THE WORLD BOWS TO YOU

Do yourself a favor. Watch her. Watch her as she performs Koryo. Because if you don't see her, you could never believe it. This small girl is the absolute pinnacle of TKD Poomsae. Su-Ji Kang is the name. You know, here in the West we are used to considering Korean Poomsae players as aliens. But she... she is something aliens would certainly be admired of. And yet she's human, as there is one moment in every World Championship when she gently trembles on a single stance, like she was telling us she's neither magic or extraterrestrial, only stellar.
Whereas Korean athletes doing the splits while kicking are not new to us, she impresses in both speed and verticality. She actually moves faster than your eyeballs; when you realize she's kicking, she's already using one foot like a visor, while holding her legs at right angles to the ground.
A few months ago, the Olympic Games celebrated some real giants as the best fighters in the world. This early December, the aesthetic branch of our discipline crowned this cute girl as its unparalleled Empress. Then tiny Su-Ji prostrated herself on the mat in a prayer of thanks, thus looking even smaller in the moment she was proclaimed the greatest among the greatest for the third time in a row. This is what real champions are made of.

(Pre-editing photos: mastaekwondo.com, Rowdy Leedeman, Nico Randriam)

ON YOUR MARKS

My previous post was about the dark side of judges. Now I want to make them justice and give them credit for the difficult, often boring and low-paid job they carry out and our sport couldn't do without. Also, it is so thrilling to find out their marks and realize you're in for a medal, especially when they are handwritten on a board like in the good old times.

WHO'S AFRAID OF THE EVIL JUDGE?

I am.
Every competition is a kind of adventure, or a story. Great stories are usually made up by chapters: training, getting injured, picking up training again, training more, travelling, trying to sleep the night before the tournament, warming up, waiting for your turn, performing across the various rounds... what else? Oh yes, the verdict. Which is not up to you, though. But to those misty figures who are the judges. If you're a long date follower of this blog, you know I think Poomsae competitions are about Truth, because they expose you to the merciless product of your work, talent and cold blood. There are no excuses for a poor performance. Once you step on the competition mat, it's all up to you. However, performance and result are very different things as they are separated by your opponents' own performances and the judges' ratings.
Once I was told high level gymnasts never quit their discipline because of the incredibly hard training involved, but only because of the judges, who can -and often do- destroy years of work with a single mark. As in all aesthetic sports, in TKD Poomsae as well the results are determined by judges, who can be subject to incompetence, political pressures, and personal interests. How many dubious medals awarded to the host country at every World or continental championship? This is why I try to persuade my students to consider the performance over the result, because whereas the performance is always true, the result is not.
It's hard, though. As hard as cutting out the last chapter in a story when you're putting together the threads of it. If you're out to catch the deepest meaning, you can't help starting from the ending. But if you really know you did well, and the referees' ratings are no excuse to hide the truth emerged on the mat, then part of your loyalty to the Truth itself consists in being proud and content with that. Even though I know, pride doesn't glitter around the neck.

YOU'RE NO MATCH FOR ME

Because winning is already good, but showing off a little in the process feels pretty much awesome.

WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?

Competitions for children are supposed to be fun. Keeping them waiting for hours is just torture. No, not to them. They only get bored, it's their coaches that will certainly get insane trying to keep them quiet as they noisily reclaim their right of being children. Please, take this into account next time you arrange a tournament for 100 little creatures and you only consider one competition mat.

OUTRAGEOUSLY HIGH

When I was a small boy I was taught Poomsae kicks shouldn't be higher than your head. This somewhat limited the technique spectacularity in order to meet the imaginary fight concept. I've always liked very high kicks, also because I was sooo flexible in my prime. However, I used to think this rule was pretty fair, because it prevented technique competitions to become split-only competitions, being high kicks already prevailing in the judges' score. Besides, if all techniques have an ideal target (for instance high fists can't be higher than your nose), why should kicks be indefinitely high? The answer is: because they are beautiful. Therefore, as the aesthetic excellence principle replaced the imaginary fight concept in the Kukkiwon guidelines for Poomsae evolution, high kicks became not only allowed but even encouraged, to a degree where the perfect kick is only the vertical kick. So this discipline witnessed the rise of incredible kickers like Su Ji Kang and Elif Yilmaz, capable of depicting rock-steady splits in the air, leaving open mouthed whoever is lucky enough to watch them live. However, this has cut out of the top podiums those solid performers who are not that gifted on the flexibility side, and now cannot but feel disadvanteged in what counts the most. And sometimes, when you look at those light legs, easily unfolding in the air, you don't only feel inferior. You feel offended. Because when beauty is a privilege, it can't help being painful to those who are excluded.

CAPTAIN TSUBASA

Lombardia demo team captain Simone Baldassarre, flying 10 feet up in the air in this superb football-like pose is only one highlight of their outstanding performance at the Italian National Event Memorial Cavalli this November 18th. Unfortunately, the incredible display of both art and skill was not enough to award them a medal. This conjures up the ultimate Taekwondo jumping technique: passing over the referees' verdict. Because what sitting men do is never worth an athlete's tears.

(Pre-editing photo: official event photographer)

PUSSY RIOT

Because one awesome girl is rock. A whole three of them is heavy metal. Actually bronze metal.
So proud of you kicking chicks ♥

DANCE WITH ME

Today I'm freaking tired of fighting.

AIM HIGH

The hardest thing, when all people around start to part from you.

RED NAILS

The only thing that won't get dirty when they're going to rip out your heart.

RAY OF LIGHT

Because often bounds are made of the subtlest matter.
Because sometimes will is the only obstacle to happiness.
Because I really hope her tiny foot will eventually cross the line.

STARTING GRID

1. Pre-season technical campus success - check
2. New awesomely smacking Nike Poomsae uniform - check
3. Innovative holistic training program - check
4. Hunger for victories - check
5. Very special supporter - check
6. Sunburnt chest that'll feel supreme wearing my (still awesomely smacking) dobok - check
7. Some serious asshole I'll be proving my mettle to - check
8. A kickass team - check
9. Plenty of tournaments ahead - check
10. Brand new camera replacing my 5 years veteran KIA Canon - coming soon!

BY FUCKING SUPERIORITY

It's been 11 years since my last fight. Preliminary round of a minor international tournament. I lost. Badly, against the guy who eventually got the Gold. That was my comeback fight after a very long stop. 3 years earlier I was supposed to bid my farewell to TKD because my back simply could not stand it anymore. So the mere fact I was treading the tatami again should feel like victory nonetheless. It didn't. Because a 5-0 defeat is defeat no matter the way you look at it. That said, I retained some pride for being still a fighter no matter what. In those days, the upper side of my head gear showed a quote I had taken the effort to paint together with my nickname from ever since I was a little boy. The quote read <<Rage, courage and tenacity against ill luck>>. I still was little more than a teenager, so I couldn't help being largely pathetic in the way I emotionally lived my sport.
Back to my tournament, the guy's victory was a sharp example of how life's promises of success can turn into the most vile lies, because a few months later he would die in a car accident. In the meantime, my long awaited comeback turned out to be a lie as well, as my joints would soon conspire to put a quick end to that illusive parenthesis. However, this marked the beginning of my career in Poomsae. Not necessarily a happy one, but at least a totally different story. Yeah stories. Not fairy tales. Painful stories; moving stories; very long stories; unbelievable stories. True sport is a huge compendium of these. And no fairy-tale is Carlo Molfetta's bio. Not everybody knows this wasn't his first Olympic participation. 8 years ago he was in Athens. He was a beast, maybe the best already. But in the preliminary round, Fate made him cross his path with a true legend in the making: Hadi Saei from Iran, then Gold Medallist in both Athens (-68Kg) and Beijing (-80Kg). Carlo underestimated his opponent and went down.
Later on, a 4 years wait would not be a sufficient punishment, as in 2008 Carlo's clinical ordeal had already begun. His knees underwent 4 distinct surgeries, keeping him far away from China. So, 3 more years had to pass before he could start a new adventure from scratch. But then again, his race to London began with a false start. He was immediately defeated 10-11 by the surprisingly on fire Gadzhi Umarov (RUS) at the first 2011 Qualification Olympic Tournament, the transparency of which was affected by the lack of electronic body protectors. Continental Qualifications told a totally different story, and Carlo easily stormed through the tournament gaining his pass for London. At the end of the day, he was wearing a T-shirt reading <<Sorry for being late>>. The rest, you already know, it's been a spectacular, breathtaking Olympic Tournament conquered in that August 11 that my Facebook status had already called "Molfetta's Day" the night before.
Since then, I've gone through the whole final match a dozen times, each time equally suffering and rejoicing. But the one thing that keeps giving me the shivers even when I'm not watching the fight, is the epic word that closed the match by judges' decision. Winner by SUPERIORITY. You see, it was no single hit; no lucky kick, not the score, not a barren digit to give him the Gold. He got it because he'd been <<superior>>. To his opponent, yeah, but the echoe of this word is too strong to be restricted to this. Carlo's been superior to every obstacle a lifelong road had put against him, triumphing only at the very end of it. So my mind cannot but going back to both my old helmet and those childish words I wrote with unsteady hand more than 15 years ago. Because what at the end of the road was but a crown of thorns to me, now it's telling the story of a true king.

(Headline photo: edited official Olympic broadcasting photogram)

FALSE START

It happens so many times. You're determined to get back in shape after Summer, and you find out your gym is still closed for vacation. You start the new season with skyrocketing goals, and you get injured on your first training session. You're out to dominate the competition, and you stumble during the very first round. You want to start off with a bang and you're out when the race has not started yet. False starts often mark the difference between expectations and reality, giving away the ephimeral fabric dreams are made of. So false, so true.

MIRROR MIRROR

Two things you definitely need if you want to excel in Poomsae, even if you're already a boss: a good trainer and a big mirror. As they see you from the outside, they both know your movements better than you do. But whereas your instructor can explain you where to improve, mirrors are very good at telling where you're wrong. You must be acknowledged that your perception of your own body is not accurate, altered as it is by your first person view and false certainties. Keep this in mind when you train, or at least before claiming you're <<the fairest of them all>>.

NOTE: in case your gym has no mirror, a compact camera and a small tripod will do the trick.

ZERO GRAVITY

Have you ever won an Olympic medal? Rohullah Nikpah (AFG) had. Once. Apparently, though, when he did it again this early August he suddenly felt remarkably lighter.

(Pre-editing photo: Reuters/Darren Staples)

¡ACÁ TORO!

-58Kg Olympic Champion Joel Gonzalez Bonilla is truly a toreador, as in the gold medal final he defeated the bullish Daehoon Lee (KOR) either dodging or blocking an incredible 40 kicks per round average. The Korean guy should have known, though; in TKD it's no use charging stubbornly, let alone when you're facing a Spanish!

(Pre-editing photo: official Olympic broadcasting photogram)

- See Edited Photogram
- See Full Match

CARLO MOLFETTA: BOLTING PUREBRED

If there is one athlete I think of when I hear the word 'horsepower', that is the +80Kg Olympic Gold Medallist Carlo Molfetta, from Italy. Although he likes being nicknamed The Wolf (disguised under a peaceful grandma-like temper), the sheer power of his kicking sequences reminds me of a wild horse bolting. However, Carlo is no mindless beast at all. Some of his best kicks are actually strokes of genius, like the 360 delayed reach-on bandal chagi that put the Chinese opponent to "Sudden Death" in the quarter final round.
This combination of raw power and creativity makes up for the ultimate Taekwondo fighter. You never know what bizarre combination or feigned kick he can pull out, also being strong-minded enough to wait until the very right time. 183 cm tall against 2 meter giants, his incredible reach and meticulous tactics compensate for his relatively small size. If you're a faint of heart, though, you should avoid his matches. Whether he scores the critical Golden Point or wins by Superiority after the 4th round, he loves to keep you preying until the last moment and over. Victory for him is like the finest woman; he cannot just take her, he must court her until she finally falls. In love... or to the ground.

(Pre-editing photos: twitter.com/taekwondofita)

CALL OF DUTY: BLACK BELT OPS

Making us proud in the process.

(Pre-editing photo: repubblica.it)

MASTER & COMMANDER

Maybe it's only the season. Maybe my wish for sea and vacation twists the way I see things. However, when I look at this picture, I can't help seeing a line of thin sailing boats, perched on a mild sea as the wind gently bends them on one side.

CAN YOU FIND THE INTRUDER?

Hard to tell who's the taekwondist and not a cartoon character, here. But I definitely put my bet on Spank.

INCOMING

Poor little wooden board. Hold still by two people while a third one is falling down from the sky only to break you apart. How unfair! This is one rare instance where taekwondo proverbial loyalty faints. Paradoxes aside, this makes me think of all the times in this sport you know something bad is coming but you can't do anything to stop it. When you dramatically miss your opponent and you're left with only kissing their next kick; when you're waiting for the poomsae score of someone who's just performed much better than you; when you take a false step during a demonstration and you can't help losing your balance in front of a giggling crowd.
I guess now you're expecting some inspirational lesson from this, but the best I can say is that sometimes boards just won't break, no matter how many times they got hit. Just try to keep this in mind when you take a hard beat, not while you're jumping over a hill of crouching gym mates.

A WALK IN THE PARK

Once you're a taekwondist in the gym, you're a taekwondist everywhere.

ON TARGET

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT - Train your aim. Your feet will thank you.
You wanna know how to make me a rich man? Give me 1 euro for every elbow I hit in my TKD history. As electronic body protectors and foot sensor socks are becoming the worldwide standard fighting gear, precision is getting more and more crucial. However, kicking accuracy has always been important to protect your safety, as there are many things you risk to hit in battle that are usually harder than your insteps. Unlike the guy in the picture, though, I suggest you to use clap kickers for accuracy training, unless you want to find out how Achilles managed to take that famous arrow to the heel.

HIDE & SEEK

If there is one thing Roberto Benigni taught us in Life is Beautiful, it's that no nearby fight should stop a child from playing. No matter how very close.

CONJOINED TWINS

So you chose Taekwondo because there are no shoelaces to deal with? I'm afraid you didn't take belt and body protections into account.

THE SUN OUTSIDE

The summer is upon us. Warming up doesn't take an hour as it did in February, your dobok becomes a sponge as soon as you wear it, and taking a shower after training will soon become a gearless fight against swarms of ninja mosquitos. Besides, it feels somewhat masochistic to shut yourself up in the gym when the Sun outside spreads its glory on every inch of green still resisting in town. However, I admit I still feel like training. I love the relaxed condition muscles benefit from the heat, and more than anything I love being able to perform a yop chaghi without having to pray the Holy Vergin to preserve me from repetitive strain injuries. Soon the sport season will be over, and no summertime occasional training will maintain me fit for the next September restart. But you know what? Who cares, it's almost summer! Hey boy, bring me another mojito!

STRIP GIRL VOL. 2

She's not a black belt. She's a black hole.

MAD MAT

When it's too soft. When it's too hard. When it's too new. When it's too old. When it's too high. When it's too dirty. When it's too slippery. When it's consumed. When it's got holes in. When it's too little. When it's not aligned with the judges. When you run out of excuses.

HAUNTED

Many of us were told that Poomsae are fights against an imaginary opponent, or a shadow. I've been practicing this discipline for almost 20 years and I can easily say this. 1. That opponent is bloody real. 2. He leads a whole army.
I wrote it in one of my frist posts on this blog; fighting is harder, Poomsae are crueler. If you mess it up, there is no second round, no second chance, no 3 points headshot to aim for. Moreover, this event forces you to cope with your most unsettling dark sides. When you approach the competition area, your unconscious starts to hunt you down in every possible way. The fear of losing. The fear of trembling on the first stance. The fear of losing your balance on those decisive side kicks. The fear to disappoint your teacher. The fear to disappoint your students. The fear to feel bad when you do something you're supposed to enjoy. The fear of being too old to compete at a high level. The fear of being too sick to compete at all. The fear of the fear. The fear, the fear.
Damn.We're getting screwed, my friends. Yeah, this is supposed to be our passion, but not in the Christ's sense. You know, I'm 32 and I'm realizing I don't give a damn about winning anymore. I don't need to beat anyone to feel I'm someone. I just want to be the best person I can be and I still think kicking in front of a crowd can make you a stronger person when it'll be life to kick you hard in the face. I want to dominate the competition, not win it. Fuck the podium. Fuck those ugly medals. Fuck the ephimeral glory of an instant. Now I want my peace of mind. I want my sport to make me smile. It took me 10 full years to come back competitive after the 3 years stop I was forced to in my 20s. I remember long winters training alone in a grey gym so far from home. I remember my ex-girlfriend telling me to quit, because my mind and body could not take it any more. I don't rememember her at all when my disease reached its peak.
I remember my kind master's last days. I remember his taekwondo school being taken up by a bunch of fools who could not stand their shadow, let alone fight it. I remember being kicked out. <<Because your teachings harm the gym>>. Yes, and donkeys have wings.
They have names. They all have names. You see, it's not some obscure evil coming out of the blue only to devour a generation for fun's sake. It's not "the crisis". It's people with names and surnames. The night before my last tournament I did not dream of victory. Nor defeat. I dreamt I was kicked out of my gym. Once again. How many ghosts for me on that mat the following day.
You see, I tend to remember a lot. And I know what I'll remember of this last sunday. That my first student rocked so hard she made my heart pound. That the last thing I did before stepping on the mat was telling a joke to the most ridiculously sweet girl you could hope to have in your team. That my kicks did not tremble, and that I had a blast with them.

I AM ALWAYS WATCHING YOUR BACK

'Cause it's worth it. 'Cause you deserve it. 'Cause no ungrateful villain can undo what we can do together.

MAN ON MARS

Martial arts are like exploring new planets, as practice and self-confidence unlock a world of possibilities far beyond what we used to consider our natural limits. I am currently 32. I've been training for a lifetime but I still find it hard to consider myself an athlete or a sportsman whatsoever. I wasn't born to do this. I am much of a romantic perpetual child, who works freelance in the gaming industry and puts humour and emotions above all else. I'm skinny. Before each competition I'm in, there is one odd moment when, wearing my dobok in the locker room, I am surrounded by a whole army of black belts whose bodies look like Greek statues. Then I feel like a dog in church. My muscles are outrageously thin and my joints are weak. I have to train wearing shoes and a pair of appalling insoles, even on a tatami mat. Regarding my mental strenght, I leave a lot to desire too. But you know what? I don't care if I can look like an alien, sitting unconfortably on an out of scale world. I still got kicks. And as long as I can give them, this planet is my home.

IT BEGINS

Can you remember your first fight? We all can. Mine was 16 years ago. I remember I wasted all the breath I had in a fistful of seconds, hitting more elbows than a human being can count, thus spending the rest of the match panting and thinking that competitions were too tough for me. The other guy was no better than me, as the final score would be a pathetic 0-0. I lost, however, due to a second penalty charged to my exuberant coach. I also managed to injury my right foot, which prevented me from walking normally for a week or so. Overall, it was a terrible experience, plagued with anxiety and disappointment.
So I wish this young yellow belt a far better start than I did. But more than anything, I wish him a hundred more memorable experiences in his dobok, so that in 16 years he will be happy to tell everyone about his own baptism of fire. No matter the result.

SLEEPING BEAUTY

Wake up. Today's your day.

SHORT MEMORY

<<What are we dressed up like this for, again?>>
<<Can't remember, but sure is soft.>>

STRIP GIRL

Because a comic girl could not but inspire a balloon post. Peace, Alessia :P

ITALIAN VERSION

LIQUID COURAGE

We proudly brew our own.

TIP OF THE ASS-BERG

You know, sometimes your master tells you to do things that look very, very bizarre.
Trust him, though. It all becomes clear, when you get the bigger picture.

OLD BOYS

Usually in sport you compete as long as you can keep up with the best, no matter if they're up to 20 years younger. So, over 30/40/50 years divisions are a privilege of our discipline. They allow talented Poomsae performers to stay on top for almost a lifetime. Besides, staying in touch with the competition dramatic feelings makes them better teachers as well. On the other hand, as Poomsae are an aesthetical sport, the oldest veterans cannot but disappoint when it comes to agility and high beautiful kicks, even on a global scale selection. That's why I have mixed feelings about Master divisions.
Anyway, please stand up for Nadir Giunchi, Roberto Boghi and Giovanni Sotgiu, the amazing Italian Male Team 2 that tricked their age conquering a bronze medal at the European Poomsae Championship 2011.

(Photo courtesy of Aleksandar Golović)

LOOK AT MY LADYBUG

Yes, dear son, Taeguk are fixed patterns, but you never know what you might come across when you perform one.

OH JOY

All's well that ends well. Right? Wrong. The more I train with the best athletes in my region, the more I realize this: they love TKD, they like to train, they want to compete. But they find it so hard to enjoy it when they do it. This is true for both fighters and poomsae specialists, but it's the latter the most vulnerables. Poomsae training doesn't leave much room for improvisation. Routines are repetitive, as the focus is on correcting mistakes. Competitions, on their side, can keep you waiting a whole day to eliminate you in a minute. Sure, if everything goes right, you'll eventually smile at the end. But how long can you bear with this? Hard training, strong pressure... only for a feeble chance of bliss at the end of it all? Just think a minute. This is nonsense. You're getting burnt out, only you don't know it yet.
Martial arts are not strictly about "having fun", but no passion can do without some kind of pleasure. Poomsae are not about playing over and over some record in your mind. *You* are that form. You are the tradition, revived each time you blow your fists. Feel the energy flowing all through your limbs. Enjoy the wide stances and the statuary kicks. You are the swift body of a mute dance that echoes wars from an ancient past. This is art. Don't carry out. Perform. Don't play it. Live it.
So when you train with your friends or enter a competition venue, don't let the hard feelings overcome you. It's not fear the reason you're here. It's joy. Right from the very start.

DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVES

Don't tell anyone, though.