Sunday, March 30th was a very long day. It started very early for us and the rest of the team of Tae Kwon Do competitors, coaches, and family members from Michael Pam’s US Tae Kwon Do school. We all met at the Sayville school at six o’clock in the morning as previously agreed to. The plan was for us to follow each other, caravan style, and make the three-hour trip to the site of a big tournament in Waterford, Connecticut. My daughter was going to compete in forms and sparring in the green belt division. This was her second tournament.

Unlike the first tournament she went to back in November, this tournament was well organized and the skill level of the competitors was high. My daughter came in fourth place for forms and was doubting she would get a medal for sparring. The other competitors seemed stronger and taller. Matt, her dear friend and a skilled black belt, won a bronze medal in sparring. The competition was tough.

While we waited for my daughter’s turn to spar, the female black belts were competing directly in front of us. Ralph, Matt’s dad, and I were watching them when all of a sudden a girl did a back kick and hit her opponent in the face. The girl, 14, had her nose broken. Blood was profusely dripping from her nose. Exactly what I needed to see minutes before my daughter was to compete! How to tell her, without making her even more nervous, to guard her face because of what happened just thirty feet away?

My daughter won a silver medal for sparring; no broken bones, no blood, just one very sweaty teen. That was not the case for another male competitor who was carried away with a dislocated kneecap after he received one kick.

There’s always a risk of injury no matter what sport you practice, but the hope is that it never happens to you or your precious child. I know this. My husband knows this. My daughter knows this. It is a risk we are all willing to deal with because she loves this sport. She loves all types of sports, but I cannot tell her to stay home. I dislocated my wrist while ice-skating when I was thirteen. I fell on the ski slopes more times than I care to remember. So, no, I cannot tell my daughter to bury her rollerblades or her skateboard, and when she goes skiing, I will cover my eyes as she zooms down the expert trails.

We made it back to Long Island at 11:30pm. We were all very tired; tired, but proud. Almost everyone from the school won a medal that day. There is another big tournament in June. Her friend, Jessie, who won a silver medal for sparring in the poom division, will be going. Matt, I know for sure, will be going. My daughter wants to go. We will drive her there, caravan style, again.

“Take a chance! All life is a chance. The man who goes the furthest is generally the one who is willing to do and dare. The ‘sure thing’ boat never gets far from shore.”
~Dale Carnegie