High Time To Make Some Rules

A somewhat more subtle anti-regulation argument is that most drugs used by athletes to improve performances may not do so. Since, it is argued, they are ineffective—i.e., they don't change the outcome of a game—why legislate against them? If this is valid, it suggests a practical course of action that the sports Establishment might follow, one that might clear up much of the drug mess. As things stand now, very few serious efforts have been made to find out what many of the commonly used drugs do or do not do for athletes. However, getting such information is not a technical impossibility, as is sometimes hinted.

"My own feeling," says Dr. Harold Upjohn, an ex-athlete from Yale who is now research head of The Upjohn Company, "is that there probably will be and perhaps already are drugs that will affect human performance. For example, there is a suggestion that oxygen may be used to influence intelligence. I think the drug industry will start moving toward finding and marketing potentiating drugs, ones that allow people to do things they might not otherwise be able to do. Insofar as sport is concerned, it might cost a little money and take some time, but it would not be difficult to test some, say, amphetamines, to determine how much they alter performance. Whether they should or should not be used would then be a matter for sports organizations to decide."

In their present state of relative affluence, it seems that the athletic ruling bodies should, if they could pull themselves together, be able to pay for the kind of studies Upjohn suggests, studies that would be conducted by an independent research organization. If some drugs did prove to have a measurable effect on performance, then the sports organizations would be in a position to decide, on the basis of factual evidence, whether they should be used by all competitors, or by none. The matter would at least be out in the open.

But the very suggestion of enforcing drug regulations chills many athletes and administrators. The indignity of the practice, of treating American boys like Thoroughbred horses, is frequently cited as a deterrent. However, athletes customarily take physical examinations, swear to their amateur status, have equipment inspected to see that it conforms to rules, are declared ineligible in many sports if they gamble, beat up referees or fail Basket Weaving II. In comparison to these matters, submitting to a drug test should not amount to cruel or unusual punishment.

Drug tests are impractical, time-consuming and too expensive, runs another rebuttal that does not bear close examination. In Mexico City in 1968 a thousand Olympic athletes were tested for drugs during a two-week period. Horses, larger and more fractious than athletes, are routinely tested. Furthermore, no drug test depends for its effect on examining all participants. A random selection is made. The possibility of being among the group tested acts as something of a deterrent for all. As an example, one testing team that would show up unannounced each Sunday in a professional football locker room would do more to halt the use of drugs than a lifetime of proclamations and warnings by commissioners, physicians, trainers, etc.

Another frequently heard objection is that tests cannot eliminate drug cheating, because athletes will find ways to beat them. No system is perfect. Some sprinters do get rolling starts no matter how vigilant the starter, but not nearly so many do as would if starters did not police the procedure. Logic alone indicates that the threat of being caught would deter many dope users. Evidence from the few sports where control has been tried support logic. The International Olympic Committee, in announcing the 1968 drug-testing procedures, said, "It is interesting to cite the fact that in October of 1967, during the Third International Sports Competition held in Mexico [the Little Olympics], the medical commission established the basis for the special tests that were effected on the participating athletes. A total of 234 tests were made, all of them turning out negatively. Without a doubt, a prior publication of the fact that tests were to be made caused those who might have thought of using drugs to abstain from doing so. It is hoped that the same results will be apparent in the Games of the XIX Olympiad." The same results were apparent; only one athlete among the 1,000 tested was found to be doped. His drug—alcohol.

The arguments against defining what is dope, writing anti-dope regulations and enforcing them are usually convincing in only one respect. They make it clear that many people in sport are afraid that such rules would either force them to change their current drug practices or have them exposed. In the final analysis, this fear and the guilt feelings it engenders are more shocking than the drug practices themselves. Rationally—and legally—there is no reason for the guilt, particularly in America where there are no laws prohibiting the use of any legally obtained drug. A shotputter who takes prescribed anabolic steroids is breaking no law. He risks no punishment. Yet most such athletes feel guilty, as do many physicians who inject Novocain and hand out pep pills. Each "off the record," "no comment," "I don't know anything about it," each—let's say it—lie adds another thread to the fabric of guilt. It gives further evidence that unless controls are established the present practices inevitably will lead to a sports scandal and humiliation.

This pervasive feeling of guilt among those involved sets forth better than any amount of expert testimony at least two important facts. Those responsible for the administration of athletics are not happy with the present drug policies. They are unhappy because they believe the policies are self-corrupting, and if what they—as members of the sports Establishment—are doing becomes public knowledge, they will be regarded as corrupt, and as corrupters.

There are other factors tending to destroy sport: too much money, too much pressure, too much exposure. The total influence of them all is to fix games, to remove the fundamental drama, the mystery and the art of sport by dehumanizing it. Short of slipping ringer robots into the lineup, the use of drugs, so far as intent goes, is the most dehumanizing practice of the lot.