Around March of 2020, I lost contact with a lot of friends. High school was ending, COVID was starting, and so many people I kept up with were no longer in my life. One of those people lives on the East Coast, and we compete in the same sport. I had the opportunity to compete in a tournament in the Eastern League, so I texted him, asking if he would be there. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make it, so we texted for a bit, but that was about it.
When the day of the tournament arrived, I was absolutely overwhelmed. The Midwest doesn’t have a strong, competitive scene, so I hadn’t competed at the collegiate level before this. Our team of five competitors walks into a gym with over 650 athletes, and we stand at the entrance, stunned for a bit before gathering our bearings and finding a place to get set up. We started warming up, but the opening ceremonies cut us off earlier than I hoped. Immediately after opening ceremonies, we’re up to compete, so we head to our ring and finish warming up as best we can. My opponents are seeded to be in the top 4, so I don’t expect to win. I remind myself I’m here to learn, but that doesn’t stop me from shaking nervously. Although I am acutely aware of every mistake I am making, I can’t stop. It’s everything I can do to finish the round. Needless to say, we lost very decisively.
Later on, I run into my opponents from earlier. They’re very friendly, and though we only talk briefly, I’m reminded of why I came to this tournament. I came here to learn, so that’s what I do. I watch as many rounds as I can, learning how competitors, referees, judges, and coaches all fit into each round. I study how other competitors warm up and interact with their coaches. I keep track of how different refs run their rings differently. I make conversation with other spectators to ask them questions. Later, I get a chance to fill a minor judging role, so I take it. It doesn’t start well, but I keep learning, and the ref compliments me on improving in those few hours.
Once I get a break, I stand off to the side, staring vacantly at a round, when someone taps me on the shoulder.
“Hey, weird question, are you from Chicago?” the stranger asks me.
“I am. What’s up?”
“Do you happen to know someone named—“
“Yeah! How’d you find me?” I don’t need him to finish the sentence because I realize he’s one of my high school friend’s teammates. I do feel a little bad for cutting him off, but what happens happens. Turns out, he was sent a photo of me and told to find me at the tournament. After chatting for a bit, we take a photo together to send back to our friend. A few hours later, my team packs up, and we leave.
Being confused and trying to learn for the whole day was much more exhausting than I expected, but it was entirely worth it. I won’t have a collegiate career for much longer, but hopefully, I can convince the rest of my team to start competing. I’ll share with them all the incredible stories I remember from that day in hopes that they want to experience it all firsthand. That may take a while, so for now, I’ll fill my time by reaching out to old friends.