Michael D'Hooghe, presidente della commissione medica della Fifa, l'uomo che fece squalificare Maradona ai mondiali del 1994, ha lanciato la battaglia al doping nel calcio, uno sport dove i controlli sono inesistenti rispetto ad altri sport. In Italia, paese in cui i controlli sono più seri che altrove, dal 1998, quando l'allora allenatore della Roma Zdenek Zeman accusò altre squadre di usare sostanze proibite, i casi di doping sono in continuo aumento.

Even a suspicion of drugs destroys trust

International Herald Tribune International Herald Tribune Wednesday, April 3, 2002

(http://www.iht.com/frontpage.htm)

Back to Start of Article LONDON In sport, seeing used to be believing. When that belief is blurred, when the first man or woman to the tape, down the mountain or across the pool is exposed as a cheat, the whole exercise is corrupted. When the issue is drugs, suspicion alone kills the joy of watching.
.
Michel D'Hooghe, the chairman of the medical commission of soccer's governing body FIFA, has chosen to arouse that suspicion. Over the next two months, the Champions League in Europe, followed almost immediately by the World Cup in South Korea and Japan, will push the bodies and minds, not to mention the bank balances, of the stars of the world game to new limits.
.
The doctor says it will push those bodies beyond their limits. He assumes, out loud, that top players in England, Italy, Spain and Germany use EPO, the stamina-enhancing agent erythropoetin prevalent in cycling and track and field. He also believes soccer players are injected with growth hormone and anabolic steroids to help cope with the strain of too many matches. He voices concern that medical experts supply banned drugs in exchange for some of the money the players hardly know what to do with.
.
D'Hooghe was the doctor who in 1994 expelled Diego Maradona from the World Cup in the United States. D'Hooghe said the Argentine was contaminated by a cocktail of five substances related to the stimulant ephedrine; Maradona replied that FIFA was trying to break his soul, and that since he was genius, why would he need drugs?
.
Why, indeed? Maradona had come back "clean" after his cocaine habit had threatened his career. He had slimmed down remarkably quickly for the World Cup. Maybe, his fans insisted, he had bought medicine for a cold; maybe, his countrymen said, this was a plot to hand the trophy to Brazil.
.
Foxboro Stadium near Boston, where Maradona played his last match for Argentina, was one of three arenas in which I have seen the sickening sight of victorious performers running on something abnormal. In Seoul, at the 1988 Olympic Games, I was duped into believing I was witness to the fastest 100 meters run by man - until the wake-up call that told us Ben Johnson had taken steroids.
.
At the next Games, in Barcelona, I watched the frightening Linford Christie win the 100 meters. His medal stands, but years later he was banned after being tested at 100 times the limit for nandrolone, a steroid which in tiny quantities can apparently be produced naturally in the body.
.
Consequently, it takes a greater innocence than mine to believe all that I see. D'Hooghe, a Belgian, tells us the obvious when he says that richer players, trying to cope with the relentless demands of more than 60 matches a season, are able to buy aids to performance from members of his own profession.
.
But FIFA itself increases the demands on players with its avaricious inventing of new tournaments and new vehicles for commercialization. D'Hooghe is bringing the World Cup into line with the standards of the International Olympic Committee by adding blood as well as urine testing this summer.
.
In the meantime, soccer has a code of punishments nowhere near as stringent as that of other sports. In Italy, where the dope testers are most industrious, the cases have been mounting since 1998 when Zdenek Zeman, the coach at Roma, accused Juventus of muscling up on creatine, a legal supplement.
.
Accusation takes longer to work through the justice system than junk through the body. So we are still awaiting the outcome of legal charges in Turin against two Juventus officials. Their alleged crimes are "sporting fraud," altering the outcome of competitions by using banned substances, and risking the health of their players. The defendants, a club director, Antonio Giraudo, and a club doctor, Antonio Agricola, deny the charges.
.
Zeman, the whistle-blower, is now a pariah coaching outside the monied elite at Salernitana in Serie B. Since he spoke out, a host of international players have been caught by the testing of 5,000 samples each season in Italy. They range from the Russian Igor Shalimov to the Dutchmen Edgar Davids and Jaap Stam and the Spaniard Josep Guardiola.
.
None pleaded guilty to knowingly taking performance-enhancing stuff. Few served even the lenient sentences imposed by the Italian authorities. Davids engaged a New York lawyer to threaten FIFA until his 10-month banishment was reduced to a third of that. Zinedine Zidane, the most complete player on earth, admitted only after he left Juventus for Real Madrid, that he had systematically taken supplements that he did not regard as illegal enhancers.
.
Davids, Stam and a third Dutchman, Frank De Boer, seemed so convinced that there was something in their food or water that the Dutch soccer federation employed a university professor to put Stam through controlled experiments that came up with the conclusion that his body "naturally" produces nandrolone readings comparable to that which proved positive in the Italian test.
.
The problem becomes technical and legal and subject to conflicting strains of expert opinion. While it all simmers, what can we do except suspend disbelief? Years ago, the Italians believed the English played to a more physical tempo, and with a higher competitive desire, because of a natural "superiority."
.
Two weeks ago, after Liverpool showed too much power and stamina for Roma, the Italian team's current coach, Fabio Capello, returned home to say: "It's not a question of technique or tactics. There's something else."
.
Whatever he had in mind, one Italian sports newspaper the next day produced photographs of two well-muscled Liverpool players and asked why players in England or Spain are not subjected to the same testing as Italians. The question is legitimate, but insinuation itself is a bitter pill. LONDON In sport, seeing used to be believing. When that belief is blurred, when the first man or woman to the tape, down the mountain or across the pool is exposed as a cheat, the whole exercise is corrupted. When the issue is drugs, suspicion alone kills the joy of watching.
.
Michel D'Hooghe, the chairman of the medical commission of soccer's governing body FIFA, has chosen to arouse that suspicion. Over the next two months, the Champions League in Europe, followed almost immediately by the World Cup in South Korea and Japan, will push the bodies and minds, not to mention the bank balances, of the stars of the world game to new limits.
.
The doctor says it will push those bodies beyond their limits. He assumes, out loud, that top players in England, Italy, Spain and Germany use EPO, the stamina-enhancing agent erythropoetin prevalent in cycling and track and field. He also believes soccer players are injected with growth hormone and anabolic steroids to help cope with the strain of too many matches. He voices concern that medical experts supply banned drugs in exchange for some of the money the players hardly know what to do with.
.
D'Hooghe was the doctor who in 1994 expelled Diego Maradona from the World Cup in the United States. D'Hooghe said the Argentine was contaminated by a cocktail of five substances related to the stimulant ephedrine; Maradona replied that FIFA was trying to break his soul, and that since he was genius, why would he need drugs?
.
Why, indeed? Maradona had come back "clean" after his cocaine habit had threatened his career. He had slimmed down remarkably quickly for the World Cup. Maybe, his fans insisted, he had bought medicine for a cold; maybe, his countrymen said, this was a plot to hand the trophy to Brazil.
.
Foxboro Stadium near Boston, where Maradona played his last match for Argentina, was one of three arenas in which I have seen the sickening sight of victorious performers running on something abnormal. In Seoul, at the 1988 Olympic Games, I was duped into believing I was witness to the fastest 100 meters run by man - until the wake-up call that told us Ben Johnson had taken steroids.
.
At the next Games, in Barcelona, I watched the frightening Linford Christie win the 100 meters. His medal stands, but years later he was banned after being tested at 100 times the limit for nandrolone, a steroid which in tiny quantities can apparently be produced naturally in the body.
.
Consequently, it takes a greater innocence than mine to believe all that I see. D'Hooghe, a Belgian, tells us the obvious when he says that richer players, trying to cope with the relentless demands of more than 60 matches a season, are able to buy aids to performance from members of his own profession.
.
But FIFA itself increases the demands on players with its avaricious inventing of new tournaments and new vehicles for commercialization. D'Hooghe is bringing the World Cup into line with the standards of the International Olympic Committee by adding blood as well as urine testing this summer.
.
In the meantime, soccer has a code of punishments nowhere near as stringent as that of other sports. In Italy, where the dope testers are most industrious, the cases have been mounting since 1998 when Zdenek Zeman, the coach at Roma, accused Juventus of muscling up on creatine, a legal supplement.
.
Accusation takes longer to work through the justice system than junk through the body. So we are still awaiting the outcome of legal charges in Turin against two Juventus officials. Their alleged crimes are "sporting fraud," altering the outcome of competitions by using banned substances, and risking the health of their players. The defendants, a club director, Antonio Giraudo, and a club doctor, Antonio Agricola, deny the charges.
.
Zeman, the whistle-blower, is now a pariah coaching outside the monied elite at Salernitana in Serie B. Since he spoke out, a host of international players have been caught by the testing of 5,000 samples each season in Italy. They range from the Russian Igor Shalimov to the Dutchmen Edgar Davids and Jaap Stam and the Spaniard Josep Guardiola.
.
None pleaded guilty to knowingly taking performance-enhancing stuff. Few served even the lenient sentences imposed by the Italian authorities. Davids engaged a New York lawyer to threaten FIFA until his 10-month banishment was reduced to a third of that. Zinedine Zidane, the most complete player on earth, admitted only after he left Juventus for Real Madrid, that he had systematically taken supplements that he did not regard as illegal enhancers.
.
Davids, Stam and a third Dutchman, Frank De Boer, seemed so convinced that there was something in their food or water that the Dutch soccer federation employed a university professor to put Stam through controlled experiments that came up with the conclusion that his body "naturally" produces nandrolone readings comparable to that which proved positive in the Italian test.
.
The problem becomes technical and legal and subject to conflicting strains of expert opinion. While it all simmers, what can we do except suspend disbelief? Years ago, the Italians believed the English played to a more physical tempo, and with a higher competitive desire, because of a natural "superiority."
.
Two weeks ago, after Liverpool showed too much power and stamina for Roma, the Italian team's current coach, Fabio Capello, returned home to say: "It's not a question of technique or tactics. There's something else."
.
Whatever he had in mind, one Italian sports newspaper the next day produced photographs of two well-muscled Liverpool players and asked why players in England or Spain are not subjected to the same testing as Italians. The question is legitimate, but insinuation itself is a bitter pill. LONDON In sport, seeing used to be believing. When that belief is blurred, when the first man or woman to the tape, down the mountain or across the pool is exposed as a cheat, the whole exercise is corrupted. When the issue is drugs, suspicion alone kills the joy of watching.
.
Michel D'Hooghe, the chairman of the medical commission of soccer's governing body FIFA, has chosen to arouse that suspicion. Over the next two months, the Champions League in Europe, followed almost immediately by the World Cup in South Korea and Japan, will push the bodies and minds, not to mention the bank balances, of the stars of the world game to new limits.
.
The doctor says it will push those bodies beyond their limits. He assumes, out loud, that top players in England, Italy, Spain and Germany use EPO, the stamina-enhancing agent erythropoetin prevalent in cycling and track and field. He also believes soccer players are injected with growth hormone and anabolic steroids to help cope with the strain of too many matches. He voices concern that medical experts supply banned drugs in exchange for some of the money the players hardly know what to do with.
.
D'Hooghe was the doctor who in 1994 expelled Diego Maradona from the World Cup in the United States. D'Hooghe said the Argentine was contaminated by a cocktail of five substances related to the stimulant ephedrine; Maradona replied that FIFA was trying to break his soul, and that since he was genius, why would he need drugs?
.
Why, indeed? Maradona had come back "clean" after his cocaine habit had threatened his career. He had slimmed down remarkably quickly for the World Cup. Maybe, his fans insisted, he had bought medicine for a cold; maybe, his countrymen said, this was a plot to hand the trophy to Brazil.
.
Foxboro Stadium near Boston, where Maradona played his last match for Argentina, was one of three arenas in which I have seen the sickening sight of victorious performers running on something abnormal. In Seoul, at the 1988 Olympic Games, I was duped into believing I was witness to the fastest 100 meters run by man - until the wake-up call that told us Ben Johnson had taken steroids.
.
At the next Games, in Barcelona, I watched the frightening Linford Christie win the 100 meters. His medal stands, but years later he was banned after being tested at 100 times the limit for nandrolone, a steroid which in tiny quantities can apparently be produced naturally in the body.
.
Consequently, it takes a greater innocence than mine to believe all that I see. D'Hooghe, a Belgian, tells us the obvious when he says that richer players, trying to cope with the relentless demands of more than 60 matches a season, are able to buy aids to performance from members of his own profession.
.
But FIFA itself increases the demands on players with its avaricious inventing of new tournaments and new vehicles for commercialization. D'Hooghe is bringing the World Cup into line with the standards of the International Olympic Committee by adding blood as well as urine testing this summer.
.
In the meantime, soccer has a code of punishments nowhere near as stringent as that of other sports. In Italy, where the dope testers are most industrious, the cases have been mounting since 1998 when Zdenek Zeman, the coach at Roma, accused Juventus of muscling up on creatine, a legal supplement.
.
Accusation takes longer to work through the justice system than junk through the body. So we are still awaiting the outcome of legal charges in Turin against two Juventus officials. Their alleged crimes are "sporting fraud," altering the outcome of competitions by using banned substances, and risking the health of their players. The defendants, a club director, Antonio Giraudo, and a club doctor, Antonio Agricola, deny the charges.
.
Zeman, the whistle-blower, is now a pariah coaching outside the monied elite at Salernitana in Serie B. Since he spoke out, a host of international players have been caught by the testing of 5,000 samples each season in Italy. They range from the Russian Igor Shalimov to the Dutchmen Edgar Davids and Jaap Stam and the Spaniard Josep Guardiola.
.
None pleaded guilty to knowingly taking performance-enhancing stuff. Few served even the lenient sentences imposed by the Italian authorities. Davids engaged a New York lawyer to threaten FIFA until his 10-month banishment was reduced to a third of that. Zinedine Zidane, the most complete player on earth, admitted only after he left Juventus for Real Madrid, that he had systematically taken supplements that he did not regard as illegal enhancers.
.
Davids, Stam and a third Dutchman, Frank De Boer, seemed so convinced that there was something in their food or water that the Dutch soccer federation employed a university professor to put Stam through controlled experiments that came up with the conclusion that his body "naturally" produces nandrolone readings comparable to that which proved positive in the Italian test.
.
The problem becomes technical and legal and subject to conflicting strains of expert opinion. While it all simmers, what can we do except suspend disbelief? Years ago, the Italians believed the English played to a more physical tempo, and with a higher competitive desire, because of a natural "superiority."
.
Two weeks ago, after Liverpool showed too much power and stamina for Roma, the Italian team's current coach, Fabio Capello, returned home to say: "It's not a question of technique or tactics. There's something else."
.
Whatever he had in mind, one Italian sports newspaper the next day produced photographs of two well-muscled Liverpool players and asked why players in England or Spain are not subjected to the same testing as Italians. The question is legitimate, but insinuation itself is a bitter pill.