LE DOPAGE

“Hero” a poem by Mick Gowar, published in So Far So Good, 1986.

 

Of course I took drugs. Look, son,

there’s no fair play, no gentlemen,

no amateurs, just winning.

How old are you? Fifteen? Well,

you should know that

no-one runs for fun - well, not beyond

the schoolboy stuff - eleven or twelve years old.

I’d been pro for years; my job - to get that gold.

 

Mind you, we English are an odd lot:

like to believe we love the slob that fails,

the gentlemanly third;

so any gap-toothed yob who gets the glory

also gets some gentlemanly trait: helps cripples get across

the street, nice to small animals. You know the kind of thing,

it helps the public feel it’s

all legit: the sportsmanship is real and that it’s all clean fun -

the strongest, bravest, fittest,

best man won.

 

Yeah, steroids... What do you think?...

Oh, don’t be wet -

My coach, of course, he used to get them

through this vet... The side effects? Well, not so bad

as these things go - for eighteen months or so

I didn’t have much use for girls.

But, then I was training

for the big one - got to keep the body pure,

not waste an ounce of effort.’

 

He gives a great guffaw.

A chain of spittle

rattles down the front of

his pyjama jacket.

He wipes his mouth;

his eyes don’t laugh at all.

 

‘...Do it again? Of course I would -

I’d cheat, I’d box, I’d spike, I’d pay the devil’s price

to be that good again

for just one day. You see, at twenty-three

I peaked - got all I ever wanted:

all anyone would ever want from me.

After the race, this interviewer told me

fifty million people’s hopes and dreams had been

fulfilled. Gold!

How many ever get that chance? I did.

Of course not.

 

Damn, the bell. You’d better go, they’re pretty strict.

Yeah, leave the flowers there on the top,

The nurse’ll get some water and a vase.’