Thirty seconds in, and I am doomed.
The fighter in front of me, a bright yellow belt around his waist, is a good two inches taller, a good few kilos heavier, and a good deal better than me. He flicks his shock blond hair from his eyes and dares me to come closer with his confident eyes. First fight of the comp, and I have already lost
I tried all my usual moves, but he calmly deflects my jumping back kick, putting me off balance. A boxing style flurry of blows to the body is absorbed by his strong forearms. As I duck low and try to back away, he lifts his lithe leg into the air and delivers and axe kick to the top of my head. Not too much as to harm me considerably, but enough to make sure all the corner judges notice. I collapse to the ground from the force, and get a warning for losing balance. I shake of the blow, and lunge forward with ferocious front kicks, aiming to drive the ball of my foot into his chest and get him off balance. However the exuberance of my movement is easy to spot; he casually sidesteps each kick with ease and again gets me in the face with a jumping side kick, scoring him two points. 
I can see nothing beyond my opponent, but I can hear my instructor shouting encouragement, and the faint noises of other fights in the background. I can smell sweat, and feel it dripping down my face and back. I lift up my gloves, hopefully to block any blows he makes. This works better, and I mostly block his attacks for what feels like an age, until the referee calls for time.
“Is it faux pas to forfeit now?” I gasp as my instructor feeds me water during the half minute break between rounds. He looks at me angrily.
“I know this is your first tournament” He replies, helping me adjust my sparring gear, “But you can’t quit! This is all good experience”
“I’m going to lose, what’s the point in continuing?” I ask dejectedly. My instructor leans in closer.
“I’m not letting you quit” he says, “Watch his head, his guard doesn’t go there”
“Round two!” shouts the referee. I get to my feet and head back to the sparring ring. As the round starts and my opponent moves forward on the offensive, time freezes.
In that moment, I see his cocky smile, he knows he has this won. I also see his guard, a casual stance with his gloved hands protecting his chest, and no chance of guarding the top of his head.
As he lunges forward with a few quick kicks, I jump vertically into the air. His kick grazes my thigh, a non-scoring area. In mid-air I twist, and bop the back of my fist on the top of his head. Quickly, I turn my head to see him raising his fist to strike my face. I sweep the fist, exposing his front as his other arm hangs behind him, and strike him in the face. He takes a step back, looking surprised, before coming forward. I am able to land another jumping punch to his head.
After a couple more successful punches from me, my opponent catches wise and plays defence for the rest of the round, but it’s too late. When the referee announces the winner, I stand proudly and emotionally with my arms in the air. My first win.
A few fights later, and I stand once again with my arms in the air, this time holding a nationals gold medal. Anything is possible, with the right strategy!