Chief Instructor Andrew Trento
receiving "The Best School Award"
for having the most students entered
and for best show of support for the competition.
Andrew and 16 of his students competed in the 3rd American Open Taekwondo Championships held at Clifton High School in Clifton, NJ (my alma mater). The competition included forms, board breaking and sparring. He had students from age 5 through 18 competing, many for the first time. Andrew himself was going to compete for the first time in 4 years.
This would be my first time seeing Andrew practice his art. I was elated, but apprehensive. You see, Andrew wasn't just doing his forms, he was going to spar. This meant I'd get to see him on the offensive, which I knew would be glorious, but I'd also have to see him on defense. I told him I was nervous.
"YOU'RE nervous?" he asked feigning disbelief.
I responded, "I know, you're the one who has the right to be nervous, but if I see you getting kicked and punched I don't know if I can handle it. I'm afraid I'm going to die."
He laughed at me.
He warned me ahead of time that the competitions would go in order from youngest to oldest, meaning he'd be going dead last at the end of the day after all his students. For all the joy I felt watching his students compete I had an apprehensive pit of fear in my stomach thinking about how hard it would be to watch him on the receiving end of a beating from another Black Belt. It's not that I had no faith in his sparring abilities. I just knew that, no matter how good Andrew was, some of his opponent's blows had to land. That's how it's done and I'd have to shut off my empathy muscles in order to endure it.
Watching his students compete throughout the day distracted me from my fear. One talented, delightful kid after another competed and won medal after medal. It's not just that his kids are good on the mats, it's that they embody true sportsmanship. The camaraderie between them, the way they ran from ring to ring to stand on the sidelines and cheer for each other, the way they sincerely thanked their sparring opponents even if they lost, and their overall integrity just radiated from them.
His students are exemplary. I sat with the parents and beamed with pride. I may not have had a kid in the ring but I had an Andrew.
As the day progressed the crowd thinned out. Little kids left with their families as their age range finished competing, but not the kids from Andrew's school.
They stayed.
They stayed to support each other and to watch their teachers compete. Four of his Black Belts (who also teach at his school) competed and earned medals. The kids and parents cheered. For a more comprehensive report from the chief himself click here.
The anticipation for the final event for Black Belts over 18 was palpable. We were all anxious about the last set of challenges. We moved nearer to the ring where Andrew and his Black Belt students would be competing. The gym had really emptied out by then. Most of the audience that remained were from Andrew's school. There was plenty of noisy encouragement which gave us all the feeling of having the home team advantage.
Andrew's challenges were last because of his belt level and age. He would be sparring against other Do Jang owners and world class Black Belts.
I felt sick.
I tried to reassure myself that he would be an amazing badass and it wouldn't hurt to watch.
He began with his forms.
Just breathtaking.
I think I heard angels singing.
I sat with some of the mothers. We all cooed and said things like, "Gorgeous!" and "Amazing!" and "He really is talented."
Applause all around.
He went back to the sidelines to strap into his gear.
I prayed silently and tried to control my breathing.
It was time for Andrew to spar.
His opponent was taller and had longer legs.
I was worried.
I told myself to trust Andrew's ability. After all, we know it's heart that matters. Andrew has plenty of heart to go with his skill. He'd be fine, he'd be fine, he'd be fine...I told myself.
I didn't believe me.
The sparring began.
He was excellent on offense and defense. His opponent, who turned out to be an international competitor from the Egyptian national team, wasn't able to get his long legs to connect with Andrew. I swear Andrew did some Matrix maneuvers and whooshed backwards to avoid the onslaught of kicks.
Andrew was up 6 to 2 when the Egyptian, who was probably aiming for Andrew's helmet, threw a kick that connected with Andrew's neck...hard.
Andrew went down.
Oh, no.
Oh God, please no.
Anything but this.
Andrew fell back flat on the mat.
I broke.
I couldn't stop my tears.
Still down on the mat, he raised his arm in the air and did the come-hither motion to signal that he was hurt. People rushed to his aid. A medic arrived with an ice pack. Experts assessed his condition.
I dried my eyes and tried to see Andrew's face through the crowd.
Was he ok?
He was smiling.
Heck if I didn't know better I'd say he was laughing.
Laughing?
Yes, laughing.
He got hurt.
He fell on his ass
and laughed his way back up onto his feet.
He was not permitted to continue (good thing because he seemed a little punch drunk)
but he returned to the sidelines a hero.
He couldn't stop smiling as his little students squeaked and jumped up and down. The adults crowded around him voicing concerns of every kind.
He kinda glowed.
I was reassured but shaky.
I'd seen what I'd dreaded seeing,
but I survived.
A man from one of the other schools saw that I was upset.
He said to me, "Don't worry. It happens to the best of us."
"He IS the best of us," I replied.
"I know, I've been watching him all day," said the man.
We nodded and smiled as Andrew stood on the sidelines receiving his adulation.
You may have read the title of this post thinking I was speaking of Andrew's fear. Thing is, he wasn't all that afraid. He was nervous. He had some anxiety over returning to the competitive sparring ring for the first time in 4 years, but he wasn't fearing the worst (I was).
He wasn't in it for the medal, he was in it for the experience.
He had the rare (hopefully rare) opportunity to show his students that even the best of us get knocked down. Even their beloved Mr. Trento was vulnerable,
but getting knocked down is an opportunity to get back up again with confidence that one can survive a nasty kick to the head and live to fight another day.
I swear, he couldn't stop smiling.
You don't get better by winning all the time.
If winning were all that mattered we'd compete with people younger and/or less skilled.
You get stronger by getting your ass kicked and figuring out where your weaknesses are
so you can improve on them and come back stronger.
If you're afraid to get the wind knocked out of you
the best way to overcome that fear is to
get the wind knocked out of you.
You survive it.
You gain confidence by surviving it.
You go back into the ring knowing that you won't be destroyed if you're bested.
I'd like to say I'll never cry again while watching Andrew compete, but I can't guarantee that,
But you never know.
Maybe I'll be crying for joy next time.
*Lisa's Video Pick of the Day*
Or maybe I just need to learn how to breathe.
click here or click below
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