HAPPY NEW AGE

“Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.”
- J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye


Maybe nobody didn't either notice or care. But since this late summer a choice was made –or rather forced– it took me a while to find the gut to remove the word 'player' from my profile information below. Actually, it all felt unsettling from the very beginning. Ending my classes without even feeling tired or sweaty, with a few kicks given only for demonstration, having a shower only for the sake of it. "Am I ready for this?". I didn't know the answer.

Then on my first tournament as coach only, something did happen. And something didn't. The latter first. When they called my division, I couldn't give a shit. I had feared that moment. When they are calling your age, your belt, your grade. And you can't respond. I just shrugged. I felt nothing, really. Later, it would be time for something new. Gold. Gold everywhere. Cadets. Juniors. Seniors. "Hell, my students are strong. And I have a hand in it." Suddenly, I was no ex-average player full of regrets anymore. I was King Midas reborn. Only with less money and a bigger nose.

Things start to pop into my mind:
1. What I know– sorry, what I have come to know from a lifetime of obsessive self-study and yet awful performances, is correct.
2. It only couldn't work with someone who was broken inside out and the best coach he ever had was an empty chair and an unguarded bag.
3. Put what is correct into a body and mind that don't ache every second they live, and you got a serious gold contender.
4. By the end of the day, I had won everything I could keeping my feet clean in the process. Wow.
5. Medals are shiny. But my beautiful athletes' smiles are shinier. Accidentally, winners tend to smile a lot.
6. Medals are shiny. So are cups. But cups are bigger. And winning coaches go home with cups.

Yet again, I knew I should not believe a happy day at a local tournament could mean everything was ok with being 33 and spending a good half of that happy day telling everyone asking that no, today I'm not competing. Neither today, nor tomorrow.

So the Nationals came. The real deal. I've always had a love & hate relationship with this tournament. Like the Christmas day you count days to, but it's never giving that special present you die for. Not that I never squeezed a piece of metal out of the championship. But I never liked the colour of it.

My senior girls compete in the first day. They're awesome. But they both come from some pesky injury, so they're not 100%. By the end of round 1, they lead in 1st and 2nd place. I'm roaring inside. But another beast is waiting for them in the semifinal. They tame Keumgang and put their hats on 2 of the 4 seats available in the final train. They both do their best. I am so proud. There are smiles on their pretty faces and metal around their necks. When you win a medal at a National you could hardly train for, you only have to pat your own back and rejoice. But still, I don't like the colour.

Second day– My little soldier's turn. Should I tell the story that brought the two of us together here, it'd take me so long and bring back such misery I coudn't endure. Today, I only know two things. One, she's almost unstoppable. Two, she can only be stopped if she runs out of joy. In 2010 she was already a killer, but I was not good enough to protect her from the pressure robbing her of the joy of kicking. This time I'm not blowing it. I must make her laugh. They can phone me right now telling me both my parents are dead and I still will make her laugh. She knows the rest. She knows it all. I don't have to waste my time and words going over blocks and stances and stuff. I only have to smile and make her laugh. And God, this is the only sport I've always been a pro. I look around, and for the first time ever at the Nationals, I feel I'm the best at doing what I have to do.

I open my heavy fire of jokes. She responds with her rapid fire of laughters. She says stop it. I won't. When they're calling her turn, she asks me: "Why am I not afraid?". This time I know the answer. But I keep the secret. And by the very end, we fucking love the colour.

(Pre-editing photo courtesy of François Alonge)

DWARFS & SNOW WHITES

From me, my evil minions' staff and my little big team of precious kicking doves!

THREE ♥F A KIND

To maximize video quality, watch it on YouTube, set 720p HD and go full screen. 

Per la migliore qualità video, visualizzare il video su YouTube, impostare 720p HD e attivare la visione a tutto schermo.

ON EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN

Matilde Rastaldi - Poomsae Junior Champion of Italy 2013

So we made it, little one. We really made it. It took a little longer than expected, but when your time finally came, it came with the loudest bang. It's been so long since we started to train together. You were so tiny and funny and already awesome. Since then, my biggest dream has always been to see you set foot on that step. You did it twice in a single day. Now it'll be no picnic to find myself a new and bigger dream, as reality has proven to dream bigger than me.
Remember it. Remember the day we kept laughing together and you hit harder and harder, round after round. Remember that we can force life to live up to its promises. And whatever will happen from now on, either good or bad, never forget the moment when there was nothing above your fist, and the whole country beneath your feet.

CACCIATEMI ADESSO

Avanti. Salite pure sul carro dei vincitori, miseri ipocriti dalla coscienza di catrame. Avete fatto di tutto per boicottarla e parcheggiarla nella vostra stessa mediocrità. Ve ne siete fregati per anni, avete fatto spallucce davanti al tradimento, avete voltato lo sguardo mentre io vi chiedevo aiuto e i vostri simili le scippavano il futuro. E ora fingete di emozionarvi, di tenerci, di aver sperato e lottato con lei. Secondo quell'imbecille non-cultura dello sport per cui la pacchia sarebbe il risultato, il premio, la vittoria. Di pubblico dominio come la sua notizia. Ma là c'eravamo noi. I battiti impazziti, gli sguardi e le parole che li hanno domati, la sinfonia di gambe e braccia che ne è scaturita. Erano solo nostri. Esserci stati mentre tutto accadeva a nessun altro che a noi. Noi i soli bersagli della prepotenza con cui i sogni, a volte, si avverano senza preavvisi e mezze misure. Questa è la ricompensa. Non un ciondolo di metallo finto, non un gradino di legno numerato, non la bugia di un altoparlante innocente, non una coppa che non vedrete mai. La verità incancellabile di quei momenti, la storia che lì è culminata, le lacrime che sono sgorgate, hanno scavato solchi più profondi della vostra meschinità. Non siete riusciti a spegnermi la passione. Non siete riusciti a tarparle le ali. Non siete riusciti a separarci.
Non vi dimenticheremo, ladri di vita e parassiti di luce riflessa. Non per vendicarci, giacché nessuna punizione sarebbe peggio dell'essere ciò che voi siete. Ma per tenere sempre a mente cosa mai e poi mai dobbiamo diventare.

PUSHING UP DAISIES

You all know, I was no champ. Even the word 'athlete' never suited me well. But across 20 years of scalding defeats, blunders and wasted opportunities, I understood a couple of things here and there about this sport. The kind of things that'll make strong those who'll come after you. So maybe it's not that bad, to die a loser. If flowers bloom from your ground.

WE ARE READY

Are you?

FLAT TO THE GROUND

You're either defeated or getting ready for success. Now what's your choice?

MAT ON THE MAT

Yo, Mat! That was superlative... Your focaccia bread, I mean :P

ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK

Last year we left her on her knees, head down on the mat, giving her thanks for her third world title in a row. This time, the first thing she did was raising her front kick toward the sky, where she now rightfully belongs, before showing off an incredible 270° backward standing split. The rumors have Suji Kang leaving Korea and top class competitions after displaying this superb four of a kind poker hand. Should we lose her, next world champs will definitely miss her brightest star, but there's no doubt little Suji already proved herself as the best poomsae player ever since the world championships were established. Her final round in Bali remains as a testament of her superior technique, speed and flexibility. No one was ever seen to kick as fast and high as she does. Your eyes simply cannot keep up as she abruptly accelerates upward, like her feet and the hall ceiling had suddenly fallen in love. You are only left with a memory snapshot of a tiny graceful statue, assuming an impossible heroic pose for the blink of an eye.
For the past four years, Suji Kang has been a shining symbol of the beauty and expressiveness of TKD Poomsae, inspiring players from all over the world and impressing anybody who was lucky enough to see her in action. Her sublime performances, pure smile and unexpected pride are the best sponsors this sport could ever dream of.

(photos 1-4: 8thworldtaekwondopoomsaechampionship2013.com; photos 2-3-5: unverified source)