Two flashes to summarize this champion’s basic character traits. On the day following her gold at the Edmonton world championships, at 8:00 a.m. in her adopted home of Cadenzano, a little girl rings the doorbell at May’s house, looking ingenuously but with stubborn, decisive emphasis for the great Fiona.

Fiona with her sweet, likeable smile that attracts so much attention and favor, especially among today’s young adolescents. It takes a lot of doing to convince the little girl that the athlete from Canada hasn’t returned home yet and that she can’t sign an autograph for her.Besides, no one succeeded in finding her, not even those who tried following her here after her second world championship (the first was at Goteborg in ’95). Not even those poor disoriented journalists, properly ignored by their illustrious compatriot who decides to escape whenever she wants from the honors of the press.
This is the other side of May’s “medal.” When she believes, rightly or wrongly, that someone in the press is prejudiced in evaluating her performances, sweet, sunny Fiona turns into cold and haughty Fiona the gymnast. So she passes by without saying hello, breaks off all contact with the press, however formal. She has said it repeatedly: it’s a lifestyle choice. At those times, Fiona May has absolutely nothing to say; she thinks only about isolating herself, concentrating on her objective and being at ease with herself. After finishing a difficult season, when the results don’t come in and when expectations for her performances are pressing and continuous, she sets off a defense mechanism, developed after many experiences and many years of activity.
She calls it “Fiona’s way.” She’s impenetrable, distant, chasing off or silencing anyone who tries to approach her. If she feels badly judged, she leaves, because she thinks she’s earned a bonus, some credit in her favor. Honor for the eight consecutive medals she won in major events from 1995 to 2001, which make her the absolute queen of the long jump. Fiona the grand champion, in short, is unaware or wants to be unaware that the role of prima donna in any field carries with it burdens and honors. In the spotlight, for better or for worse: that’s the price of popularity that doesn’t finish at the end of the track. And if she thinks the wins are hers, others, by trade or by passion, have to base themselves on her results on the track. So it’s inevitable, it’s part of the rules of the game, that some get in personal digs when her results don’t meet the enormous expectations that surround her.
Furthermore, at age 31 life and other people’s judgements are seen in a different way. Fiona May has been jumping now for 19 years, and it is legitimate to ask, and ask her, whether that spring inside her is still alive, the one that pushes her to go to the gym every day to lift weights and build up strength, and to jump to exceed her own limits. It must not be pleasant being asked that when her results are not up to par! It is a sort of forced internal analysis that an athlete knows he or she has to make but doesn’t like when others notice. Sometimes it’s difficult to hear it repeated even by the people who share the everyday stress made of small great sacrifices. Gianni Iapichino, her husband-trainer, is certainly the only one who can allow himself to examine his Fiona’s gold box and offer judgements. Rumor has it that his hard words and harsh analyses have given rise to May’s finest athletic reactions. So Fiona knows how to thank those who have contributed to her immense popularity. Born in Slough, near London, and later adopted by marriage by Italy, May has always been able to benefit even from her physical aspect. A splendid gazelle of color, representing that perfect combination of beauty and winningness, Fiona is a difficult character to manage. This is known by those who have approached her to offer her at least a dozen films, and those who have had the privilege of seeing her model their fashions on the runway.
Sometimes her reactions have left even those who love her dazed. Like the time when, to forget an athletic disappointment, instead of returning to her husband’s arms she fled to Jamaica to dad Wiston, a plumber, and her housewife mother Sarah, because she said she needed “primordial” cuddles. But she is not one to speak offhand or issue decrees. She recently announced, after the world championships that she won at Edmonton, that she wants to devote herself to her family, or rather, to build one. She’ll be back in competition to prepare for Athens 2004. So we’ll have to get used to doing without her, without her victories and without her peevish comments. She probably won’t be missed all that much by those who have been unable to understand her or unwilling to get to know her.
The real Fiona, the one capable to setting aside the impact of sporting events, is a very sweet and unpredictable woman. She is an available person, whom young children wait for outside her house in search of autographs. An person free of whims whose first choice, after a world triumph, is to greet affectionately whoever was taking care of cleaning the house and feeding the dogs in her absence.