SYDNEY — Marion Jones now must accept the fact that she is something short of an Olympic epic.
We have reached the awful part of her quest where she might win five medals here and still be considered unfulfilled simply because it is an unmatched set. Like she was picking out a dinnerware pattern instead of comparing her talents with the world.
This is what Jones did to herself as soon as she made five golds her goal, never once stammering or hedging when she said it.
Bronze is good. All your immortals get cast in it. But it is Jones' fate to treat it as no more precious than Silly Putty. They might as well have handed her a $10 Kroger gift certificate as that bronze medal she collected Friday.
"Fun is winning," Jones said after finishing just about where she should have in the long jump, third.
The long jump winner was a remarkable story. Heike Drechsler used to be the East German Marion Jones. Only, she was another lab rat in a dirty regime who would face printed but unproven charges of better performances through chemistry. In 1988, Drechsler, too, spread herself all over the track and saw nothing but the back ends of two of the great U.S. athletes. She would finish behind Jackie Joyner-Kersee in the long jump and Florence Griffith Joyner in the 100 and 200 meters.
Now 35, Drechsler's longevity is startling. She has long jump world championships 10 years apart (1983 and '93) and an Olympic gold eight years after a triumph in Barcelona. She's got the staying power of a bean burrito.
But we'll speak of who didn't win this time, of the woman who jumped 2 1/2 inches shy of Drechsler's 22-11. Just because Jones turned losing into the unacceptable option.
Right down to her sixth and final attempt, she had the sprinter's chance of ripping off a big jump. You had to look hard in the enormous Olympic Stadium to find the drama of the moment as Jones leaned back just before launch, but it was there.
"The last jump, you got to lay it on the line. Every athlete dreams of coming back and winning on the last jump," Jones said. "I went very fast, very fast. When I landed, I saw I was around the seven-meter mark (gold territory). Then I turned around and saw the gentleman raise the red flag (signaling no jump) and my dreams were dashed."
That was her fourth foul out of six jumps — and you can't hit .333 in this league and expect great things. Of all the movements Jones has mastered, long jumping is not among them. She dominated running the 100 and 200 meter dashes. And by marked contrast flopped around in the sand.
I don't know the first thing about technique, but I'll guess that the long jump landing is not supposed to look like you just finished falling down a long flight of steps. It was a favor that Jones didn't drive her knee bones up to her earholes.
"When she learns to handle the speed, we will have no chance," Drechsler said. "She is the future."
Just be certain of one fact: Not completing her personal golden pentathlon had nothing to do with the distraction of husband C.J. Hunter's troubles with the steroid cops. Jones simply was not a sound enough jumper to bluff her way through an Olympics. The difference with such multisport stars such as Carl Lewis and Jesse Owens was that they started as long jumpers who added the sprints, not vice versa.
Take heed, long jumping will remain a part of the program, Jones insists: "This bronze medal is not going to make me crawl in a shell and not long jump again."
We may well be going through this again four years from now — hopefully without the spousal subplot — and the goal just might be more realistic then.
Be grateful it didn't occur to the former North Carolina point guard that it would be possible to sprint across the street between Saturday's 400 and 1,600-meter hurdles and run the offense for a half in the women's basketball gold medal game. If only to fill in the self-perceived holes of her collection.
Overreaching is good. It is the mother of accomplishment. So long as everyone remembers that nearly as much glory rests in the effort as the result.