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GOOD DAY: Venessa Turner and Marisa Taylor and Trudy Simpson

A FEW months ago, when I failed to get Olympic tickets to the 100m final starring my fellow Jamaican Usain Bolt, I was heartbroken.

However, my friends and I decided the Olympics could not be literally on our doorstep and we miss out on a chance to see it.

So like my friends, I turned to a sport to which I had never paid attention – Fencing. When I told people I knew I was going to see a fencing match, their eyebrows would go up or they would blatantly laugh.

My friends reported the same. After all, I did not know a single Jamaican who was keen on fencing.

With my two friends, I signed up for the Women’s Individual Foil and turned up at the Excel centre in London on Saturday evening (July 28) not knowing what to expect.

The centre in East London was awash with people going through airport style security, manned by soldiers and volunteers. As my bag and I went through the scanners, I told myself that no matter what, I would have some fun.

If things went south – and the event was a yawn - at least I could say I had been to London 2012.

What I got was an eye opener that soon sucked me in, kept my attention for more than two hours and nearly had me biting my nails.

The Excel’s South Arena 1 was nearly full but with few black faces and an overwhelming array of Italian fans. 
“Italia. Italia,” they screamed, their chant rising to a crescendo before falling.

With their blue hair and their waving flags, it was soon clear to me that Italy was here to dominate the sport, on and off centre field.

They had three competitors, fencing champions who made it clear during their matches they were here to do the serious business of winning.

Among them was a woman dubbed a legend, Valentina Vezzali. For the bronze medal match, she battled Korea’s Nam Hyun Hee. In their white fencing garb, they faced each other, grimly determined to score up to 15 points needed to win in the 11 or so minutes allotted.

They reminded me of matadors, showing grace and style as they danced around each other, lunging forward or backing away, twisting and dodging as they sought to score points by touching their opponents with the point of the sword.
They executed moves so quickly that at times I had to check the replay, on giant screen overhead, just to see how each opponent had scored.

To my surprise, I found my heart racing and my mind engaged in cheering for Nam Hyn Lee, who had found a supporter in one of my friends. My friend whispered to me that she chose to support Nam Hyn Lee as an under dog because Italian fans outnumbered Korean supporters in the stands.

Nam Hyn Lee raced ahead. My friend kept calling encouragement to her as her Italian opponent battled back. With each minute that passed, the Italian crept closer and closer, battling back from being several points down.

Soon they were neck and neck – and I was almost sweating.

“Hang in there,” I shouted.

The buzzer sounded, outlining the official match time had ended, with both at 12 points each– and now the match was in sudden death. Just one point, one point would decide who would get a medal and who would not.

Silence crept over the area, I and others leaned forward in our seats. My breath was in my throat.

In the shadow somewhere, a voice said: “Engarde, Pret, Allez” and the women surged forward to battle, swords parrying or lunging furiously.

Then suddenly, the lights were flashing, the Italian was celebrating and my friend Marisa was clutching me in fresh heartbreak as the Korean left the stage without a medal.

My breath returned. The match announcer was saying we had seen a comeback for the Italian, history in the making.

There was a short break, rock filled the arena and the spectators and I clapped in time to it. When it ended, we moved onto the top event of the night – the fight for the gold medal.

Two Italians, Eliza Di Francisca and Arianna Errigo faced each other to wild cheers from their fans.

As soon as they hear “Allez” they are off, circling each other like wary tigers, working out strategy, making contact and scoring points where they can. The scoring lights now flashed so fast, I had to keep checking the replay screen to see how the hits were made.

Di Francisca took the lead, to the distress of my other friend Venessa, who had declared her support for Errigo. But Errigo was a fighter, who made her way back and soon overtook Di Francisca. My friend was smiling. I teased her about being a talent spotter.

The game remained close with Errigo just slightly ahead but as the match got close to the end, Di Francisca scored and the stands erupted into a roar. When the official match time ran out, they stood together 11 to 11 – and my friends and I are in another sudden death match.

Tension skyrocketed. I felt my shoulders clench. Like my friend, I was leaning towards Errigo. But in a few minutes, the light flashed, contact was made and there was a roar from the crowd.

I looked at my friend. It was more sadness for us, as Errigo lost out to Di Francisca and ended up getting the silver. But, in appreciation to top competitors who gave us an exciting match, we rose to our feet alongside the crowd and applauded the excellent fencers.

As I watched the victory ceremony, which was held soon after, I felt glad that my friends and I had decided to go for something different, to choose a sport we were not used to.

Would I see it again? Yes. Was it worth my money? Yes. And yes, I am now sorry I did not book more tickets for Olympic sports I do not know.