District Champ

Dear Dad,

On Saturday, G3 competed in the Taekwondo Northeast District Championship in Lancaster. Unlike last year, we knew he could potentially win. But winning wouldn’t be easy. This season, while he has beaten everyone in his ring at least once, he has also lost to several of the boys on other occasions. Since he switched schools, he has practiced a great deal, putting in extra time after his classes to perfect his form, so we knew he was more than ready. However, with forms, so much comes down to the judges. Forms are the Art part of the Martial Arts, and as always with the arts, there is an element of subjectivity. Therefore, anything was possible. 

Earlier in the week, Kati had looked at the schedule for the tournament and saw that G3 would be competing in Round 3 in Ring 16. As soon as I saw that, I felt a supernatural sense of confidence. If you believe in omens, which I always seem to when it comes to you and G3, this was about as good as we were going to get. Three is G3’s favorite number for obvious reasons. (He’s the third G in the family.) And your birthday is July 16. That 16 seemed to shine like a beacon. I could almost hear you telling him, “I gotcha. Remember, I said I’d be there in spirit.” But omens aren’t always what they seem. And sometimes, I’m so desperate that I read into things that were never there to begin with. 

We left early for the tournament on Friday afternoon. We promised G3 that we would detour en route to Lancaster and take him to his favorite Philly Cheesesteak place. Last year, we went there before Districts and he did well (although he didn’t win), so we figured it might be good luck to go again. We then headed to the tournament to watch the Team Sparring event. G3’s instructors and classmates were competing so we wanted to support them and cheer them on. The matches were fun to watch especially since both teams won, taking home gold medals in sparring and combat.  

By the time team sparring ended, it was getting late. Even though we were hungry, we decided to head to our hotel first, check in, and then go eat. Our hotel was forty minutes further west of Lancaster. Why? Because it was the cheapest hotel we could find and we can’t afford anything other than cheap. By the time we arrived, it was nearing 9:00. Our hope was to be in bed soon since we needed to get up early and we wanted G3 to be well rested before one of the biggest tournaments of his young life. However, the gods were not with us. The universe decided it was going to punch us in the gut. When we pulled into the hotel parking lot it was empty. Completely empty. Not a good a sign. But my brain didn’t want to register how bad of a sign it was until G3 spotted the paper sign on the front door, “Motel Closed.” Upon further inspection, we learned that the hotel had been shut since April 6th due to structural damage. April 6. But we made our reservation—through Wyndham—in May. Seriously, how inept are they that the hotel allowed us to make reservations when they weren’t even open. We were raging. It’s not like we were on vacation and could just move on to another place. G3 was competing the next morning. He needed to get a good night sleep and soon.

Kati called Wyndham. Asked them to make her another reservation, this time in Lancaster because after this debacle we wanted to be able to sleep in a bit longer. They immediately found her a place. Of course it cost nearly 5 times what the first hotel cost, but what choice did we have at that point. It was an expensive hotel or sleep in the car. If we were on vacation, we definitely would have gone with the car, but before Districts—no. G3 needed a real bed and a shower in the morning. As we drove back to Lancaster, Kati argued with customer service demanding that our room for the night be paid for by Wyndham. After all, it was their negligence (or stupidity) that was costing us hundreds of dollars. They kept offering us nothing but their apologies, as if that should be sufficient. It wasn’t. Finally, they transferred Kati to a manager of sorts who told us our claim would be processed and that we’d hear back from them in a week. Annoyed, she hung up, we grabbed G3 a quick dinner at McDonalds, and then we tried to settle int to sleep. By then it was nearing 11:00 and I was concerned that the late night would affect G3’s performance in the morning. His outlook was far better than mine. “We’re getting all the bad things over with tonight so tomorrow will be good,” he declared as he climbed into bed. 

The advantage to staying in a far more expensive hotel was that breakfast was included with the cost the night. And breakfast meant pancakes—a pancake breakfast is part of G3’s pregame preparation. However, he ate only one pancake and couldn’t force down another mouthful. Butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach leaving little room for anything else. We got to the tournament later than we planned, but we still got there in time to watch two of G3’s instructors compete, one of whom took first place—and qualified for the World Championship—in both sparring and combat. After that, we waited around, nerves mounting, for G3’s ring to be called. That’s the worst part, the waiting. The nerves like a swarm of gnats that won’t leave you alone. Even though I had a book in my pocket—I know you aren’t at all surprised by that—I couldn’t read. My nerves wouldn’t let me. Did you used to get this nervous back when I used to play sports competitively? 

Around noon, G3’s ring was called and I thought I was going to throw up I was so nervous. There was a great deal of talent in that ring and victory was not assured for anyone. G3 was competing in Forms, Weapons, and Combat, and we all knew he best chance of winning was in Forms. And Dad, I know you were there, I know you were working whatever magic you could because everything worked in G3’s favor. There were no judges who seemed particularly partial to anyone—always a huge plus—and G3 was the absolute last boy to do his form. As soon as he wasn’t called up to be one of the first three, I breathed a sigh of relief. He never places when he is one of the first to go. Anyway, he watched each of the boys intently as they did their forms and even though I knew he was nervous—all week he was telling me how nervous he was—he looked completely calm. When it was his turn to go, he did beautifully. I am truly amazed by how well this kid performs under pressure. I thought he looked fantastic. The judges agreed, scoring him with a 9,8,7. I glanced over Kati’s shoulder, scanned the other scores—she always keeps track on her phone—and it took a moment for it to sink in, but when it did I couldn’t hold back the tears. He had won. He was the District Champion in Forms. But more importantly, he qualified for the World Championship in Phoenix, Arizona. 

As for weapons, he came in third place and took home the bronze medal. It was a little disappointing. He would have liked to have won that too, but the boy who did take first is a boy I like—he personifies sportsmanship in every competition—and so if G3 couldn’t win, I’m glad Jakob did. In combat, G3 lost in the first round, but he was not annihilated. The boy he fought was a head and a half taller than him, and his limbs were longer—a huge advantage when it comes to combat. But G3 still scored a few points. Seven months ago, he wouldn’t have scored at all. Since changing schools, G3’s combat skills have increased greatly and I look forward to watching him compete next tournament season.

I wish you there. I wish you were still alive, because if you were, I know you and mom would have been at the tournament cheering for G3. You probably would have had your hotel booked even before we did. And afterward, you would have taken us out to eat to celebrate. We would have gone to that smorgasbord place that you first discovered when I was a kid and we were on vacation in Lancaster. You would have hugged G3 and told him how proud of him you were. If you were here, it would have been a much different day. If you were here, you too would have gone home to make reservations for Phoenix because there would have been no way you’d miss watching G3 compete in the World Championship. If you were here…it’s been more than two years and still I wonder how things would be different if you hadn’t died. And I still cry because you should be here, you should have had more time. The hole in our lives will never disappear.

Yesterday, was my third Father’s Day without you. I was sad and sulky all day. But Kati and I spent the afternoon making plans for Phoenix. We made flight reservations, a hotel reservation, and we rented a car. It’s all too expensive. We wouldn’t have been able to afford it, so Kati’s father is helping us out. Maybe you can work some of your magic—from wherever you are—to help me get a job so we can more easily afford G3’s tournaments next year. I would really appreciate the help.

I miss you!

PS — The first tournament of the new season will be on your birthday. I’ll be thinking of you while I watch G3 compete and I know you’ll continue to be there with him in spirit, which I suppose is better than not being there at all.

PPS—I got another essay published. Inscape, which is put out by the English Department in Washburn University, published “Time Travel.” It’s essay that I wrote last year about missing you. So many publications rejected it. I’m happy it finally found a home.