BOXING:FRIDAY AT the Workers' Gymnasium. A drama in three parts. It started in a sombre way but with no undertow of despair.

Darren Sutherland, late in the afternoon session, never came to light. The Irish contingent in the bucket seats stayed there, attempting the odd chorus to rouse their man. From behind the press area a lone English voice bellowed again and again at James DeGale: "C'mon, Chunky, lad, c'mon."

DeGale, the Londoner Sutherland had beaten four times in five encounters, fought a smarter fight from the beginning. He did what he announced he would do after the quarter-finals. He floated and he danced. He picked Sutherland off with punches again and again.

By the end of two rounds Sutherland trailed by four points to one and had work to do. Normally competent in dealing with southpaws, he seemed flummoxed by DeGale's ability to switch hit and suffered damage again and again from the Englishman's right.

By the third round we expected Sutherland to turn it into a brawl, as he needed points to close the gap.

His timing was off, however, and every time he opened his shoulders his guard vanished. In moments DeGale's lead stretched from 4-1 to 8-1 and the bout was beyond rescue.

The aftermath was more perplexing than the fight though. Both boxers danced into the mixed zone as if they had won. DeGale to the English tape-recorders, Sutherland to the Irish.

"You don't even need to hug me, I'm delighted," chirped Darren.

"I can beat anyone in the world and now the weight's perfect, my head's perfect. It's lovely," announced DeGale yards away, pulling up his vest to show the English media his six pack.

The sets of media exchanged uneasy glances.

"At the end of the day," said Darren, "a medal was beyond my wildest dreams. I came here to perform and stay true to my values. I like to get stuck in and fight. And that's what I did.

"Unfortunately he didn't want to get involved. He used the tactics that he did, what he had to do to win."

Across the little corridor we could hear James DeGale camping the moment. Larging it.

"It was easy. I'm so fit. Four rounds is nothing. It's a walk in the park for me. I think it's the best I have looked. Was it the best I looked? It was nice. I enjoyed it."

We look at Darren. DeGale had done what he had to do to win. We sort of wondered what was wrong with doing what he had to be done to win.

We could tell by Billy Walsh's briary face that the question wasn't a million miles from his thoughts either.

But this was Darren Sutherland's journey. It ended with a bronze medal. He was entitled to pick the snapshots he liked from it. His thoughts are already on the pro game.

"You might say a win is a win. On the stage everyone knows who they are going to pay to watch. And that's me. I couldn't have done any more. Everything was spot on. My preparation coming to this tournament was great. I am happy. I wish him the best of luck in the finals. I get out of the ring every time and I can look at myself in the mirror and I have done myself proud."

So we tossed him a soft hypothetical. If it were a pro fight, who would win?

"In the pro ranks it wouldn't even last," said Darren. "He knows it himself. I will fight whoever they put in front of me. I will always give 100 per cent. You get value for money with me."

Darren danced off. If the punctuation point at the end of your amateur career is bronze, well, so be it perhaps.

Walsh wasn't quite so sanguine.

"It wasn't his best performance. I'm not a bit happy. It wasn't his best. He had two of his best fights on the way. He didn't fire on all cylinders today. He came to the arena with the same routine, seemed happy. No pressure on him."

Should Darren be so happy? "That's up to him. I'm not happy. I think he should be in an Olympic final. I'm disappointed he hasn't reached that today."

We nodded gravely. James DeGale floated by in the background, levitating, it seemed.