Fencing is a noble pursuit.
For a sport that has its roots in medieval score-settling,
controversy is surprisingly rare.
It has featured at every Summer Olympic Games
since the birth of the modern Olympic movement in 1896.
During those years, fencing has stayed largely
out of the spotlight.
As a minority sport where honour and respect are key,
scandal is practically unheard of.
That all changed in 2012.
Before we get to all that,
a quick guide to Olympic fencing.
Epee bouts are the most straightforward type
of fencing contest to watch and referee.
The rules are simple -
the first fencer to hit their opponent,
on any part of their body, earns a point.
After each point, the fencers
return to their "en garde" positions
and they go again.
Whoever has the most points
when time expires is the winner.
If the two fencers hit each other at the same time,
they're both awarded a point.
The exception to this rule is when the scores are tied
and the next hit would win the match.
In these circumstances,
the scores remain the same and the bout restarts.
The women's Epee semifinal in 2012
saw reigning Olympic champion Britta Heidemann
take on South Korea's Shin A-lam.
As we just said, whoever could land the most hits
in the time available would win the bout.
But that's not strictly true. It isn't quite that simple.
Before a sudden-death extra minute starts,
one fencer is randomly assigned "priority",
meaning that in the event of a tie they're awarded the win.
Going into the extra minute Shin A-lam had priority,
so a draw would be enough
for her to progress to the final.
It was cagey.
As they entered the extra minute,
the scores were locked at 5-5.
The priority rule meant
that the onus was on Heidemann to attack.
Shin was in control.
With 24 seconds remaining,
Heidemann went on the offensive.
In the space of 20 seconds, she registered five hits.
Unfortunately for her,
each one was successfully countered by Shin,
resulting in a series of double hits,
none of which registered as points.
Time was running out.
With one second on the clock, it was do-or-die for Heidemann.
Another attempt failed.
She tried again. No luck.
The official clock was still showing one second.
She tried again.
Shin forced another double hit.
Incredibly, the clock still displayed one second.
The fencing clock ticks down
in increments of one full second.
So whether there's one thousandth
of a second remaining or a full second remaining,
the clock will display one second.
But after three Heidemann attacks,
Shin knew that there could only be fractions of a second left.
Victory was in sight.
The referee asked the timekeeper
to ensure that the clock was correct.
The timekeeper misinterpreted this instruction,
and started the clock, which immediately hit zero.
The crowd thought it was all over,
and Shin appeared to have won.
But the bout hadn't officially restarted,
so the elapsed time didn't count.
It was up to the referee to put time back on the clock.
The smallest number that could go on the clock
was a full second.
REFEREE: En garde, s'il vous plait.
It was inaccurate, but she had no choice.
Heidemann had another chance, and she had time to play with.
Shin was distraught.
COACH: One second!
Her coach was furious,
but his protests fell on deaf ears.
It meant there would be another chance for Heidemann,
who wasn't ready to give up her title of Olympic Champion.
REFEREE: En garde. Allez.
It was a clean hit as time expired.
Heartbreak for Shin.
The Koreans launched an appeal.
According to fencing rules,
Shin A-lam could not leave the piste
while the officials analysed the appeal.
She waited. And waited...
And the winner of the second semifinal,
representing Germany,
Britta Heidemann.
Even after the official appeal was rejected,
she remained on the piste in tears,
eventually being escorted off by officials
from the International Fencing Federation.
In total, she was there for 70 heart-breaking minutes.
The image of Shin sat alone on the piste
weeping uncontrollably
became an iconic moment of the 2012 Olympic Games.
And the fans inside the Excel Arena left
knowing that they had witnessed
a bizarre slice of Olympic Games history.