Warrior: The Forging of a Champion

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The alarm goes off at seven thirty. I never wake up this early on a Sunday but I have to today. If I am going to do some hard training, I have get ready.  

I grab a whole-wheat bagel, smear some peanut butter and honey on it, shower, and change. I can't be late or Master Lee will kill me. I pick up my bag, throw it over my shoulder, and rush to my bike. I start to ride slowly pushing the pedals over until the soreness of my legs disappears. I pick up a good pace and make it to the gym with time to spare. I sit outside and wait. The area is a warehouse district and is deserted on a Sunday morning. Occasionally a car drifts by but other than that I just sit here and wait at the doorstep until 8:30, then 8:45. I'd send him a text but I don't think he'd know how to read it.  

Finally at 9:00, Master Lee rolls in. 

"What are you doing?" he asks. 

"I'm getting ready." 

"Come upstairs," he says. 

We go up the stairs to his office, which overlooks the training mat that takes up most of the gym. Master Lee built the office years ago. Good thing he's a better martial artist than carpenter.  

Walking up each step is as scary as going into the competition ring. His office seems to slope downwards under a ceiling so low that we both have to duck to get to the room.  

He goes over to the coffee maker that sits on top of the mini refrigerator and starts to make a fresh pot of coffee. This guy drinks more caffeine then anyone I've ever seen, just one cup after another. My mother says, "The reason he is so irritable is because he drinks too much coffee and probably can't sleep. You should tell him to cut down especially after lunch."  

As the coffee maker starts to percolate the water begins to drip into the container and the smell of the coffee engulfs the office. Master Lee begins on me, "You know yesterday was embarrassing for me. For you to lose at a local competition in front of my peers was humiliating. Not as bad as your performance at nationals last year, but still embarrassing." 

"I know sir. I'm sorry." 

"Do you know what it's like to be around your peers and have your student fight as poorly as you did?" His face starts to turn pink in frustration. 

"I'm sorry."  

He points his finger at me. "I mean really you looked like you were scared. You looked like a little chicken out there." His face turns red. 

"I wasn't scared." 

"You couldn't do anything there. You just let that guy chase you around and beat you. I had to sit next to his father. Did you know he went to my University? He is my junior and his student is humiliating you and you are just standing there like a coward and letting him do that." His face is kind of a burgundy now. 

"I wasn't afraid." 

"You were a chicken. You're always scared to compete ever since you joined here." 

"Master Lee I wasn't scared." 

"You were scared. You were running away the entire time." 

"I wasn't running away in fact, I don't think I even lost. I thought I should have won. In a local competition those judges and referees don't know anything." Just as I say that I regret it. He hates when his students blame the judges or referees. 

He slams his palm on his desk making a loud noise. He stands up with his face now a fire engine red, "You didn't win that you lost. You were terrible. You were an embarrassment. You were just as bad at Nationals and now you were even worse."