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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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“Pret………Allez!”
On the command of the Umpire, the two fencers jocked forward and back. At first the fencer on the right moved forward, the left giving ground.
Not able to find a route forward, the Right’s momentum hesitated, allowing Left to take-up the initiative.
A few quick steps forward, Left’s Sabre flashing like an angry snake as she moved from high-line to lowline with the slight flick of a wrist.
Her footwork was exceptional….fencing jacket pristine white….mask new and expensive – Leon Paul, the leading British manufacturer rather than a German, or worse, East European import. In fact, all her equipment was Leon Paul – almost double the price of what her opponent was wearing.
A steady march forward, Left was putting Right under more and more pressure…the Fencing strip was only 14m in length, and Right was down to her last 3 metres….she’d need to do something, or get lucky, to win the point.
Left accelerated, then lunged, Sabre flashing as it reached for Right’s head. She let out a scream as she cut the Sabre down onto Right’s head.
But the attack was telegraphed….whilst her footwork and athleticism was exceptional, Left’ work from the elbow and wrist was uncultured and blunt.
Right raised her arm, her Sabre horizontal above her eyes, and blocked the attack. She had taken over the initiative, as much to her own surprise as anyone else’s.
A few quick steps forward, priority now with her having defended successfully, and she landed her hit, Sabre cutting Right across the upper hip.
“Halt…….hit Right….Right wins 15-13”
The two Fencers took their masks off….I continued watching, never seeing the Fencer on the Left before, not recognising the name on the back of her metallic jacket.
As she took her mask off, beads of sweat on her brow, Left brushed the dark blonde hair off her face. A disappointed smile exposed the dimples in her slightly freckled cheek. The two girls shook hands, saluted the sparse crowd. Left noticed me in my Ireland Coaching tracksuit, shrugged slightly, and unhooked herself from the piste. I moved forward, my hands quickly unhooking the electrics from her back, her narrow waist inches from my fingers, the warmth of her sweat radiating from her white jacket and breaches:
“I’m DS – let me help you”
“Hi – ugh, so embarrassed – should never have lost that – and with you watching of all people!!”
“Don’t worry about that – but, yeah, you should have won – how do you know who I am?”
“Doesn’t everyone here! You taught my coach, Alex”
Alex had been a pupil of mine 10 years previous. A good friend, a hard working fencer who was more perspiration than talent but who had carved out a decent set of results through sheer determination. He was now teaching in his own image – pluggers who were athletes, but with little guile.
But I had never seen this girl before…..
We walked away from the piste a few yards, the next fencers getting ready for their own semi-final bout.
“I’m over in Ireland just a few weeks….my name is Hilary…..I work for Accenture and have a contract here thanks to the madness”
“Brexit?”
“yup! Brought my kit over from London and joined Alex’s club – he’s a good coach”
“He is – good guy – listen….your footwork is exceptional….with a bit of refining, extra bladework practice, you’d notch your game up a level – Hey Alex…a new protégée??”
“Hey Boss….yeah, Hilary’s class”
“Was wondering whether she’s like to come up to the Olympic park – train with the rest of the gang – what do you think?”
“Yeah, was going to suggest the same – wanted to see how today went first – great minds, eh, Boss?”
“Well that’s settled, Hilary – Alex will give you the details – Irish team train every Tuesday in the Olympic Village. I’d love to give you some pointers, and the fencers on the team are always looking for fresh sparing partners….”
“Fantastic..!”
30mins later, freshly showered and in leggings and hoody, Hilary went up for her bronze medal. Her opponent had lost in the final to another of my students.
I went forward and congratulated my team member, and shook hands with Hilary.
“See you Tuesday…..”
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