Lance Armstrong is a champion, a superstar, a man’s man. I think that bears repeating, a man’s man, hombre.
Word that he and girlfriend Anna Hansen are expecting their second child, bringing the Armstrong family to five, should come as no surprise to anyone. Cancer couldn’t stop Armstrong, infertility caused by chemo couldn’t stop Armstrong. Only Lance decides when he’s not in the mood.
Armstrong likes to win and win at everything, folks. He’s got more money than you, more houses, cars, art work, twitter followers, vintage wines, bikes, endorsements, businesses, connections and Oakley sunglasses. More than you, more than Contador or Schleck or Wiggins put together.
The man lives large, Hollywood-size, he’s global, he’s the most powerful man in cycling, the biggest cancer fundraiser, the great endurance athlete of our time. He kicks ass, he takes names, his tweets kill.
Five kids is nothing to Armstrong because he’d gonna win the parenting battle, too. He can handle more kids than you, change more diapers, read more bedtime stories, buy more ice cream, push more strollers. He can assemble a crib with his eyes closed. Twisted Spoke stopped at two kids and goes to bed exhausted and mildly bitter at 9:30. We’re not even Lance-lite.
The man is a monster, a giant, a Texas tornado of energy, ambition and will- power. Just standing next to Armstrong puts hair on your chest, simply reading about him raises your testosterone. He’s a contact high of manhood. Even hunk-star Matthew McConaughey has trouble keeping up with Lance.
Five kids? You think Lance Armstrong stops at five and you don’t know a thing about Armstrong. At minimum, he’s going for two more kids after Jack/Oliva arrives in October. Think deep for just one second: Armstrong believes in Lucky Seven, he’s won seven Tour de France’s, he’s got his eye on the big prize. The Drive For Five is over, the man wants seven kids. You read it at Twisted Spoke first.
Maybe you consider yourself a pretty fertile guy, maybe you figure you radiate machismo, perhaps you like to look at yourself in the mirror, cock your head, throw a sideways grin like Clive Owen or Lil Jon or Laird Hamilton. Hey, how many kids they got?
On a good day, you’re sure you missed a second career as a porn star. Lemme tell you something: you got nothing. Skinny Spaniard Alberto Contador got nothing. Skinny Andy Schleck got nothing down there in the lycra bib shorts.
You know who Lance Armstrong respects in the pro peloton? Saxo Bank’s Jens Voigt. Another man’s man, tough guy with five kids. Hell, Voigt probably gets home for just a month or two each year but still takes care of baby business. But kid-wise, Lance is gonna blow right by Voigt in 2012.
Know who Lance really respects? The greatest reggae legend of all time: Bob Marley. He fathered so many kids, experts can only agree the number is between 11 and 13. One heart, one love, plenty of ghanja and girls. Jah provide the rest.
You have to remember that Lance Armstrong is sex positive, has mastered all 64 positions of the Kama Sutra, could teach human sexuality at Harvard, okay? When he had cancer — they frozen his sperm at the sperm bank and they just kept swimming.
Actor and comedian Tony Randall fathered a child at age 75. You don’t think Armstrong can snap that record with both hand tied behind his back? The Texan is a superbly conditioned endurance athlete, emphasis on endurance. The man can go all day and if at age 80 he decides the wants one last round of stinky diapers, then consider it done.
We congratulate Lance on his happy news and the October arrival of Jack/Oliva. One things is for sure, he/she won’t be the youngest kid at the Armstrong house.