I woke up one morning last week to read a story about an athlete who had seemed to have
everything.
     US track star Marion Jones owned a trophy (奖杯) case filled with medals. She had worldwide
fame. She held the high honor of being the first female track and field athlete to win five medals at an
Olympics- the 2000 Sydney Games.
     But last Friday, the 31-year-old track star tearfully confessed that she had lied to fans, sports
official and US federal agents about taking steroids.
The five Olympic medals in her trophy case? Gone. Meaningless. The worldwide fame? Exchanged
for infamy. The honor of being the first female track and field athlete to win five medals at an
Olympics? Forgotten, wiped off the record books.
     "It is with a great amount of shame that I stand before you and tell you that I have betrayed your
trust." Jones confessed.
     She'd posed for pictures with fans. She'd attended parties and talked about her accomplishments.
But for years she'd slept - or tried to sleep - knowing that much of what she had done was built on a lie.
     Now, finally, she'd decided to tell the truth.
     "If she had trusted her own natural gifts and allied them to self-sacrifice and hard work, I sincerely
believe that she could have been an honest champion at the Sydney Games." IAAF President Lamine
Diack said over the weekend. "Instead, Mario Jones will be remembered as one of the biggest frauds
in sporting history."
     Sadly, she won't be the last. There are still others lurking(潜伏) behind their trophies. They too
appear to have everything. They're superstars, the envy of every young person who has played a
 sport. But for how long? And at what cost? Every time they look at their trophies and medals they
remember that the awards really belong to someone else.