In this age of the athlete as criminal, it is encouraging to still be shocked by so trivial an incident as a street conversation between a hurdler and a . . . well, let us skip the alliteration in the name of good taste.

Edwin Moses has been found innocent of being human, which is something we have long suspected, since no mere mortal has ever been able to run and jump over portable fences the way he can.

And how fortunate that is, not only for Moses, but for the rest of us as well. We now do not have to believe that Moses is as vulnerable as, say, a common tourist, for such a conclusion would have meant that superior muscle skills have no special value in life, except possibly to change a tire without a jack.

Our illusions are safe because Moses is a certified example that the lessons of competitive sports have not been wasted, or so a jury concluded.

True, the vindication of Moses is of no small importance in the marketplace where his image is sold, but to consider that he subjected himself to intense public scrutiny in order to keep wearing free shoes is too cynical. It is more comfortable to imagine that his good name and his excellent example were more important to him than his endorsements, which, after all, are only money and disposable.

Doubting Moses is as unthinkable as challenging the favorite argument of youth sports: It is better for a kid to be stealing second base than to be stealing hubcaps. We would much rather forget that it is possible for him to do both.

We are routinely challenged to keep faith with the world of games. Too many of our heroes are thieves and rapists and drug dealers. The arenas are full of them.

Our innocence unravels at each revelation, until our only immunity is indifference.

We have come too far from the time when Chief Justice Earl Warren could say, “I turn to the sports pages first. There I can read about man’s achievements. On the front page, I only see his failures.”

We should be grateful that when an Olympic champion is accused of soliciting a prostitute we still have the sophistication and the inclination to separate him from the line-up of scoundrels who consistently abuse our applause.

Among the crimes that most offend modern, or even ancient, society, striking a bargain for companionship has never been ranked highly enough to make a respectable post office wall.

In some places, in fact, such commerce is encouraged and taxed. In most places, it is policed with a broad wink.

Now that Moses is one of us again, a certified good citizen, we are left to marvel at the high cost of conversation, which usually does not increase the later the hour gets.

The most encouraging news to emerge from his ordeal is that Moses is ready to run the hurdles again with new enthusiasm. He is ready to go after a world record, which proves that incentive may be found in the oddest places, Sunset Boulevard certainly being one of those.

One can only hope that the next bored athlete seeking to relight his competitive fires does not resort to the Moses method. Getting arrested and standing trial is no substitute for proper diet, sensible training and a good night’s rest.

Plus, whatever achievements may be gained on the playing field must be weighed against the indelible public suspicion that follows, even if not enough of that same public is moral enough to keep the avenues of Hollywood uncluttered.

Let us not make any judgments on Moses, that having been done by the American judicial system, or what passes for it in southern California.

We can appreciate the precious irony of the whole thing. Moses has been certified a much cleaner citizen than he is an amateur athlete, and under older rules.

Justice and the sports fan have much in common. Both have to be blind.