ON THE WRONG TRACK: Lolo Jones (above), looking on after the women’s 100-meter hurdles yesterday, was the biggest star entering the event but it was Australia’s Sally Pearson edging out American Dawn Harper at the finish line. (
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LONDON — Maybe this is the problem. This is a column about Lolo Jones, who finished in fourth place last night in the women’s 100-meter hurdles. She did not win the race; that was Australia’s Sally Pearson, who blazed across the finish line in an Olympic record time of 12.35 seconds.
She wasn’t the fastest American; she wasn’t even the second-fastest American. Dawn Harper, the defending gold medalist, settled for silver this time, an eyeblink — literally, two one-hundredths of a second — behind. Kellie Wells was third. And a tenth of a second behind her was Jones. Fourth place.
Out of the money, if only in a metaphorical sense.
“I think my whole year affected my race,” Jones said.
She was alternately talking and crying, and later the tears would come harder than the words and as she wrapped her arms around her neck you could see her hands shaking. Her voice was a tremolo of emotion and regret. Four years ago, she owned this race, only to stumble over a hurdle, surrendering a sure gold.
“I’m pleased to say at least I can lift my head a little higher,” she said, “and when I tell my kids that their mom ran at the Olympics, this time I finished the race.”
Maybe this is the problem. Entering these Olympics she wasn’t anywhere near the best 100-meter hurdler in the world, and she was clearly the third-best American, based on her barely eking into the field out of the trials. On merit, there was never a chance she would get the magazine covers she got, or the endorsements, or the attention.
But she had two essential, timeless gifts entering an Olympic year. She had her story, starting with a hardscrabble upbringing and peaking with that spill in Beijing and culminating with her four-year pursuit of redemption.
And, well, why be coy about the other?
She’s easy on the eyes.
That sells. That was going to sell even before she decided to add to the drama by proclaiming herself a 30-year-old virgin, thereby earning her a pew in the cultural conversation. She looks good in advertisements. She comes across well on TV. If Jennifer Aniston can make millions of people buy bottled water, Lolo Jones can’t move Egg McMuffins?
That, of course, is an affront to some, especially certain self-appointed protectors of the Olympic flame who fancy the Games as sacrosanct. Even as the men who run the Games chase after every nickel and Euro and pound. The empty suits have full pockets, but the athletes must apologize for doing exactly the same thing?
“I don’t know why someone would attack a U.S. athlete two days before the race,” Jones said. “I know a lot of people stood up for me. It was kind of difficult this year, so I don’t know where the attacks came from. I’ve fought hard this year.”
And here’s the hard truth: This was exactly what Jones could have realistically hoped for, short of the three women above her mimicking her four-year-old pratfall. Even if she’d tied her personal best, she still would have only finished third. In a sport ruled by a cruel clock, she finished less than a quarter of a second out of the gold.
In a large way, she really did achieve redemption.
That won’t be enough for many, of course. Jones will likely never win an Olympic medal, and so some will dismiss her as a hurdling Kournikova, an ATM with great abs and little to show for them other than a checking account. Is that fair? Well let me ask you this: What was Lolo Jones supposed to say when the marketing men came calling? No?
Maybe this is the problem. Or maybe it isn’t a problem at all. Lolo Jones is still easy on the eyes. She ran a hell of a race. And she was broken up at the finish, her heart on display for the world to see. Maybe that doesn’t make you want to run out and buy a Big Mac.
But does it necessarily make you opt for a Whopper instead?
michael.vaccaro@nypost.com