Here's to a level playing field

After reading last week's column, some of you might think I'm cynical about the Olympics. But you'd be wrong.

Even I was amazed how the U.S. women's softball team came back from three losses to win the gold. Even I cracked a smile when I watched German runner Nils Schumann, arms ablaze with tattoos, finish first in the 800-meter race. And yes, even I laughed when I saw Eric Moussambani from Equatorial Guinea swim the 100-meter freestyle. Once I sobered up and figured out I wasn't hallucinating.

The efforts of Moussambani and others like him are what the Olympic games are all about: Competing in a sport you can't possibly win just to get your mug on CNN.

So far, the biggest thrill of the Olympics was watching Australian superstar Cathy Freeman race to gold in the 400 meters. Who could resist that aboriginal uprising? Not black-hearted me. I do have one word of advice for Our Cathy, though: If you're going to coke-up before the race, don't lick your teeth afterwards. It's a dead giveaway.

Just kidding. I'm sure she's as clean as anyone else in the competition. No need to dash off angry e-mail from Down Under.

Thing is, how can we watch any event without wondering who's taking drugs? Misty Hyman swam the butterfly as if thick water polo dick were awaiting her at the end of the race, and she finished in a winning time she had never before approached. Were performance-enhancing drugs coursing through her veins? Or was it the lure of water polo dick?

Can't tell.

There's only one solution. Give the athletes the fuckin' drugs. Give them the drugs and ban the tests.

"What?" you ask. "We can't allow doped-up kids to compete in the Olympics. It'll only ruin the purity of the competition and send a terrible message worldwide -- "

Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up. These are performance-enhancing drugs we're talking about. It's not like you're going to see some crack whore flailing away on the uneven bars. Besides, we all want to see enhanced performances, don't we?

Take the 1988 games in Seoul. Ben Johnson sprinted past Carl Lewis in the 100-meter dash. But afterwards, Johnson tested positive for banned substances and the gold was awarded to Lewis. Tell the truth. Didn't you feel a little cheated? Didn't you want to see Lewis take the same drugs and race Johnson again? Let's face it, Johnson whipped Carl's ass. And we'll never know for sure who the faster man really was.

Give them the drugs, give them the fuckin' drugs. And let's make sure every athlete gets equal access to the same drugs. We don't want some of the competitors left out of the running because of financial hardship. And we sure don't want them to have to do anything outrageous, like order drugs over the Internet from a Web site in Thailand. Or score them from a dealer at a city park. Or marry a shot putter.

The new drug policy should be simple: don't ask, don't tell. This will prevent athletes from shooting-up on the track, for that would be wrong. If the Olympic officials have problems managing a don't-ask, don't-tell policy, they should consult the gay community. Or male divers. Or Carl Lewis.

Here's the best reason to allow performance-enhancing drugs at the Olympics: Romanian gymnast Andreea Raducan. She was clearly a victim of the current hypocritical drug policy. Raducan competed her heart out and won a gold medal in all-around gymnastics, but some idiot, fuckwad of a doctor gave her an over-the-counter cold medicine and what do you know? The tiny time capsule contained a banned substance, psuedoephedrine. Fuck me, it wasn't even real ephedrine. But the Olympic committee shuddered at the test results and decided to strip Raducan of her gold medal anyway.

Idiocy. It just pisses me off. The powers-that-be pronounced Raducan a loser based on bonehead circumstantial evidence and that's just... not... fair. It offends my sense of justice, what little is left after last year's Superbowl, and it's all because of ludicrous machinations in a sanctimonious world where -- whoa, whoa, whoa, Tex.

Sorry. Must be the diet pills talking.

Which reminds me, we should also lay a little dope on the television commentators. Let's give Jim Gray some Irish Coffees, for crissakes, and wake that poor bastard up. In the days before the ill-fated Pete Rose interview, Gray used to be a geek with teeth. Now he's just a geek, gumming every athlete to orgasm. Give him the drugs, I say. Give everyone the fuckin' drugs.

One exception: The guy who sets the height of the horse in the vault competition. No more drugs for him.

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own. Copyright 2000 by Mike Jasper.