WHILE the latest chapter of the biggest 'did he or didn't he?' sporting controversy of recent times appears to be conclusive, the Lance Armstrong story continues to pose more questions than answers.

Among the biggest is: why now? After years of countless denials, fierce rebuttals and displays of wounded indignation at the "witch hunt" being mounted against him, what has prompted the seven-time Tour de France champion to finally give up the fight against allegations that he doped consistently during his cycling career?

"There comes a point in every man's life when he has to say 'Enough is enough'. For me, that time is now," read the statement released by Armstrong yesterday. It smacks of a man wearied by life and its constant battles, and is shrewdly engineered to be that way.

Armstrong is no fool. It takes a master strategist to win the world's most famous bike race; simply turning up in the best physical form of your life alone – illegally assisted or otherwise – isn't going to bring glittering palmares. It requires the savvy and tactical mind of an army general to claim victory.

Armstrong's refusal to mount a defence to the US Anti-Doping Agency's case against him is not a concession of defeat; rather he is cleverly manoeuvring himself into a best-case scenario. To retreat was the only option left if he is to salvage some value from his already plummeting stock.

Like everything Armstrong has ever done in his career both on and off the bike, it is a calculated and bold move.

By declining to contest the charges, Armstrong is essentially admitting that he doped. Yet it not a formal confession. It still allows him to limit the damage of those keen to pick over the carcass of his tarnished legacy.

It calls the bluff, too, of many of his detractors, while stoking hope in those supporters who steadfastly refuse to give up their belief in the Lance Armstrong fairytale of a man who fought cancer and went on to become a sporting legend.

But what now? Frustratingly – and perhaps most tantalisingly – we may never know which former colleagues the USADA had lined up to testify, nor what the content of their collective testimonies could have revealed. We can speculate of course – steroids, erythropoietin (EPO), blood-doping techniques – but hopes of an absolute resolution appear all but extinguished.

"My instinct is Armstrong has seen the evidence against him and realised, 'I'm not going to win this'," says Brian Smith, a former Scottish pro cyclist and manager of Endura Racing. "He weighed up his options and realised that, if he bows out now, no one will know the facts. That way he hasn't lost. He's competitive by nature and he wants to win, be that a bike race or a court case.

"We will never know now what truly happened. The book will always be open. As for Lance, I'm not saying he's had the last laugh, but he certainly hasn't lost."

Which is exactly how Armstrong appears happy for it to play out. This, after all, is a man renowned for his politician's gift of the gab, a genius with language who has seen his punchy mantras – not least "pain is temporary; quitting lasts forever" – become part of the popular culture lexicon.

Key to Armstrong's defence of the allegations levelled at him has been his oft-repeated assertion that he has never failed a drugs test. However, that is an argument that rings a little hollow when you consider that a long list of cyclists including David Millar, Bjarne Riis and Jan Ullrich did not test positive but have all admitted doping. Outside of cycling, Marion Jones, the US sprinter and five-time Olympic medallist, sailed through more than 160 drugs tests without recording a positive result but, in 2007, admitted to having taken banned steroids ahead of the Sydney Games. The inference is that the dopers were always ahead of the testers.

So what next? The USADA has already signalled its intention to push for the Texan-born rider's seven Tour de France titles, acquired from 1999 to 2005, to be revoked and a lifetime ban imposed. Yet, for many, this would be little more than a ludicrous window-dressing PR exercise, given Armstrong's was an era when doping was rife in the sport. Titles can be stripped and passed on, but who is to say the next man in line is any more worthy than his predecessor?

"That's when it becomes farcical," Smith said. "If they award it to Rider X, then who's to say Armstrong won't then have a case to say, 'What are their blood values?'

"EPO use was rife then; it was very much a case of 'if you can't beat them, join them'. If he cheated, so did many others. How far down the line do you go? Most of the peloton was on it."

Millar, the Scot who was banned from cycling between 2004 and 2006 after admitting to having taken EPO, has said he could see "no happy ending" to the Armstrong saga. The rider, who has re-invented himself as a high-profile anti-doping campaigner and sits on the athletes' committee of WADA, has always maintained that the sport needed to draw a line under that era and move on. It is a sentiment echoed throughout the cycling world. Joanna Rowsell, the Olympic gold medallist, said on Twitter: "Can't help but feel whole thing is old news and cycling has moved on since then."

Ned Boulting, ITV's cycling presenter, added: "It is with great regret that today I must announce my intention no longer to think about the Lance Armstrong case. Enough is enough."

Smith fervently agrees. "We should be celebrating the successes within the sport," he said. "Is cycling the cleanest we have ever seen it? We are definitely moving in the right direction. It's time to look forward and not back."

Yet, for many, the nasty taste left in the mouth may not be so easy to banish.