Fencing used to be scored entirely manually. This was a disaster (see anecdotes below) and the problems were solved with slightly-expensive but relatively simpl

Fencing used to be scored entirely manually. This was a disaster (see anecdotes below) and the problems were solved with slightly-expensive but relatively simple electronic touch-detection technology, i.e. those crazy lights that you see flashing green, red, and white. I predict this will happen again. Perhaps the referee will get a little box that, when a button is pressed, simultaneously shouts "Allez" in an authentic French accent and starts the clock. If the clock doesn't start, the referee will stop the bout, debug the technology, and reset the clock. (Welcome to fencing, where one's kit of electronics parts is almost as important as one's weapon. ;) Now for anecdotes: I fenced saber (terribly) back when saber wasn't electrified at the NCAA level - which is to say: there was no electric circuit to detect contact between Fencer A's saber and Fencer B's target area. (Saber got electric scoring last, I suspect, because the head and arms are part of the target area and you need conductive gloves and masks, which cost money, particularly because it's harder to share gloves and masks between fencers than it is to share a simple mesh vest.) Moreover, at a regular-season NCAA fencing match, there's no budget for five impartial judges per bout, and no spare unaffilated fencers sitting around. So the rule was that we had to make touch/no touch calls in matches involving our own teammates. This was, to say the least, a no-win situation for a beginner. I quickly learned to pretend I was half-blind and clueless – which, alas, did not require much acting talent – and round off all non-obvious calls in favor of my teammate. To do otherwise was to earn the undying enmity of one's own team. The stress drove me crazy. In retrospect, I should have demanded to be switched to foil or epee – epee, in particular, with its electronic scoring and lack of right-of-way rules, was a gloriously straightforward sport; though I would still have been a lousy fencer at least I would have lost for clear reasons – but instead I fled after one season. If there's a moral to this story, it's this: There is no way that this incident is the most unfair thing that has happened in the history of Olympic fencing. ;) They must have been really, really good sports back in the old days.