One of my bugbears is when sporting events are covered in the news part of the six o'clock television news rather than consigned to the sports' section where they properly belong. Sport does sometimes crossover into genuine news - just not nearly as often as the programme editors seem to believe.
As far as I'm concerned New Zealand winning the Rugby World Cup should be reported in the sports' section; however, anti-apartheid campaigners flour-bombing Eden Park is definitely news. The score of a soccer match (yes, even an important one) always belongs in sport; however, if soccer fans are crushed at a stadium then that's news. Plain old golf results are sport but a star golfer's scandalous and public fall from grace is justifiably covered at the top of the hour.
Cyclist Lance Armstrong's confession firmly belongs in the news' section. His story turned from one of interest to sport aficionados to one with far wider appeal. Nearly all the components of a juicy soap opera were present including ambition, bullying, cheating, confession, denial, drugs, greed, guilt, lying, shame and tears - all set against the glamorous backdrop of the Tour de France cycling race.
And it made me consider for perhaps the umpteenth time what a very strange sport road-cycling is. I could relate to the reader response to The Flawed Art of Lance Armstrong's Confession that read: "It's freaking cycling, who cares? Except maybe a small group of guys who like to wear "grape smugglers" and brightly colo[u]red jerseys with all sorts of logos on them and hog the road on Saturday morning and give you dirty looks if you get too close to their pretty bicycle ..."
If I was to get on a bicycle now I'd probably need trainer wheels because I haven't ridden one since I turned fifteen and got my driver's licence. For me, cycling was never about pleasure but all about transport and getting from point A to point B. Yet cycling for fun and sport is a thriving activity - and growing numbers of cyclists are determined to share the roads with motorists.