As we welcome 2026 and say goodbye to 2025, let’s rewind to one of the most gripping nights at Twins Championship 103 — a bout that revealed the heart, hunger and resilience of Gideon Riquelme Jonathan.
A crowd favourite’s defining night
The Sri Aman Indoor Stadium was packed to the rafters that night, the air buzzing with anticipation for Twins Championship 103. Most people had come for the main event, but the crowd had already found its own favourite: Gideon Riquelme Jonathan.
The event kicked off at 7.30pm with the first bout, and by the time Gideon’s match — the fifth of the evening — was about to begin, his supporters — from young fans to cheering aunties — were leaning forward in their seats, calling out his name from the stands above the ring, their eyes fixed on him.
At just 22, the Iban professional boxer already carried a reputation beyond his years — four gold medals from the 2024 Sarawak Open, the 2024 Sukan Sarawak, the 2024 Malaysian Games (SUKMA), and a silver from the 2024 National Combat Sports Championship (Kejohanan Sukan Tempur Kebangsaan).
He was the kind of young talent who fought with his chest forward, chin low and heart wide open.
The fans’ favourite
When Gideon’s name was finally called, the middleweight division snapped to attention. The crowd knew what was coming: a clash of styles, a test of wills.
His opponent, Aswan Che Azmi, had a reputation for compact defence and intelligent distance control, using his longer reach to frustrate challengers and force them to work twice as hard just to break through.
It was the kind of matchup people talk about long before the fighters even touch gloves: Gideon, the rising aggressor who thrived in close-range exchanges, against Aswan, the steadier, more seasoned boxer whose disciplined pressure could dismantle anyone rushing in unprepared.
Two contrasting rhythms, one electrifying stage. Everything felt heavier, sharper — as if both men understood the bout could redefine their momentum.
A clash of styles
But if you ask Gideon what he remembers most from that night, it isn’t the blows exchanged or the final score. It was the walkout.
He described it almost shyly, as if admitting he felt something too big to hide.
“The crowd and their support gave me goosebumps,” he told the Sarawak Tribune.
The roar pulled something deep within him — surprise, excitement and an unexpected surge of courage. Suddenly, entering the ring didn’t feel like stepping into danger; it felt like stepping into purpose.
The fight itself was relentless. Gideon pressed forward, trying to slip past Aswan’s longer reach, but Aswan controlled the distance with sharp timing and disciplined movement.
Every time Gideon tried to open an angle, Aswan’s jab nudged him back. By the final bell, the judges awarded the decision to Aswan on points.
After the bell, a different battle
For many fighters, losing as the crowd favourite brings a quiet sting. But when Gideon stepped out of the ring, something unexpected happened.
He didn’t crumble. He didn’t brood over the final rounds. He didn’t let the weight of expectation turn into self-doubt.
Instead, he found himself strangely grounded.
“It didn’t affect me that much. I know I’m going to come back stronger and perform better,” he said.
And in that soft space after the adrenaline faded — where frustration usually sits — he felt something lighter.
“I just thought about how much I enjoyed the match because it was challenging and a new learning experience,” the Kuching-born boxer added.
The fight had challenged him in ways he had never experienced, pushing him into unfamiliar territory. That, to him, was worth more than an undefeated record.
Built for what comes next
Gideon carried that same attitude into the days that followed. When he returned to training, he didn’t try to reinvent himself or mask the disappointment.
He told himself he simply needed to work harder — a clarity rare in someone his age, and the ability to recognise weakness without attaching shame to it.
“A loss is just another lesson to help you grow into something even greater than you were before,” he reflected.
But even hard work has its heavier days. Some mornings, his body was ready but his mind lagged behind — the quiet battles every young athlete faces, especially one carrying expectations on his shoulders.
So what kept him going?
He kept praying to God. It wasn’t anything dramatic — just a simple request for the strength to keep showing up.
“I kept praying to God to keep me going in my training,” he said quietly — a reminder that even the toughest fighters lean on something beyond strength.
Sometimes faith, even in its smallest form, is enough to carry a fighter through.
After the match, the crowd that had screamed his name didn’t simply fade away. They sent messages, came up to him, and thanked him for the fight he gave — support that left a mark long after the night was over.
“Their support meant a lot. I’m really thankful they still supported me even though I lost,” he said.
When he looks back on that night now, he doesn’t remember bruises or regrets. What he took home was something far softer, far more durable.
He took it as a lesson — a reminder to motivate himself, to sharpen his training, to grow into a better boxer. Not for applause, but because the sport means that much to him.
Today, Gideon doesn’t dwell on what could have been. He doesn’t carry the weight of expectations the way outsiders might imagine.
“Right now, I’m just moving on and looking forward to my next fight,” he said, with the same steadiness he showed the night he walked out to the roar of the crowd.
For some athletes, a loss becomes a burden. But for Gideon, Twins Championship 103 became a blueprint — a glimpse of who he is and who he is growing into.
It wasn’t just another platform for rising Malaysian boxers. It was the night he learned that losing, in front of a packed crowd, can shape a fighter just as powerfully as victory.
Not a fallen favourite, but a young man realising that strength isn’t found only in fists or footwork.
