On March 8, the Cornell Taekwondo team, commonly referred to as Cornell Fight Team, competed against Princeton, Harvard, New York University, and other institutions in a martial arts tournament at Princeton’s Dillon Gym. The tournament was the fourth of the 2019-2020 season. It consisted of two forms of competition: poomsae and sparring. Poomsaes, or forms, are patterns of striking and defense performed in front of judges. Meanwhile, sparring is a fight that takes place in a controlled environment. Points are earned by successfully advancing to the next round. Cornell took first place at the tournament, earning 512 points.
As a competitor for the Cornell Taekwondo team, I am proud of the hard work my teammates and I put into preparing for this tournament. In many ways, sports are a metaphor for life. One must be disciplined, dedicated, and focused across time in order to maximize their chances of success. Nothing in life is guaranteed, however, and I was fully aware of this in the moments leading up to my sparring match. As the fight approached, I put on my headphones and began listening to music that motivated and inspired me from childhood until now. Songs like Lose Yourself by Eminem, Believe by Meek Mill, and Leave a Light On by Tom Walker pulsed through my soul as I warmed up.
In any high stakes moment, it is important not to freeze up due to uncertainty but to walk boldly into the unknown. I was never afraid of getting injured, yet, I was terrified of losing. As the match drew near, I contemplated my life. I thought about my belief in myself, my belief in God, and my journey to Cornell. I reflected with gratitude on my team, my friends, my supporters, and my family. My father introduced me to taekwondo when I was nine years old. Martial arts is, perhaps, the greatest gift a father could give to his son.
Before long, I was standing across the ring from my opponent. He had a bit of a reach advantage, however, it would not matter. Immediately after the referee rang the proverbial bell, I closed the distance and landed devastating strikes on my opponent. Front kick! Left hook! Right hook! Front kick! Side kick! Roundhouse kick! Less than twelve seconds into the fight, I knocked down my opponent. To the surprise of many, he rose to his feet and survived the remainder of the first round.
As I walked back to my corner, I was exhausted. My coach, Sandra, provided me with tips on how to improve my performance in the next round. I tried my best to pay attention, however, it was difficult to do so while also focusing on regulating my breathing. I remembered those tough sparring sessions I endured as a kid and how I was taught to put my arms over my head in order to allow more air to get to my lungs. I looked across the ring and sensed my opponent was tired too. I stood out of my chair and it was time to fight again.
“Bait him out!” I heard Sandra yell.
I took her advice, waiting for an opportunity to strike. My rival provided me with such an opportunity and I answered it with a hard kick. The match went on.
“Thirty seconds!” I heard someone yell.
I sensed my lead on the scoreboard was dwindling. I had to secure victory. I ran in and threw a flying side kick, which my opponent sidestepped. I immediately followed up with a series of kicks and punches that put him down for a second time.
I backed up and kept my eyes locked on my opponent, expecting him to rise again. He was unable to do so, and I won the fight by second round knockout. It was an honor competing on behalf of this historic institution alongside such talented martial artists.
