WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

 By Phillip Starr

The legendary founder of Kyokushin karate, Masutatsu Oyama, said that for every 1,000 beginners, only 2 or 3 would make it to the grade of shodan (first grade black belt). Then he added that for every 100 shodans, only 1 or 2 would go on to the next grade. The numbers decrease further from there. Certainly, this has been my experience and I imagine that most martial arts teachers would agree wholeheartedly with him.

I remember when I first began my journey along the martial path more than five decades ago. I, as well as many others, understood that getting a black belt meant that one was truly an m”expert.” I even heard, and my father firmly believed, that to be awarded a black belt, you had to literally kill a man with your bare hands! Of course, there were the many old wives tales such as having to register your hands with the police, and so on.

Although such beliefs have now been proven false, many of us still hold on to some of their remnants. In the Occident, the color of black is foreboding, ominous, the color of death. Oddly enough, mourners in the Orient wear white. Nonetheless, there is that nasty notion, that tiny remnant of times gone by, that pushes us to believe that a “black belt” signifies that one is a martial arts “expert.” In this regard, it's well to remember that the famous American poet, Walt Whitman, defined this term as “anyone who can spit over a boxcar.”

As most of you know, the truth is far different. When a student reaches the level of shodan, it indicates that he has acquired some measure of skill with the fundamentals. He has built a solid foundation upon which he can now build real skill. That's a nice way of saying that he is now ready to learn. Prior to this level, he was not physically, mentally, or spiritually prepared for learning the real art. Now he is. He has graduated from “high school” and is ready to enter college.

To get through “high school”, however, requires an extraordinary amount of courage and grit. The training is often very painful, tedious, and requires a great deal of dedication. Few are those who will succeed in making it to the “first step”, which is roughly what “shodan” means. Unfortunately, many new shodans, thinking that they've “made it” (whatever that means), stop training. This is regrettable because they'll never learn the true art. They've built a good foundation but they'll never erect a strong building upon it.

Those few worthies who possess a strong spirit will continue their training; their thirst for knowledge will push them to move further down the path. One by one, many of them will give up until there are only a very few left. Hopefully, these courageous souls will become teachers themselves and eventually realize the value of what their teacher gave them. He not only taught them the various techniques and forms and movements; he gave each of them a piece of himself, a bit of his heart and his very soul. If they determine to teach others, they will do the same. And as the years pass, they will watch sadly as so many of the pupils bid them farewell before graduating from high school. One of my students who began teaching spoke to me of this and I told him, “It's nothing new. It's always been this way. It always will. It's simply the nature of the beast (of teaching).”

But with each new shodan comes the prospect of a bright future. He or she is excited and hopeful and even moreso his/her teacher. But the old veteran instructor will sit back and smile as he says, “We'll see. We'll see...”