It is certainly the most talked about.

For the first time, four of the eight competitors broke the 10-second barrier, led home by Canada's Ben Johnson, the reigning world champion and fastest man on the planet, who crossed the line in a new world record of 9.79sec, ahead of his bitter rival, Carl Lewis of the United States

But within less than three days of telling the world that nobody would ever be able to take the Olympic gold away from him, Johnson had tested positive for anabolic steroids - and had been stripped of his title. 

Lewis, who had long accused his rival of taking drugs, was declared the winner and by default became the first man to successfully defend the Olympic 100m title.

Johnson became a sporting pariah and has paid a heavy price. 

Five of the other seven athletes in the race subsequently went on to test positive or be involved in the use or supply of performance-enhancing drugs, including Lewis and Britain's Linford Christie, who was promoted to the silver medal position after Johnson's disqualification.

Among them was Desai Williams, Johnson's former training partner, who had finished sixth in that race in the South Korean capital. 

In the fallout of Johnson's positive test, Williams was among the athletes coached by Charlie Francis who admitted to having taken performance-enhancing drugs.

Williams died suddenly earlier this month with no cause having given for his death. 

He was the first of the eight finalists from that event to pass away.

In a strange twist of fate, a few days earlier, Richard Moore, author of the definitive account of that famous race, The Dirtiest Race in History: Ben Johnson, Carl Lewis and the 1988 Olympic 100m Final, had also died unexpectedly.

The phrase, "the dirtiest race in history", to describe that race have entered into everyday use and I am proud to say that I coined it in 2003 in an article I wrote for The Guardian after it emerged that Lewis had tested positive for stimulants during the 1988 US Olympic trials but had a 12-week suspension overturned by the United States Olympic Committee, allowing him to win the 100m in Seoul.

Moore's book not only focused on that race on that hot September day, which according to the author some still see as the greatest race in history. 

It dug deep down into the very soul of the two main leads in Johnson and Lewis, analysing their backgrounds from boys to men, their rise to the top - and, in Johnson's case, his fall - and charts a course in history through their compelling rivalry.

Lewis was unloved by most Americans. 

He had won four Olympic gold medals at Los Angeles 1984, matching Jesse Owens, but was not picked up by any of the major sponsors. 

Sports Illustrated called him "vain, shallow and self-absorbed" ahead of Seoul 1988. 

It was a view shared by most of his rivals. 

Having met and spoken to all eight sprinters in that race, Lewis was easily the most unlikeable and arrogant, although he could turn on the charm when necessary. 

In contrast, Johnson could not have been nicer or more accommodating when I spoke to him. 

I had been sent to Monte Carlo to interview him as the 10th anniversary of the race in Seoul approached. 

But all attempts to arrange to speak to Johnson through his management company had failed, leaving me to travel to Monaco on a wing and prayer.

I could not believe my good fortune when, going up to my room after checking into my hotel, the lift doors opened and there before me stood Johnson. 

Following a quick introduction and an explanation as to why I were there, Johnson agreed to give me half-an-hour later that day. 

My sense of foreboding that he would not turn up proved to be misplaced because, as good as his word, he met me in the lobby and gave me two hours of his time talking about a race he must already have gone over a million times.

The conversation was laced with laughter, bitterness and wild conspiracy theories involving Lewis and his entourage. 

"I knew that other people were doping, and I had the decision of whether I should do it or not," Johnson told me. 

"I felt like I needed to try and please people in my camp. 

"I felt like most of the athletes I was going to be competing against would be doing the same thing."

Like Lewis, Christie has always tried to portray himself as an anti-doping crusader, despite his chequered history. 

That included failing his own drug tests at the Seoul Olympics in 1988, when traces of the stimulant pseudoephedrine were found following his fourth place in the 200m.

Christie explained the banned substance was contained in ginseng he was taking. 

He was officially given "the benefit of the doubt" after a 11-10 decision following a marathon all-night session of the International Olympic Committee's Medical Commission. 

Four years later, Christie won the Olympic 100m in Barcelona. 

"Some thought him lucky," former British team-mate Sebastian Coe, now the President of World Athletics, later claimed about the ginseng incident. 

"Me included."

In 1999, when he claimed to be retired, but was still competing in international-level events, Christie tested positive for nandrolone - returning a positive test more than 100 times the legal limit and 1,000 times more than what is found in the average person. 

He once again blamed an over-the-counter supplement, but this time was not so fortunate and was banned for two years.

A year before his second positive test, which led to him being dropped by his long-time sponsor Puma and losing his position on the BBC athletics commentary team, Christie had been awarded £66,000 ($82,000/€78,000) by the High Court in London after successfully suing former armed robber John McVicar, who had turned to journalism following his release from prison, had accused him in a magazine article of being a "steroid athlete". (McVicar tried to get his money back after Chrisitie was banned, but without any luck). 

Christie never appreciated it being pointed out that his own record on doping was far from perfect, which is why, after I had been been called as a witness by McVicar during the case in the High Court, he was swift to take his revenge on me. 

A few weeks after winning the case, Christie took his first opportunity to throw me out of a press conference, refusing to speak until I had been escorted out of the room while all the other journalists sat there meekly, frightened that if they challenged him they would meet the same fate as me. 

Also never pleased to see me was Dennis Mitchell, the American who had finished fifth in the Seoul 1988 100m before being promoted to fourth after Johnson’s disqualification. 

That was because of my exclusive story in 1999 that he had presented scientific evidence to an appeal of the USA Track and Field that having sex four times with his wife and drinking six bottles of beer had caused his body to produce extra quantities of testosterone, which led to him failing a drugs test. 

"It was her birthday, the lady deserved a treat," he had told the panel.

The US authorities believed him, at least until the International Association of Athletics Federations - now World Athletics - pointed out that though testosterone levels can indeed rise after sex, not by that much and promptly re-imposed the ban.

When I caught up again with Johnson on the 25th anniversary of the race, he laughed heartily when I told him about the reactions of Christie and Mitchell to stories I had done about their doping.

"I do believe that most of the runners in that race were on drugs, and they tested positive over the years," Johnson told me. 

"There was too much politics and too much money involved. 

"Where there’s money, there’s corruption.”