When news broke two weeks ago that former Olympic track star and three-time gold medalist Marion Jones had pled guilty to lying to federal investigators when she denied using performance-enhancing steroids, I have to admit that I was pretty stunned.
Sure, there always have been those proverbial "haters" who have firmly asserted that Jones had been on steroids, judging by the way she used to obliterate her opposition with ease each time on the track. But with her constant rebuffing of these "ludicrous" claims every time they resurfaced, it was difficult not to believe that innocent, scintillating grin upon the former UNC basketball star's pretty face.
But that radiant smile suddenly vanished on October 6 outside a courthouse in White Plains, New York, shortly after Jones confessed her inconvenient truth.
Unsuccessfully fighting back tears, Jones stood in front of a jubilant media with relentless camera flashing and said, ever so sorrowfully, "I have betrayed your trust." And just like that, her legacy had been shot. "I have been dishonest, and you have the right to be angry with me. I have let [my family] down. I have let my country down, and I have let myself down," she said. "I recognize that by saying I'm deeply sorry, it might not be enough and sufficient to address the pain and hurt that I've caused you. Therefore, I want to ask for your forgiveness for my actions, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
This is the part where the haters point their index fingers in my face and scream, "I TOLD YOU SO!!!"
I sat watching Jones's press conference until it ended, trying to wrap my mind about what I was witnessing.
But surprisingly, it wasn't her cheating, lying, or the imminent Fed-Ex-ing of all of her medals back to the International Olympics Committee that kept me so captivated. It was how pathetic Jones looked on screen. Here was a woman who absolutely dominated her sport, became an icon of runners across the globe and lifted the hopes and spirits of fans everywhere?all of that now and forever tarnished because of one big mistake.
One could argue that she deserved this moment of agony for betraying the sacredness of sport, and that she should have to deal with all of the consequences for what some people would just call sheer stupidity. But not me. Not right now.
George Costanza once said that he was different because he could sense the slightest human suffering. Had he been watching this, his radar screen would have gone haywire. As the tears streamed down her face, I felt something else for Jones, something like pity or sympathy for the runner who had also just announced her retirement, and who was now facing potential jail time.
To put it simply, I felt bad for Marion Jones.
Earlier this week, former Senator George Mitchell reportedly announced that he had finally completed his investigation of performance-enhancing drugs in Major League Baseball after a longwinded one and a half years.
But what's more is that Mitchell also reportedly declared that sometime between the end of the World Series and the beginning of the 2008 season, the official report will be released?a report that will reveal names...BIG names.
Said one inside source with knowledge of the forthcoming report, "[It's] going to be enormous...it's going to be a huge story when these names come out."
As a 20-year-old male who spent his childhood growing up in a baseball era more corrupt than the Dunder-Mifflin Paper Company, this obviously came as exciting news, for I will finally soon be able to see who has or had been cheating all this time.
But all of it will be bittersweet, to be sure. I'm sure there will be some names that I easily could have guessed, others that are not so obvious but still predictable, and then those that will totally shock me (by the way, if Derek Jeter is listed in that report, my life might as well be over). But while I am intrigued by this soon-to-be-famous report, the question of "But at whose expense?" still lingers.
I think we all remember the scene on Capitol Hill on March 17, 2005, at the infamous steroid hearing when former Cardinals slugger Mark McGwire stood in front of Congress, teary-eyed and embarrassed, and all but admitted using performance-enhancing drugs during his playing days, unremittingly insisting that he wasn't there to talk about the past. Period. (You didn't think I'd end that without a Rafael Palmeiro reference now did you?)
And what about Barry Bonds? The mere fact that his record-breaking 756th home run ball will be sent to the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown with a fat asterisk tattooed on its side is more than enough evidence that some are skeptical about how the new home run king actually earned his title.
And if the truth is finally uncovered, and it turns out Bonds did in fact use steroids, the humiliation meter for Big Barry will be astronomically high, especially with his constant denial of his usage.
Surely, most of us want the truth. The question of "Who done it?" always seems to be looming in our minds. But do we really want the truth? I mean, can we handle it? More importantly, can the ones who were caught, and the ones who will be caught, handle it?
These people just made one big mistake, but haven't we all done that? Floyd Landis' doping scandal cost him the 2006 Tour de France, but I'll bet that if you asked him today whether he would go back in time (whether he knowingly doped or not) and do it all over again, he'd probably say "no." Same for Jones, same for every player on the Mitchell report, and same for anyone who will be caught cheating on anything in the future.
No one deserves to suffer like Jones and McGwire did (in front of a world audience no less) no matter what the case. We all make mistakes, but we also learn from them, as all of these athletes and all of us know too well.
So what happened to that second chance, huh? Why are we so averse to giving it? Timbaland will tell you that it's "too late" to apologize. But it's never too late.
Apologize and, with any hope, you will indeed be forgiven. And on the other end, have some compassion and forgive your wrongdoers?what do you have to lose? Trusting the tainted has proven to be a daunting task.
That is, until we forgive and forget, when the previously tainted suddenly become the ones we can trust the most.