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Thousand Dollar Baby: By day Jamie O'Hare studies for a master's in social work. Her night job is anything but.

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The bell sounds at 8:49 p.m. Effervescence be gone. Still, round one has a politeness to it; O'Hare and Hamlett look like they're getting to know each other, tossing quick jabs but mostly playing their hands close to the chest.

The women pick it up in round two, putting more power behind the punches. Although Hamlett appears to hang back, dancing a bit, she manages a solid right hook midway through that sends O'Hare stumbling.

"Uppercut! Uppercut!" yells Reed Low.

O'Hare comes back with a vengeance in the third round. She dominates with her lower-body movement, backing Hamlett into the ropes on every side. But for the most part both women's long reach seems to prevent them from getting close enough to really have it out.

"It felt more like a sparring session than a fight, and I liked that," Hamlett will say later.

"I was like, 'Come on, fuckin' fight me!'" O'Hare will grumble.

In her corner between rounds, O'Hare is getting it in both ears. No sooner does Finney issue a set of orders than Ponce chimes in with his own instructions just before the bell sounds.

Hamlett and O'Hare both turn up the heat for the last round, moving faster with their feet and their fists. But cut man Leyshock remains on standby. When the last bell rings, no one has gone down.

"If she doesn't win, I'm gonna kick this guy's ass," mutters Reed Low, shooting a glance at the ref.

O'Hare has a lot on her postfight to-do list, from a long-awaited visit to a new St. Louis cupcakery to training for early April's St. Louis marathon. She has also vowed to help Ponce get ready for his first fight in four years, and they both plan to get tattoos. (O'Hare envisions a pair of boxing gloves encircled with "September 23, 2006," the date of her mother's kidney transplant, and "Proverbs 3:5-6.")

O'Hare is scouting for a job in social work within the criminal-justice system and imagines a way of one day linking counseling and boxing for women. She knows it's no sport for the masses, but she believes more than a few could pick up some tricks.

Although it feels like forever, the judges only take a minute or two to file their scorecards. The ring announcer sounds deflated as he ticks off the tallies: 38-38, 39-37 O'Hare, 38-38.

"A draw?" O'Hare's mother moans.

Up in the ring, there's nothing left for Hamlett and O'Hare to do but hug.

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