A month or so ago, I was thrilled, as usual, by the brilliant analyses of Laurent Fignon in his role as a TV journalist covering the Tour de France. He knew what he was talking about, for he had won the great race twice, in 1983 and 1984. Today, I'm stunned to hear that cancer has taken him away. Death is a weird phenomenon when it strikes a great sporting hero. Not so long ago, his body was a biological engine of perfection. Today, it's an empty shell. But the world remains filled with memory waves that evoke the dead champion.