Marion Jones' admission hurts more than others
So it appears another professional athlete waved a staff on Mt. Innocence, but really was a liar all along.
AP Photo/Michael Probst
Marion Jones, the latest reason to feel depressed about sports.
Jones' "admission" -- a word to be used lightly, because she seems to be hiding behind that all-too-familiar buzz word "knowingly" like all the great cheats -- should make us feel worse than we do about other athletes caught up in PED Espionage 101.
After all, this was sweet Marion Jones, the kid with the toothy smile and jovial personality. She was likable. Believable. This was the woman who, before the 2004 Olympics, held a news conference to vehemently proclaim her innocence. In fact, her voice trembled as she spoke, making her denial that much more appealing. Despite the evidence that suggested she was being untruthful, you believed her trumped-up presentation, because it was coming from the sweet kid from California, the one who had been running Olympic times since she was a teenager.
This was the former North Carolina point guard whose only crime seemed to be keeping company with the wrong men. And since she's a woman, that story had more traction than it would have if she were a man.
Now we see (again) that an athlete's word and prolonged periods of clean urine tests aren't worth a ruble. Not all athletes lie, mind you. Just the ones who peer into cameras, point, and read eloquent, prepared statements full of righteous indignation about never so much as touching a Flintstone chewable.
Jones' unraveling means, just because we like them doesn't mean they can be trusted (see: Armstrong, Lance). It means, just because they're good with the media doesn't mean they're more truthful than those who aren't. Years ago, right before she became an international superstar at the 2000 Games in Sydney, Jones invited me to one of her workouts in Raleigh, N.C. She spent an hour with me, and would have spent more if I didn't have a deadline. And I came away thinking: She's going to be a star. She's going to be famous. She did accomplish that, but not in the way I expected.
This means the people who seem to have no credibility have more than the people who seem to have it. Victor Conte has said from the beginning that Jones was a user. To date, Conte and Jose Canseco haven't been wrong about the athletes they've accused of using performance enhancers. Meanwhile, the public seems to be batting .000 on athletes it trusts.
This means we shouldn't even blink when an athlete goes on a prolonged campaign to clear his/her name. Floyd Landis fought to clear his name in doping courts for more than a year. He's guilty. Jones filed a $25 million lawsuit against Conte for telling ESPN The Magazine she used several performance-enhancing drugs -- so there goes Curt Schilling's theory that if an athlete really didn't use steroids, he/she would sue the people who accused him/her of doing it.
Tell me when Jones' "admission" starts making you feel better.
Of course, no matter the sting, it's better we know the truth. We just can't fool ourselves into thinking that knowing is equivalent to feeling better about what we discover. Those precious emotions we've tied to sports are being manipulated at an alarming rate by creams, clears and needles. Let's hope those kids who dream of becoming professional athletes understand that what's done in the dark is eventually exposed underneath the harsh lights of a shameful news conference.
Jones' case shows us there is no perfect way to spot or catch a cheat, be it in federal court or the court of public opinion. All of America believes Barry Bonds cheated. But some people still believed in Jones. She was a golden girl. Bonds, by most accounts, is a golden jerk.
But by the end of this day, only one of them will be a convicted felon. And not the one we thought.
Page 2 columnist Jemele Hill can be reached at jemeleespn@gmail.com.
