Break. A single word prevented David Haye from today being feted as a world champion. The fine line that governs success and failure was wafer thin in Belfast on Saturday night. England had never won a medal of any description in the history of the World Boxing Championships. At the weekend they won two, Carl Froch securing a bronze and Haye, a silver.
It was the latter who was tantalised by gold. In the final of the heavyweight (91kg) division, Haye faced an onerous assignment against an unbackable favourite in Cuban Odlanier Solis. Haye had lost in his first bout at the light heavyweight grade in last year's Olympics, Solis, the 21-year-old tyro, had a victory over the Cuban legend Felix Savon.
There appeared as if there would be very little solace for Haye, his opponent showing scant regard for the Englishman's punching power as he waded in to finish matters quickly. Then came the punch, a right uppercut. Solis eyes glazed over, his legs buckled and he staggered backwards: the fact that he was not now unconscious on his back, was a tribute to his conditioning and chin.
Haye had one final opportunity but his straight left sailed harmlessly over the head of the wobbling Cuban before the referee screamed "break" and in accordance with the rules of amateur boxing gave the Cuban a standing count. Solis's senses were still a little scrambled but he survived the round, before proceeding to stop a patently knackered Haye in the third.
In watching this drama unfold, one wished that BBC television had not relegated the action from championships to the graveyard shift. The nightly action that culminated in the finals at the weekend was frustratingly bitty, all the more vexing because of the fact that the Ireland team acquitted themselves so superbly.
Six Irish boxers made the last eight, a phenomenal achievement. Unfortunately the captain, James Moore, was the only one to secure a medal, a bronze. Given that the programme enjoyed a half an hour slot from 11.30pm to midnight, those with a desire to watch some of the Irish boxers had to be content with a snippet in a roundup and that extended to English, Scottish and Welsh contenders.
While Jim Neilly's commentary, punctuated by analysis from Wayne McCullough, was easy on the ear, the same could not be said of the studio discussion. The choice of Mark Bright, the former soccer player, as an anchorman didn't really work: there are only so many times in the course of a week that you can say, "that was a great punch wasn't it."
McCullough was much more proficient as a co-commentator; indeed the various panellists rarely offered an insight not discernible from the action. Therein lay the problem. Too much talk and not enough action.
It was an accusation that could be levelled at the BBC's coverage of the Epsom Derby or `The Derby' as Sue Barker might say on Saturday. Aside from low-key and brief snippets, Football Focus and Athletics Focus, the Grandstand programme was devoted to Derby day. Filling the time between races could well have been labelled Soft Focus.
Fashion guru Jeff Banks was on hand to talk about the mauves, pinks and cerises, while a batch of Eastenders cast members were wheeled out to prolong the preamble. Willie Carson's annoying nasal whine grated at intervals, with his most prolonged cameo being an interview with Pat Eddery in what appeared to be a closely mown back garden.
The BBC's professionalism shone through the whole programme but for all but the diehards of racing, the action - ie the racing - came as a blessed relief. Even Irish jockey Johnny Murtagh's voiceover on a computer graphic of the Derby course was a bit limp. In contrast on BBC 2 at the same time the French Open Tennis Championships women's final between Jennifer Capriati and Kim Klijsters offered a panacea for those who prefer the scent of blood.
It was a compelling duel , not necessarily in quality but more attributable to the frailties of a teenager in her first Grand Slam final and a 25-year-old American who has firmly consigned the drugs and shop-lifting nightmare to the periphery. Auntie's handling of the tennis was as ever flawless, sharp and incisive.
Back on BBC 1, the tension was mounting. Aidan O'Brien, the master of Ballydoyle, a shy and self effacing individual, would have blushed to his oxters, had he heard the references to "his genuis" and "magical hands" - and the race hadn't even started yet. When it did, Galileo, under the guidance of Michael Kinane, offered a model to professionalism, perfectly placed until ripping the heart out of the elite field from three furlongs out. Time for superlatives, in this instance appropriate whether referring to jockey, trainer or the animal itself.
Despite winning 116-10 on Friday, the Lions had little inclination to celebrate. The first match of their 10-game tour of Australia, was a salutary reminder that amateurs and professionals should not mix in a competitive arena.
Western Australia got whacked at the WACA. The contest was over within a matter of minutes, allowing commentator Miles Harrison to thumb the record books. Former Australian great Michael Lynagh when asked beforehand what would constitute a good performance in points terms stated: "about a point a minute."
The Lions gorged themselves. It was difficult to watch and the conversation of the commentary team of Harrison and Stuart Barnes strayed to days and weeks ahead, before returning to catalogue the latest try scorer. Graham Simmons pounded the touchline eking out titbits while three-times Lions coach Ian McGeechan and Dewi Morris surveyed the carcass in the studio.
No need for any forensics. This was a monumental mismatch. Only the presence of six Irish players - Jeremy Davidson and Rob Henderson were introduced from the replacement bench - raised the interest quotient slightly. The tour proper only gets going next Saturday and only then is the Sky Sports package worth unwrapping.
