Do you ever get the feeling that our attitude towards sport and athletes is trapped in some sort of virtual time-warp? At least that was my initial response to Graydon Carter's thought-provoking editorial in the latest issue of Vanity Fair which compared the double standards we apply to sports as opposed to other aspects of human endeavour.
"When an actor gives a cocaine-fuel[l]ed, Oscar-winning performance, do we take his award away? Do we reclaim a singer's Grammy, or put an asterisk after it in the record books, when we discover that he was ramped up on illegal substances? Why all the outrage over athletes?" he asked.
"Let's face it, who among us wouldn't take a pill or potion that would make us better at our job? Goodness knows, we abuse substances for just about everything in our personal lives; why not in our professional lives as well?"
They're all good questions and ones that - in light of Ostapchuk's emergence as our public enemy number one - New Zealanders may not be well placed to consider objectively. But if we can set aside the fact that a shot-putting drug-cheat initially claimed Valerie Adams' rightful Olympic gold medal, Carter's provocative words just might have substance.
There's surely something a little bit 1950s about our insistence that athletes and their urine samples are pure as the driven snow. Just like the advice to housewives about making themselves presentable when their husbands return home after a hard day at the office, our obsession with keeping performance-enhancing drugs out of sport verges on being quaint and old-fashioned.