Greece in shock as hero spoils the party

His Olympic victory was quite unforgettable, more unexpected even than when his footballing compatriots won the recent European Championship, but it was the bizarre post-victory scenes which remain most indelibly imprinted on the mind.

In his finest hour, reporters, for long suspicious about dramatic improvements by Greek sprinters, asked pointed questions to him about how a runner whose only previous-impact on the international scene was to finish third in a European Cup race could have made such an incredible breakthrough.

When asked how often he had been drug tested, Kenteris's coach, Christos Tzekos, then suddenly interrupted the press conference, refusing to let his charge speak for himself. "He's been tested three or four times in Greece this year," growled Tzekos. "Satisfied now?"

We weren't. It then emerged that this was the same volatile coach who, three years earlier, was involved in a scuffle at a hotel in Dortmund when he prevented four of his Greek athletes from providing samples for an international testing officer and received a two-year ban.

Then, two years ago, Tzekos received another caution after having to explain to the Greek Federationwhy Kenteris and his training partner Thanou, the Olympic 100m silver medallist who the previous year had been accused of being "not clean" by one sprint rival, were supposed to be training in Crete when they were actually in Qatar. Under IAAF rules, athletes must report their location for out-of-competition drug testing.

The point is that, even though neither athlete has ever tested positive, they have both been involved in enough testing mix-ups for suspicions to be raised.

When that is put alongside Kenteris's extraordinarily sparing but successful racing programme - he has only had one Grand Prix race outside Greece in the four years since Sydney, yet has still added the world and European 200m crowns to his collection - it is little wonder so many of his rivals privately talk with incredulity about him.

Kenteris has always just brushed the controversy aside and his country has loved him unreservedly. The ferry from here to his home island of Lesbos is named after him and he reckons he is handsomely enough rewarded by the Greek Federation - his three titles brought him bonuses of over £270,000 - to stay at home and focus everything on "earning glory for my country". Only it's not glory now; it could well be shame.

It seems almost certain that he cut his training spell in Chicago short so he could take up the ultimate honour of lighting the cauldron.

Yet it always would have been a controversial choice, if an appropriate one, after a build-up to the Games in which one question has nagged away more urgently than ever before. That is, are we really going to be able to believe what we will see at these Olympics?

Already this week, there has been a numbing sensation about the spate of drugs test failures reported even before athletes have bedded into the Village. A Spanish canoeist, a Belgian mountain biker, an Irish distance runner, a Swiss cyclist, two Greek baseball players, a Kenyan boxer, three unnamed Russians. Good grief; all it needed was the obligatory US sprinter and Bernard Williams obliged as the dope who tested positive for dope.

Yet what now if this unprecedented drama ended up somehow being the defining symbol of the first Games in which a genuine concerted, widespread effort, even from the previously feet-dragging Americans, was made to really combat the doping curse? What if Kenteris's unfolding Greek tragedy ended up offering proof that IOC President Jacques Rogge's "zero tolerance" is not just a catchy soundbite?

But it is simply impossible not to feel sympathy for Athenians here today. When in Sydney, Kenteris became Greece's first male athlete to land gold since Spiridon Louis's triumph in the first modern Olympic marathon, a nation smiled when others asked "who the Hellas is he?".

Now the world knows the name Kostas Kenteris, it doesn't seem so funny any more.