Lawrence Okolie, a once overweight hamburger flipper from north London who has put away his psychology books for a while to study the less cerebral art of boxing, epitomises all that is good about amateur boxing – and on Monday night he left the Olympics with a defeat but the respect of a very good Cuban.
Four years ago in London Erislandy Savón, bearer of one of the most famous surnames in Cuban boxing, did not quite deliver for his uncle Felix in the super-heavyweight division against Anthony Joshua – although some good judges thought the Watford novice fortunate to win their first-round bout and go on to get gold.
Joshua, of course, is unbeaten as a professional, owns a version of the world title and is well on his way to being a millionaire; Savón is still punching for free, this time down at the 91kg limit. And this time another Great Britain opponent of limited experience stood in his way, bravely too.
There was no doubt whom the Brazilians wanted to win, roaring: “Cuba! Cuba!” throughout, but the underdog paid them no heed. He launched heavy jabs and right crosses at his celebrated opponent without much regard for the quality return fire and, inevitably Savón took a unanimous decision.
But Okolie, who has had a mere 26 bouts, profited from the experience despite a first-round knockdown and may yet blossom into a serious talent.
The rhythm of amateur boxing – and that of an Olympic tournament, as it happens – is about as far removed from professional scrapping as Rio is from London. There is an inbuilt almost conveyor belt air about proceedings, the contestants ushered on and off the stage with tick-tock efficiency to take their bruises and then leave smiling or full of regret.
Joshua Kelly, a young man in a hurry who glides round a ring with hands down but loaded with the urgency demanded of the three by three-minute rounds format, got the tempo exactly right in his welterweight contest against Walid Mohammed.
The Sunderland stylist – who revealed later he had spent two days in bed with a virus – was as pleasing on the eye as he was hurtful on the eyes of his bemused target from Cairo, and fully deserved the 30-27 margin each of the three judges bestowed on him.
A few months ago, just after Dr Wu, the head of AIBA, announced that pros could box at these Olympics, Chris Eubank Sr phoned Robert McCracken inquiring whom he should contact to get his boy on the plane to Rio. McCracken, the director of coaching for the 12-strong British team, informed him the squad was all but picked and, anyhow, Antony Fowler had secured the middleweight spot his son wanted. Eubank, no doubt, knew that – but he got a few headlines out of it for Junior.
So the Liverpudlian Fowler, Robbie’s 25-year-old cousin, had something to prove when he stepped into the ring here against a Scrabble gift from Kazakhstan, Zhanibek Alimkhanuly. After nine minutes of pain and disappointment he was one of the dejected, dumped in the second round and heavily outscored in a desperate finish.
Fowler, bleeding from the nose and a cut on his forehead, stuck to his task but needed a knockout in the third. Drained and anxious, he could not find the required ammunition. The Kazakh was well worth his victory, by two margins of 30-26 and one of 30-27.
“I knew when I saw the draw I was up against it,” Fowler said. “He was world champion a few years back. I thought I won the first round, definitely, then he caught me with a shot. I didn’t see it. After that I was chasing the game. It wasn’t meant to be. I’ve lost to a few southpaws the last few years.”
Could Eubank have done better? Maybe not. Alimkhanuly looks as hard to beat as he is to spell.
