I don't remember much about Terry Millwood's open taekwondo tournament. I suppose the incessant roars of a cheering crowd echoed loudly through the air during my fight, but I can't say I remember hearing them. The judges stood beside me, then behind me, then in front of me, as I quickly maneuvered around the twelve foot by twelve foot ring, but all I remember is the fight. My opponent was as focused on me as I was on him, and just as ignorant of the world outside the ring. He was the only other boy in my division. There would be no second chance if I lost this fight. Like a machine gun, a flurry of punches and kicks, low, high and spinning, rained down on me, but I maintained my faithful, but hesitant, defense in the face of despair. I was clearly overwhelmed, but giving up was not an option. As I was pushed towards the edge of the ring, I became desperate. A ring-out would count as a loss, and I had already lost once. I gathered all the strength I had left, jumped, spun, and kicked the wheel as hard as I could. However, I too received a powerful kick that knocked me out of the ring. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get the original essay In the two days following that defeat, every thought related to taekwondo was associated with a feeling of disappointment and failure. It wasn't so much the defeat itself that bothered me, but rather the fact that I lost after several weeks of preparation. About two months before the tournament, my taekwondo instructor, Troy Bates, put our class on a strict schedule to prepare for the upcoming event. Our school had never participated in a tournament before this one and we were determined to prove ourselves. Every day I came to practice, Mr. Troy wasted no time getting everyone lined up and “getting down to business right away.” First there was stretching, then running drills, then forms, then hand techniques, kicking techniques, sparring and whatever other "preparation" he had in mind for us. Frankly, I was a little tired of preparing for a tournament that I didn't want to participate in at all. Attending practice had gone from a fun pastime to a difficult, repetitive chore. Granted, it wasn't easy at first, but now it seemed like Mr. Troy was being hard on us just for the fun of it. Every class was “doing technique.” Correction technique. Repeat.' I didn't sign up for taekwondo classes for that. I had only started taking lessons as a young child to imitate my favorite characters from Dragon Ball Z and the World Wrestling Federation. Before news of this tournament broke, the classes were fun and interesting, and we were still learning new techniques and improving our skills. Now we were just preparing for a stupid tournament hosted by some stupid old "Master Instructor" from who knows where. It had been “do, fix, repeat” for almost a month and I was tired of it. So I stopped. For the entire month leading up to the tournament, I didn't attend any classes. I was tired of the extra work and tired of the lack of instant reward. However, after receiving countless pleas from Mr. Troy, my mother was able to convince me to attend the tournament. Keep in mind: this is just a sample. Get a personalized article from our expert writers now. Get a Custom Essay Obviously I lost at.