Jones could've broken open sports scam

Marion Jones had a chance to be a very different hero on a very different stage last week. She could have sliced through the rampant hypocrisy in sports the same way she used to slice through the air.

She could have owned up to her juicing. She could have stood up to her former coach. She could have come clean.

All Jones had to do was tell the whole truth. Tell us that, yes, she knew what she was doing when her Svengali-like coach, Trevor Graham, told her to take "the clear," a well-known, performance-enhancing drug.

She could have, once and for all, done what tainted home-run king Barry Bonds and defrocked Tour de France winner Floyd Landis have been unwilling or unable to do.

Her statement last week could have resonated through the sports culture.

She could have said what we all believe to be the truth: "I did what I thought I had to do to win. The 2000 Sydney Olympics was my chance to make history. I was on a quest to win five gold medals, which would have set me up for life.

"I had a fat contract with Nike and I believed that with that contract came the obligation to win. I believe that most of my competition also was taking performance-enhancing drugs, and for me to keep my edge I had to match them ointment for ointment.

"I listened to my coach, knowing full well that what I was doing was illegal and against the rules of my sport."

Jones is a smart woman. She is engaging, well-spoken and, before all of this, she was one of the most charismatic figures in sports.

She is too bright to believe that the substance she was taking was flaxseed oil, as she says Graham told her.

But that's Marion Jones' story and she's sticking to it, even after pleading guilty last week to one count of lying to federal investigators about her use of performance-enhancing drugs and one count of lying to investigators about her involvement in a check-fraud scheme.

"I betrayed your trust," she said to reporters last week, wiping tears from her eyes. "I have let my country down."

This week, Jones surrendered her Olympic medals. The United States Olympic Committee said it would seek restitution for bonus money Jones earned that totaled more than $100,000.

And, according to The Associated Press, officials also are considering removing her name from the record book, taking away her world championship medals, pursuing prize money and appearance fees she earned and banning her from participating in future Olympics in any capacity.

I felt sorry for Jones, watching her world unravel on national television. I wondered what becomes of a tarnished icon who already has implied that she is broke.

And how many other Olympic medals will be kept by the athletes who juiced but weren't caught? How many home runs hit by the dozens of ballplayers whom we know were cheating will stay on the books because they never were tested? How many Super Bowl rings were won with the help of drugs?

On the other hand, I remember Jones standing in the press tent in Eugene at the Prefontaine Classic before the 2004 Olympics, defiantly proclaiming her innocence.

I remembered hurriedly riding Sydney's mass-transit system to a news conference involving her then-husband, shot-putter C.J. Hunter, who had been banned from those Olympics after testing positive for steroids.

At the time, she stood by her man, knowing full well the tricks of the trade both of them were using.

In 2000, she was using the media even as she was using.

But almost seven years later, Jones was contrite and probably a little scared. After all, prosecutors have suggested she serve a sentence of between three and six months.

At 31, her status in this country is long gone. Like Landis, history will remember her as another cheat who was nabbed, another con who got caught.

I felt sorry for her, but I also was angry, duped by a druggie.

I was there in Sydney when she won five medals, including three golds. I've watched her live in dozens of races and have been thrilled by the world-record gear she always seemed to find about halfway through her sprints.

Turns out, it was all a scam, no more real than Ben Johnson's chilling 100-meter win over Carl Lewis in the 1988 Seoul Olympics.

Who knows how much good, if any, might come from Jones' plea?

If she testifies against Graham, if she gives testimony implicating the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative (BALCO) that might lead to the indictment of Bonds, then she could salvage some of her reputation.

But now it seems Jones will be remembered more for her cheating then her sprinting. Even she couldn't outrun her lies.

Steve Kelley: 206-464-2176 or skelley@seattletimes.com