(A hospital somewhere in America, somewhere 1997)
“Good Morning Mister Armstrong.”
“Jesus. Mister Verbruggen. What brought you here?”
“Business, Lance, business as usual, you could call it, I guess.”
“Okay. You look worried.”
“Never mind my worries. How are you?”
“Not too good. Cancer is a bitch. I came to know what hell really looks like.”
“Very different than hell on the bike, I guess.”
“Very damn different indeed.”
“Listen Lance, since I’m in a hurry and you ought to be taken care of, I would like to point out some stuff.”
“Okay man.”
“I need a story.”
“You need a story?”
“Yes, I need a story. I need to turn cycling into this world famous moneymaking sport. That is my job at UCI, as you know.”
“Sure I know. This marketing stuff you need to take care of.”
“Exactly. And to market stuff well, we need a story.”
“Yeah man”.
“A huge story.”
“Oh sure man.”
“A story with a true winner.”
“Of course.”
“Big.”
“Yeah.”
“Huge.”
“Sure.”
“See Mister Armstrong, a guy like Miguel Indurain, that is no unique selling point for cycling. Frenchmen on the mountainsites going crazy with communists graffiti on their roads – that’s no selling point either. That’s no story, that’s just silly folklore.”
“Don’t get me started Hein.”
“Cycling will never get global with this kind of hillbilly stuff.”
“I guess so.”
“Cycling needs a winner. A new kind of winner. Frankly, an American winner. We need a new winner and a new story.”
“Right.”
“And that is where you might come in, mister Armstrong”
“Yeah right.”
“I’m serious. Go figure what would happen to cycling if a guy who fought cancer would win the Tour de France.”
“Come on mister Verbruggen. Don’t get silly. Dream on.”
“You can do it.”
“Of course I can. But how?”
“You have the talent.”
“It takes more than talent.”
“You have the dedication.”
“It takes more than dedication.”
“You have the medication.”
“Everyone has.”
“You can have the team.”
“It’ll take more than just a team.”
“You have the story.”
“Yeah, sure, I might hold the story, but you know very well we need more to get a happy ending.”
“Of course I know. That is what I am here for.”
“Right. You really came talking business.”
“Yes. Because you know what it takes.”
“Yeah. Of course I know.”
“And you wonder how to get away with it.”
“Yes.”
“Well mister Armstrong…no worries. That is what I am here for. Two words I really came to tell you. No and Worries. That makes no worries, right?”
“Right.”
“Yes. No worries.”
“Okay then, no worries.”
“You’re a great sportsman. You know how to compete. You know it takes a team. You know it takes dedication. You know it takes talent.”
“Of course.”
“Plus you know we need a story. A global story. We will write it, but you are to provide us with the facts. We need you.”
“Right. Without worries?”
“Without worries. Like I said: no worries”.
“Okay, cool man”.
“Any more questions Mister Armstrong?”
“No man. Like you said: no worries, right?”
“Absolutely right.”
“Okay. And if so, my worries will be yours?”
“Like I told you: no worries. Should I start repeating myself? No worries.”
“Okay. No worries.”
“Thank you mister Armstrong.”
“Thank you mister Verbruggen.”
“I better go. Good luck with competition.”
“Okay Hein.”
“Bye Mister Armstrong.”
“Okido mister Verbruggen. Oh and mister Verbruggen?”
“Yes Lance?”
“Your worries are mine, right?”
“No worries Mister Armstrong. There will be no worries. Whatsoever”.
“Well thanks. I was just thinking about one day or another where, you know, my worries indeed will be yours.”
“No worries Mister Armstrong. No worries”.
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
