Alberto Contador Wins the Vuelta De Murcia, but Does It Mean Anything?

Alberto Contador’s return to cycling after being cleared of doping by the Spanish cycling federation has seen him return almost immediately to the winner’s circle, with a victory in his second race back, the Vuelta de Murcia. The question is, will this—or any other victory from now on—have any meaning whatsoever?

Without doubt, Contador has been the world’s best cyclist for the past four years. He has won the Tour de France in his last three attempts, only missing out when his team, Astana, were refused entry to the Tour in 2008. He has taken on the best and left them in his wake.

Last year, his battle with Andy Schleck up the Col du Tourmalet, the heartbreaking Hors Categorie climb at the conclusion of the Tour’s 17th stage, underlined his absolute dominance. Schleck threw everything that he had at the Spaniard and Contador absorbed it all, only allowing his friend and rival to cross the line a half bike length ahead to win the stage as a consolation prize.

That stage was after the rest day in Pau.

History tells us that Contador underwent testing on that day and returned a positive result for clenbuterol. There was only a tiny amount detected and was well below the minimum required detection limits, but it was a positive result and the UCI immediately suspended him pending the outcome of a hearing.

There is no doubt that Contador didn’t use the substance during the race. There is almost no value in using it in the short term, and the levels detected were well below those required for it to have any therapeutic value.

But as we have come to expect with people caught with their hands in the cookie jar, Contador has blamed mysterious other people for the result. The first explanation trotted out has been contaminated food, and then the assertion was that his food was spiked. The contaminated meat explanation has gained the most traction.

Neither of these explanations stands up to scrutiny.

It is difficult to imagine that in France, the spiritual home of gastronomy, that there would be much dodgy pork on the menu to some of the world’s finest athletes. Besides, no one else tested positive—perhaps Contador is so great that a pig was slaughtered for his consumption alone.

The suggestion that Contador’s food was spiked is equally unlikely. These athletes have such tightly-controlled diets and their food is all vetted by the teams, so who would have spiked it, a teammate?

There are also reports—none of them official, it must be noted—that Contador’s sample also revealed abnormally high levels of plastizer that suggests the Spaniard may have been given a transfusion during the race. That is an equally plausible explanation for the sudden appearance of clenbuterol in his system.

The fact that it occurred the day before a huge mountain stage—the time of choice for serious dopers—adds a little more weight to the claim.

The battle over Contador’s guilt or innocence is a high-stakes game for all involved. Professional cycling can ill-afford to have another Tour de France winner to be stripped of his title, but neither can it afford to be seen to let a doper get off with not even a slap on the wrist.

For Contador, a conviction would destroy his career. Every single achievement will be viewed through the prism of a doping offence. All of the suggestions and circumstantial evidence surrounding Operation Puerto and Greg LeMond’s doping accusation will be re-examined by a cynical public without the benefit of a presumption of innocence.

Worst of all, no matter what the outcome, cycling ends up with yet another black eye. The UCI have given themselves until March 24 to decide whether to appeal the Spanish cycling federation judgment.

In effect, they’re just choosing which eye gets blackened.