By Joe Lindsey
As I wrote yesterday, the sponsor retreat from Lance Armstrong was stunning in its breadth and speed. In the course of a single day, nine of his 10 personal sponsors cut ties with Armstrong, leaving only Oakley remaining. Even that may be tenuous; Oakley, Armstrong’s longest-term backer, has said it will wait for the final resolution of his case before taking any action on its sponsorship.
It happened so fast that Armstrong hasn’t even gotten around to updating his website yet. The damage is immense. One sports marketing expert estimated it would cost Armstrong $30 million in income. Previously, Armstrong made an estimated $10 million to $15 million a year, much of that from endorsements and speaking fees, both of which look to be in short supply now.
It’s worth noting that his widely reported net worth of $125 million is an estimate. Net worth, technically, is assets minus liabilities. Experts can get a decent handle on income and assets, but liabilities, for a private citizen, are almost a black box. Armstrong may be worth less, or more.
One striking development is that even businesses where Armstrong has an ownership stake are distancing themselves from him. He was an initial investor in FRS and sits on its board of directors, but the company has severed its sponsor relationship with him. And Honey Stinger, which Armstrong owns a minority share of, is in the process of removing Armstrong’s name, likeness, and endorsement from its packaging. He used to be on almost every product.
Finally, although I and others reported yesterday that Armstrong has minority shares in SRAM and Trek, that information was outdated. Armstrong invested several million dollars in SRAM as part of a 2008 equity injection from Lehman Brothers Merchant Bank, which out of the ashes of Lehman Brothers eventually became Trilantic Capital Partners.
But that investment was refinanced in late 2010 when SRAM secured new lines of credit and funding to buy out Trilantic and its investors as part of SRAM’s planned initial public offering, an IPO that has been delayed for unrelated reasons. Trek spokesman Eric Bjorling did not respond to an email request for comment on whether Armstrong still owned any part of that company.
Armstrong told the Austin American-Statesman that he still plans to appear at the Team Livestrong Challenge Austin event this weekend, the largest single fundraiser for his cancer charity. He stepped down yesterday as chairman, but remains on the 15-member board. Armstrong has cancelled at least one other planned engagement at last Friday’s Edison Talks conference in Chicago.
A Tale of Two Magazines
Steve Madden, the editor-in-chief of Bicycling from 2002 to 2008, wrote a column for his new media outlet, Sports on Earth, titled “Truth or Consequences,” about why Bicycling never strongly pursued the doping allegations around Armstrong.
Madden wrote of various reasons, including that the story was nearly impossible to report because sources declined to talk on the record; advertiser pressure; the ever-looming threat of a libel lawsuit; and his own conflicted feelings on the matter.
I was a little shocked and disappointed to read it, honestly. Madden was courageous in honestly admitting his own reasons for not pursuing the story more. And other journalists, such as the AP’s John Leicester, have written about why they missed the sports story of the decade.
But honestly, Madden’s story read to me like an account of a different magazine. It doesn’t jibe with my own experiences, and I’ve been a contributing writer since 2000.
In the 12 years since I became a contributor, I cannot recall ever feeling pressured by Madden or anyone at Bicycling to change how I wrote about Armstrong or doping in general. And I’ve written a lot, about both, for no fewer than four different editors, including current editor in chief Peter Flax. I’ve also written feature stories for Outside and Men’s Journal.
Armstrong was famously capricious and vindictive at times in his dealings with journalists. My longtime Bicycling colleague James Startt was once close enough to Armstrong that it’s Startt’s photo on the cover of his first book. Another black-and-white Startt photo of a bald, brooding Armstrong—his hair a casualty of chemotherapy—is prominent in the photographs that sit in the center of it. During Armstrong’s treatment for cancer, Startt was one of the few journalists Armstrong let visit him.
But later, Startt (and myself) ended up on the infamous “blacklist” of journalists who were persona non grata with Armstrong; me for asking far too many impolitic questions and writing my criticisms, and Startt for various reasons: his unwavering friendship with the Andreus and other blacklisted people and, later, his testimony in the SCA case. Despite all of that, Bicycling continued to support our contributions.
And if I never wrote “the story” for Bicycling, it’s not because I had evidence or information I withheld. As Madden writes, the burden of proof was huge and sources who might (or did) talk were browbeaten into silence by Armstrong.
Reading Madden’s piece, I was saddened and disappointed to hear of what life as editor in chief was apparently like for him. But I also owe him a debt of respect and gratitude, for protecting me from that, and for continuing to support me and my writing, no matter how many headaches it must have caused him.
I should stress that this isn’t unique to my time working with Madden. Not one of the four editors in chief I’ve worked with has ever edited me with a heavy hand, or pressured me to write (or not write) a certain way. That continues today.
In the end, Madden’s own words betray him slightly as he writes of Armstrong disliking the magazine because a Bicycling writer had asked him about drugs at a press conference.
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