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Alberto Contador will have his day in court next week, at long last, or more accurately, his four days before the Court of Arbitration for Sport in Lausanne, Switzerland, starting Monday. The ratio of time spent on a doping case versus picograms of banned performance-enhancing drug has to be a record.

The 50 trillionths of a gram per milliliter of clenbuterol found in Contador’s urine during the 2010 Tour de France -- a race he eventually won, capturing his third title by mere seconds over Andy Schleck -- has preoccupied the cycling world for more than a year now. This case has provided another litmus test of how an athlete of Contador’s stature would be treated in a system that is supposed to treat the powerful the same way it treats the obscure. The CAS ruling expected in January could provide the final answer to that, but on a few counts, the system has already flunked.

Three CAS arbitrators will weigh the credibility of Contador’s explanation that he consumed contaminated meat in the form of a Spanish steak carried over the French border. Their decision will determine whether the Spanish star gets to keep the 2010 Tour trophy, and other racing results including his 2011 Giro d’Italia championship, which could be stripped if CAS metes out the maximum two-year penalty.

However, those looking for closure and clarity on how to handle the growing number of clenbuterol cases in sports will almost surely be disappointed.

To review: Contador’s test result floated in a still-unexplained bureaucratic limbo for two months before German press reports forced cycling’s international governing body, the UCI, to release it.

Predictably, Contador was exonerated by the Spanish cycling federation, the body that had jurisdiction over his case. Even though the committee that examined it (through an exchange of paperwork, not a live hearing) was purportedly independent, there was overt pressure from the grassroots all the way to the highest levels of Spain’s government to let Contador off the hook. The committee made it known that it was considering a one-year suspension; Contador and his lawyers said that was unacceptable, and the prospective sanction evaporated.

Both the UCI and the World Anti-Doping Agency appealed that decision. After several postponements requested by both sides, here we sit -- even though clenbuterol is supposed to be a zero-tolerance substance and the principle of strict liability that is the bedrock of the WADA code puts the burden on the athlete to explain how it got there. Contador hasn’t done that definitively, and it’s hard to see how he can without bringing a bovine spirit back from the dead to testify about its food supply.

The fact that Contador wasn’t suspended floodlit one of the key weaknesses in anti-doping jurisprudence: There is no uniformity in who gets to judge the athletes in the first round of hearings. National sporting authorities have an inherent conflict of interest that legalistic bodies like the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency do not. Ask American swimmer Jessica Hardy, who showed to an arbitration panel’s satisfaction that she tested positive because of a tainted supplement, yet served a year’s suspension and missed the 2008 Olympics.

A list of 23 witnesses combined for both sides in the Contador case was leaked to the Spanish press this week. It doesn’t include Hardy, and more’s the pity. The Contador panel might have been informed by hearing her testify about a year she lost and can never get back.

Instead, the panel will hear from hematology experts, nutritionists, anti-doping analysts, police investigators, a biostatistician, a polygraph expert (for the defense, although there is no confirmation that Contador has yet submitted to a lie-detector test), a small convoy of Contador’s 2010 Tour teammates, a representative from the Spanish beef industry and the butcher who sold the steaks to one of Contador’s friends. No word yet on whether either side plans to call a baker and a candlestick maker.

It’s been widely speculated that WADA will present evidence linking Contador’s positive to a banned transfusion using evidence of plasticizers that leach from blood bags. That would be a first, and another chapter in the long and tortured scientific pursuit of a reliable means to detect autologous (from one’s own body) transfusions.

In the past few years, thanks in part to improved detection technology, a number of doping cases involving clenbuterol have been considered around the world. The decisions have been all over the map. There’s little dispute that clenbuterol contamination in livestock is a reality in China and Mexico, and the U.S. Olympic Committee has openly warned its athletes to beware of what they eat there.

But until and unless those countries are persuaded to clamp down on their agricultural establishment (and shouldn’t they do that for the sake of their general citizenry as well as elite athletes, since clenbuterol can cause some nasty side effects and is nothing to mess with?), doping cases that originate there involving resident or visiting athletes will continue to be headaches for anti-doping authorities.

In my opinion, neither that reality nor the Contador case, whatever its outcome, is an argument for rewriting the WADA code to set a threshold for clenbuterol. That kind of tweak would only result in athletes inclined to dope (and their enablers) trying to figure out how they could cheat up to wherever the new line was drawn. Tempting as it is to want to dispense with these kinds of protracted, expensive cases -- cases that dent the morale of the sport and take away from other storylines -- the rule as it stands is the right one. And in the absence of any new and compelling evidence on Contador’s side, if CAS does the right thing, he’ll be sanctioned for breaking it.

Alberto Contador's doping case rolls on at the pace of a fat-tire bike weighed down with saddlebags. The UCI, cycling's international governing body, announced Thursday it will appeal the Spanish cycling federation's decision to exonerate Contador based on his claim that food contamination accounted for his positive test for clenbuterol. The Court of Arbitration for Sport will consider the case sometime in the next few months.

It would have been far bigger news had the UCI elected not to challenge the dubious ruling by the RFEC, which came amid apparent political pressure in Spain and had every appearance of being a negotiation rather than an objective consideration of the facts. Allowing the ruling to stand would have made it impractical to pursue any future case involving clenbuterol, a stimulant with steroid-like effects.

Several other recent decisions could undermine anti-doping authorities on this front, as well. Cyclists from the Netherlands and Denmark who had clenbuterol positives have been cleared by their respective countries, as was a table-tennis player from Germany.

More importantly, the principle at the core of the anti-doping infrastructure -- that the athlete bears the burden of proof when a banned substance is detected in a sample -- would be at issue, and sliding even a short distance down that slippery slope could make overall enforcement of the World Anti-Doping Agency code problematic.

There are those who think the principle of strict liability, as it's known, needs to be revisited and revised. Just ask American cyclist Tom Zirbel, who is serving a two-year suspension after a positive test for the steroid DHEA. Zirbel has said he does not know how the substance got into his body. He thinks the most plausible explanation is a tainted supplement, but he couldn't prove that, just as Contador couldn't prove he ate contaminated beef. Yet today, Zirbel is sidelined and Contador, riding for the Saxo Bank team, is leading a stage race in Catalunya.

As I wrote in a previous column, anti-doping justice today has too much to do with who you are and what kind of adjudication system your country has in place.

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It is perilous to turn your back on the cycling beat, even for a week. That was amply illustrated during my recent vacation when the sport's two most polarizing figures tag-teamed to make major news within 24 hours of each other.

As federal investigators continue to probe doping and fraud allegations against Lance Armstrong, the seven-time Tour de France winner retired -- for real, he said. With a doping suspension looming, three-time Tour champion Alberto Contador was cleared to race again -- for now. From afar, the overlapping headlines made it seem as if the two were still competing for room on the road as they did during their operatic season together on Astana in 2009.

In terms of impact, however, it was no contest.

Armstrong's muted sign-off fell like a pebble into a deep well. That is partly because it came just one race early -- he initially committed to a farewell Tour of California in May -- and partly because he had become a non-factor from a competitive standpoint.

His two-year comeback fell short of his own expectations and left him on the brink of another season with many more reasons to quit professional cycling than to continue: his knee, his personal life, his foundation, cumulative fatigue, a desire to better control his message while under legal siege or all of the above. His retirement in 2005 prompted sweeping tributes; this time, as most of the coverage noted, an epitaph will have to wait until the investigation plays out.

By contrast, the first ruling in Contador's convoluted case has potentially far-reaching implications for anti-doping enforcement and for sport in general.

Last month, I described Contador's adjudication process in Spain as a farce because the facts were being evaluated by officials from that country's cycling federation -- the very people who would least want a national icon discredited. It turns out that was an understatement.

Under the current World Anti-Doping Agency code, there's no room for discretion on a positive test for clenbuterol, no matter the amount, unless the athlete can prove accidental ingestion. (Even then, a reduced sanction is called for.) Contador's tale of tainted steak and imperfect regulation in the beef industry simply didn't establish that. In the absence of hard evidence of contamination, the notion that the RFEC's competition committee initially "proposed" a one-year suspension rather than the mandatory two years was dubious enough.

It only got worse.

Politicians, up to and including Spain's prime minister, publicly stated Contador should not be sanctioned. Then, the rider's legal team claimed a required letter of notification from international cycling officials never arrived. The latter is an interesting protest given the still-unexplained time gaps in the case that played to Contador's favor. Exhibit A: He had a full month to quietly marshal his defense after being informed of his positive test, as opposed to the average rider who gets ambushed with the news.

I heard the speculation that Contador would be gently lifted off the meat hook, and I didn't buy it. Having covered cycling for a dozen years now, I should know better than to dismiss anything.

Spanish officials scored a great exacta here, rendering a decision that is both completely illogical and totally cynical. The chances of an appeal by either WADA or the UCI, cycling's governing body, or both, are high. Why struggle with potential indignation at home when it's so easy to pass the buck?

The message to prominent Spanish athletes is clear: We've got your back.

Contador's case timeline began with an unusual month-long delay in informing him of his positive test. Now the process is at a point where it's unlikely an appeal can be concluded before the July 2 start of the Tour de France.

WADA and UCI officials understandably won't commit themselves until after they've reviewed the case file, but an appeal is inevitable. It's either that or take clenbuterol off the banned list. There is no real point in prohibiting it if this precedent is allowed to stand. More importantly, Contador's interim victory calls into question the most basic tenet of anti-doping jurisprudence -- that the athlete, rather than the prosecutors, bears the burden of proof.

The agencies have roughly three weeks from now to decide whether to intervene, and the Court of Arbitration for Sport generally hears cases and issues a ruling within three months of an appeal. CAS could agree to either side's request for an expedited hearing, or it could grant either side more time.

It's wearying, at the very least, to think about the possibility of a Contador suspension being handed down during the Tour. Or what if CAS were to rule against him after a successful title defense, imposing a two-year sanction that could nullify two Tour wins in one fell swoop? That would be chaos even by cycling's generous standards of absurdity.

Contador's temporary reprieve made headlines around the world, including Food Safety News. If WADA needs to study the subject of clenbuterol contamination more closely, or entertain the idea of a threshold amount under which there would be no doping sanction, so be it. But until then, Contador should be judged by the existing rules. The only constructive thing about the inexplicable decision out of Spain is his case may finally end up in the hands of people who will do just that.

Apparently, Alberto Contador was able to convince Spanish cycling authorities that clenbuterol is simply one of the ingredients in Heinz 57 steak sauce.

The headline and Associated Press story say Contador was cleared of doping Tuesday, but as is so often the case in cycling, I don't think everyone will agree he is truly "cleared" or that we've heard the final word on this. Not only are there a disheartening number of switchbacks in this story, but there is no satisfactory summit finish.

Contador tested positive for a minute amount of the banned substance clenbuterol at the Tour de France in July. He wasn't informed about it until August, a month after winning the sport's premier race. The public didn't learn about it until a month after that, in September. Contador claimed the clenbuterol must have gotten into his body when he ate tainted meat on a rest day.

The Spanish cycling authorities initially accepted the explanation and "proposed" a one-year ban. The Spanish prime minister weighed in by saying no ban was legally justified if the ingestion was accidental. Poof! A week later, the Spanish federation cleared Contador, saying he was not at fault.

This is not a process that exactly inspires complete trust. The plot to "Inception" was more straight forward.

Clenbuterol, which is used to treat asthma, helps build strength and lower weight, which makes it appealing to cyclists (and just about anyone else). The World Anti-Doping Agency has zero tolerance for clenbuterol; any amount whatsoever -- even an amount as small as the 50 picograms or trillionths of a gram found in Contador's system -- is considered a doping violation.

However, because tests can detect such small traces, it is possible to unknowingly ingest it through a contaminated source. This is unlikely, but when you are talking about such a miniscule amount -- trillionths! -- Contador's story can't be ruled out even if eating tainted beef has all the credibility of Tyler Hamilton's old vanishing twin or Floyd Landis' beer and Jack Daniels defense. It would make more sense to set a threshold amount that precludes accidental ingestion, as well as indicating actual performance enhancement.

I'm not saying I believe Contador, but I don't think he's been fairly portrayed over the past couple of years, either. Lance Armstrong's supporters turned him into the official bad guy of the 2009 Tour de France because he insisted on winning (what a selfish beast!) and thereby ruined Armstrong's comeback. Others vilified Contador for Chaingate in 2010, as if it is specifically written in cycling's rule book that a rider must always stop whenever a competitor doesn't shift properly. I like Andy Schleck, but how many times were opponents supposed to stop for him when he had trouble (as they did after his bad crash on Stage 2)?

And, unfortunately, the side people take depends on whom they already like. You have people doubting Contador but accepting every Armstrong defense ("Lance has never tested positive!"). You have people excusing Contador but suspecting Armstrong of so much chemical use, he should have been wearing a psychedelic jersey ("Look at what Lance's ex-teammates say he did!"). You have a Spanish board ruling on a Spanish rider after a Spanish prime minister says he should be let off. You have Americans claiming Spanish athletes are dirty while conveniently forgetting about Americans Landis, Hamilton, Marion Jones, Shawne Merriman, etc.

In other words, the biggest losers in this are cycling fans, who once again don't know whether they can trust that their sport is fair.