My Brush With Canadian Fame: Ben Johnson
I've had several brushes with fame in my lifetime. The first took place when I was sixteen. It was the era of Purple Rain, and Prince was a god in Minneapolis--his hometown, and mine. Our paths crossed at the St. Louis Park Walgreen's. I was standing in line buying saline solution for my contact lenses when Prince and his entourage came through the glass doors by the checkout. There were four of them; Prince, dressed in what appeared to be a black satin Zorro outfit, two behemoths I assumed were security guards, and that keyboard player that always wore surgical scrubs. Prince bought a twelve pack of condoms, and his bouncers towered over his miniscule five foot frame as he stood behind me in line. As I glanced over my shoulder, he flashed a pleasant, yet nervous smile while the man-mountain behind him glowered. I was surprised that this man who symbolized the hedonistic funk lifestyle could be nervous while buying condoms; it made him seem endearingly human. I wanted to look back again to see what brand his royal highness preferred so that I could buy the same brand some day far in the future when my sex life would become something more than a fantasy, but I was intimidated by his entourage, and didn't want to embarass him. They drove off in a limousine, and I followed them in my truck for a couple blocks until they gave me the slip at a red light on Highway 7.
My second brush with fame took place onn a transpacific flight from Toronto to Seoul, South Korea in 2003. Ben Johnson, the world's fastest man, occupied the seat next to me throughout our thirteen hour journey. Ben was heading to Seoul to appear on a South Korean television program about the 1988 Olympics. He was an agreeable travel companion, and told stories of his experiences coaching the national soccer team in Libya. After a few hours, he fell asleep while watching the inflight movie and his head fell onto my shoulder.
I was too polite to push his massive melon over to the right, and too polite to ask him about the steroid scandal during the flight, but I didn't get the impression that he was a bitter man. Upon our arrival in Seoul, he graciously helped an elderly Korean woman with her baggage at the end of the flight, shook my hand, and wished me well. He seemed like a really nice guy.
Since then, I've followed the Ben Johnson saga on the internet, and I think that he got a bum rap. I'm not saying Ben is my hero, but if he were an American, it's unlikely that he would've been caught, much less stripped of his gold medal and world recordholder status. In Gateway Magazine, Jason Black writes:
In the years following the Seoul Olympics studies and compilations of the participants from the infamous 100-meter final that Johnson won, revealed that of the eight competitors five had performance-enhancing drugs in their systems. Included in this five were second place sprinter American Carl Lewis who was awarded Johnson’s gold medal.
Equally disturbing was last year’s report in Sports Illustrated that provided evidence suggesting that the US Olympic Committee covered up pre-Olympic positive tests for scores of future American medal winning athletes during the late ‘70s, the ‘80s and into the ‘90s.
I would be willing to wager that the victor in any Olymic sport, with the possible exception of Curling, has taken performance-enhancing drugs.
The only way to test my theory is to have a "Drug Test Free Olympics". Let's get Donald Trump and Richard Branson to finance it. We'll give five million dollars to the first man to break the eight-second 100 meter dash. Without a doubt, this type of competition would get even better television ratings. People will pay good money to see genetically modified freaks doing the impossible.
I'm sure the good minds at Fox have already contemplated this type of event. Why doesn't it become a reality? Because such an event would be redundant. Drug testing-free athletes would be no faster or stronger than current Olympic victors.
The drug cheats are always a step ahead of the drug-testing officials. The question isn't "are professional athletes using performance-enhancing drugs", but rather "Which Olympic team has developed the most effective undetectable drug".
Maybe it's time to call into question why performance-enhancing drugs are banned. You could argue that drug testing smacks of paternalism, and that it favours wealthy nations able to harness the power of pharmaceuticals to their advantage. After all, most of the athletes are adults capable of weighing the long-term health risks associated with such treatments. If they want to shrink their testicles to the size of pomegranite seeds, maybe that's their decision. Who are we to judge? Why should performance-enhancing drugs be acceptable in the bedroom but not on the track?
Come on people! Set me straight! I'm facing a moral dilemma here! It's only a matter of time before someone starts marketing a performance enhancing drug to writers!
My second brush with fame took place onn a transpacific flight from Toronto to Seoul, South Korea in 2003. Ben Johnson, the world's fastest man, occupied the seat next to me throughout our thirteen hour journey. Ben was heading to Seoul to appear on a South Korean television program about the 1988 Olympics. He was an agreeable travel companion, and told stories of his experiences coaching the national soccer team in Libya. After a few hours, he fell asleep while watching the inflight movie and his head fell onto my shoulder.
I was too polite to push his massive melon over to the right, and too polite to ask him about the steroid scandal during the flight, but I didn't get the impression that he was a bitter man. Upon our arrival in Seoul, he graciously helped an elderly Korean woman with her baggage at the end of the flight, shook my hand, and wished me well. He seemed like a really nice guy.
Since then, I've followed the Ben Johnson saga on the internet, and I think that he got a bum rap. I'm not saying Ben is my hero, but if he were an American, it's unlikely that he would've been caught, much less stripped of his gold medal and world recordholder status. In Gateway Magazine, Jason Black writes:
In the years following the Seoul Olympics studies and compilations of the participants from the infamous 100-meter final that Johnson won, revealed that of the eight competitors five had performance-enhancing drugs in their systems. Included in this five were second place sprinter American Carl Lewis who was awarded Johnson’s gold medal.
Equally disturbing was last year’s report in Sports Illustrated that provided evidence suggesting that the US Olympic Committee covered up pre-Olympic positive tests for scores of future American medal winning athletes during the late ‘70s, the ‘80s and into the ‘90s.
I would be willing to wager that the victor in any Olymic sport, with the possible exception of Curling, has taken performance-enhancing drugs.
The only way to test my theory is to have a "Drug Test Free Olympics". Let's get Donald Trump and Richard Branson to finance it. We'll give five million dollars to the first man to break the eight-second 100 meter dash. Without a doubt, this type of competition would get even better television ratings. People will pay good money to see genetically modified freaks doing the impossible.
I'm sure the good minds at Fox have already contemplated this type of event. Why doesn't it become a reality? Because such an event would be redundant. Drug testing-free athletes would be no faster or stronger than current Olympic victors.
The drug cheats are always a step ahead of the drug-testing officials. The question isn't "are professional athletes using performance-enhancing drugs", but rather "Which Olympic team has developed the most effective undetectable drug".
Maybe it's time to call into question why performance-enhancing drugs are banned. You could argue that drug testing smacks of paternalism, and that it favours wealthy nations able to harness the power of pharmaceuticals to their advantage. After all, most of the athletes are adults capable of weighing the long-term health risks associated with such treatments. If they want to shrink their testicles to the size of pomegranite seeds, maybe that's their decision. Who are we to judge? Why should performance-enhancing drugs be acceptable in the bedroom but not on the track?
Come on people! Set me straight! I'm facing a moral dilemma here! It's only a matter of time before someone starts marketing a performance enhancing drug to writers!
