Shadow on Flo-Jo legacy

She would have made an exquisite old lady. Imagine her at 80: straight-shouldered, her grey hair swept back, her long-limbed carriage and her elegant diction. Imagine her as she came back for one of her frequent visits to her old neighbourhood, the graffiti-splattered Jordan Downs housing project in perpetually impoverished Watts in Los Angeles, encouraging youngsters there to follow her example and reach for the stars.

It was not to be. Instead, and somewhat ignobly to listen to some commentators, Florence Griffith-Joyner died in her sleep last week at the not ripe old age of 38. She died with her decade-old world records in the 200 metres and the 100 metres intact and with her three Olympic gold medals won during the 1988 games in Seoul. She also had two silvers, one gained during the 1984 games in Los Angeles.

She died with her adoring husband sleeping beside her and her seven-year-old daughter, Mary Ruth, in the next room. But Flo-Jo, as she was called, also died with a mystery, one that is becoming more controversial as critics and allies come forward to debate it.

Did she use performance-enhancing steroids? Or did those accusations stem from jealousy? Moreover, was her premature death caused by heart disease resulting from drugs?

To even repeat those whispers has outraged many in her community. The fact is that Flo-Jo never tested positive for any drug use. Prince Alexander de Merod, chairman of the International Olympic Committee's medical commission, told reporters that Griffith-Joyner underwent the most rigorous testing in Seoul after rumours began, alleging that her extraordinary performance was due to drugs. However, not even a trace of steroids was found.

"So there should not be the slightest suspicion," Prince Alexander said. "Let her rest in peace. The issue is closed."

Whatever is true of Griffith-Joyner, the issue is most certainly not closed. Her coach, Bob Kersee, criticised the media and other athletes on Wednesday, blaming envy and exploitation of tragedy. What has happened "is that people who are jealous have spread rumours.

"Nowadays, you don't have to have any facts for someone to print bad things about you," Mr Kersee told the Los Angeles Times. He said it was Griffith-Joyner's brutal training, her willingness to push her body to its limits when it was not fashionable for women athletes to do so in the 1980s, that was responsible for her success.

People in Los Angeles recalled the determination which propelled Flo-Jo to all manner of extremes. Jeanette Bolden, the women's track coach at the University of California, Los Angeles, and a former roommate, recalled Flo-Jo being asked once to leave a shopping mall because she was wearing her pet boa constrictor around her neck.

Others recalled the little girl called Dee Dee growing up poor with 10 siblings in a single-parent household, determined to be an artist or a fashion designer or a poet.

Julie Cart, an experienced Los Angeles sportswriter, recalled one story. Once, when her teacher asked her what she wanted to be, Dee Dee answered: "Everything. I want to be everything."

Even then, she created her own nail polish shades. She wore different-coloured socks to school. She was determined to be different and to make the most of those differences. And she was. She dazzled the sports world with her outfits - one-legged, skin-tight, shimmery body suits, or what she called "athletics negligees". Impossibly long, multicoloured nails and outlandish jewellery also featured.

But when she broke out of her mid-level athleticism in the 1988 Olympic trials, and emerged from training with a new physique, the rumours of drug use began. Other athletes said such a dramatic improvement in performance times was not possible.

She strongly denied the allegations and offered to take any drug test, anywhere, anytime. When Darrell Robinson, a former athlete, told a German magazine that he had once sold steroids to her, Griffith-Joyner went on a national television show in the US and called Robinson a compulsive, crazy, lying lunatic. However after the Olympics, she retired, fuelling more rumours that she had got out before she was found out.

People in Los Angeles are now angry that Flo-Jo's legacy is being questioned. Hundreds gathered at a candlelight vigil in Leimert Park during the week, singing songs and praising their friend.

She never forgot about Watts. She was always willing to come back home, a high school friend, Sonya Robertson, told the Los Angeles Times. She never got high and mighty. She remained down to earth, no matter what she accomplished.

Flo-Jo's sister, Vivian Johnson, and her brother, Weldon Pitts, spoke to the crowd. Mr Pitts said: "My baby sister came from a long way out and she showed the world there was no limit to what you can do."

Whether Flo-Jo pushed herself beyond human limits may never be answered. Autopsy results from Orange County will not be available for weeks and they will not be able to show any evidence of steroid use in the 1980s. They may only provide evidence of her exact cause of death.

That is what is behind several people's calls for the truth to be made public by those who knew Flo-Jo best, her coach and her husband, Al Joyner. Dr Robert Voy, author of a book called Drugs, Sports and Politics, and a former medical officer with the US Olympic Committee, is one of those making the calls.

"It would be very helpful for those of us involved in sports medicine to know the true nature of something like this. The premature death of an elite athlete is something that taunts us," he told reporters.

The real shame is that the truth may never be known. In a time of few heroes, FloJo was the genuine article to many. That her legacy should be diminished by uncertainty seems unfair. As Sports Illustrated writer Tim Layden notes: " . . now home run kings legally gobble natural enhancers and college football players sprinkle Creatine on their cereal".

If anything, perhaps Flo-Jo was simply the one ahead - of other runners and of her time.