The Greatest Game Ever...Ever.

An excerpt from the Beginning of my Training in Tae Kwon Do

My footsteps echoed on the timeworn blocks when I entered the temple, blocks already ancient twice over before ever man decided to sail west from the Old World.  Rows of students with a lifetime of dedication to the Art watched, cheekbones dagger-lean of a diet of rice, pickled cabbage, and vegetables grown in the temple garden.  Their eyes reflected none of the dim light of the evening sun, the heavenly orb itself wary of the ancient masters who sat with their feet cradled in their own laps.  Gray mustaches and beards draped as wisps of scarves around the ancient lips, entwining with the haze that filled the mountain air. 
I bowed as low as I could, my nose inches from bricks the color of shadow, of immeasurable wisdom.  Impossible was practiced here. 
"Honored Masters," I began, hoping my voice didn't allow the tremor in my knees  "My name is-"
"We know your name, Son of America." I looked up in surprise, not sure if I was allowed to meet the speaker's eye.  Even less sure which had spoken.
"We know you seek to learn the ways practiced here," came the voice again, the reed-thin quaver that pierced the fog like diamonds winking in soot,"Know, however, that none of your people have ever been granted audience with the masters before.  However, your journey to this temple proves your firm resolve.  Your journey from your home proves your strength of spirit.  There is yet one final test."
 All eyes turned to me, moving as a single being, snakelike in the stillness.
"You must face in single combat the champion of our Way."

...is what WOULD have happened, if my life were a 1970's kung fu movie.  The truth is far less grandiose.  But equally impressive in many ways.  My "temple" is a second-floor studio a block from my home.  Inha Elite academy.  And while the Master DID know my name, he certainly didn't monologue to me, because he speaks no English.  The teachers here aren't emaciated monks- they're ex-military international tae kwon do gold medalists. 
This is no US McDojo, where obese white children brag about black belts worth less than the materials they're made from.  This is a training facility in the home of the art, where the mother tongue is spoken out of necessity.  I learn the korean words as I learn the strikes to go with them.  whoahboy. 

Day 1- Stances
A ready stance.  feet together, hands in fists in front.  a slow preparation.  I don't ask, I just do.
A horse-riding stance, squarely facing your target.  Feet far apart, almost a squat, to throw punches.
PUNCHES!  OOOH!  I KNOW THIS ONE!
(for those of you unfamiliar with my training, I've boxed for several years)
I threw the first punch
"oh, no no no no no"  -- well now I know one english word my teacher DOES know. 
He pulled my fist across my body instead of straight out.  It's not my place to question why....
I punched across my body.
"oh, no no no no no no"  -- Great.  he's a big fan of this word. 
He pushes my fists down.  All of my training, every boxing coach i've ever had, and the Collective Western Media say in unison -"wait, what?".  In Tae Kwon Do, it seems that you don't guard yourself the way we'd expect you to.  THAT'll take some getting used to.
After my new teacher carelessly dissects everything I know about fighting, I get a chance to talk to the other students (some of whom speak some English).  And from this conversation I gained an interesting perspective.
The teacher told his students I boxed.  Their eyes went wide...I mean, their eyes went.....wider than they normally.....RACISM IS NOT OK!
Anyway, they clamored to see my biceps, asking me to flex my arms.  Slowly I made out their reasoning for this:  if Western boxers can fight with only their arms, it stands to reason that they must have impossibly powerful arms.  Well, I declined to underwhelm them with my gun show; I let them hold on to their fantasy of superhuman fighters from a foreign land who are capable of incredible feats of fighting skill.
Which seems oddly familiar...

Day two
Sports day
Oh good, a day to show the students here that I am in fact an athlete.  While my taekwondo form is bad, I really am capable of some degree of athleticism.
And so we play soccer.
Now I don't play much soccer.  And I've spent the past few years training my handspeed, minimal footwork, and abdominal and punching power.  And now I enter into a competition of speedy footwork and kicking precision.

Let me break to say that a small, walled room, a floaty rubber ball (the purple kind that smell like new shoes and cherry bubblegum), and a group of blackbelts in a kicking game QUICKLY turns into what we'd jokingly call Shaolin Soccer.  Only it's all done with an air of casual indifference.
Oh, he just pulled that ball from two feet above his head with an axe kick, no big deal

Hey, you just blocked a penalty kick behind you with a spinning back kick, whatever

The master just scored a goal shot with a TORNADO KICK, it was way decent.

They say that if I train every day (which is my plan), I can earn a black belt in ten months.  If the first week's stretches don't break me in half* first. 

'til next time
Jeff M.

*Fragmentation Syndrome is the leading cause of first-week casualties in Tae Kwon Do.  If we raise awareness, we could see the end of FS in our lifetime!