Fire and Ice

Today my grandson Buddy and I went to West Haven, CT, to compete in the 30th Annual All Tang Soo Do Connecticut State Championships. The tournament took place at West Haven High School, which is the size of a small college campus. The Black Belt events started at nine o’clock in the morning, but our events were not scheduled to start until noon.

We arrived about half past twelve, and found a seat in the bleachers to watch the last of the Black Belt forms and sparring. Then a space was cleared in the center of the gym, tarps were put down, and two breaking stations were set up – one with three huge blocks of ice, one with five or six wooden boards stacked and prepared with charcoal starter.

Drum roll, please! Grand Master Charles Ferraro, the President and Founder of the Tang Soo Do Mi Guk Kwan Association, took a position between the two stations and gathered his energy, while the announcer explained that the fire and ice break was a demonstration of the concept of Um (Yin) and Yang. The prepared boards were set afire, and all voices hushed, except for one worried toddler, whose worried “Uh-oh!” echoed through the silence.

Soul-stirring music swelled as Kwan Jang Nim stood quietly, watching the flames. Suddenly he sprang forward and chopped through the stack of burning boards, then pivoted and smashed the blocks of ice. His final Ki-hap was almost lost in the roar that erupted from the crowd. What a moment!

Within a few minutes the clean-up crew had the debris removed and the space set up for the afternoon’s events. There were six rings – actually squares marked on the gym floor with masking tape, with chairs set on three sides for the judges, ring coordinator, and (for the sparring matches) timekeeper and referees. Buddy was called to Ring IV. There were about a dozen kids about his age and rank, split into four divisions. They were called up to do their forms two by two. Buddy’s group went first. He executed his form well, but without the panache of the other two kids in his division, so he was awarded third place.

There was no break between the forms and sparring, except the time needed for the competitors to put on their protective gear. (I needed all the available time to get Buddy’s new mouth guard customized for his bite, with the help of a guy with a pocket-knife to trim the ends, and a lady from the high school who got me a cup of hot water to soften it so it would take an impression.)

Just as Buddy’s match was about to start, my name was called over the loudspeaker. I went to the scoring table, where they told me that, as usual, I was the only competitor in my division (Senior Intermediate Women). They offered me a choice: Did I want to compete against younger women of similar rank (Intermediate Women) or women of similar age but higher rank (Senior Advanced Women)? I chose the former, and was assigned to Ring VI.

While my judges were still getting the ring set up, I had time to watch Buddy’s sparring match. His opponent was a little girl in pink sparring gear who attacked like a tornado. Buddy seemed totally abashed, maybe because he didn’t want to hit a girl, but in any event, she scored all the points.

Things were already underway in my ring when a judge I didn’t recognize came over to me and told me to go to a different ring. Apparently there was a gentleman of my age and rank who was also the only one in his division, and this new judge wanted me to go join him. I politely declined, asking the new judge to work it out with my ring judges. It took ten or fifteen minutes of discussion, but finally they ended up having the gentleman join me in Ring VI for forms, and then returning to another ring for sparring.

Okay. Finally it’s my turn. I had tried to do some stretching and warm-up after the Fire and Ice break, but with all the confusion I hadn’t really taken time to practice my form. I wish I had. I executed the form well, except that I lost my balance and wobbled a bit on one of the turns. I think the unfamiliar footing (hardwood gym floor versus thick mats) threw me off, and practicing a few times would certainly have helped. But I was pleased with my scores, which awarded me second place in a division consisting of two twenty-something women and myself.

I had just put on my gear and reported for sparring when Buddy ran up to me with his sparring trophy – he took second place in his division. I gave him a quick hug and then had to shoo him off to the side.

When the first match got under way, I knew I was in for trouble. These two young women went at each other with great skill and energy, more than I was used to encountering in my practice matches at home. The blonde won the match, and I was called up to face her. She promptly socked me in the eye. She looked absolutely shocked, and apologized profusely, but I reassured her that I wasn’t hurt (no black eye). The judges agreed, and the match went on. I think I scored a point or two, but she clearly beat me. None the less, at the end of the round robin, I ended up with second place for sparring.

As we were lugging our trophies to the car, I reminded Buddy that although trophies are nice, they don’t really mean very much. Giving out trophies is sort of like taking a group snapshot; most people look pretty good, one or two look terrific, and a couple look like they’re half dead. Get the same group together tomorrow, and the picture might change. A trophy, like a snapshot, doesn’t tell anything about what you’ve done in the past or what you might do in the future. But it’s a nice keepsake.