Small men exposed in their big moment

ALI was at these Games. As heroes go Muhammad Ali has always been out on his own for me. Ali won an Olympic gold in Rome, in 1960, and tossed it into a river in frustration at the insidious racism which blighted his life. Later Ali was forced to box on three or four. fights beyond when it was safe. He fed his health into the shredder so that others might get rich.

Twelve days ago, Ali was exploited again. His gentle dignity and beautiful face was wheeled out to light the Olympic flame at the tawdriest, most tainted Games in history, which was being held in a city which still flies the racist confederate flag above its municipal buildings.

These Olympics needed Ali a lot more than Ali needed these Olympics. The old showman couldn't turn down the gig, though. The breadth of the big man's dignity covered a lot. The great athlete being exploited by the little people was a fitting symbol with which to open these Games.

Sometimes at these Olympics you just wish you could be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Not looking into Sonia O'Sullivan's eyes, for instance, as she gazed in bewilderment around Monday's "press conference".

She came along because, like Muhammad Ali, she felt she couldn't turn down the gig. She is basically too decent to leave the Irish public without an explanation for a trauma which she will privately endure long after easy public sentiment has washed away.

"I had no way of saying thank you," she said quietly.

To say thank you, she was required to sit through one of the most embarrassing, squalid, belittling sequences of publicly-broadcast, dirty linen-washing that this journalist has ever seen.

Sometimes at these Olympics there are moments and incidents which qualify as good stories. The events of last Friday when Sonia O'Sullivan was made strip off in the tunnel before the race and the events since then, with the accusations and counter-accusations, haven't been a good story. These events have been sad and pathetic and depressing. These events have been nothing but a squalid little row which newspapers have lapped up.

Who is to blame? Sonia O'Sullivan isn't. Kim McDonald isn't.

The insidious shifting of the blame their way has been another odious feature of this debacle. O'Sullivan and McDonald live in the real world of big-time international athletics. They work with and compete with the greatest athletic stars on the planet. In every aspect of their business, they are professional.

It is inconceivable therefore (yet it has been suggested) that either or both would undertake to deliver Sonia O'Sullivan at the biggest event of her life in a certain set of gear just on the promise of a monetary bonus.

Think about it. Nike, Reebok, Asics etc, they all know the rules of the game. Athletes get fed some money. Federations get fed some money. There is no point in dangling wads of money in front of an athlete to wear non-team gear at a big meet because it just won't happen. The other company would just do it at the next big meet. The system would break down.

If Reebok feel that they have a right to see Sonia O'Sullivan cross the line in their gear, it is specifically because of the deal they did with the Olympic Council of Ireland (OCI). If Sonia O'Sullivan would prefer to wear Reebok at these Games, it is because she has always had a relationship with Reebok. If she thinks she has a choice of what to wear at these Games, it is because people have told her she has a choice.

After Monday's press conference, Kim McDonald sat quietly at the back of the room talking about the whole business. He has always struck the media as being reserved and a little aloof, but on Monday he was friendly and courteous and speaking with an athlete's heart. Why had Sonia O'Sullivan brought two outfits to the track on Friday night?

"We were told she could wear either, and obviously for lots of reasons, Sonia would wear Reebok given the choice, but I said to her to bring the Asics just in case there was any problem. Part of being comfortable for a race is getting to the line without upset. I didn't want Sonia upset. She's an athlete. If there's any problem, I said, just wear Asics."

There is no room for disbelief here. We all have our prejudices about agents, perhaps only journalists and politicians rank lower in the public esteem, but to suggest that a driven athlete like Sonia O'Sullivan and a professional like Kim McDonald sat down and told each other that they would push this Reebok business right to the very line, that they would play a game of bluff with the authorities, that they would risk upset and disruption on race day, to suggest that they would do all that for the sake of a few quid is just ludicrous.

I spoke to Sonia O'Sullivan by phone before she came down to the Games from Philadelphia. She said she was bringing both sets of gear and in the end she'd wear what she was told to wear.

On Monday somebody unilaterally released a twee little press statement on her behalf talking coyly about the "big D".

On Monday afternoon, she came downtown to the main press centre and with dignity explained that she had been suffering from diarrhoea since Friday, explained why she hadn't told anyone, explained how she felt and why she had left the race and explained what her intentions were. She did more than she had to, yet instead of breaking up the press conference and reconvening a few minutes later, she was then made sit through the ugly spectacle of the running gear argument.

Irish sports administrators have disgraced themselves over this incident. There are no winners. Among the principals there are no exceptions. Not the BLE. Not the OCI. Nobody deserves exoneration.

Sonia O'Sullivan has been pragmatic about the business of being made strip off in the tunnel. She hasn't turned herself into a victim. She cut in to correct those on the rostrum who used the word "humiliated" in connection with the incident. "A bit strong," she said.

Yet the tawdry fact of the matter is that the two warring bodies let it come to that, let our finest athlete get tangled in their flimsy webs. Worse, they are prepared to argue over it barefaced afterwards, as if there was a sliver of triumph to be had out of it.

The big gesture which has yet to be made or contemplated at this stage is compromise. One company or one organisation has to step back completely and announce that it has all gotten a little bit too cheap for them.

Through the murk and muck, there has been some inspiration, though. None more than John O'Sullivan. He stood on Sunday night, in the frenzy and the chaos and the confusion, and his sense of purpose and strength diminished all of us by comparison. Nobody died, he told us. She'll come back, he told us. Let her have time, then we'll talk.

He spoke of his daughter, of Sonia, not of the Olympics or of medals. It's the same, he said, whether she has lost an under-12s race or had this happen to her. John O'Sullivan was still a father and his daughter had still suffered a disappointment.

He stood with his back to the wall and we surrounded him. Maybe John O'Sullivan wanted to cry. Maybe he wanted to lash out at us. He'd embraced his daughter, though, assured himself that she was alright and he was ready now to deflect the world. He stood there and spoke with perfect perspective and genuine love about sport, about the athlete, about the woman, about his daughter.

A truly big man amidst all the Lilliputians.