  Much of the rhetoric about “doping” assumes the very claim that needs to be established by argument: that the rules of sport (or the norms of social advancement) ought to ban the use of biomedical enhancement. The rules of a game can be changed. In sports, novel forms of performance enhancing equipment and training are routinely introduced as athletic technology and expertise evolve. Where issues of athletes’ equitable access arise, they can be dealt with in one of two ways. Sometimes it is possible to ensure fair distribution, as for example, when the International Olympic Committee negotiated an agreement with the manufacturer of the new “FastSkin” swimming suit to provide suits to all the teams at the Sydney Olympics. In other cases, inequalities may simply come to be accepted as unfortunate but not unfair. This is, for example, how many people would view a story about an equatorial country that could not afford year-round artificial snow for its ski team, and so could not compete evenly with the ski teams of northern countries.  If enhancement interventions can either be distributed fairly or the inequities they create can be written into the rules of the social game in question as part of the given advantages of the more fortunate, then individual users no longer face a fairness problem. For those who can afford it, for example, what would be ethically suspect about mounting a mirror image of the “Special Olympics” for athletes with disabilities: a “Super Olympics”, featuring athletes universally equipped with the latest modifications and enhancements? (Munthe 2000) For answers to that challenge, the critics of biomedical enhancement have to dig beyond concerns about the fair governance of games to a deeper and broader sense of “cheating”, in terms of the corrosive effects of enhancement on the integrity of admirable human practices (Loland 2002; Schermer 2008a).