He met Armstrong in 1989 at a Texas triathlon, after Borysewicz told him to look out for the budding cycling star. Armstrong’s all-out effort at the 1989 junior worlds in Moscow had caught Borysewicz’s eye. The coach convinced Armstrong to switch to cycling from triathlon because cycling was an Olympic sport.

Armstrong, perhaps the hottest up-and-coming cyclist in the world, later landed a spot with the Subaru-Montgomery team. By then, Neal and Armstrong knew each other well.

Nearly a dozen athletes in Austin — both men and women — still say they were closer to Neal than to their fathers. He brought them into his family and gave them stability. Armstrong was just the latest athlete in need. Neal also became close friends with Armstrong’s mother, Linda.

Armstrong was relocating to Austin from Plano because its hilly terrain was perfect for training. At a steeply discounted rate, Armstrong moved into an apartment complex owned by Neal. Near downtown — among tall trees, 20 paces from Neal’s office — it was a comfortable, safe place that Armstrong could call home. Later, Armstrong told The Dallas Morning News his apartment was “killer ... s-o-o-o nice!” He and Neal met every day, sometimes several times a day, for massages and meals. It gave Neal satisfaction to know that he could have a positive impact on a teenager who needed some guidance.

Neal’s first impression was that the kid’s ego exceeded his talent. Armstrong was brash and ill-mannered, in desperate need of refinement. But the more he learned of Armstrong’s home life, the sorrier Neal began to feel for him. He was a boy without a reliable father. Linda Armstrong wrote in her 2005 autobiography that she was pleased that her son had found a responsible male role model, and that Neal had lent a sympathetic ear to her while she dealt with the rocky transition between marriages.

Neal soon recognized that Armstrong’s insecurities and anger were products of his broken family: He felt abandoned by his biological father and mistreated by his adoptive one. Armstrong didn’t like to be alone, so Neal often met him for breakfast at the Upper Crust Cafe, just down the street from Neal’s house, and for lunch at a sports bar called the Tavern. Armstrong ate dinner with the Neals, including their three children, several times a week. It was nothing fancy — sometimes just slow-cooked beans eaten with plastic utensils out of mismatched mugs, as if they were on a camping trip. But they were a family.