Skye Nicolson left the woman standing opposite her battered and bruised in Tokyo, and there was something you simply had to admire.
The cruel reality of the Olympics is you can spend four years – or in this case, five – training for something only to have it ripped away from you in seconds.
For swimmers competing in 50m races or sprinters on the track, one tiny mistake can crush your dream before it’s ever really begun.
With that in mind, nine minutes may seem like a long time. That’s how long boxers in Tokyo are given to either knock their opponent out or convince the judges they deserve to fight another day.
In the world of amateur boxing, bouts comprise of three, three-minute rounds – a far cry from the professional realm where men’s fights can go for 12 rounds of three minutes each.
But whereas sprinters and swimmers may have even smaller windows to nail their skills, at least they’re not getting the absolute snot beaten out of them in the process. Imagine flying halfway around the world, getting punched in the head for nine minutes (or even less) then hopping back on a plane to lick your wounds.
Thankfully, that was never part of the plan for Skye Nicolson.
The 2018 Commonwealth Games gold medallist, who also won bronze at the 2016 World Championships, was determined to strut her stuff in Tokyo, her desire to fight not dimmed one bit by the 12-month postponement.
Gifted a bye in the opening round, Nicolson faced Im Aeji of South Korea on Monday night in her first ever Olympic bout inside a stadium more used to hosting crowds for sumo wrestling matches.
Although she admitted to some ring rust, having not fought in 18 months because of the pandemic, Nicolson was as clinical as she could have hoped, though somewhat surprisingly won by split decision rather than a unanimous one.
After a cagey opening where both fighters felt each other out, Nicolson landed some slick combinations and rocked Aeji with the best punch of the night when her left hand made sweet contact on the button.
The Aussie maintained her upper hand in the third round to progress and keep her medal hopes alive.
But for Aeji, her Olympic dream was shattered in just nine minutes.
Olympic boxing is easy to appreciate
Boxing at the Olympics is a far cry from what you’ll see when you fork out $50 to watch a Deontay Wilder vs Tyson Fury pay-per-view. The very top echelon of the pro ranks is defined by obscene amounts of money and the type of cringe-worthy, concocted drama normally reserved for The Bold and the Beautiful.
From fake, childish insults to threats of cancellation because the gloves aren’t the right shade of red or – heaven forbid – one wants to walk out after the other, the cash in professional boxing is made before the fighters even step into the ring. That means a whole Hollywood production is needed to convince the public they should care enough to cough up for a pay-per-view.
Olympic boxing is a world away from that. The Games are the pinnacle for most sports – though not all, it must be said – and watching two amateurs beat the living daylights out of each other for no more than nine minutes carries with it a certain appeal you don’t get in the big time.
Even without Covid-19 restrictions limiting the amount of spectators in attendance, one doesn’t get the feeling boxing would draw the biggest crowd at an Olympics. The silence during Monday night’s bouts was pierced in eardrum-shattering fashion by boisterous teammates yelling out support from the top tier of Tokyo’s Kokugigan Arena. At least we hope it was support. If this reporter were fighting, he would have found the advice from the back-seat drivers more annoying than helpful.
Though we would never want to encourage violence, there’s a beautiful simplicity to Olympic boxing which, like we said, you don’t find on pay TV.
Boxing has its problems – allegations of corruption are rife at almost every level. But for nine minutes there are no staged press conference stunts, no diamond chains and no entourages of hangers-on desperately trying to ride the coat-tails of someone more talented than they.
Olympic boxing is pure — at least when it comes to the physical side of things inside the ring. The sport’s sometimes seedy underworld may always linger in the background but that can be put aside when watching brave souls who fight for love over money.
In a largely empty stadium, the sound of gloves on ribs echo more than they would in a packed house in Vegas. Each grunt and gasp of air Nicolson took could be heard, as could the squeak of her shoes on the canvas and the thump of her right hook landing flush on her opponent’s chin.
Let’s hope to hear plenty more of her in Tokyo.