COMMENTARY : Lifetime Ban?. . .Get Serious

News item: Ben Johnson, though stripped of his records, is still the world’s fastest human. If not, how could he serve a life sentence in only two years? (Memo to Pete Rose: Buy some running shoes, pronto.)

Actually, Johnson’s premature re-emergence shouldn’t surprise anyone. Lifetime bans in the sports world are never to be taken too seriously. That probably has something to do with the prevailing school of thought that suggests cheating, in one form or another, is so endemic to the sporting life that we eventually feel sorry for the poor sucker who gets caught.

An exception to this rule may be George Steinbrenner, who, it should be remembered, was already pardoned by Ronald Reagan in the wide, wide world of politics and justice, so anything is possible. (By the way, did you see that Steinbrenner was allegedly using FBI agents to run checks on potential employees? Who’s running this country anyway? And what dirt do you think the G-men dug up on Stump Merrill?)

The only time an appeal is sure to be turned down is when it is presented by the star-crossed University of Maryland, which couldn’t get a parking ticket at Cole Field House fixed. You can bet Dexter Manley will appeal his lifetime ban from football. Michael Ray Richardson has finished serving his life sentence in basketball. Pete Rose was going to appeal his banishment from baseball, except he was temporarily banished from society at the time.

That’s life, as Frank used to sing. Let’s just be glad Charlie Manson faces a slightly tougher-minded parole board.

When Johnson was banned, he faced the wrath of an entire country, whose people seemed to believe he personally had betrayed them. That’s what comes of fallen heroes. In Canada, where a sports hero who doesn’t wear skates is just visiting, Johnson, a Jamaican emigre, had become a source of great pride. He was the fastest human. He was the conqueror of the great Carl Lewis. He ran straight and true, like a missile hurtling midair toward its target. No one had ever seen the likes of him, but it turned out there was a reason for his unique abilities. He used what are called performance-enhancing drugs. They helped him build a body that rippled, and they helped him run like the wind.

And then he got caught.

Failing a drug test at the Seoul Olympics cost him his gold medal and his records and the love of his adoptive people. An international track body banned him from competing for two years. The Canadian sports minister, sort of like what Pete Rozelle was to us, went further, banning Johnson from ever again competing on a national team.

Of course, the hearings turned up a few matters nobody really wanted to hear. It seems lots of people used performance enhancers but just didn’t get caught. In fact, almost no one gets caught except for the odd Bulgarian weight lifter. But there was the time that all those U.S. shot-putters and discus throwers and hammer throwers left the Pan Am Games rather than be tested. And there were the rumors that still haven’t gone away about athletes who failed drug tests at the U.S. trials in ’88 but were never reported.

The dirty little secret in track and field is that anabolic steroids and related drugs are part of the game. The trick is to beat the testers, although, of course, not everyone cheats. We don’t know how many do. We do know that Ben Johnson was one.

The question of the day: What is a fair punishment? The Canadian sports ministry eventually determined that two years, a long time in the life of a track star, would suffice, particularly considering that Johnson wasn’t the only guilty party. That seems about right. The way I remember it, Johnson was caught because he had been injured, forcing his handlers to treat him with the steroids longer than was prudent. Losing the gold was fairly heavy punishment. Losing all the records was heavy, too. But nothing can compare to the fall from grace. To be an ex-hero is hard enough; to be a disgraced ex-hero must be far worse.

There was justice in his punishment, however. No matter how many people cheat, we don’t have to suggest that we condone their actions. His coach was guilty. His doctor was guilty. And Johnson was guilty.

Of course, now that Johnson is ready to return, there will be a perverse reward system in effect. As soon as he hits the track, he becomes a one-man freak show and probably the hottest performer on the circuit. He will race Carl Lewis again, and for much money, as we watch to see if the drugs made a difference. We still won’t know for sure, of course. We know that Lewis, in his autobiography, accuses many track stars of using steroids, and that Lewis has been accused himself.