In a made-for-prime-time event, Lance Armstrong will confess to Oprah Winfrey that he did, in fact, use performance-enhancing drugs to win the Tour de France.

In other news, oxygen has been found to be essential for continued breathing.

I mean, in terms of revelations, this one isn’t exactly seismic in nature.

I can’t seem to find any more outrage over anything “performance-enhancing.” For starters, the definitions seem to be amorphous, at best.

Steroids are bad. Having Lasik surgery performed to improve vision? That’s OK. Increasing testosterone levels is bad. Sleeping in a hyperbaric chamber—thus artificially inflating the oxygenation in one’s blood—to heal an injury at warp speed? That’s OK.

Maybe I’m too cynical; goodness knows I’ve heard that accusation a time or a thousand.

But with admissions from football players from 40 years ago that they used steroids, with Major League Baseball’s own Mitchell Report documenting steroid use in baseball dating back to at least the early 1970s, I have to wonder why anyone gets so worked up about this anymore.

I know, I know … we have to save the children. That’s part of the problem, too, though.

Why aren’t the children—high-school kids for the most part—being more closely monitored by parents and coaches?

Why doesn’t some of the blame for kids experimenting with steroids and other performance-enhancers fall on their parents and their coaches?

I know why; because that would force people to be accountable. It’s much easier to go to Congress and point a finger at the big, bad professional athletes and call them bad role models.

That’s not to say I can’t summon up any outrage over Lance Armstrong, but it has nothing to do with whatever he did or didn’t inject, ingest, inhale or otherwise get into his body to become the dominant cyclist in the world for the better part of a decade.

No, my outrage at Armstrong has everything to do with the people he and his sycophants tried to bully, intimidate and ruin because—as he’s going to admit to the world in front of a national cable audience (of which I will not be one, by the way)—they had the audacity to tell the truth about what Armstrong did.

He and his minions wrecked people—financially, emotionally, professionally—because they told the truth.

If you want to be outraged about anything Lance Armstrong has done, be outraged at that, not because he did the same thing everyone else in his sport—and others—was doing.