on disappointment

Losing is difficult, no matter how you look at it. And beyond the consolations of knowing that I put up a good fight, made her earn her win, used tools that weren’t necessarily my bread and butter, or should have had more points scored for me – a loss is still a loss and it's still incredibly disappointing.

I suppose I’ve known this all along, but in this tournament especially, it really hit home that the best person does not always win, and that the 4 best people will not necessarily receive medals. Beyond knowing that at the highest levels anyone has a chance to win on any given day, it’s also just a reality that the uncontrollable factors of bracketing and referee/judging bias exist. It was rather disheartening to see the number of talented people get eliminated in the first round, or less spectacular athletes get pushed through to the next round with help from the judges. The blatant cheating from Day 1 of awarding Turkey all 3 gold medals was just depressing, and reinforced what our coaches said from the beginning: that no one would be doing us any favors and we would be fighting uphill.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t wish the bracketing had been different. My half had not only the strong countries, but people who had been Jr, Collegiate, or World champions. It was almost ridiculous how stacked one side was compared to how empty the other was. Watching the semifinals from the other half was hard, as both Turkey and Belarus were downright awful. So bad that Liza told me I should probably stop watching. I wonder how many times I'll lose in the quarterfinals to the eventual champion and have to watch someone else take a medal on the other side.

I suppose in an ideal world where seeding was always accurate, there would be easier matches leading up to harder matches – but if put in the perspective of goals, and if the goal is to win a gold medal, then it really shouldn’t matter the order in which you fight whomever. Looking back on my last four years of competition, this is where my goals on the national level have shifted – from being satisfied to medal to wanting to be a champion. As I compete more internationally, I see that it is not so unrealistic to have the same goals in a bigger arena, even if I don’t have the medals to back it up. The China girl I fought was hands down the best in my division, but even with her I didn’t feel outclassed or defeated at any point.

My competition date marked the one year point of my move to New York and West Side. Through all the ups and downs (and to some extent because of them) in the past year, I can step back and see much growth, both technically and mentally. And though the results may not show it, I could feel the difference in the ways that I have changed. While I retained much of my cerebral nature that sees a match as a game of strategy and skill, I also feel that I’ve picked up some amount of sheer desire to win beyond calculated odds. So perhaps all of this hard work and pain and lots (and LOTS) of tears was good for something - but it still stings that despite the sacrifices, there is no tangible reward.

This was the hardest and longest I’ve consistently prepared for a tournament, and the most prepared I’ve ever felt. And even though I made some mistakes, I felt like I fought that match with everything that I had. Up until this point, most of my losses have been because I took myself out of matches by hesitating, doubting, or choking. Somehow it’s a different kind of disappointment in knowing that I may have given my best but that it just wasn’t enough to reach the goal...remembering that referees choosing not to push buttons negated the crucial point where the match could have turned around.

I spent the rest of that day replaying that match in my head and thinking that I could have been a world champion – but simultaneously facing the reality that I wasn’t even a medalist. For the first time, I understood that I have what it takes to belong at this level, and furthermore, that if circumstances are right and I’m on my game, I could very well win it all. Beyond a certain amount of skill, timing, speed, and other points of technical merit, it comes down to adaptability, instinct, the ability to focus and create opportunities, and luck.

I wonder what it will take to be able to put it all together when it counts. Whether my time will come, and whether all of these ‘learning experiences’ will amount to tangibly achieving my goals.

Or whether it'll just continue to be a series of 'almosts'.