This wasn't supposed to happen. Marion Jones sat forward in her chair on Monday night, right up against the press conference mike, explaining that Zhanna Pintusevich-Block of Ukraine was the better sprinter today. "I'm not a sore loser," Jones said evenly. "Zhanna ran a great race and she deserved the gold."

Once the reporters turned their attention to the new 100-meter world champ, Jones moved back in her chair and stared blankly ahead. Nike's golden girl refused to appear fazed or upset, instead retreating to a sort of klieg-light catatonia. As Pintusevich-Block declared how amazing it felt to beat the great Marion, the great Marion seemed unable to hear anything at all. But when Zhanna couldn't understand instructions to respond in her "native tongue" after first answering in English, Marion snapped into action. "You can talk to that reporter in Ukranian now," she interjected helpfully, before returning to her numbed state.

Jones couldn't hide there for long.

A reporter from the back of the room asked, "You haven't lost a final since '97 -- have you forgotten how to act?"

Marion moved toward the mike in silence, blinking several times while processing the question. She had just been called out from behind her calm façade.

"You mean, for a loss?" she asked hesitantly. And as she heard herself say the word "loss" aloud, her expression changed. For a moment, her face softened and her eyes seemed full. But it was only for that moment.

"No," she said emphatically, perhaps as much in response to the question as to the part of her that wanted to show her emotions. "You guys know me. I'm the same when I win or when I lose."

There were no tears. There were no excuses. And Marion had a thoughtful and articulate response to every question. But it wasn't the same.

E-mail Anne Marie Cruz at anne.marie.cruz@espnmag.com.