Super v. Jung

      Don't laugh when Jung comes rushing from his bus to greet his fans nearly pissing himself from excitement. He means well. His fans waited for him to arrive to witness one of the most publicized fights in the last few years. They embraced him with loud gleeful cheers and picket signs bearing his image and moniker, "Super-Jung".     

      It was an affirmation to his worth.

           May I remind you, the guy was the salvation for a sport, and a "Super-Hero" for the people.

           Which sport you're probably wondering? Taekwondo? Hapkido?

           No, Jung, was the sport. He encompassed the spirit of a good athlete and a good Samaritan.

           When Jung arrived, he placed his hands on his hips imitating Christopher Reeves from those heroic movies he idolized, as he posed for dozens of photos. He signed a lot of calendars and posters of his image before the flashes of lights shot at him like machine gun bullets. Even when most sports journalist had turned against him, Jung kept smiling and accepting the requests.

      Allow us to remember, he had been preparing for this day since he was a scrawny kid getting bullied in front of Ms. Gwan-sun's math class in middle school, all those years ago. In all those interviews, they said he never forgot when his classmates pissed on him for being so puny. All those times the kids put his head in the toilet urinals and reminded him of why his parents were divorced.

           "You're a runt." they said.

           "You know runt puppies get eaten by the mothers when they're too weak?"

           "It's called puppy cannibalism."

           "You should have been eaten, Puny-Jung."

           Jung now snatched a phone from his adoring fans and happily took selfies with them, crisscrossing his index finger and thumb to form a finger heart. It made them content. The journalists weren't his favorites to interact with. They loved to antagonize him.

           "Jung! Do you have a minute to talk to us about your opponent?!"

            "Sure, but not now." he smiled. "Maybe before the fight? I'd be happy to."

           "Any comment on the accusations of falsifying the viral video from a few weeks ago?" another Broadcaster yelled out. "People are saying, the man you had attacked had been a member of your entourage."

           Jung smiled again. "You know, I can't comment on an open investigation. Please, I'll address more questions in the locker room. Maybe I'll even show you my Arnold Schwarzenegger movie posters." he smiled. "They're limited editions!"

"You know he's in critical care?" They yelled out. "He might even be in a state of comatose."

            You may already know, Jung had gotten recently viral for knocking out an ex-MMA fighter during a brawl outside of a nightclub. His spinning hook kick jabbed him so hard in the chin, he had to get twenty stitches to cover injuries on his face when he hit the concrete floor. May I remind you that the MMA fighter had allegedly sexually assaulted the waitress and had a history of similar accusations. The video was one of the most viewed last year. 

           Jung stepped into the mat like a gladiator entering a medieval coliseum. He hopped onto the top rope taking deep breaths so heavy, he almost staggered for a moment. He looked around to the cacophony of excitement in the crowd and relished in it. The auditorium had been filled to the brim, blotted out by what looked like a blob of a hundred eyes all puckered out like the hairs behind Jung's neck.

           Jung wouldn't let them see him nervous. He acted unblemished and perfect when the announcer called his name.

           When the crowd screams simmered, Jung kissed each bicep muscles to entice them again. He still loved the loud cheers, including his adoring enthusiastic fans, the foreign ones were so loud they muzzled the faint voices of the locals. Even the ring girls took notice of Jung as they applauded, they too saw a Heroic figure in him.

           Jung was then beckoned down by his coach, a former winner of the World Taekwondo Championships who had been training him since the beginning. Jung paid him handsomely to help transform him into the champion he was today. Even going so far as verbally and mentally abusing Jung on his request, they had a safe word that Jung never used when things got too mentally overwhelming.

           "Remember, Jung. Whatever you do. Do not let them see you weak." he advised.     

      "Remember, why you're here. To be the best, to show your indomitable spirit to the world. Failure is not an option!"

           "Yes. Sabumnim." Jung said lowering his head in a bow of respect. "I'm THE Super Jung."

           He walked to the center tying his belt of his clean red Dobok uniform.

            He waited as the American fighter came marching in to the theme song of Joe Esposito's "You're The Best Around".           

           Jung waited patiently. 

           "Ladies and gentleman, and now the match you've all been waiting for. In the black trunks, from Fullerton, California. Steeeeeeveeeeen Paaaaaark."

           Steven's coach was much taller brutish figure, more intimidating than either of the men fighting in the ring. Jung likened him to a 90's action villain with his short buzzed blond hair and grayish blue steel eyes. 

           The big Russian coach smacked the American across the face like a testosterone ritual. One and two smacks was enough.

           Steven had been jolted with energy as if some Pastor showered him with God's divine healing.

           "Ready?!" Shouted the coach in a thick Eastern European accent.

           "Ready coach!"

           When the match commenced, the American wasted no time in trying to knee Jung with an illegal Muay Thai move across the groin. Steven had a rap sheet of disciplines that would guarantee wins like they did in an octagon. He had black-belts in Jiu-Jitsu, Karate and Muay Thai, the most effective martial arts.

           "Sulk it in, Soy-Boy. Your ten minutes of fame is almost over." he whispered.

           "jikyeoboja", Jung whispered back.

           "Huh?"

           Jung played defense letting each blow hit his arm or knees in deflection.

           "You're Korean too, right?"

           "No shit, sherlock, but I'm no killer."

           It hit a nerve in Jung as he switched from playing defensively, and sought out to put on a show. He had administered his signature whirlwind kick, and struck his opponents in the chin. It was the perfect placement to knock him out but only for a few seconds. Steven quickly got back up more furious.

           "You're going to pay for that."

           "Nothing personal."

           "Those muscles don't fool me. You're still short and puny." Cursed Steven.

           Jung rolled his eyes.

           When the bell rang for timeout, his coach looked conquered as he whispered something in Jung's ear while lathering up his bruises with petroleum jelly.

           The man Jung had fought from the viral video had died from his injuries. According to Korean law, Article 250(1) of the Criminal Act, he would now have to face 5 years minimum to Life in prison. It didn't look too good for Jung, his life flashed before his eyes, his accomplishments seemed to be dissolving in an instant.

           Jung didn't know his own strength sometimes. He probably knew this was his last gleaming light of fame. He knew those were probably the last photos anyone would ever want to take of him, so the pressure got to him.

           Jung fought valiently during the final round using another of his signature front kicks after finding an opening weak spot. The look on his face had been replayed a dozen times in court. Maybe that moment he remembered his head being knocked down against the urinals throughout school. It's probably when he decided to join his first self defense classes in high school and protect himself and his friends for the first time. Jung kicked Steven down again after knocking him out a second time, even when the referee counted down to ten, he kept hitting. When Steven had tapped out and after he became unconscious, Jung saw red. When the behemoth Russian couldn't get Jung off of him, Jung was emotionally unstable. Jung yelled something in that moment in the middle of the kicking, many believe was directed to his own coach, "Chungbunhan". It translated loosely to "Enough" and was believed to be the safe word to stop his training. It had been far too late though.

           Jung kept at it, each time hammering harder than the last time, even when Steven's eyes rolled back into his head. All I ask is that instead of looking at this one incident, you try to understand the life of Jung. Don't laugh if he looked ridiculous in his uniform bearing a giant S in the center pretending to be Henry Cavill. Jung may look at fault after analyzing the footage but he was no cold-blooded merciless killer. The sport, the beatings, the violence can sometimes be overwhelming for some. Jung was a victim of a cycle perpetuated by violence. Don't throw the book at him the way you would for a common murderer, Jung was no villain.