Doping #36 - Juridische aanval op de whereabouts

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Op donderdag 26 november 2009 20:25 schreef Captain_Fabulous het volgende:
En wat verwachten dat julie uit het bericht van vnadaag komt dat er een dioping netwerk in oostenrijk is opgerold?
http://www.nu.nl/sport/21(...)t-dopingnetwerk.html

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Tim Montgomery: my fall into drugs, prison and beatings

The story behind the fall of Tim Montgomery, the former 100 metres world record-holder who now trains in a pair of tennis shoes on a concrete track in an Alabama prison, is revealed by The Times today.

Montgomery is serving two sentences, one for dealing heroin, and is due to remain in jail until January 6, 2016. “I cannot express how bad it is,” he said of his prison life. During time in other prisons, he said, he has feared for his life every day.

Montgomery broke the world 100 metres record on September 14, 2002, and simultaneously revealed his relationship with Marion Jones, the fastest woman of her generation.

The Times was granted unprecedented access inside the federal prison — coincidentally, in Montgomery — and, in his first newspaper interview since he started his sentence 18 months ago, Montgomery reveals how:

• Guiltlessly and willingly he started using performance-enhancing drugs.

• His covetous pursuit of Maurice Greene drove him to the illegal pharmacists.

• He and Jones were daredevil thrill-seekers, so unfazed by their use of steroids that they would keep them side by side next to the vegetables in the kitchen fridge.

• He slipped easily and willingly from taking drugs to selling them.

• In the 18 months he has spent in a number of different prisons around the United States, he has survived the knife crime, the gangs, the fights and the riots.

•He had to fight a paedophile to gain the respect of his fellow inmates.

Montgomery’s talent — his speed — has been his salvation in prison, he said, because it has inspired the respect of the stronger inmates, “the guys who work out”. Other inmates, attracted by his celebrity, have crossed him and, he said, caused him to fight for respect on the prison block. In an extraordinary comparison, he likens the fight for respect inside to the fight for respect on the track.

Montgomery is serving 46 months for cashing counterfeit cheques plus a further five years for the possession and distribution of heroin.

He says that his conscience was troubled as little by the heroin dealing as it was by being a drugs cheat.

So cool was his attitude that when he was shown videotape of Ben Johnson, the most notorious cheat in the history of athletics, he saw it as an advertisement rather than a warning sign. “I would give anything to be the world’s fastest man,” Montgomery said. “I wouldn’t let anything get in my way. But if I’m cold, Marion’s colder. Marion didn’t care about anything.”

The latest news is that his daily training is fuelled by hopes of a comeback in the London 2012 Olympics. His chances rest on a legal appeal that challenges the level of his sentencing. By the London Games, he will be 37.

In his tennis shoes, Montgomery is on a 10.3sec pace for the 100 metres. “Give me a pair of spikes and three months’ proper training and I could probably get down to 10 flat,” he said.

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Tim Montgomery: ‘I had the best job in the world – now I’m in prison clearing leaves’

Owen Slot goes behind bars to visit the former fastest man on the planet and hear about the greed and envy that cost him his liberty

For Tim Montgomery, formerly the fastest man in the world, today will start the same as every day. There are 47 inmates sleeping in his prison dormitory and he has a top bunk; he will be woken at 5am and he will have to make his bed in time to be in breakfast at 5.30. The bed has to be “military-style” perfect, the hospital corners at 45 degrees, the turnover “cuff” the length of the palm of a hand.

At 6.30am, he will start work; he is called a landscaper, which means that he will be sweeping leaves, and he will make 12 cents (about 7.5p) an hour for it. And it will be the same tomorrow and the next day, and if he serves his entire sentence, this routine may go unchecked until his release day, January 6, 2016.

That is a long time to live by your wits. Trust no other inmates, he says, “you never know what a man might do to you”. And avoid the TV room because it is over the TV that the fights break out. Never change the channel. Never.

When he was in another prison, a riot broke out because of the TV and when they had sent in the “Goon Squad” with their shields and Taser guns and order had been restored, they gave the inmates 21 days’ confinement to their cells.

Thoughts of outside sustain him. He mentions Paris and he does so with pride, as if it still belongs to him. The reference is September 14, 2002, the day he ran 100 metres in 9.78sec, a world record at the time, in the Grand Prix Final. That was also the day that Marion Jones celebrated with him on the track, when she kissed him in public and they let the world know who they were: the world’s fastest couple. “About as high as a man could go,” he says. “It seemed.”

They rose together and then they crashed together. And Montgomery’s landing was as an inmate with a number — 56836-083 — and two convictions on his record. The first for bank fraud, the depositing of counterfeit cheques worth $1.7 million (now about £1 million). And the second, for which he was charged when awaiting sentencing for the first, possession and distribution of heroin. And now it is in this Federal Prison Camp, in the city with which he shares a name, Montgomery, Alabama, that he is paying the penalty.

This interview is conducted in a prison meeting room; Montgomery is wearing an olive shirt and trousers and a belt with a shiny buckle, the standard uniform for receiving visitors.

And he talks for four hours about his athletic talents and how he wasted them, about how his envy of Maurice Greene drove him to take performance-enhancing drugs, about Jones, about how they fell so low that they landed in prison, and about the hell of prison life and how his recent marriage inside the prison may be his salvation. “I destroyed myself,” he says. “I’ve been trying to be a man all my life and now I’m in here treated like a kid.”

Here, he acknowledges, a minimum security prison where no one is serving more than ten years, is not as bad as others he has experienced. When he started his sentence a year ago, he never settled long, he was moved from prison to prison and stopped off at tough prisons, including Portsmouth, Virginia, and Oklahoma, places where “guys had shanks — home-made knives — and it seemed like someone was stabbed every day. And they put baby oil in water, microwaved it and poured it on other people.

“In one prison I probably saw 35 fights and I was involved in that riot. They thought I was the leader of the riot. They made us kneel against the wall for 90 minutes; one of the guards pushed his shield into my back twice and electric-shocked me and was shouting, ‘Are you the leader? We know you are running this block.’

“You can never relax in prison. I cannot tell you how bad it is. You have to join a gang for protection. You have to let it be known: ‘If you come at me, I’m going to give you all I’ve got, I’m willing to lay it all on the line for my respect.’ In a New York prison I was celled once with a paedophile and I had to beat him. It was against my morals; I believe everyone deserves a second chance. But if I didn’t, the other inmates would have thought I was soft.

“In prison, it is all about respect; the same as on the track. My gift — my speed — was my saviour. It won me respect from the guys who work out — and they’re normally the strong guys.”

How does a man fall so low? Montgomery does not blame his upbringing, but he concedes that he may have always been destined for this. He had “two of the best parents”, his father fought in Vietnam and brought back discipline and a moral code to their home in Gaffney, South Carolina. “I didn’t have to resort to the streets,” he says, but even as a teenager he was dealing crack cocaine. “I just had that urge of living on the edge. I’m a thrill-seeking kind of guy.”

Throughout this interview, I ask him about guilt, the state of his soul — did it not trouble him to cheat the athletics world, to take drugs, to push heroin? And his answer was consistent, honest and cold. “You ask me how I feel — and I have to dig deep to get to feelings,” he says. “Did I feel I was crossing the line when I was doping? No, not coming from the streets. It wasn’t even a second thought. I’m not going to sugar-coat it, there wasn’t even a second thought that I was cheating. It was all about getting one over the system and if I could, I would.

“That was what I learnt on the streets. But I tell you, if I’m cold, Marion’s even colder. Marion didn’t care about anything.”

The attitude that Montgomery took to taking drugs was the same he took to pushing them. It was only, he says, in a cell in Portsmouth, where he saw another man hugging the rim of a basin, vomiting, sweating and shaking violently that he understood exactly what sort of a business he had been in.

“I had been dealing drugs as a kid, so it just seemed routine,” he says. “Not until that day in Portsmouth did I have a guilt.”

He has now, he says, been the recipient of a long, hard lesson. To his way of thinking, his crimes had been merely an extension of “my mischievous games as a child”.

“If only I could have got this lesson earlier,” he says. “All I had to do was wake up and train. I had the best job in the world and now I’m in prison clearing leaves.”

It was when he believed that Maurice Greene had been buying from the same dealer that Montgomery knew for sure that he would have a chance of getting level. Greene has always denied taking performance-enhancing drugs but his success, the wealth it brought him, his demeanour and his “clowning” sowed a dark covetousness into the psyche of his rival and it was this, more than anything, that led Montgomery to exchange the life of a frustrated B-list sprinter for a bent one who was, briefly, on top of the world.

As a teenager, Montgomery was a phenomenal talent; he was always very slight, a smooth mover, not a power runner. At the age of 19, in 1994, he broke the world junior 100 metres record; the record failed to stand because the track was discovered to be 3.7 centimetres short. Nevertheless, he was one to watch.

In 1996, aged 21, he made the United States sprint relay team for the Atlanta Olympics and Greene, who is five months older, did not. The year after, though, Greene won gold in the World Championships in Athens and Montgomery took bronze. It would be another five years before he was ahead again.

“Maurice got in my head real bad,” he says. “I wanted everything that he had. The meet organisers and the shoe companies, they said, ‘If you can’t beat these guys — Greene and Ato Boldon — we can’t pay you like them.

“It was bad enough without him lining up and flexing his muscles the way he did and flicking his tongue. It was embarrassing the way he was out there clowning the other athletes. Our races weren’t about the times we ran; for me it was personal. All I wanted was the person.”

It was after the 1999 World Championships in Seville that Montgomery decided to get him. He talks about “selling my soul”. “I would give anything to be the world’s fastest,” he says. “I wouldn’t let anything get in my way.”

The decision he made, therefore, was to leave his coach, Steve Riddick, and join Trevor Graham. Graham was successful, he had got Jones consistently beating the world; Montgomery did not know if they were doping, but he suspected they were and was prepared to join them.

The crucial conversation took place at Graham’s house one evening. Graham started telling him about power, about how he was too slight; he was so blatant he started showing Montgomery a video of Ben Johnson to demonstrate his point. “He was saying to me, ‘There’s no telling what you can do when you’re using steroids,’ ” Montgomery says.

It is at this point that most reasonable people would stop to think and to examine their conscience — because this was the moment when Montgomery crossed the line. But, as he explains, conscience did not enter the equation. “I was thinking, ‘This is the green light,’ ” he says. “All I wanted was the big Nike contract, the commercials, I wanted to be the star.”

His next stop was over the Mexico border to follow up on the introduction to Angel Heredia, whom Graham used as the supplier of performance-enhancing drugs to his athletes.

Montgomery claims that he was shown paperwork showing Heredia’s various clients and he asserts that one of the names he saw was Greene.

This allegation has been aired before, by Heredia, although Greene has denied that he ever used drugs. When evidence was published last year of a bank transaction and blood analysis in Greene’s name, Greene said that he disapproved of doping and that everything he bought from Heredia was destined for others in his training group, not himself.

But Montgomery’s attitude, on meeting Heredia, was that he had finally arrived. Was he concerned about getting caught? “No,” he says. “Being suspended for two years didn’t cross my mind. Other people weren’t getting caught. Angel’s father told me, ‘It clears your system in 12 days; all you have to do is hide for 12 days.’

“So for 12 days, we would turn the lights on at the track, train at night and stay in hotels in the day. When I lived with Marion, I got cameras put on the gates so if a tester came, I’d know not to answer the door.”

Real improvement, though, did not come for another year, until the advent of Project World Record. By now, Graham had switched suppliers and was working with Victor Conte, the founder of the Bay Area Laboratory Co-operative (Balco) in Burlingame, California. Project World Record was designed specifically to turn Montgomery into the world’s fastest man and it was born in a Balco meeting room with none other than Charlie Francis, the former coach of Ben Johnson, as a specialist consultant.

Once again, this did not trigger Montgomery’s concern but, instead, his ambition. “I knew I was getting the edge,” he says. “I knew we were beating the system. But the system had been beating me. Charlie said to me, ‘Tim, you have the ability to be the world record-holder.’ I don’t think there’s a person in sprinting smarter than Charlie Francis.”

Sure enough, Francis was right. In 2001, Greene just stayed ahead of Montgomery and in 2002, Montgomery finally reeled him in, beating him comprehensively in a grand prix in Brussels. Montgomery says: “Maurice came up to me after that and said, ‘You’re there, huh?’ And I said, ‘It was only a matter of time.’ But after I got fast, Maurice ducked a lot of races. You could see the mojo had changed. You can see in an athlete when you’ve got ’em, when you’ve taken the fight out of them.”

Two weeks after the Brussels meeting, Montgomery ran his 9.78sec in Paris. It was as fast as he would ever get, the height from which he began his long descent.

Two points about Montgomery that accentuate how much talent he had and how much he abused it. One: his world record may have been wiped but he insists he did it clean. The drugs that Conte gave him, he says, gave him terrible stomach cramps so he quit them and, in 2002, started taking clean nutritional supplements instead. Yet he realises few would believe him. “I know my word is like lunchmeat, you can take it or leave it,” he says. Two: because he was more interested in the rewards of winning than winning itself, he will never know quite where his natural talent might have taken him.

“I had all the natural elements to achieve what I wanted, as long as I put in 100 per cent,” he says. “But I never did. Because I wanted to be the person in the nightclub, partying, getting by in life.”

But his life started to crumple after Balco was raided in September 2003. A year later, he was fighting a doping charge and needed to fund growing legal fees. “I had been living beyond my means from the track world anyway,” he says. “I needed money and the only way I knew how to make money was drugs.” In other words, he used one crime to fund his defence against another.

Most of the others in this cast fell to earth, too. Jones served six months in prison last year for perjuring herself on the doping and the cheque fraud cases; Conte did four months in prison and four on house arrest; and Graham has just completed a year’s sentence of home confinement.

Greene, meanwhile, has a tattoo on his right bicep that reads GOAT — as in Greatest Of All Time — and trades on his success. He is still an ambassador for adidas and has done the rounds of the TV reality shows. The IAAF, the world athletics federation, confirmed yesterday that it was not aware of any investigation into any alleged connection to doping.

Montgomery, meanwhile, continues to pay the price. He is sustained by the support of Jamalee, the mother of one of his four children, and the woman he once left in order to move in with Jones. On October 5, he and Jamalee were married in the prison chapel. She was allowed to stay for 30 minutes after the service.

One thing he detests is his inability to be a parent. “When your kids come to see you, how can you tell them to be good when you are here in prison?” he says. So he can contribute in some small way, he is considering having Jamalee put his medals on eBay.

He says he has learnt his lesson and he would like his story to be a warning to others. There can be few, though, who have so willingly taken a sledgehammer to their talent, and so willingly pursued their own destruction.

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Unabashed Tim Montgomery and Marion Jones kept drugs in fridge

Tim Montgomery and Marion Jones, at one time the world’s fastest couple, were so relaxed about their use of performance-enhancing drugs that, according to Montgomery, they kept their drugs in the fridge “next to the vegetables”. And Montgomery tended to keep his syringes “under a pile of clothes”.

From his prison in Alabama, where he is due to spend the next six years, Montgomery told the story of their extraordinarily elite union: he, the world record-holder, and she, the fastest woman of her generation, a union that coolly thrived on pharmaceutical deception. The way Montgomery tells it: “An athlete can be so consumed by being great. And we were too similar, we both wanted to achieve at any cost and you can’t have two people like that together.”

Their characters were also twinned in that they registered not a flicker of remorse about the illegal means with which they conquered their sport. “We did discuss doping,” he says. “But we just discussed the fact that we thought everyone was doing it.”

Jones, he says, was a character “like no one else I’ve ever met”, he suggests that he never really loved her and he says that he simply wishes that he could see their son again.

It all began in 1999 when Montgomery joined the training group coached by Trevor Graham in Raleigh, North Carolina, and in which Jones was the central figure. “With Trevor, the workouts were so hard, I didn’t think they were humanly possible,” he says. “But I’ve never seen anyone putting in as much as Marion did. When she trains, she really trains. And she was the prima donna; it was all about her. Before we got together, Marion and I never spoke at practice. Never.”

It was not until the European track season in 2002 that the getting together took place. “I talked to Marion on a flight to Rome for at least eight hours,” Montgomery says. “Two hours later we were alone in a hotel room together. Two weeks after that we were crowned the world’s fastest couple. And six months after that she was pregnant.”

The relationship clearly moved on too quickly for Montgomery. He concedes that he got a kick from being considered the royal couple of the sport. “It’s not often that Oprah [Winfrey] comes knocking,” he says. “I did get carried away with it.”

And the money was good. And so, he says: “I told myself I could learn to love her. When I took her home for Christmas, everyone was like, ‘Wow, you are so lucky!’ But I was doing it for the public, not for me.”

Clearly, there were good times. “Marion and me — we were like buddies,” he says. “It’s hard to find a woman where you’re watching the football together, then playing basketball against each other, air hockey, you name it, we’d fish together and compete to see who caught the most fish.

“She’s a very exciting person. She’d try anything. When we went to Hawaii, we jumped from a plane and paraglided from a volcano. If you challenged her to drive 200mph, she’d do it.”

He also found her an unusual personality. She had a dark, depressive side to her nature. “She talked about taking her life on numerous occasions,” he says. “What you see is not what you get with Marion. I thought Marion was the toughest person in the world, but she hurts very easily. She’s soft, she’d just never show it in public. And Marion didn’t cook. Marion didn’t do anything that a man would want a wife to do. I used to tease her. I told her, ‘You need a woman, what man’s going to put up with you?’ I was the one who cooked. I cooked a great Thanksgiving dinner.”

And yet Jones was also utterly ruthless in pursuit of her ambition. “She could make herself cry for the cameras,” he says. “Her best work was when she passed a lie detector test.”

Neither morality nor her partner would stand in her way. When federal agents started to investigate the Bay Area Laboratory Co-operative (Balco), which had supplied their drugs, according to Montgomery, Jones started looking out for herself rather than them together. On oath in court, they told conflicting stories. The investigators thus found it possible to sow between them a mistrust that would split them apart and ultimately incriminate them.

Last year, Jones served six months in prison for perjury. The year previously, she had married Obadele Thompson, another sprinter, with whom she has had another child.

Montgomery says that their relationship is so torn that he has not seen their son for three years. “I wrote to Marion from prison,” he says. “I said, ‘I know we’ve been through a lot of things, I know we’ve both done wrong things. And I wish you the best. But I can’t figure out why I can’t see my son.’ She never wrote back.”

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WADA WIL ZWAARDERE STRAF VOOR BELGEN
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Het Wereldantidopingagentschap WADA vindt de straf voor Yanina Wickmayer en Xavier Malisse te mild. Het WADA stapt naar het Internationaal Sporttribunaal.

Wickmayer en Malisse werden door het Vlaams Dopingtribunaal 1 jaar geschorst omdat ze slordig zijn geweest met hun whereabouts. "We beschikken niet over alle elementen en zijn dus niet zeker dat één jaar genoeg is", zegt het WADA.

"We willen weten of er elementen zijn om hen maar 1 jaar te geven en niet de normale 2. We nemen vrijdag contact op met de Vlaamse autoriteiten om ervoor te zorgen dat we op één lijn zitten."

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Het Spaanse gerecht geeft de bloedzakjes uit het laboratorium van dopingdokter Eufemiano Fuentes niet vrij. Dat heeft een rechtbank in Madrid beslist.

Het Wereldantidopingagentschap WADA, de wereldwielerbond UCI en de Spaanse bond hadden daarom gevraagd, maar krijgen nul op het rekest, nu ook in beroep.

Dat wil zeggen dat het gerecht de inbeslaggenomen zakjes niet ter beschikking stelt van de sportbonden. Daardoor kunnen die bonden dan weer geen schorsingen uitspreken tegen wielrenners die betrokken zouden zijn geweest in Operacion Puerto, de dopingzaak rond Eufemiano Fuentes (foto).

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Op vrijdag 11 december 2009 15:31 schreef Beregd het volgende:

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Spanjaarden

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Op vrijdag 11 december 2009 15:38 schreef Beregd het volgende:
Ik heb het volledig bericht erbij geplaatst. Doping is sowieso meer een sportzaak dan een strafrechterlijke zaak. Ik kan me geen enkel argument voorstellen tegen de bekendmaking buiten het bewust willen beschermen van de dopinggebruikers..

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Le Monde: "Verboden kits gevonden bij Astana"

Tijdens de afgelopen Ronde van Frankrijk zijn in het medische materiaal van Astana bloedtransfusiekits gevonden. Dat schrijft de Franse krant Le Monde.

Tijdens de afgelopen Ronde van Frankrijk zijn in het medische materiaal van Astana bloedtransfusiekits gevonden. Dat schrijft de Franse krant Le Monde.

Volgens Le Monde zijn bij Astana geen dopingproducten gevonden, maar wel bloeddrukremmers in beslag genomen. De krant baseert zich op een informant die nauw bij het onderzoek betrokken zou zijn.

Een analyse heeft zeven verschillende genetische profielen opgeleverd. De renners kunnen pas geïdentificeerd worden als de wielerbond UCI de bloedprofielen uit hun biopaspoort doorspeelt aan het gerecht.

De Kazakse ploeg Astana domineerde de afgelopen Tour. Kopman Alberto Contador stak de eindzege op zak en Lance Armstrong werd derde. Ook het ploegenklassement won Astana.

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Op woensdag 23 december 2009 22:14 schreef Joost-mag-het-weten het volgende:

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Op woensdag 23 december 2009 22:49 schreef wimderon het volgende:

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Sabotage van Bruyneel natuurlijk, zeven renners, dus iedereen op Armstrong en Leipo na geïdentificeerd.

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Bruyneel maakt zich geen zorgen over dopingbeschuldigingen

Volgens de Franse krant Le Monde zijn er tijdens de Tour 2009 bloedtransfusiekits gevonden in het medische materiaal van wielerploeg Astana.
Halfweg oktober meldde L'Equipe al dat het parket van Parijs een vooronderzoek had geopend omdat er bij Astana verdachte injectiespuiten waren gevonden. Die zaten in de afvalkist voor medisch materiaal die elk team ter beschikking krijgt van de organisatoren.

Astana reageerde toen verrast: 'Het is het eerste dat we horen dat er een onderzoek is. Wij hebben echter niets te verbergen en kijken met vertrouwen uit naar de resultaten van de analyses van het Parijse lab.'

Nadien werd het stil rond de zaak, maar Le Monde weet nu van een informant dat dat vertrouwen onterecht zou zijn. Het gevonden materiaal zou dienen voor bloedtransfusies en die zijn in alle gevallen verboden door het WADA.

Echte dopingproducten zijn er niet gevonden, maar wel bloeddrukremmers. Die zijn niet verboden, maar kunnen gebruikt worden bij een hoge bloeddruk, veroorzaakt door een bloedtransfusie of inname van EPO, schrijft de Franse krant.

Johan Bruyneel, Astana-manager tijdens die Tour, maakt zich echter geen zorgen. 'Ik heb een zwaar déjàvu-gevoel. Eigenlijk heb ik er geen reactie op. Het was in het verleden nooit anders. Dit is de zoveelste keer dat de Franse media zulke feiten omhoog gooien. We kunnen ons er onmogelijk tegen verdedigen en we gaan er ook onze slaap niet voor laten.'

De Kazachse wielerploeg domineerde de voorbije Tour met eindwinst voor Alberto Contador en een derde plaats voor Lance Armstrong.

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Op woensdag 23 december 2009 22:49 schreef wimderon het volgende:

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Sabotage van Bruyneel natuurlijk, zeven renners, dus iedereen op Armstrong en Leipo na geïdentificeerd.

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Twee Russische langlaufsters zijn geschorst

do 24/12/2009 - 19:01 De Russische skiloopsters Joelia Tsjepalova en Natalia Matvejeva zijn geschorst tot 2011. Ze werden in januari 2009 op epo betrapt.

Tsjepalova (32) verzamelde drie olympische titels.Toen vorige zomer het nieuws over haar positieve test bekend werd, kondigde ze het einde van haar carrière aan.

Daarna werd ze weer strijdvaardig en schreef ze een brief aan IOC-voorzitter Jacques Rogge om haar onschuld uit te roepen. Ze overweegt een procedure bij het TAS.

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Zirbel test positief
Nummer 4 van het WK tijdrijden Tom Zirbel is op non-actief gezet nadat hij bij een controle tijdens het Amerikaans kampioenschap tijdrijden op 29 augustus 2009 positief testte op het hormoon DHEA.

De Amerikaan maakte het nieuws maandag zelf bekend. De nummer vier van het WK tijdrijden dit jaar ontkent dat hij bewust doping nam.

"Ik heb nooit bewust DHEA ingenomen. Van zo'n zaken heb ik geen flauw benul. Ik hoorde voor het eerst van DHEA nadat mijn A-staal positief bleek", reageerde Zirbel op de site cyclingnews.com.

De Amerikaan vraagt een tegenexpertise aan. Als ook het B-staal positief blijkt, dan kan hij twee jaar geschorst worden. DHEA, voluit dehydroepiandrosterone, is een anti-verouderingshormoon.

In het Zwitserse Mendrisio strandde Zirbel dit jaar op 17 seconden van de derde plaats op het WK tijdrijden. Zijn knappe prestatie leek hem een transfer naar Garmin op te leveren, maar dat gaat nu niet door.

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Dopingzondaar Davide Rebellin zegt dat hij onschuld kan bewijzen.

De op doping betrapte Italiaanse wielrenner Davide Rebellin, die zijn zilveren olympische medaille moest inleveren door een positieve dopingtest, zegt dat hij zijn onschuld kan bewijzen.
‘Met mijn advocaten heb ik te veel mysteries ontdekt in het verhaal’, aldus Rebellin. Hij heeft een beroepsprocedure bij het Internationale sporttribunaal TAS in Lausanne.

‘Ik heb nooit CERA genomen. Een van de anomalieën is dat er zeven stalen aan mij zijn toegewezen, terwijl ik maar drie dopingtests heb ondergaan.’

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18-jarige dopingzondaar wordt jongste wielerprof

De pas 18-jarige Italiaan Eugenio Bani wordt in 2010 de jongste profrenner van het peloton. Hij onderschreef een verbintenis bij wielerteam Amore & Vita. Opmerkelijk is dat Bani momenteel een dopingschorsing van 21 maanden uitzit omdat in zijn urine sporen van het zwangerschapshormoon HcG (Human chorionic gonadotrophin) zijn gevonden. De straf geldt wel alleen op Italiaans grondgebied zodat hij buiten de Laars wel mag fietsen.

Volgens Ivano Fanini, manager van Amore & Vita, haalde hij de renner bij zijn team om diens dopingzaak kenbaar te maken bij het grote publiek. 'Deze renner is een groot onrecht aangedaan. Hij is het slachtoffer van een corrupt systeem dat het wielrennen, zeker in Italië, vandaag in zijn greep heeft', zegt Fanini op cyclingnews.com.

'De federatie voorziet geen controles in de jeugdreeksen zodat tussenpersonen alle vrijheid hebben om jongeren doping te geven. Dit is wat gebeurd is in deze zaak. Het is ondenkbaar dat hij zich op eigen houtje gedopeerd heeft. Een 18-jarige kan zonder hulp niet aan HcG raken. Deze jongen was een speelbal in de handen van mensen met veel meer ervaring in de wielrennerij', besluit de sportieve baas van Amore & Vita.