The Martialist: The Magazine For Those Who Fight Unfairly

I
first trained in Karate and Kickboxing at School 1, a school that has been in
the Syracuse area for well over 25 years. At 40 years old I had never had any
experience with martial arts, so everything was new to me. Back in the early
80s, I was in the Marine Corps and had brief instruction in hand-to-hand
combat, but that was long ago and I’ve forgotten most of it anyway.

School 1 is packed with people young and old, fat and thin, athletic and…
you guessed it… non-athletic. That was how I saw the new students just
signing up with me.

As a white belt, you are expected to learn how to throw punches, perform
inward, upward, outward, and downward blocks, and do the Short-One kata, which
is a series of all four blocks connected with crescent steps. After three
months of punching, blocking, and kata, you must perform in front of your
fellow students and you are critiqued by the instructors. You do not have to
do well to be invited to test the following week. In fact, you can stink
at almost all of what you were expected to learn and still be invited to test.
I found this disturbing, at the time, because I had worked so hard trying to
perfect my kata, my punches, and my blocks. Others who did not try as hard as
I did progressed along with me, but with little excellence in their newly
“learned” Karate techniques.

My frustrations began to show as my partners in class were almost always less
enthusiastic and less prepared. They were usually weak physically or
mentally, to my thinking. I asked the head instructor if it would be possible
for me to match up with some more compatible students, but all he could offer
me was the chance to attend black belt sparring classes. As a new yellow belt
I thought it would be better to stay out of that hornets’ nest, so I spent my
second three month period as an aggravated yellow belt who wasn’t getting what
he wanted from the training.

When I earned my orange belt, I quit School 1 to find a more compatible dojo.
I wanted one whose students, my peers, would be prepared, honest, courteous,
strong, personable, and clean.

SCHOOL TWO

Across town from School 1 is a traditional Karate and kickboxing school. The
sensei is a tough, no-nonsense seventh-degree black belt who seemed to speak
my language. I was ready to move on, and this school was 40% cheaper a month
to boot. I was excited at first, but there were almost no other new students
training with me. After two weeks of being the only student except for a 13
year old and a young man of perhaps 20, I was starting to wonder.

All instructions in class were given in a foreign language, Japanese or
Chinese or something; I didn’t know. I really didn’t want to learn Japanese or
Chinese.

The last straw came when I was told all the gear I bought at School 1 wasn’t
good enough. I was told to wear gloves and headgear from School 2’s gear
closet. It smelled bad and it was permanently soaked with others’
perspiration.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I sparred with a black belt who seemed to care only
about intimidating me. He wouldn’t follow the lesson. Instead, he kept
punching me in the face and ribs, all the while refusing to acknowledge me at
all — lesson after lesson.

I got away from that place fast. Phil Elmore told me that wasn’t the sort of
attitude a black belt of any respectable school should display. We’ve worked
together for three years and he was one of the people to whom I talked when I
was considering getting into the martial arts. He and my instincts both told
me to leave School 2, so I did.

I had signed a student contract, but a doctor’s excuse was all I needed. I was
very discouraged with Karate at that point, so I set out to find something
better.

KRAV MAGA I next observed some Krav Maga. This Israeli fighting system,
developed years ago, seems to be very fashionable lately. It also sounds cool.

One class was all I could take.

You try exercising with senior citizens while their sneakers fall off. We did
not push-ups, no punching, no real exercising at all — just jumping around
like Polka-Square Dancers. I thought to myself, Now what the hell am I
going to do?

SCHOOL 3

Online I found an Okinawan Karate school with all the credentials I could
want. It had what was supposed to be a long tradition of excellence. Access
for children was limited and every day was considered a “fitness day,” which
meant I would get the workouts I wanted.

My visit to the school proved fruitful. I received one-on-one instruction from
black belts for three straight visits.

“No sparring,” I was told at School 3. “It builds bad habits.” I bought that,
as most people don’t spar properly (at least in my experience). “No kata,
either,” they also told me. “Concentrate on fundamentals.” I buy that too,
I thought. I’ll get really good at the basics and that will lead to awesome
Karate.

My first full class at School 3 took place in a room with four complete
idiots. They couldn’t do anything. They couldn’t step forward, they
couldn’t punch, and it was probably 45° F in that room on top of everything.
The Sensei poked his head in and said, “You guys getting worked too hard?”

My ankles were frozen, I was bored stiff, and I was being encouraged by my
inner devil to punch and kick the instructor whose stomach was drooping over
his black belt. He read my disquiet as a lack of enthusiasm. (Oh… maybe
they’re the same thing!)

I want to have fun. I want to enjoy my training. I can work
harder than others if that is what I want. I can learn about Karate while
getting fit. Given the choice, I think Americans are much better off learning
Americanized Karate.