All six fighting areas in this huge sporting complex had been whittled down to one, the large assortment of fighting competitors sloughed to just two. Quickly the day had phased into night, turning through the enthusiasm and expertise of the fighters. For me the training had paid off so far. I had made it to the Grand Final. One fighting arena was left and placed into the centre of the large auditorium. It glowed with a coat of brilliance from the strong overhead lighting. Everything else was in darkness. My destiny, the epitome of what I wanted to be, was poetically in front of me.
My name was announced and I was called to the centre of the arena. I gulped, my palms sweated, my heart pounded, though in all honesty I was not afraid, more worried that I wouldn�t do as well as I thought I might. Metaphorically, I was putting all my eggs in one basket, my ambition swung in the wind. I wanted, I needed this win with a passion.
My opponent�s name was called, it echoed off the walls of this large place. He walked to the middle of the fight area and the crowd applauded, whistled, and clapped as we bowed cautiously to one another. I stared into my adversary�s eyes, looking for some kind of reaction, a facial frown, smile, something that might suggest a chink in his armour. There was none, he was cold and calm, he stared through me. I cautiously grinned, it was half-cocked and I feel it did little to suggest any degree of confidence at all.
The round buzzer sounded and the referee beckoned us to fight. Straight away my opponent took the initiative and led an attack with his lead leg sidekick off his left side. He popped out a melee of kicks to my head and body sections. My distancing was good. Offensively all the kicks fell short apart from one that only hit my guard. Upon his last kick attempt I endeavoured to counter his last kick with my own left lead leg. I executed an axe kick then moved into the body section with a roundhouse kick; I missed with the head axe kick but caught him cold with the body kick to the right side of his unprotected rib cage. He folded slightly and winced and this lifted me.
My opponent then lashed out with a barrage of punches, most of which missed me and moved me backwards to the edge of the area. He then implicated a right rear leg jump spin sidekick to my mid line. It hit me solid in the stomach and knocked me backwards off my feet. The crowd lifted with the atmosphere, they were rapturous at this moment and I felt like a loser. The fight was continued as I regained my feet none the worse for my ordeal. He launched his attack once again with his left leg, leading with mid and high section sidekicks. He then suddenly switched to a back right rear leg spinning hook kick. It whizzed past my head to within a fraction of an inch. I read this, responsively countered him with a right rear leg-spinning sidekick to his body. I got him, he bent double. No sooner had I hit him to the body; I stepped in front to continue my counter attack with a controlled lead leg roundhouse kick. His head popped back from the impact. The end of round bell sounded. A smile of self-satisfaction filled me and I swanked proudly back to my chair on the edge of the tournament arena.
I happened to gaze up at the crowd through the eerie lighting, then towards my opponent, he stared through me once again although this time hatred filled his eyes. The buzzer sounded once again, this time I pounced off my seat onto my feet, confident and cocky. Then when we met in the centre and bowed once again, the official bade us start.
This time my opponent appeared more cautious. His distancing was better, his fighting line was more covered. Impatiently I initiated a kick attack but his footwork made him too good to catch. He was elusive, evasive, and fluid like. I had to spoil his game plan. No matter what I did, what I attempted, he could not be hit. I lunged forwards once again with a barrage of hand techniques. I blitzed him and he quickly moved to the side. He side stepped me and hit me quick as a flash with a left lead leg hook kick with round kick combination without putting his foot down. He got me good with both kicks to the head. The time was ticking away. I had to get him with a good head kick to level off the score. I gave chase but I figure he knew he had the advantage and wasn�t about to get involved in a war. I even tried to taunt him to stand and fight me. He would not get involved. The final buzzer epilogued the close of the national competition. I bowed to him resentfully. The judge raised my opponent�s hand victoriously, the crowd cheered. I slowly sauntered back to my instructor with my head hung low. He embraced me yet said nothing.
Three days later I still couldn�t face the defeat I had taken. I returned to my club the following Thursday, my spirits still low. I could not focus myself fully. My friend, my colleagues consoled me though this did little to help things. After the lesson my Korean Tae Kwon Do master, Master Suh asked me what was wrong. I told him of my feelings my frame of mind, the loss. All the work I had put into the National Tae Kwon Do Championships had been in vain. Master Suh stared at me and paused a while. �You have wasted nothing, Peter. Nothing was in vain. It was your ego that was defeated. There is no room for an ego in the art you practice so diligently,� he said.
He continued, �You learn so well. Externally the technicality, the physicality of your Tae Kwon Do is quite exceptional. But still, my son, you do not see the real essence.� �Oh why do you say that, Master Suh!� I replied respectfully. �You lack not confidence, Peter. In fact you have a little too much if there is such a thing. Loss is a human trait. It has nothing to do with the �Do� of Tae Kwon Do,� he mused. �I don�t understand,� I interrupted.
�Look at your fight for instance. You lost the actual event in the final, right?� �Yes,� I agreed. �But you have developed yourself to such an athletic peak, reached a great physical standard you created. You honed yourself, that surely must be a major plus.�
This little Korean man�s frame was small but strong, as he spoke his face was filled with compassion. He continued, �That in itself, Peter, must be a major plus�. �Yes, but,� I said, �I wasn�t quick enough�. Master Suh added, �And when you were beaten did you realise how you got beat and why?� �Yes, Master Suh,� I said. �So you learned a very important lesson, didn�t you?� �Yes, Saban,� I replied
�Knowing that you lost in the final, would you fight it any differently?� Quickly I answered, �Yes, Master Suh, I would!� �So already you see the positive which the negative can bring, young Peter. It�s just a matter of looking and consciously learning form such things.� He continued. �The sport world is not the full world, Peter. It�s a very small part in exercise, a test in which to excel. But remember this; sport is set by rules and is never a real conflict! Learn your Tae Kwon Do to be wise, to be a champion of justice, of substance and do not only see the obvious. Look also for the underlying and liberate yourself within modesty. Self control, indomitable spirit, respect, perseverance and critique that is real Tae Kwon Do and remember in victory be jubilant yet compassionate and in failure, defeat is the real substantial test of the Tae Kwon Do spirit.�
Master Suh hugged me. I smiled and was glad of his experience. My heart lifted. I had been shown and seen through it all and I never viewed loss quite the same ever again. I then realised it was not the defeat, the loss but the denting of personal ego. My vanity had been injured. Such imposters I see now do little to harmonise real understanding, development or learning. The final was a veritable test, a metaphorical grade to test my futile egomania.