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It was what Ian Thorpe said before "the great revelation" last weekend that I believed was the more important issue for young men and women. It had nothing to do with sex, sexuality, lies or cover-ups. But its consequences on the next generation could be staggering if attitudes don't change - and change quickly.
In the lead-up to Thorpe's much-hyped interview, the week's news had highlighted another area of growing concern for young men and women, boys and girls. Not just elite sportspeople, or those with potential to be world champions, but the everyday hero who pulls on their footy boots, their swimming goggles or their running shoes each week.
A study by Canberra and Griffith universities, commissioned by the federal government, found that children as young as 12 were using performance-enhancing drugs and, more shockingly, parents, caregivers and coaches were condoning this practice because of the win-at-all-cost mentality that has permeated Australian sporting culture.
The expectation that he should be the happiest bloke in the world because he was the best in the world contributed to his feelings of isolation, depression and inadequacy.
On the sidelines of the junior soccer each week, on the pool deck at carnivals around the state, I've seen the proof that second place isn't an option - not from the kids themselves, but from parents.
Of course, it's nice to see the hard work of hours of training pay off with a few turns on the winner's dais, but the belief that only winners are grinners is killing junior sport in Australia.
When I was growing up, it was sportsmanship that was emphasised, the camaraderie that came from being part of a team and the joy of mastering a skill. Winning a game, a race, a tournament was an added bonus, but the best part was just being able to take part.
Thorpe said that by the time he was 15, when he stunned the world with his world-beating times, he'd accomplished the dreams he'd had as a young athlete to make the Olympics.
He said all young sportspeople have those dreams of gold medals and they shouldn't be quashed.
But unlike most kids, he realised his, and at an early age.
After that phenomenal year on the world stage, he said he felt the pressure - from coaches and the Australian public - to come up with another goal, and instead of it being something he enjoyed doing, swimming and competing became a career - and one that he didn't choose for himself.
The expectation that he should be the happiest bloke in the world because he was the best in the world contributed to his feelings of isolation, depression and inadequacy.
For myself, it wasn't Thorpe's domination in the pool that set him apart. It was his humility and his sportsmanship that made him a champion especially when compared with the more recent Australian swimming champions we have seen in the past few years.
There was none of the chest-beating, attention-grabbing antics that have prevailed in Australian swimming, or Australian sport in general, over the past five years.
He had no expectations that he should be treated with deference, or elevated to a godlike status because he could move fast through the water.
It's sad to see that rather than focusing on how sport let Thorpe down, and how there is now a prevailing attitude that there's no room for "fun" when competing, even at a grassroots level, it was assumed that his sexuality was the most important component of his rise and fall.
If Australia wants to be known as the sporting nation it once was, it's time to address what I believe is the biggest problem in attracting young people into a healthy, life-long habit of enjoying exercise.
It's not about who wins or loses, it's about how you play the game.