HOW TOURNAMENTS SAVED KARATE

 by Phillip Starr

As all of you know, WWII ended badly for the people of Japan. The country was devastated. Almost an entire generation of young men had been wiped out and the economy had collapsed completely. Many thousands of people were left unemployed, homeless, and starving. A foreign power (America) now occupied the island nation and it seemed as though the spirit of the people had been broken. Naturally, people looked for a scapegoat of sorts. Why had this happened to them and their beautiful homeland? It didn't take long for them to find the fall guy, as it were. They pointed their fingers at the budo and the bushido (the martial arts and the “way of the warrior”). Hadn't their leaders expounded the wonderful virtues of these things and told them that they must understand and embrace the spirit of the budo as they marched into war? Not fully grasping the real meaning of the budo, they held them up as the primary reason for their being duped into fighting a war that could only end in their defeat and the destruction of their cherished nation.

Of course, the truth is far different from what the masses believed. The spirit of the budo had been perverted; it had been tainted and twisted to serve the wishes of the military machine that was led by Gen. Hideki Tojo and inspire the troops and the people of Japan. Thus, the budo fell into hard times and there was a very real danger that they would be abandoned altogether.

At that time, Funakoshi Gichin's “Shotokan” karate was, by far, the most popular form of karate in Japan. Other styles of karate had been introduced to Japan from Okinawa since Funakoshi first introduced it to the Japanese people in 1923, but none of them were nearly as popular as Funakoshi's art. The Japan Karate Association was formed in 1949 with Masatoshi Nakayama as its Director and Hidetaka Nishiyama as the Chief Instructor.

It was noted that judo and kendo, both of which conducted regular tournaments, were beginning to flourish once again. But there was little interest in karate and enrollments were at an all-time low. After all, it wasn't really a Japanese martial art; it had been brought to Japan from Okinawa! Nakayama, Nishiyama, and other senior members of the early JKA decided to formulate strict rules, thoroughly train officials, and present karate as an exciting new sport. If they didn't, karate would likely shrivel up.

In 1957, the first All-Japan Open Karate Tournament was conducted in Tokyo and to say that it was a huge success would be a serious understatement. The public was enthralled with the fine performances of both kata and jyu-kumite. This event, and the competitions that followed, ensured karate's survival and subsequent worldwide growth. It didn't take long for karate tournaments to catch on and before another decade had passed, America would conduct its first karate competition in Chicago in 1963. This was directed by the United States Karate Association (USKA). The following year, Ed Parker would host the International Karate Tournament in Long Beach, California. As a competitive sport, karate was off and running at full-steam.

Now, karate tournaments in Japan and those conducted in the U.S. are two entirely different animals. The JKA maintains precise, strict rules for competition and conducts very rigorous training programs for judges and referees. They are certified them at different levels (Regional, National, and International). In the U.S., most competitions are judged by officials who have never attended any kind of training camp for officials. What's more, rules generally vary from one tournament to another. These and other factors have contributed to a general deterioration in the quality of competition in the West.

In his later years, Master Nakayama lamented the decision of the early JKA to “sportify” karate. Although the level of competitive karate in Japan is extremely high as compared to what we witness in America (this is a nice way of saying that Japanese competition standards are one or two galaxies ahead of the U.S.), he believed that the emphasis on competition had become to great and that contemporary students and instructors alike were focusing too much on winning contests. Their karate had no soul, he said. No spirit. And that, Nakayama asserted, is the true purpose of karate (as well as the other martial disciplines).

Even so, I must say that we should all be grateful to this man for bringing karate into the limelight as he did. Considering the time and place (post-WWII, Japan), I have no doubt that he did exactly what had to be done to keep this wonderful art alive. We have failed to maintain the high standards that karate demands of its practitioners; we have placed too much emphasis on winning pretty trophies or cash and in doing so, we have missed the message of karate. But it's never too late to change things...

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

 By Phillip Starr

Another question posed by one of our senior instructors was about how much or how often one should train. When are we "wimping out?" When is enough really enough?

Naturally, every instructor wants his/her students to train as much as possible and will encourage students to do so at every opportunity. But it really depends on what goals the student has set for him/her self. One who is interested only in getting fit has different needs (and desires) than one who is only interested in self-defense, one who wants to learn the "whole" of a martial art, and so on. I think it's important for each and every student to decide just what it is that he/she wants out of training, and that's not as simple a task as it may sound. Some people don't really know what it is they want. And if you don't know what you want, you certainly have no idea about how to get it!

Even within a given "goal", there are subtle delineations. For instance, let's say that you practice martial arts because you want to get into better physical condition. Period. WHAT, exactly, do you mean by "better physical condition?" Do you want to lose or gain weight? How much? Within what approximate time frame? Do you want to get stronger? How so? What do you mean by "stronger?" You need to be very specific about what it is that you want. If you have no goal, you don't know which road to take.

If your goal is the acquisition of self-defense skills, just what do you mean? Simple self-defense (against simple forms of attack such as grabs, pushes, and punches)? Or more complex things like defense against an armed aggressor? Multiple aggressors?

If you aim to learn "real martial arts", what do you mean? What is your definition of "real martial arts?" It may be different from that of your teacher and this can lead to frustration and discouragement for both of you.

Now, the ideal MINIMUM amount of training for learning classical martial arts requires attending class 2-3 times each week. Naturally, this is not always possible. Many instructors cannot teach class that frequently for one reason or another - but if the teacher can't conduct a formal class that often, then it's up to YOU to make up for it by training on your own (or getting together with classmates at certain times). If the amount of training is reduced, the length of time it will take you to achieve your goal is naturally lengthened substantially. If you train enough on your own to EXCEED three classes weekly, so much the better. Your progress will be significantly enhanced.

I recall a student who approached me years ago and expressed his disappointment. "I'm just not moving along as fast as I want to," he said. "I really try, but it seems like I'm just not going anywhere." I pointed out a couple of things to him..."Well," I began, "You're only coming to class about once a week. Sometimes twice. You're not training on your own, either. You reap what you sow." He didn't much care for my response and he dropped out soon afterwards. Ah, well. As an instructor, I can only do so much. There's no magic pill. Regular, consistent training is the secret. If a student won't do that, I cannot possibly help him/her.

When you draw up a training schedule, be realistic. Don't set a schedule that you cannot or will not follow. But once you draw it up, stick to it, come hell or high water (well, for the most part). I suggest training 6 days a week...but that's for people who want to learn the whole thing. Each workout need not be too awfully long; it depends on how much time is available. My own workout lasts about 90 minutes. Some people have only 30 minutes or less, and that's fine. It's what you put into the available time you have that matters.

Of course, many people cannot train 6 days a week. After all, this is the 21st century and we have jobs, school, and families...many other responsibilities besides training. That's why I say that you have to be realistic. Don't make a schedule that you cannot follow because you'll only frustrate yourself. If you CAN train six days a week and you WANT to do it, then fine. If not, then make a schedule that you CAN and WILL follow. The schedule, whatever it is, has to be regular.

Avoid over-training. You'll burn out. Take your time and be gentle with yourself. Don't over-tax your body and mind. Pushing yourself (gently) is one thing, but beating yourself up is another. But you SHOULD push a bit each time you train...

When are you "wimping out?" I think we all know the answer to that. When you know in your own heart that you're wimping out, then you are. When your reason(s) for not practicing are reasons that you would not accept if you were your instructor, then you know your spirit is starting to weaken. For instance:

*"I had a stressful day." Give me a break. Life is stressful.

*"I have two cracked ribs." OK. Sit down and enjoy the show. Watch the History Channel...

*"I have a sprained wrist." Fine. Do you kick with your wrists? Come on. Stop being a wimp.

*"I have homework." Want to keep your mind sharp? Keep your body sharp. A little training will do more for your schoolwork than you might imagine.

*"I have a migraine." I sympathize. Take a nap.

*"My boss really made me mad." OK. So, go kill the s.o.b. or practice for a while to let off some steam.

*"I don't have enough room to practice at home." C'mon. I lived in a mobile home. Try training in a submarine sometime. If you can stand up, you can practice.

*"I have the shizzling drits." Stay home. Have a peachy night. Eat some cheese.

ad nauseum...

After teaching for several decades, I like to think I've heard every excuse there is, but I know I haven't. I saw one guy come to class on crutches because he'd been in a motorcycle wreck and broken his leg. He sat on the floor and practiced hand techniques! One of the students here broke his big toe (a really NICE job, too) but never missed a class. John Morrow, one of my oldest students, used to hitch-hike (with his friend) 25 miles to class (and then back home again) three times a week! Mark Hachey maintained a 4.0 grade point average in nursing college while training for several hours each day. Another student used to travel to Omaha from Lincoln (50 miles each way) to attend class.

And then I've had students miss or stop training because their spouses (or significant others) didn't like it, because they forgot their training shoes, because it was raining...

If you want to achieve anything in this life, it's going to require some effort and sacrifice. The most valuable things are things which cannot be handed to you; they're things which you must get for yourself (although someone may help you along).

It's easy to become distracted. This is why you have to set realistic goals (and WRITE THEM DOWN!), realistic training schedules (DITTO), and then stick to them. Over the years, I've had probably hundreds of students who could have made it, but who gave in to distractions or refused to make the small but necessary sacrifices.

A really common situation involves a spouse who doesn't understand why or what you're doing...I hope I'm not stepping on too many toes here, but this really is a common problem and has been the end of many a promising (martial arts) career. Let me begin by saying that family is more important than anything else. Never sacrifice your family for martial arts.

But...

A married couple consists of two different human beings. Now, I'm certainly no marriage counselor but I feel that I know something of this subject :-) So. Each of us has a life which is necessarily separate from our spouse or significant other. We have to. It is simply not possible to include a spouse in 100% of everything we do and even if it was possible, it would be terribly unhealthy for the relationship.

I have known many people whose spouse demanded that he/she spend every free minute with him/her/the family. This suggests to me that the spouse in question has some psychological issues regarding feelings of security and inadequacies...and such relationships often do not last. Each of us needs time to him/her self on a regular basis. This is, I think, essential for good mental health as well as for building a nurturing, trusting, and strong relationship.

We need to give each other the time and space to be ourselves and if one of us likes to practice martial arts as a way of improving ourselves, so much the better. Both parties will benefit from the effort, even if only one is practicing martial arts.

When a student comes to me and says that his wife or her husband doesn't want him/her to attend class or practice at home, it places me in a most difficult situation. Naturally, my initial response is to help my student...but I often have to hold my tongue in check so as not to offend anyone. But now that I'm older, I'm less inclined to bite my tongue. The fact is that if one's spouse discourages participation in training, it can seriously damage the relationship...and where does it end? What if you took up basket-weaving? Would you be discouraged from doing that as well?

The fact is that we all train so as to improve ourselves. This is done not only for ourselves, but for our families as well. If we are in better physical, mental, and emotional shape, our families can only benefit from it.

If my wife wanted to attend a quilting class, that would be fine with me. She ran a small aerobics class after hours in my school in Omaha (after I had come home from the school), and that was fine. I allowed her to be herself and to do the things that made her happy (except for painting my bathroom a God-awful purple). If she was happy with herself, I benefited from it.

As I mentioned earlier, you must be very specific about your short and long-term goals. You must know WHY you're training and what you intend to get out of it. Feel free to show it to your instructor as it will greatly assist him in evaluating your needs and helping you to achieve your goals.

At the same time, be realistic. If you only train once a week, you will not make it to black belt within a year! If a black belt is what you want (or rather, the skill and knowledge that comes with it), then discuss it with your teacher. If you intend to go beyond a mere first-grade black belt, sit down with your instructor and talk about what you need to do. That's what he's there for and it's it's what he wants and needs for you to do. Don't force him to guess at what you want. Let him know where you plan to go with your training. If YOU don't know where you're going, he won't, either...and he can't be of much help.

A word about over-training. If your body begins to show telltale signs of wear and tear from too much "youthful enthusiasm" (as one of my teachers used to call it); that is, "over-training", then you need to back off on the gas a bit. Take your time. Give your body and mind time to digest everything. Don't gulp your food. Savor it.

EATING BITTER AND TRADITIONAL TRAINING

 by Phillip Starr

In the practice of contemporary martial arts there is a tendency for instructors and students to shy away from any training routine that involves the possibility of much discomfort or injury. This is only natural; as human beings we usually don't usually flock to engage in activities that are inherently painful or risky and we tend to take a hard look at those "weirdos" who do.

I recall watching a group of students practice one-step fighting in a particular martial arts school some years ago. The attacker would step back into the usual pre-attack position, executing a snappy low block as he did so. When the receiver was ready to perform his defensive maneuver he would utter a strong qi-he (kiai) and the attacker would execute a powerful lunging thrust. The receiver would step back, block the attack, and deliver a crisp counter-attack.

Sound familiar? Sure, it does. It's the usual one-step fighting drill. Except for one thing...

The participants were standing at least eight feet apart. When the receiver executed his blocking technique he never touched the aggressor's arm! And when he counter-punched his fist was at least four feet away from the attacker's body!

Naturally, I asked the instructor why the students didn't touch each other at all during this common training exercise. He told me that he didn't want them to bruise their arms or risk striking each other if their blows weren't adequately controlled.

Good Lord.

Well, these folks will be in great shape if they're ever attacked by a strong gust of wind.

Now, don't get me wrong. I certainly don't advocate uncontrolled violence as a training tool. I remember visiting another martial arts school whose members engaged in full-contact sparring within two weeks of enrollment! The neophytes, who had no real knowledge of martial arts technique, were thrown to the lions (the more experienced students) like so much raw meat. To say they got the stuffing pounded out of them would be a serious understatement. The instructor reasoned that if one wanted to become skilled at fighting one had to know what it is like to get hit. Students were told that they had to learn to keep going even if they'd been struck very forcefully because this is what "real combat is like."

Good thing they didn't teach swordsmanship.

Certainly, I believe that students need to develop strong technique and a strong spirit through rigorous training. The key word in that sentence is rigorous. I believe that real martial arts technique and spirit cannot be understood or developed except through the application of controlled violence.

Beginning students are unable to understand this concept and it has to be presented to them very gradually. But as they grow and develop their skills, they must learn to accept this fact and train accordingly. Violence is, after all, why the martial arts were originally developed. They were not cultivated to help their followers discover their "inner child", as a panacea for various ailments, or for thrilling audiences.

I recently told my students that they would learn much more from pain and discomfort than they ever would from sheltered contentment. In traditional Japanese martial arts there is a term describing this type of practice. It is nangyo (in Chinese, nanhang). It refers to hardship (nan) and a road which is traveled by many people, perhaps a crossroads. This is an accepted part of the traditional martial ways; a necessary ingredient for the development of true skill and understanding. The Chinese usually refer to this particular aspect of training as qi-ku (literally, "eat bitter").

In contrast to the aforementioned karate school wherein participants never touched each other, the former head of the Japan Karate Association, Master Masatoshi Nakayama (dec.), recalled that when he was training under Master Gichin Funakoshi during his college years his arms would be so sore and bruised from blocking his partner's attacks that he could hardly lift them. Another kendo master spoke of being struck so hard on the front of his helmet (men) that it knocked him to his knees and splintered his partner's shinai.

Students of the legendary Morihei Uyeshiba (founder of aikido) recalled how his vise-like grip would leave bruises on their wrists and Americans who trained in judo under the revered Kyuzo Mifune spoke of being thrown so hard that they were rendered unconscious. My own teacher, Master W. C. Chen, remembered seeing exhausted classmates bow, run out of the drill line, and vomit.

Some of these things would be considered a tad excessive by today's standards but it gives you an idea of what traditional training was like "back in the day." It was not done because the instructor was a sadistic brute who wanted to puff out his machismo for all the world to see (although such instructors, if that term can be applied to them, have always existed). The instructor's first and only concern was for the students, to help them develop real skill as opposed to something that only looks good but has no real internal substance.

In time, students develop a strong sense of self-confidence. They don't fear being attacked because that happens every night that they attend class. Some years ago one of my students was forced to defend himself against what I call an "Americanus Vomitus" (otherwise known as a common "puke"). When he told me about it he smiled and said, "I wasn't really afraid of the guy at all. Heck, I get punched at by professionals at least three times a week in the training hall!"

For the teachers of the traditional budo ("martial ways"; in Chinese, wu-dao) it's a delicate balance; how far to push the students and keep the violence inherent within the martial arts under control. Naturally, no competent teacher wants to see a student get hurt but some minor injuries are unavoidable and to be expected. Anyone who's spent much time in the martial arts has had his or her fair share of split lips, strawberries, bruises, and the like. Some have even broken a small bone or two. It happens; it's simply the nature of the beast and a necessary part of the developmental processes of the budo. But it is the responsibility of the instructor and senior students to do their best to ensure that the violence never escalates beyond a certain level.

As a student's skill increases the attacks he faces in the training hall must be more realistic until, at an advanced level, they are real. That is, if he fails to perform his defensive maneuver correctly he may well be knocked on his tail.

At the same time, students must (gradually) learn that a bloody lip isn't the end of the world and it's still possible to continue training even after getting smacked in the ribs. Qi-ku.

DRESS FOR SUCCESS

 by Phillip Starr

Many years ago there was a book named "Dress For Success", which enjoyed considerable popularity. The author (whose name I can't recall) noted, among other things, how one's attitude was affected by the manner in which one was dressed. It sounded a little weird but over the years, I found many of his assertions to be true and it's one of the reasons I insist on students wearing a proper training uniform.

In general, it can be said that the condition of one's practice uniform reflects one's attitude towards training. If it looks like a used Kleenex; if it's torn and in need of repair, or if the salt stains (from yesterday's sweat) haven't been washed out, it is a fairly accurate indication of how one regards oneself and one's training.

A student who pays a lot of attention to detail; who is a stickler for sharp technique and who aims at perfection will usually wear a uniform which is clean and pressed. You could almost cut your finger on the creases in their trousers.

At the other end of the spectrum is the student whose uniform has been wadded up and shoved into a practice bag for a couple of days. It has more wrinkles in it than an elephant's butt and his attitude towards training will tend to be lackadaisical. His technique and form often leans towards the sloppy...like his uniform.

And then, of course, there are a lot of in-betweens.

Training in street clothes is common in many internal Chinese schools and I think this actually has an impact on their (the student's) approach towards training. Casual. That's how they often regard it, but training time should be anything but casual. One must concentrate and give a full 100% of one's attention to it.

In the old days (and even in modern China) most training was conducted outdoors. People gathered in parks to practice and so they naturally wore their everyday street-clothes. That's why most kung-fu stylists wear shoes.

But I think this kind of thing has had a negative impact on (Chinese) martial arts. For one thing, street-clothes don't hold up very well to the rigors of strenuous practice. So, the teacher has a choice; he can water down the training so that the students don't damage their clothes (and maybe themselves), or he can go ahead and conduct a vigorous class and end up with a bunch of half-naked students.

Due to the heat and humidity (especially in southern China), many kung-fu stylists prefer to wear training trousers and tee-shirts. Such clothing won't hold up in our training. Tee-shirts don't stand up to grappling practice. There are some who will argue that "in a real fight your opponent won't be wearing a heavy practice jacket", and that's why they prefer tee-shirts. Okay. So let's do the techniques and grab the tee-shirts. Watch what happens. Or we can just grab meat and execute the throw. But then, a lot of students wouldn't be returning to class.

The reason the heavy jacket is worn is NOT to accommodate the thrower in the execution of his technique; it's to PROTECT the receiver - so the thrower doesn't have to grab a fistful of meat in order to perform the throw.

If the receiver insists on wearing a tee shirt or regular street-clothes, it leaves the thrower in a quandary. Does he rip his partner's clothes to shreds? Does he dig into his partner's flesh to perform the throw? Or does he water down the technique? This is why I require all students to wear a full uniform in class.

However, the main thing is that the overall condition of the practice uniform is an indicator of the regard a person has for training and even for himself.

CHANGING WITH THE TIMES?

 By Phillip Starr

I once read a statement made by a popular martial arts teacher that said he hoped that his art would continue to grow and change with the times. That made me sit back and wonder if he really understood the implications of his words. And what, exactly, is meant by “changing with the times?”

As citizens of the 21^st century, we like to think of ourselves as being fairly contemporary and “forward thinking.” Certainly, as our world becomes more modernized, many industries have found it essential to “change with the times.” We need only glance at modern medicine, the car industry, and state-of-the-art computer technology to understand the need and subsequent demand for what is “new and improved.”

Of course, we all know that just because something is labeled as being “new and improved” doesn't necessarily mean that it's good for you or for the environment. Oftentimes, what seemed like a good idea at the time sows the seeds of a disastrous future. This is certainly true of the martial disciplines that we practice.

On the sporting side of these arts, we've seen many changes over the years. I remember when the first hand and foot pads were introduced and I warned everyone that using these “new and improved” devices would ultimately result in a deterioration of our arts. No one listened. The results are now painfully obvious; real technique has, for the most part, been tossed by the wayside and a tap on the head is now scored as an effective “point.” Competitors have no real notion of what “control” means and the (combative) concept of distance has been all but completely obfuscated.

On the more practical side, we've seen some fairly dramatic changes. There are those who insist on training in military-style camouflage attire, complete with combat boots. They regard the traditional training uniform as old-fashioned and unrealistic. There are many who, being unable to “read the books” (understand the forms) that are used in the art(s) in which they have trained, throw them out the window and refer to them as being little more than “dances” or forms of exercise.

“Times change”, they tell us. “So, the martial arts must change with them.” I agree that times change. The first part of such a statement is silly. OF COURSE times change! So, I would ask just what they mean when they say that “times change.” Are they inferring that people fight differently now than they did several hundred years ago? I doubt the validity of such a statement; none of us can really answer that question because we weren't plodding around this planet back then. Yes, I agree that the advent of the firearm certainly changed the situation to some degree but a number of well-qualified martial arts instructors have developed effective defensive maneuvers that can be employed against these kinds of weapons. Knives and bludgeons haven't changed much, nor have fists and feet.

I believe that the martial ways are just as valid today as they were several millennia ago. Sure, we've made some improvements in training equipment (although some of the older versions are actually superior to their more modernized cousins). We've improved teaching and training routines; back in the old days, students often learned by rote. They simply imitated the movements of their instructors without the benefits of being provided many of the small details and being permitted to ask questions. But is there a need to change the techniques and the traditional forms? I don't think so. Not at all.

They work just as well now as they ever did. They've survived the test of time; just because something is old doesn't means that it needs to be changed.