Angels in Their Corner

THIS WAS GETTING ugly. Inside a massive ballroom at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, my 14-year-old son, Andrew, was competing in his first match at the Taekwondo Nationals and getting pummeled. It was hard to watch.

He took a hard kick to the chest, stumbling backward. A second kick threw him to the mat. He struggled to stand, the air knocked out of him. I felt helpless from my seat near the edge of the mat. I wasn’t overly concerned about him getting physically hurt. The competitors wore padded vests and head gear. It was Andrew’s pride, his enthusiasm for this sport he loved, I worried might never recover.

“C’mon, Andrew,” I cheered under my breath. Spectators weren’t supposed to make noise so the contestants could hear their coaches. But I, I prayed.