Feelings of Inadequacy

Marcos recently posted the following note on the Irish Fencing forum:

For those who weren't there - I was awesome

I hadn't fenced Epee since December 1994, my knee was still sore from tendonitis, and I had given all my Epee equipment to my younger brother (a glove and a bodywire)...however, Joanne was working that Saturday morning so I thought, as I'm going to be coaching in UCD next season, I might as well have a bash, to kill time and remind myself how to hold the shagging thing...

Warming-up with Fabrice beforehand did nothing to dispel the illusion I was shite - he beat me easily 10-2...apparently I was doing pretty much everything wrong.

Drawn in a poule with Profit, Halloran, Daly, & Robert Murray, it was very conceivable, given that they are all Epee-ists (with Eric and Keith in particular no slouches) that I would scrape out the poule with just the 1 win.

However, destiny took hold as I picked up my borrowed blade (thanks Fabrice)...first up was Keith who, after a bruising and physical bout, was defeated 5-4.

Robert Murray was dispatched 5-2 before Eric Profit and I met on the field of battle.

I took imediate control of the bout, dictating the game to my own pace, taking his blade, beating it out the way then, as he tried to run, stabbing him through the heart with the gusto of a musketeer. At 3-1 up I jeered at him, beckoning him on to try his luck, but he was unequal to the challenge, 5-2 the end score.

Last was Dan "Duet" Daly - but there was little at this point that would indicate how he would take the Duet by storm later in the day. Another virtuoso performance and Daly lay at my feet, killed 5-3.

Which all put me as second seed.

Murray was dispatched to 5 in the first DE, then drawn against the Malaysian langer Sheng, who had beaten Dan Daly 1-0 in a tense (boring as fcuk) 10minute bout.

Sod that for a game of hide the ferret, I thought, and proceded to run at him, sometimes taking his blade, sometimes becoming impaled on his sword - live by the sword, die by it was the moto, and by the first break we'd scored 1400% more points in 3mins than Sheng and Dan had managed in 10mins.

Sheng was 8-6 ahead, but I had a secret weapon - the serene wisdom of Keith Halloran came like the sun through my fog of war. Once again I donned my mask, picked up my sword and attacked. Blades flashed through the air, and time and again my sword ran true - true enough to win 15-11 anyway.

With Nial Lindon, the 3rd seed, and a decent, skilled, and tall Epee-ist in the semi, I commented to my comrade in arms PBH that I though the adventure was over.

However, employing the same tactics used to defeat Profit I took no prisoners, going 6-4 up in as many seconds.

but then disaster....

a feint attack, a retreat, then an explosive fleshe that Lindon parried, but I had landed heavily on my injured knee. Uncertain now in my attack, indecisive in my retreat, Lindon got a series of soft hits...at 11-8 down my body was in pain, my heart had admitted defeat, and my sabre instincts frustrated as Lindon controlled the pace of the - aside from a brief rally, Lindon walked the rest.

and so I lay defeated, like the Sundance kid, a glorious adventure ended by an inglorious and swift death.

The last time, in 12/94, I had held an Epee was to win bronze in the Madrid version of the Dublin Epee...almost ten years later, the battlefield had changed, the language of the combatants had changed, but my tactics remained, and the final colour of the medal was the same...

Perhaps I should quit this Blog malarchy and hand the reigns over to Marcos...