Cycling's Mr. Clean speaks out

Test me all you want, test me anywhere you want, test whatever you want, said Ben Jacques-Maynes, the team leader for the Bissell Pro Cycling team that will compete in the Amgen Tour of California. Test my blood. Test my urine. Pull out a hair follicle. Scrape some skin. Take a toenail. Grab an eyelash. Whatever.

And those cheaters, don't even let them ride a tricycle anymore.

"I'd be in favor of pressing a civil suit against them," said Jacques-Maynes.

And, as for everyone gets a second chance, phooey.

"In my mind," he said, "they haven't paid anything to me. They cheated me out of prize money, out of a higher finish, out of accolades and the immeasurables that add up to a great season. I hold a lot of animosity to those who cheat. And you're not going to convince me that they'll stay clean, if given another opportunity. They'll say, 'Yeah, I got caught.' What does that mean? Does that mean, 'I'm sorry I got caught' or 'I'm sorry I did something that was wrong for the sport?' I would say it's the former."

Well, Ben, is there something on your mind?

"You know," said Jacques-Maynes, who graduated from UC Santa Cruz with a degree in economics, "I don't like taking the (moral) high road. I really don't. I am by nature a quiet person. But when people talk about dopers in my sport, it really pisses me off. So I do talk openly. Otherwise I am just a mellow guy who likes to ride his bike."

In the sport of cycling, until recently, what Jacques-Maynes just said would have been viewed as a screaming, brazen manifesto, a talking head that should keep his trap shut. He would be ostracized, a pariah among his competitors. Until recently the sport observed a code of silence. Go along with the program. If someone asked about blood doping, shake your head in disgust, mumble something like "it's bad" and let's move on to the next question, shall we.

"People were complacent," Jacques-Maynes said. " 'There's nothing we can do about it.' "

Ah, but the sport that can offer so many spectacular, life-affirming moments is wallowing among the muck and mud of lawsuits, dethroned winners, banned competitors, egg-on-

faces and sponsors bailing. It's difficult to remain complacent when the director of the Tour de France, Christian Prudhomme, told a French newspaper last May: Doping is "killing" the sport.

"The people who were right in the middle of it during the mid to late '90s," said Jacques-Maynes, "need to be phased out."

Jacques-Maynes said the only supplements he takes are three multi-

vitamins daily. He said he can go to sleep at night knowing "every pedal-turn I have ever done has been done cleanly."

He feels there is a new breed of pro cyclists, coming from the United States, Germany and Britain, who are not afraid to raise their hands and break the code of silence.

The new breed, he said, can make waves, create change, clean up the dirt. Show how important integrity is, crow about it, and not just to the media.

"In the last couple years," Jacques-Maynes said, "I have had several American teams approach me. On two or three occasions I've said to them, 'I understand you signed a rider that has tested positive in the past. Can you guarantee me a clean team?' They said, 'No, we can't.' I don't want to be on a team with a dirty rider. I don't want to talk to them. People who have cheated, I don't want to be around them."

Jacques-Maynes is simply stuck on a principle and won't budge. While that may appear hardly risk taking, it is in a sport that has taken so many other things into account other than an unbreakable standard of ethics. It is, however, a different sport in Europe than in the U.S., where the money and prestige in cycling create a temptation that would tug at the most strident of principles.

Last year Jacques-Maynes had a stellar year in which he finished second in the National Ranking Calendar, a judging system for American pro cyclists. It was a big leap of success for the Watsonville resident, a leap that attracted interest from several European teams, especially after he finished in the Top 10 in both time trials during the Tour of California.

"I asked them; 'What can you offer me? I have team leadership. I get to choose the races I want to ride in. I get to visit my (two) kids every weekend. And I don't have the pressure to cheat like in Europe. Can you provide all that for me?' It was a short conversation."

Jacques-Maynes is the first to admit his inflexible attitude about doping has cost him money, prestige and a ride with an European team. At 29, if he was going to make a big international splash, he would already be deep into that mix. Training comes easier. Strength arrives faster. Rehabilitation takes less time.

"But if all I ever become is mediocre," Jacques-Maynes said, "then I know I have done it fairly. I know I can look into the mirror and not be embarrassed. I would not want to stand on the podium and know I cheated to get there. For me fair play is just about everything. Plus, 20 years from now I don't want to die in my sleep."

Sure, of course, in his proclamations Jacques-Maynes knows he could come off as a goody-two-shoes. It is fashionable these days know to speak out after so many years of cyclists and doctors stone-walling the issue.

"But do you know how big an ass I'd be," he said, "if I tested positive?"

Remarkable he even had to defend himself. A pro cyclist, dedicated to being clean, is guilty until proven innocent, faced with this unenviable task: How does a cyclist prove his innocence anyway? He becomes the portable human blood bank, open like an ATM, 24 hours a day, to anyone who wants to poke his veins? Here, have some blood and let's go to lunch.

That's outrageous but not any more than this: Ben Jacques-Maynes wants to take a dirty cyclist to civil court, costing the clean guys of money, prestige and advancement. That's outrageous, all right. And not a bad idea.

You can reach Staff Columnist Bob Padecky at 521-5490 or at bob.padecky@ pressdemocrat.com.