Disclaimer
This blog reflects personal experiences of a busy NHS family navigating children’s sport, work schedules and general life logistics. No coaching advice is intended, no other children are being judged, and all technical interpretations of martial arts are written by someone whose primary expertise lies in Upper GI pathways and tournament car-park coffee. All views are my own and written in line with NMC social media guidance. No patients were harmed in the making of this blog. Several coffees were.
Martial Arts you say? Not tennis? No dramatic tie-break? No discussion about LTA rankings, county selection criteria or whether a 9-year-old should really know what a kick serve is?
Yes. Martial Arts.
Before anyone thinks we’ve abandoned our core family identity, let me reassure you: tennis is still very much alive. But for the last four years, our son has also been quietly (and occasionally not so quietly) attending Taekwon-Do at Evolution Taunton.
And he loves it.
It helps that two—sometimes three—of his classmates train there as well. They’re all progressing through the belts together, which is excellent for motivation and equally excellent for post-session comparisons of who kicked higher, faster, or more dramatically.
Evolution itself is a relatively small club but remarkably successful, having produced multiple international champions over the past few years. Clearly, serious things happen in that hall. Our contribution to this legacy is mainly punctual arrival and remembering the water bottle.
The Belt Situation (or: What Exactly Is a Kup?)
Our son is currently a Yellow Belt, which places him at 8th Kup.
For the uninitiated, the Kup system is the colour-belt grading structure used in Taekwon-Do before reaching black belt (which is measured in Dans).
The journey looks roughly like this:
- 10th Kup – White Belt (beginner)
- 9th Kup – White with Yellow Stripe
- 8th Kup – Yellow Belt
- 7th Kup – Yellow with Green Stripe
- 6th Kup – Green Belt
…and so on through blue, red, and eventually to 1st Kup, the final step before black belt.
In simple terms: he’s no longer a beginner, but also not yet someone I would argue with.
The Weekly Logistics Olympics
He trains once a week on a Monday evening.
Not because that is the ideal high-performance pathway.
But because that is the only slot that fits into the operational disaster-management system otherwise known as our family calendar.
With no grandparents nearby for school runs, emergency pick-ups, or surprise childcare rescues, everything is coordinated between two working parents using a combination of calendars, WhatsApp messages and blind optimism.
It’s not always organised.
But it is always… committed.
Competition Day: Wellington (and a Birthday)
Which brings us to last Sunday.
Not only was it the club competition…
…it was also my wife’s birthday.
Card ready.
Breakfast inhaled by our son.
Coffee for the adults (nutrition is a flexible concept before 9am).
Presents still somewhere in the national delivery network.
And off we went to Wellington Sports Centre.
Our son had entered all three events:
- Patterns
- Power
- Sparring
Because clearly moderation is not one of his personality traits.
Event 1: Patterns (The Art of Precision)
Patterns (or Tul) involve performing a pre-set sequence of movements—blocks, strikes, stances and turns.
Judges score based on:
- Accuracy of technique
- Correct stances and positioning
- Balance and control
- Power and timing
- Overall presentation and focus
To the untrained parental eye, every child looked excellent.
However, another parent explained that millimetres matter—hand angle, foot placement, stance depth. Subtle technical differences can significantly affect scoring.
Which made the outcome even more surprising.
After a tense final requiring three rounds (naturally), our son won Gold.
The second round was tied, forcing a decider.
I should add that he rarely practises patterns at home.
But going the full distance? That part felt very familiar.
Event 2: Power Pad (Physics Meets Enthusiasm)
Next came the Power Test.
Competitors get:
- One back-fist strike
- One kick
The force is measured electronically in Newtons.
For context:
A Newton (N) is the standard unit of force in physics. It represents the force needed to accelerate one kilogram of mass by one metre per second squared.
In parenting terms: it is a scientific way of confirming whether your child hits things harder than other children.
His punch scored 62 Newtons, which is apparently respectable.
The kick? Less so.
Whether this is technique, timing, flexibility or simply selective enthusiasm remains unclear.
He didn’t make the top three.
But it did provide valuable insight into the considerable striking power possessed by several other 8–9 year olds, which is mildly concerning for society.
Event 3: Sparring (The Emotional Rollercoaster)
Sparring divisions were organised by height and weight.
At ~26kg and 135cm, he competed in the Flyweight category—the lightest division.
Three competitors.
Round-robin format.
Bout One
He lost 2–3.
Not dramatically.
Not disastrously.
But he was noticeably passive.
Which, to be fair, is understandable when another child is actively trying to score points with their feet.
Tears followed.
Maternal reassurance deployed.
Bout Two
Against a Green Belt (two level higher).
This time he was more aggressive, more engaged—and won.
Which meant overall:
Silver Medal.
A result that felt well earned, especially given the emotional journey between bouts.
More importantly, he stepped onto the mat and competed. That alone deserves recognition.
The Final Scorecard
- Patterns: Gold
- Power: Participation (and physics data)
- Sparring: Silver
Not bad for a morning’s work.
This year’s event was also much bigger than last year’s, when I received competition updates via video while on a hospital shift.
Being there in person confirmed two things:
- It’s a serious, well-run event.
- Children’s sport remains emotionally exhausting regardless of the discipline.
Recovery Phase
After the medals were collected and the adrenaline settled, we returned home, changed, and concluded the day with a well-deserved family meal at Nando’s.
Which, in our house, is the official ceremony for:
- Athletic achievement
- Emotional resilience
- Surviving a weekend schedule
And also, most importantly…
Belated birthday celebrations for my wife, whose presents finally arrived later that day and the following morning.
Perfect timing.
Final Thoughts
So yes—martial arts.
Still tennis.
Still busy.
Still chaotic.
But now with:
- Better posture
- Measurable Newton output
- And a growing collection of medals from multiple sporting universes.
At this rate, I’m expecting a future weekend involving tennis in the morning, Taekwon-Do at lunchtime, chess in the afternoon and possibly a board game tournament in the evening.
Which, to be honest, sounds entirely normal.
Pseudocyst 
What do you think?