The death-by-a-thousand-cuts of Lance Armstrong's reputation and place among the gods in cycling's Pantheon has been arrestingly horrifying to watch.

What's been truly jaw-dropping, however, has been the reaction of UCI, the Union Cycliste Internationale, whose president, Pat McQuaid, this week asserted not only that Armstrong had "no place in cycling" and "deserves to be forgotten in cycling," but also that "[b]y the decisions we have taken, it has given us the moral authority."

If, indeed, Armstrong is guilty of the crimes he's been accused of, essentially running international cycling in general and the Tour de France in particular, like some spandex-swathed Tony Montana, (and, at this point, even diehard fans such as myself really must begin to doubt our own rose-colored glasses), then I make the argument that forgetting Armstrong, while striking in a romantic ideal kind of way, further damages the credibility and legitimacy of any governing body trying to regain any kind of high ground moving forward, moral or otherwise.

If Armstrong has no place in cycling, then, goodness, tell me who does?

For the years Armstrong's Tour victories are being stripped, why are no other riders being awarded those titles?

Could it have anything to do with the fact that of the 21 riders who followed immediately behind Armstrong in those 7 Tours, fully 20 of them have also been tied to doping?

International competitive cycling had for years, and since well before Armstrong burst on the scene in 1999, been rife with dopers and users. While never officially endorsed, it was accepted as part of the culture and part of the reality of the sport. Have you seen what these guys do?

And, ironically now, that was why Armstrong's rise was so meteoric, so heroic. He'd not only escaped a broken home and beaten cancer, two hugely compelling narratives, but he was a clean kid dusting all those dopers at their own game.

Oh, and he was American. Can't forget that. So, yeah, we jumped on the bandwagon (even if we didn't actually jump on our bikes) and we cheered as the Tour trophies piled up and thumbed our noses at our arrogant continental hosts and thumped our chests and pooh-poohed the myriad accusers.

And in the end, it looks like it really was all a lie. Which is sadder than I can tell you.

But what we can never forget, and what can never be taken away, is the incredible, superhuman work Armstrong and his Livestrong Foundation have done for those with cancer, the men and women, the girls and boys, who are struck daily by a disease we've been too slowly and ineffectually fighting for the past 60 years.

The Livestrong Foundation has raised nearly half a billion dollars for the fight against cancer since its inception in 1997. That's billion with a "b."

It's still raising money, and awareness, today, advocating and pressing for more research, smarter thinking and more commitment.

Armstrong has given tirelessly of himself to promote the Foundation and its fight to do something for the world as a whole.

Was he secretly trying to atone for sins about which only he was aware?

Or was he just as pissed at the disease that tried to kill him as he always was at the other riders who wrote him off and said he had no chance?

Who knows. Frankly, for me at least, who cares.

Maybe Armstrong cheated in a sport rife with cheating. Maybe his self-respect and the respect he held for his sport wasn't nearly as uncompromising as we all wanted it to be. Maybe he rode a bike and lied about what made him so good. Maybe he wasn't any better than any of the people all around him in the peloton. Maybe for you.

But for me, he was working to do something good, something lasting, something with impact, something bigger than any of us. Something that could change the lives of millions, and maybe, just maybe, save the lives of millions more.

So if the cycling hypocrites don't want him, if the sponsors who made millions off him don't want him, if the UCI and Pat McQuaid and his predecessor Hein Verbruggen, the guy who ran UCI from 1991-2005, arguably the most drug-riddled era of any sport, don't want him, fine.

I'll take him.

And there are millions more who feel the same.