Cutting Through History: How Alexander Tofalides Became the First Cyprus' Olympic Fencer

An Interview with Alexander Tofalides By Ollimono Magazine | 20 June 2025

“Honestly? Relief and gratitude. Then purpose.”

This was the first thing Alexander Tofalides felt when he secured his place at the 2024 Paris Olympic Games. Not celebration, not disbelief, but a quiet knowing. For him, qualifying wasn’t just a personal victory. It was the end of a 21-year duel with doubt, and the beginning of something much bigger: a place in history as the first-ever Cyprus’ Olympic fencer.

He didn’t start fencing in Cyprus. Born and raised in London, he picked up a foil for the first time at age seven. “My mum signed me up for a school class. At the time it was just something new to try,” he recalls. But something about it stuck. The rhythm. The precision. The pressure. By age 15, he was at the Youth Olympic Games in Singapore — and that’s when the dream of one day becoming an Olympian really clicked into place.

“Foil is about timing, distance, and deception.”

If you’re not familiar with fencing, you’re not alone. It rarely makes mainstream headlines and is often misunderstood as a romanticized sword fight. But fencing is far more complex, especially in the foil discipline.

In fencing, there are three distinct weapons, each with its own rules, target areas, and style of play:

Foil – the most precise and tactical.
- Target area: torso only
- Scoring: with the tip of the blade
- Right of way: yes (priority rules determine who gets the point in simultaneous actions)
Épée – the most straightforward and physically demanding.
- Target area: the entire body
- Scoring: with the tip of the blade
- Right of way: no (first hit scores, or both get a point in a tie)
Sabre – the fastest and most aggressive.
- Target area: everything above the waist (excluding hands)
- Scoring: with the edge or tip of the blade
- Right of way: yes (like foil)

“Foil is the most tactical and precise of all three weapons,” Alexander explains — requiring more mental calculation, patience, and setup rather than brute speed or physicality. In Alexander’s words, “it’s a battle of minds, a mental chess match fought at lightning speed”

“There were many moments I wanted to quit.”

Before Paris, there was a lot of almost. Alexander missed out on Rio 2016 and Tokyo 2020 by a single match. “I lost in the final of the qualifier,” he says of Tokyo. “I had to wait three more years to try again.”

There was little glamour in those years. No elite federation behind him. No homegrown national team to train with. In countries like France or Italy, fencers grow within deep-rooted systems. But Alexander did not have that privilege, and, thus, had to build that system himself. He often trained alone, flew himself to competitions, and self-managed his career. “That challenge also made me more resourceful, more self-reliant, and more adaptable.”

So what kept him going? “My ‘why’,” he says. “To represent my family. To prove it’s possible to rise from the margins. To inspire others who feel like underdogs.”

“The Olympics became personal when I chose to fence for Cyprus.”

Originally fencing for the Great Britain, Alexander made the decision to switch allegiances after losing his Cypriot father, grandfather, and grandmother. “I wanted to honour them,” he says. The move was more than symbolic — it was a statement. He wasn’t just chasing the Games anymore. He was carrying the weight of a personal legacy.

In April 2024, at the Zonal Olympic Qualifier in Luxembourg, he had one last chance. The European Zonal Qualifier was a last-chance event, but not for everyone. Most Olympic spots in fencing are earned either through world rankings or team qualification. For example, top-ranked athletes like Italy’s Tommaso Marini, who was world No. 1 in men’s foil, earned his Olympic fencer berth via the Adjusted Official Ranking. Meanwhile, countries like France and Japan qualified full teams, which automatically earned them multiple spots for their athletes in both individual and team events.

But for countries that didn’t qualify this way, like Cyprus, Greece, or Moldova, there was just one final opportunity: the zonal qualifier. Only one fencer from all of Europe, whose nation hadn’t already qualified in foil, could claim the spot. One slot. One shot. “I remember the final point. Twenty-one years of sacrifice and near-misses — all culminating in that one moment.”

He won.

“Fencing teaches you how to respond — not just in sport, but in life.”

Alexander talks about fencing with a kind of respect usually reserved for philosophy or art. And in a way, that’s what it is. Part physical, part psychological, part performance.

“It’s 90% psychological,” he says. “The physical training lays the foundation, but it’s your mental game that dictates whether you can execute under pressure.”

His mental routine is almost as disciplined as his physical one: journaling, visualization, scenario planning, breathing techniques. It’s not just about beating the opponent. It’s about staying present after a setback. Resetting. Recalibrating. Being able to respond. “The ability to reset instantly is what separates good athletes from great ones” – says Alexander.

His story is pure high-performance in motion: long-term vision, mental discipline, and a willingness to sacrifice comfort for legacy. It’s just what OLLIMONO stands for.

“Don’t be like me — be better!”

Now that he’s reached what once felt impossible, Alexander’s focus is on legacy. Not just his own, but for Cyprus. “I hope it proves that greatness isn’t limited by geography,” he says. “That belief, discipline, and intelligent work can take you further than talent alone.”

He envisions a future where Cyprus has its own fencing program — grassroots to elite. He wants to help build that. To make sure he’s not the last.

And when a young fencer looks up to him and says, “I want to be like you,” his answer is simple.

“Take my story as proof that it’s possible, and then write your own.”