IT SAYS SOMETHING about Armstrong's global profile that Vanity Fair, the magazine that scored an exclusive about his 2008 comeback, was once able to contain the 30-year secret identity of Watergate's Deep Throat but couldn't keep Armstrong's bombshell under wraps before going to press. So quickly did the news fly around the Internet that the magazine was forced to publish its scoop online.

It was huge news for cycling. The sport has been all but forgotten by American fans, owing as much to Armstrong's absence as to a series of escalating doping scandals that have ruined the world's best remaining riders—Floyd Landis, Jan Ullrich, Ivan Basso, Alexandre Vinokourov,

Q: Have you been randomly tested since you came back? A: Last month they came twice within four days. You know then that they're thinking, He's gonna try to sneak one in, so we're gonna…

and on and on. You'd think that the organizers at the Tour de France would have welcomed Armstrong's comeback as a miracle opportunity. Instead the new president of the Tour's parent company, Jean-Etienne Amaury, told the French paper L'Equipe, "We cannot say that [Armstrong] has not embarrassed the Tour de France."

Such is the twisted relationship between Armstrong and the French. In 2005, L'Equipe published an extensive investigation about Armstrong's alleged doping at the 1999 Tour. Among many claims, the paper cited an independent test performed on urine samples taken from Armstrong during that year's race. In 1999, tests for EPO, a popular performance enhancer that increases an athlete's red-blood-cell count, didn't exist. L'Equipe claims that, after new testing technologies were used, the retest of the samples came back positive. Armstrong vehemently denied the report, and a subsequent inquiry, undertaken by independent Dutch investigators, cleared him of any wrongdoing. Nevertheless, many of his fiercest critics—French or otherwise—still point to the L'Equipe story as their smoking gun.

Since Aumary made his remarks, Armstrong has also been criticized for having the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) bend its rules to allow him a last-minute entry to this January's Tour Down Under, in Australia. He's had to answer questions about whether he'll be the leader of his new team, Astana, which includes 26-year-old Spanish prodigy Alberto Contador, who's already won the Tour de France, the Giro d'Italia, and the Vuelta a España. He's been accused of gamesmanship for withholding his decision about whether he'll ride in next year's Tour. (He waited until December 1 before making it official.) Then there are the obvious criticisms about Astana itself. The Kazakhstan-based squad withdrew from the 2007 Tour de France for doping violations and wasn't invited back for last year's race. For a cyclist trying to move beyond the specter of drugs, joining Team Astana was a curious choice.

Were you surprised by all the flak?
A lot of drama. But yeah, we knew that there would be some reaction—positive and negative. And I think, by and large, most of it has been positive. There's definitely going to be people… I mean, listen, some of the stuff that I've read, the negative stuff? It will make your skin crawl. It's as if [I were] Charles Manson, Osama bin Laden, and Jim Jones all together.

You had to know that your new team would enrage some cycling officials.
But you put that up against your loyalty to one person.

And that's your coach, Johan Bruyneel?
Yes. Johan Bruyneel is without a doubt the greatest coach in professional sports. His record is unmatched. And I'm a very loyal person. I find my people that work well, and if they work, I don't change them. Ever. I know that there's some history with [Astana] a couple of years ago at the Tour. But I would ask that the people think about the men involved, myself and Johan.

Two of the world's best racers are on your team now: American Levi Leipheimer and Alberto Contador, who didn't exactly cede the title of team leader when you announced your comeback.
Yeah. Alberto, he gets a little carried away because he talks so much. He's young, and that's what young guys do. Anytime someone puts a microphone in front of him he'll start talking. But there are no tensions going into camp. We're not going to pick the leader in October or November.

But you can't say that about your previous years. No one on the Discovery Channel team sat around in November wondering who the team leader was.
Clearly this is different. There's a real chance that I'm the third-strongest guy on the team. And that's fine. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about that. As a professional cyclist you're supposed to support the strongest man, and I will support those rules because that's what I want. The purpose of this comeback is this international message. If the international campaign is successful, I'm not that concerned about where I place, even if I'm fifth in the Giro and fourth in the Tour.

But raising awareness through the bike means you have to be competitive. The headlines can't be "Lance Drops Out."
No. That can't happen. That would be real bad. But that's not going to happen.

Your first race, the Tour Down Under, is in two months. How do you think you'll do?
No clue. Clueless.

Are you scared?
I'll be nervous, absolutely.