Picture this: a cyclist bursting onto the scene with jaw-dropping skills that make him a force in both grueling climbs and chaotic classics, only to find himself at the center of a doping storm that shakes the foundations of professional cycling. It's a tale that grips fans and experts alike, but here's the twist that keeps everyone on the edge of their seats – why didn't his teams spot the red flags sooner?
The repercussions of Oier Lazkano's suspension are still echoing through the cycling world, and former Quick-Step sports director Brian Holm is pointing fingers at what he sees as obvious warning signs long before the UCI's biological passport flagged issues and led to his expulsion from the sport. Speaking in an interview with Feltet, Holm argues that Lazkano's meteoric ascent deserved closer inspection from the get-go, and he's baffled that his previous employers, Movistar and Red Bull-BORA-hansgrohe, didn't intervene earlier.
'If you were sketching a portrait of a rider who raises eyebrows in the doping context, Oier Lazkano would be the perfect match,' Holm remarked. He highlighted how Lazkano seemed to emerge from obscurity, excelling in a wide array of disciplines with ease. Of course, Holm allows for the possibility of natural talent shining through – after all, cycling has always been a sport where underdogs can surprise everyone. But his versatility in handling the classics (those one-day races over varied terrain) and tackling steep mountain climbs left Holm wondering, 'Where did this guy come from?' It's a valid question, especially for newcomers to cycling who might not realize that such rapid, all-around improvement isn't always as straightforward as it appears; sometimes, it prompts deeper scrutiny to ensure fair play.
Lazkano, for his part, has publicly denied any wrongdoing in a statement defending his innocence. His suspension stemmed from multiple tests showing abnormal results in his biological passport – a system, for those just getting into cycling terminology, that tracks an athlete's blood markers over time to detect potential doping without needing a direct positive test. This led to his immediate contract termination by Red Bull-BORA-hansgrohe, and it also casts a shadow over his time at Movistar, where his breakout performances first caught widespread notice and paved the way for a lucrative switch to the Austrian-backed team.
Holm went on to emphasize that such incidents shouldn't be viewed as a regression for cycling; instead, they demonstrate that the sport's monitoring mechanisms are alive and kicking. 'These cases will keep popping up,' he warned. 'This isn't the first, and it certainly won't be the last. To assume otherwise would be incredibly naive – some will inevitably face consequences.' Rather than bemoaning the state of the sport, Holm sees successful detections like this as markers of progress in a discipline still mending from past scandals. 'While some might argue it's a blow to cycling's image, I'd counter that it actually strengthens us, because it shows someone is stepping up to address issues.'
And this is the part most people miss – the question of whether teams are doing enough internally to catch suspicious trends before they escalate. Holm didn't outright accuse Movistar or Red Bull-BORA-hansgrohe of oversight, but he did express puzzlement over how a rider displaying such exponential growth slipped past their medical teams. 'I find it surprising that the team's doctors didn't sound the alarm sooner,' he said. To illustrate, he shared a personal story from his days at HTC-Colombia, where mere suspicions led to decisive action. They had a rider named Serhiy Honchar who suddenly ramped up his speed dramatically. The team's doctor noticed irregularities, dug into his blood data, and ultimately, the team let him go – even though no concrete proof existed at the time. It ended up in court, but HTC came out on top. Holm used this example to suggest that intuition and vigilance can sometimes be as crucial as hard evidence, helping beginners understand that teams aren't just about gear and training; they're also frontline guardians against potential abuses.
That said, Holm is quick to admit the limitations here – without access to the actual biological data the UCI pored over, it's tough to make definitive judgments. 'I'm no specialist, so I can't gauge the extent of the anomalies,' he conceded. 'But I truly can't fathom any cover-ups happening nowadays... It feels like the opposite is true; eyes are wide open.'
In the end, for Holm, Lazkano's situation feels like a predictable plot point rather than a shocking revelation. 'If anyone was destined to get caught, it didn't shock me that it was him – though I can't pinpoint exactly why.' As the UCI's investigation unfolds and Lazkano fights the charges, the episode serves as a stark reminder in a sport working hard to regain trust: credibility isn't built overnight, and constant watchfulness is non-negotiable.
But here's where it gets controversial: Is Holm right to imply that Lazkano's 'from nowhere' rise screams suspicion, or could it just be a rare burst of natural genius that exposes the flaws in our cynical assumptions? And what about the teams – should they be held more accountable for not acting on gut feelings, even without proof? Do you think the biological passport system is the ultimate safeguard, or does it sometimes unfairly target outliers? Share your thoughts in the comments – do you agree with Holm's take, or do you see a counterpoint that the sport's healing process might actually be stifling innovation? Let's discuss!
