In 1998, a car was pulled over at a police checkpoint at the French-Belgian border. This was no routine spot check: the trunk of the car was packed to the gills with Human Growth Hormone, Testosterone, and EPO, the car itself was being driven by a key employee of the leading team in professional cycling, and the ample drug haul was destined for the start of that year’s Tour de France. “The End of the Road” tells the story of that cycling race and the drugs scandal that engulfed it. The 1998 Tour de France would prove to be perhaps the most the tumultuous tour in its history, and the doping scandal – then the biggest in the history of cycling – would come close to destroying the credibility of the sport forever.
Even the most dedicated of sports fans might question the merit of reading a lengthy account of an edition of a Tour de France dating from over two decades ago. But this is a tale expertly told by the veteran British sports journalist Alasdair Fotheringham, who credibly argues that the scandal-plagued 1998 Tour de France marks perhaps a turning point – or certainly a nadir – for the sport of cycling. This was no ordinary cycling grand tour. From commencement in July 1998 to conclusion three weeks later, this was a race punctuated by police raids and drug revelations, disgraced by the expulsion of its most illustrious teams for doping offences, and disrupted by numerous riders’ strikes to such an extent that the race almost disintegrated completely before it reached its final destination in Paris. And amidst all this turmoil, there was quite a compelling bike race to report on as well.
Fotheringham is excellent at demonstrating how cycling found itself in such a moral morass by 1998, where doping (or what cyclists and their entourages euphemistically referred to as “preparation” and “strict medical supervision”) had become as routine as mending a puncture or changing gears on a climb. What’s most damning in “The End of the Road” are the details of how the cycling authorities (in particular, the world governing body, the UCI) were at best asleep at the handlebars when it came to tackling doping, and at worst actively complicit in playing down its seriousness and covering it up.
This is a lengthy and detailed account of the 1998 Tour, so it is possible that the casual reader might find the intricacies of team tactics and drug distribution systems in professional cycling to be a tad dense. But for cycling nerds and students of sporting history, “The End of the Road” is an absorbing read, and a demonstration of how a sport can so completely lose its moral compass that it becomes “a living laboratory for doping”, resulting in a near-fatal collapse in its credibility.
Thankfully, the 1998 Tour de France would not represent an all-time low for professional cycling, as waiting in the wings was a saviour in the form of … Lance Armstrong.