He was the epitome of hope eternal, the personification of the "little engine that could", the best example of how perseverance and dedication to your sport can uplift humanity.
And then he got into the ring with an opponent he has never seen before and knew nothing about.
In a span of 8 minutes broken down into 4 2-minute rounds, Harry Tanamor broke my heart. I broke my neighbors' eardrums with vitriolic curses, screams of frustration, gutwrenching pleas to every Greek and Hindu god imaginable and threats to throw myself off my balcony.
As Harry headed off to the exits in his last Olympic Games, I fell onto the bed in disbelief and buried my face into a pillow.
And ignored the guard's knock on my door, asking if everything was okay.
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