I stood facing the "Bull." He snarled, ready to gore me. Tension was in the air. I felt every muscle tighten.
He wasn�t called the "Bull" for nothing. Not only was he a Black Belt, he had a reputation for being an aggressive and experienced fighter. He never backed down. He always charged like a bull, hence the nickname. He wasn�t tall or big but stocky and powerfully built - exactly like a bull. I was the bullfighter who cannot expect any mercy from this bull. A ferocious bullfight ensued.
He stood between my Black Belt and me. In the most demanding station of the Black Belt exam, you had to spar against a Black Belt, and I was unfortunate enough to draw the toughest: the Bull. But come what may, I was ready . . .
Earlier in the day, we were excited but tense. This was the big day. By the end of the day, I would know if I was worthy to wear the coveted Tae Kwon Do Black Belt. Having it makes one an �expert� in the particular martial art.
I had missed the previous Black Belt exam because of flu. And I was leaving full-time army service soon, so this was my last chance to earn the Black Belt before leaving. We had been training very hard for the past two and a half years. I still remembered the stitches on my lips about a year ago because of an injury sustained during a Blue Belt exam. (More about this incident). I managed to pass that one, but I knew that a far sterner test awaited me.
There were two examiners. One had the reputation for being hard to please. He was stern and never smiled. The other was less demanding. Although his standards were also high, he appreciated our hard work. He tolerated tiny mistakes. He smiled once in a while.
Our Tae Kwon Do instructor hence divided us into two groups, one for the tough examiner and the other for the less severe one. To my dismay, I was in the tough examiner's group, among those to be sacrificed.
�Good Morning, gentlemen," the non-smiling examiner said to the unfortunate group. �There are a few stations in the exam, as you know. But if you fail just one of them, you fail the whole exam. No Black Belt for you. That�s the way it is with me. You fail one, that�s it. Let�s begin!�
The exam began with the �pattern" station. We had to perform a predetermined variety of moves, kicks and punches. My greatest fear was having a blackout in which I would freeze and forget the pattern. But that did not happen. The hours of training took over, and I did the pattern reasonably well. One station down.
Next came the kicking station. We demonstrated various kicks at the command of an assistant examiner. A group of four candidates were tested at a time. �Side Kick, ready!� he shouted. "Now kick, kick, kick, kick . . . Now Turning Kick, ready! Kick, kick, kick . . . .� Then I heard the dreaded command. �Number Two only, Turning Kick, ready!" I was Number Two. They ordered a candidate to perform a kick again only when the first time round wasn�t satisfactory, a sure sign that something was amiss. I had to demonstrate the kick again. �Kick, kick . . . .� I did not know if my second round of kicks were good enough, but I had to put this behind me because the next station was the dreaded one: my showdown with the Bull.
I found myself in a bullfighting ring. The raging Bull charged at me immediately. I averted his first kick. I swung to the other side and steered clear of his second kick. He tried a punch next. I blocked it. He was so fast that I hadn�t even attempted a kick of my own when the next kick hit me hard on my hip. I felt the painful force of the blow. I staggered, but there was no time for pain. I had to ignore it because more kicks were coming. I ducked the next three kicks. Tried a side kick -- missed. A back thrust�missed. A turning kick -- missed. The Bull was quick at averting my attacks.
The Bull was now raging mad. His next two or three kicks finished me. I wasn�t knocked down but was like a boxer losing heavily on points. Before I could redress the balance, time was up. The bullfighter had lost. I knew I had failed the exam. The words "if you fail just one station, that�s it" kept ringing in my mind. If you fail just one station, that�s it . . . if you fail just one station, that�s it . . . .
Next came the final and most spectacular station. Pass or fail, I wasn�t going to miss it. We jumped over three guys bent with their hands on their knees and kicked a pad held by another guy. This station was closest to Hollywood�s idea of martial arts - something spectacular. I enjoyed watching the kicks. We cheered as the kicks hit the pad.
My turn came. If you fail just one station, that�s it -- I may be going down, but I'll go down with a BANG. I sprinted towards the three guys, jumped high over them, and SMACK! I didn�t know how spectacular it was, but I had done it. I had kicked hard and released some pent-up energy.
When the result was announced, I had failed as expected. It was most probably due to the sparring station with the Bull. If you fail just one station, that�s it . . . . But I could say the famous words of the great American Idol William Hung. "I had done my best. I have no regrets." |
