Keith DaCosta

1/15/07

Writing on regret

The Tournament

I woke up one morning and told my parents I wanted to join a Tae kwon Do academy. They asked me why all of a sudden. I answered. “I want to master something.”

Five years later…

I was standing in front of a giant crowed, all looking down on me like a giant wave about to crash onto a beach. I could hear my coach’s voice. She yelled to me as I fought. “Give him another one!” I had to try and listen to her and pay attention to my fight. I was always good at multitasking. I looked him straight in the eye to show him I had no fear. He was nothing. He wasn’t a thing like me. I could smell the fear from three feet away as he took a step back. The first round was now over. I took a deep breath.

“Keith, do you realize you’re bleeding?” My coach asked me. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweaty uniform. He must be better than I thought. I stood up immediately. “Time to return the favor,” I said to my coach.

The bell rang, round 2 began. I fought blow after blow taking and giving the hardest hits imaginable. Finally, I got fed up with the child’s play. I swung my leg as fast as I could like an eagle soaring through the sky. Our shins clashed. I could feel his shatter next to mine. The crowd shrieked like a pack of hyenas. We both hit the ground as hard as a boulder being dropped. I looked at him crying on the ground. I wondered why I’m not in pain. I slowly looked at my leg only to find that it had been pierced by my own bone. Although I felt nothing physically, that moment hurt me the most out of any fight I’ve ever been in.