Жду не дождусь, чего за резину тянуть, когда Коу обвинят по существу - в приёме запрещённых медицинских препаратов...
It is over. The flag at the summit is tattered and torn. The heroes are besmirched, their glory tainted. We know how they got there now, the lines that were crossed, the corners cut, the deceptions, the subterfuge, the tawdry compromises.
Team Sky were going to make us believe in cycling again; instead they have challenged our faith in British sport. Mo Farah was our king of the track, now we wonder if he is really all he seems. Lord Coe was the pillar of Britain's athletics establishment: if he is tarnished, what of the rest of them, even the best of them?
The next time we hear Britain win because they have the sharpest suits, the grandest designs, the finest technicians, next time we hear of a medallist's valiant battle to overcome asthma, what will we think? We've heard it before and were made to feel foolish, the hypocrisy and duplicity of our sporting leaders exposed by a bunch of Russian hackers, on a mission to prove East and West are not all that different if you scratch beneath the surface.
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