Onomastus of Smyrna was the first known boxing champion, seven centuries before our era. In addition to delivering the most destructive punches of his time, Onomastus codified the rules of a discipline that is basically the same as that practiced yesterday in the evening of the grand boxing final held in a ring that the organizers of the Paris Games decided to set up on the clay of the noblest tennis court in continental Europe. The one located at the back of the Philippe Chartier stadium, the central venue of Roland Garros. A monument to the French bourgeoisie that yesterday became a stronghold for the nomadic peoples of Central Asia, summoned here to the sound of drums to idolize the Uzbek idol Bahodir Jalolov.
It was enough to see him exit from the back of the court where Rafa Nadal used to exit to understand why nobody gave a damn about the Spaniard Ayoud Ghadfa Drissi el Aissaoui. The top-category fight, reserved for men over 92 kilos, continued with all its prescribed ritual throughout the three regular rounds. Jalolov walked around the ring as if it were his living room while stretching out his endless right arm, measuring the distances, and threatening with his left, throwing exhibition blows that were more than punitive, like someone laying the groundwork for a warning. The material possibility that something very unpleasant would happen if his glove connected with a living being, transformed the episode into something almost friendly. Ayoud Ghadfa already had the silver medal, it was not a question of taking things beyond the point of no return. After three rounds it could be said that each one fulfilled his role in an atmosphere of Spanish-Uzbek brotherhood.
When eight of the nine judges scored in favour of the two-time world champion and reigning Olympic champion, the public celebrated without joy or bewilderment. It was written. Gold for Jalolov, silver for Ayoud Ghadfa, and music for everyone. Where once there was a temple of proverbial discretion, capital of racket and know-how, A kind of Asian discotheque was set up. Covered by a canopy, the Philippe Chartier was lit up with red lights. The Uzbeks sang Rasputin by Boney M. in chorus. A macabre wink. The PA system played Life is Life by Opus and Jump Around by House of Pain. As soon as they could, all the IOC volunteers ran to have their photos taken in the ring. The scene was certainly exotic.
Ayoud Ghadfa Drissi el Aissaoui, born in Marbella 25 years ago to Moroccan parents, won Spain’s second boxing medal in Paris, after Emanuel Reyes won bronze in the 92kg category. This is the biggest Spanish haul in the history of Olympic boxing. Ayoud and Emanuel follow on the podium the pioneer, Enrique Rodríguez, who won bronze in Munich 1972, and Rafael Lozano, who now coordinates the preparation of all Spanish boxers for these Games. Without the insight of Lozano, who won a bronze in Atlanta and a silver in Sydney, today’s medallists would not have come so far.
The hustle and bustle was full. There was little excitement. Everything was happening in an atmosphere of thunderous predictability. There was joy. Boxing was said to have been introduced to the modern Games in 1904, in St. Louis. According to the archives, there were only medal winners born in the United States: 18 in all categories. Since the disintegration of the Soviet Union, history has returned to its course. Olympic boxing, like the boxing that Onomasto imported from Anatolia to Europe 27 centuries ago, remains an essentially Asian sport. That seems to be the case, judging by the crowds of Kazakhs, Kyrgyz, Tajiks, Turkmens and Uzbeks who responded to the call of the Bois de Boulogne.
The Silk Road led to the stands surrounding the clay court, covered with tarpaulins and black polymer sheets. In the centre, the ring, and around it, the strange world. The sound of the crowd was reminiscent of the desert, the steppe, the Altai Mountains, Samarkand and Bukhara. Only the Bactrian camels were missing. When the fights were over, the winners were carried on their shoulders. The Games reserve a place of glory for everyone, as strange as it may seem.
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