Confession does not help ease the pain of cyclist's accusers

First shunned, then vilified by Lance Armstrong, Mike Anderson had to move to the other side of the world to get his life back.

Now running a bike shop outside of Wellington, New Zealand, Armstrong's former assistant watched news reports about his former boss confessing to performance-enhancing drug use with only mild interest. If Anderson never hears Armstrong's voice again, it would be too soon.

"He gave me the firm, hard push and a shove," Anderson said in a telephone interview. "Made my life very, very unpleasant. It was an embarrassment for me and my family to be portrayed as liars, to be called a disgruntled employee, implying there was some impropriety on my part. It just hurt. It was completely uncalled for."

Anderson is among the dozens, maybe hundreds, of former teammates, opponents and associates to receive the Armstrong treatment, presumably for not going along with the party line - that the now disgraced, seven-time Tour de France winner didn't need to cheat.

The penalties for failing to play along were punitive, often humiliating, and now Armstrong has admitted in an interview with Oprah Winfrey that he's a doper, a liar and a bully, many of those who saw their lives changed, some ruined, are going through a gamut of emotions.

Some feel vindicated, others remain vengeful. Some are sad, while many others are simply wrung out.

"He's damaged a lot of people's lives," said Betsy Andreu, whose husband, Frankie, was culled from Armstrong's team for not agreeing to dope. "He has damaged the sport of cycling. Frankie was fired for not getting on the program. I never thought this day would come but it's so incredibly sad."

Before his interview with Winfrey aired, Armstrong reached out to the Andreus to apologize but the planned reconciliation did not work. In fact, Armstrong's interview made things only worse, when he refused to confirm what the Andreus testified to under oath - that they had heard the cyclist admit to doping while meeting with doctors treating him for cancer at an Indiana hospital in 1996.

Regardless of whether Armstrong says more about that, there's no denying that life for the Andreus changed when they refused to go along.

"Frankie's career was definitely cut short. His career was ruined early," Betsy said. "You have riders out there whose careers never happened" because of Armstrong.

And some whose careers were cut short.

Filippo Simeoni was a talented, young rider who dared admit to doping and told authorities he received his instructions from physician Michele Ferrari, who also advised Armstrong during his career. After that 2002 testimony, Armstrong branded Simeoni a liar. He went so far as to humiliate Simeoni on the 2004 Tour de France, when he chased down the Italian rider during a breakaway and more or less ordered him to fall back in line. Later in the race, and with a TV camera in his face, Armstrong put his finger to his lips in a "silence" gesture. After the stage, he said he was simply protecting the interests of the peloton.

Simeoni received a different message.

"When a rider like me brushed up against a cyclist of his caliber, his fame and his worth - when I clashed with the boss - all doors were closed to me," Simeoni said. "I was humiliated, offended, and marginalized for the rest of my career. Only I know what that feels like. It's difficult to explain."

Anderson certainly can.

In a story he wrote for Outside magazine last August, Anderson detailed a business relationship with Armstrong that began in 2002 with an e-mail from Armstrong promising he would finance Anderson's bike shop when their work together was done. Anderson, a bike mechanic working in Armstrong's hometown of Austin, Texas, essentially became the cyclist's personal assistant, his responsibilities growing as the years passed. One of his tasks was making advance trips to Armstrong's apartment in Spain to prepare it for his arrival.

(China Daily 01/21/2013 page24)