Whenever there's a report of a mysterious seizure, an unexplained car accident or a strange rape accusation involving an athlete, I wonder: Was the drug GHB involved?

Because in sports these days, "mysterious" and "GHB" go together like pick-and-roll or bump-and-run; trainers and players will whisper about it, but official policy is mostly don't ask, don't tell.

	Recipe for disaster.

Unless the sports community starts doing a better job explaining how dangerous this chemical is, athletes and the people around them are increasingly going to deal with another pair of words -- "suffering" and "death."

GHB, short for gamma hydroxybutyrate, is known to the public mostly as a "date rape" drug, and rape is the main reason the drug and its chemical analogs were classified by Congress in 2000 as Schedule I controlled substances -- just like cocaine and heroin. The outcome of the Darrell Russell rape case, if it goes to trial, will be determined largely by whether a jury believes the alleged victim was under the influence of GHB.

What is GHB?

From Double Exposure, in the current issue of ESPN The Magazine. A colorless, odorless liquid originally developed as an anesthetic, GHB has developed a collection of cult followings. For ravers, a gulp or two can feel like drinking a six-pack, minus the calories. (Dose it right, and you forget your inhibitions to the point where you don't care whom or what you're having sex with. Dose it wrong -- as some users do -- and you forget how to breathe; you can end up in a coma, or dead.) Bodybuilders believe G stimulates production of human growth hormone and, thus, leads to bigger muscles. Insomniacs say it helps them sleep. And date-rapists use it to incapacitate and erase the memories of victims. The only drawback, besides the comas and the fact that it's illegal, is that GHB is more dangerously addictive than heroin, with potentially lethal withdrawal symptoms. Safely detoxing requires a 10- to 15-day hospital stay, medical experts say.

The same goes for a civil suit filed in Las Vegas last December in which a Seattle woman alleges four NFL players -- including Charlie Batch and Dedric Ward -- drugged and sexually assaulted her. The players angrily denied the accusation and pointed out that Vegas police investigated and chose to file no charges.

Unfortunately, rape allegations are only the tip of the GHB iceberg. Thanks to modern chemistry, modern legislation and demands on modern athletes, the drug is moving deeply into sports, in a variety of ways.

The most troubling is G's use as a bodybuilding tool. Weight-room folklore has it that GHB taken just before bedtime helps release human growth hormone: a way to grow muscles while you sleep.

There's no good evidence of this, but that hasn't stopped untold numbers of gym rats from trying the stuff. (Until two years ago, the law didn't stop them either; chemical analogs of GHB, which convert to G when ingested, were allowed to be sold over the counter as nutritional supplements.)

What evidence clearly shows is that GHB and its analogs are highly addictive. Researchers are finding GHB withdrawal is as difficult as coming off heroin, and even more dangerous. Without proper medical treatment, GHB addicts can die of stroke and heart failure while trying to quit.

Addicts I interviewed for a series of stories in the New York Daily News say the symptoms are so painful, you feel like killing yourself. That's what David Fox thinks happened to his son, Mike Fox, a fitness trainer whose best client was also his good friend, the Mets' Mike Piazza. Mike Fox got hooked on GHB and fatally shot himself in his California apartment in the fall of 2000. Piazza carried his friend's coffin.

Another way GHB has entered sports is as a sleep aid. One major league trainer told me minor leaguers often use it to cope with the grind of overnight bus trips. "Probably every trainer in America, from college on up, has seen it," he said.

Suns forward Tom Gugliotta almost died after taking an over-the-counter supplement called GBL to help him sleep. Unbeknownst to him, it was a GHB analog. Late in 1999, he collapsed on the Suns' team bus after a game in Portland. EMTs responded quickly, but he needed five hours on a respirator before coming out of a coma. Doctors told him if he'd been on the team plane and unable to get quickly to a hospital, he'd be dead.

That GHB can slow or stop your breathing isn't news on the club scene. Federal statistics show G has sent more people to emergency rooms than Ecstasy.

But even as the drug's popularity grows among young people, experts say many overdoses go unreported, or unrecognized, by emergency workers and law enforcement. Addicts say they've blacked out while driving under the influence of GHB, but because they can pass a breathalyzer test, they often get away with only a reckless driving summons. Finding the truth in alleged rape cases is difficult as well, because GHB cycles out of the body in 12 hours.

What's especially troubling is, sports leagues seem slower to recognize the potential problems than the rest of society. The NFL has issued a health alert to its teams about GHB, but doesn't test for it, even though it's an illegal drug used both as a muscle builder and a narcotic. "We take the lead from our professionals in the field," says Stacy Robinson of the NFL Players Association. "But when you're not in the field dealing with it every day, you're always behind."

Other leagues are even further behind. With drug policies focused on cocaine and pot, and little knowledge of what young athletes today are using, it's as if the leagues' education and treatment programs are fighting with horse-drawn cannons in an era of laser-guided smart bombs.

The people who run sports are squeamish about drugs, and rarely react until some major scandal breaks out. The NBA did little about drugs until Len Bias died of a cocaine overdose. Major League Baseball's front office was all but silent about steroids until Ken Caminiti squealed.

Yet GHB is just as dangerous, if not more so, than either coke or 'roids. And vast numbers of young people are using it. For once, it would be nice if the leagues got out front and began speaking openly with athletes about a drug -- before they're forced into reacting, too late, by suffering and death.

Luke Cyphers is a senior editor of ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at luke.cyphers@espnpub.com