiration. In almost all cases, some form of ethnic extremism lurks in the DNA of a European football club.

And when fans start cheering for England (with their crusader cross of St. George), the dark undercurrents become exposed all the more, and African fandom that much more upsetting.

But how can you blame African fans? The elite teams were having their way with Africa. Rooting for Ghana, Angola, Togo, Ivory Coast, or even Tunisia was rooting for hard-truth sadness and historic inevitability. Ivory Coast versus Netherlands, with its uncalled penalty, symbolized what siding for Africa had to offer.

But then, out of nowhere, Angola equalizes with Mexico, setting the stage for Ghana's 2-0 drubbing of the Czechs.

Finally Africans can root for African teams showing plucky success, and without having to blind out so much unpleasant reality. Because with African teams back in the ballgame, no one needs to be cheering for that damned racist Rooney!