Turkish Delight: Part 5 - The Rotten Turkish Kebab at the End of the Rainbow.

I had half hoped that my performance in the poules, I was seeded 29th, would have got me staight through to the 32 but I had to fence a match against a young Bulgarian Ivanov first.

The match was around 12 noon. I was feeling boyant after the day before and tried to keep thoughts of what was at stake out of my mind before the match. I went into it, and I'm proud of that, very calm and focused settling into the rythmn of the day before well.

The Turkish referee was making some odd calls but I had a decent lead at the half time with score at 8 - 4. The ref wasn't splitting anything in the middle and I was becoming somewhat aggitated. I took things out of the middle and moved him up and down the piste but rushed final attack and a sloppy guard meant he got me on counter attacks several times. I was becoming more and more aggitated with the refs bad decisions and as I did I wanted the match to be over, I just wanted to be done with it and began to rush things. When I reached 14 I just wanted it over... my mind was in competley the wrong place. I was thinking about the next round about getting it over rather than using my head to think how I would finish it.

I attacked at 14-11 into my opponents preparation and didn't get the point. Infuriated I rushed things and lost a point. At 14-12 I once again got the winning point - again I was robbed by the refs decision. Not thinking straight at all and feeling absolutely constricted with fury at the ref and at myself for not finishing this the score came to 14-14. Playing the percentage game I went for a tempo attack in the centre knowing he was slower than me and I could get him on timing. Not Given! And again, the same thing, this time my opponent actually stepping backwards in a counter attack as I attacked - not given. Seeing only read I attacked a final time, a sloppy half parry and one light to the Bulgarian.

I have never been so screwed over by a referee in all my life. It was all I could do to manage a half salute to him - I wanted to kill him. He had robbed me - this bastard. I told him politely and without swearing that I didn't agree with some of his decisions and walked off. Fighting the urge to kick anything in my way, fighting the urge to launch my sabre at him and then pummel him to death with my mask.

Ours was the last match of the round to finish and some of the German team had been watching. Limbach world no.3 was laughing in bemusement and shaking his head at the referees decision. The other German team members agreed that I had been robbed. The US team had been watching - robbed. The other officials and referee had seen it -robbed. Even as a write this my hair stands on end as I think about that the only one who didn't see it was that referee who robbed me of potentially my best result in fencing thus far.

But anyway I'm calm now and it's good to vent that... I needed a drink.