"Never Hold Back " by Michael R.

     My dad is highly respected in his family. From being 5 years old and skinning chickens in El Salvador to becoming Vice President of his demolition company in the US, he had a strong passion in his soul. One thing he had always told me was to never hold back. I felt like I had to follow his shadow. However, I’ve always held back but knew I had more to me. Until one summer, when everything changed. I was 11 and became a student at a local gym called Selva Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, where I learned Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and MMA fighting. I didn’t know it at the time, but it would become the spark in my life. I couldn’t throw a ball and there was no way I could wrestle to save my life. It all felt pointless. I began sparring with the other kids and lost against my opponents in every match. I wanted my flame to be put out, but my dad wouldn’t let me stop until it roared. My first tournament was about to tear down my defensive shell. It took a lot of work along with my blood, sweat, and tears fossilized onto my gi (uniform) waiting to be discovered.
     We entered and immediately my heart leaped out of my chest and anchored me down. Ringing, Buzzers, yelling and crying echoed around the entire gym, it felt like my soul was taken by death himself. I waited for 2 hours, my mind was completely drowned out by the cries and bells, I felt like my confidence was fading away. Finally, my call was up but by then I was hoping some kind of natural disaster would have occurred. Earthquake, tsunami, bubonic plague, anything would’ve felt less horrifying than seeing my competition. Tall, strong and most importantly calm soldiers standing is a straight line ready for battle, all the while little 11-year-old me was cold and paralyzed with fear.
Unfortunately, it was my turn. Fighting against my opponent, the screams from my coach and dad made me stiff, and for 2 minutes I did nothing, I held my guard. I decided to use up all my strength to out-power my opponent. He easily pinned me and was able to go up by 2 points. I kept fighting, ignoring everyone around thinking a miracle would happen. Instead, I took an elbow to the mouth.  My braces hit my lips so hard, I started bleeding. All I heard was “Mike, Mike, What are you doing?!” I was done. I didn’t think I could do it so I held back. And just like that, I lost. The referee grabbed my hand and my opponent’s hand, raising his up while mine remained lifeless, a puppet with no strings. Everybody cheered. I started tearing up and my opponent noticed. He gave me a hug and a handshake then left. Relieved it was over, the real fight was with my dad. As I approached the sidelines he rambled, yelled and questioned me and for a moment, I was so terrified, I was so stunned that I could not say anything but let my eyes water up. My eyes started to burn and my vision became blurry. My mom took me in her arms and all I could do was cry. RING RING RING, the referee came back. “Michael? Hey, Michael, your second match is up”. There it was. I had never felt so defeated in my life, I wanted to pass out. My soul tugged my dead body towards the middle of the mat and I shook my competitor’s hand.

     I was so defeated that I shut everyone out and, in turn, was being completely pummeled by my opponent. I tried to out strength him but my weakened body had nothing left to overpower him with. I had done it again, I held back. Down by 6 points, I had 40 seconds to do something, anything. It was all happening again, but then I saw my dad. Expecting disappointment, I met a familiar face. He wasn’t mad, he never was, he was just as scared as I was! He thought I couldn’t push anymore, he felt defeated. I was done. I felt my flame wrap around me, light shimmering, burning everything around me and I was ready. My chords strummed and I opened my ears and listened to my coach. “Look for the opening! You see! There, there! Armbar! Armbar!!” I grabbed his arm, spun around, tugged down the hardest I ever could. I felt 3 taps on my leg, he tapped out. The referee grabbed my arm and my opponents. I looked at the scoreboard, I lost by 6 points. However, the referee raised my hand up. I won my submission. The room exploded with cheers all along the sideline and a smile stretched across my little, doughy face. I won! However, I noticed my opponent was teared up, he couldn’t walk. I knew exactly what he was going through his head, so I shook his hand and gave him a hug. Returning to the sidelines, I meet up with my family. They were so proud. I never realized it but that day, I became as confident as my dad. I took control of the torch passed on to me and showed everyone what I was capable of.
     Lifting up my copper medal, weight pushing down on my little hands as they grazed the reflective brown silhouette. It was a globe that had wings sprouting out with brilliance and confidence. The continents were engraved in the background and bright red stars were placed all along the edges. It read, 2013, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, World’s tournament. Tears and sweat slid down my medal, blood on my gi. I looked around and saw my family taking pictures. I love looking back on this day. It was the first time I didn’t hold back. The first time I didn’t let anyone walk over me and it wasn’t going to be my last either.
     Never Hold Back.