My father’s old scooter broke down last week right in front of the stadium, just as I was dropping off my younger niece for her yellow belt grading. The mechanic said the clutch is gone, and I stood there counting the cost against this month’s rent for the shop. I see parents spending six thousand on a dobok and another five on electronic guards for district-level sparring, and I wonder — is this sport becoming like those big gated colonies where only the children with petrol cars can play? I am not against progress, but when the most vulnerable kid has to choose between new gear and his family’s fish curry for the week, something in the system has tilted.
#kyorugi
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