THE NATURE OF JYU-KUMITE

 by Phillip Starr

Actually, jyu-kumite (freestyle sparring) is the newest addition to the various forms of kumite (practice involving a partner). In the “old days”, freestyle sparring did not exist and the legendary masters of those times never engaged in it. They developed their extraordinary skills through regular, vigorous practice of other training routines. Jyu-kumite (as we know it, more or less) was created shortly after the end of WWII. It is thought that its creator was none other than Gogen “The Cat” Yamaguchi of Goju-ryu fame...

He introduced the concept of “controlling” one's blows so they either did not strike one's partner will full force or they were pulled about two inches short of contact. When the Japan Karate Association (shotokan, JKA) began developing competition events, jyu-kumite was a very important part of it. The younger participants were particularly excited about it. The JKA instituted very stringent rules (to which they still adhere to this day) and all officials were senior karate practitioners and/or instructors who were required to undergo thorough training, pass strict examinations, and become certified.

In order for a technique to be called for a full-point (which meant that the opponent would have been destroyed or rendered incapable of continuing the fight), it had to meet three requirements:

• It must have destructive power in it such that if it had struck the opponent, it would have destroyed or neutralized him.

• It must have correct timing; if the technique scores as the opponent is moving away from it, it cannot be awarded a full point. The opponent must be standing still or (better yet) be scored on while moving forward, into the technique.

• It must have correct distance. The technique must not strike the opponent with full force; it may make “jacket contact: or be pulled an inch short of contact. This is a critical safety feature.

There were no flying taps to the head or hopping around and kicking with the same leg repeatedly like a crippled chicken. No boxing punches or spinning knife-hand strikes. And it remains so to this day.

When the padded mittens and foam footgear were first introduced onto the American tournament scene, I warned that using them would result in a slow deterioration of technique. Nobody listened. Instructors were tired of teaching students how to control their punches and kicks (which requires some considerable training); it was easier just to bundle up their hands and feet and let them have at it. As I had predicted, within a couple of generations students were throwing wild punches and many of them sustained nasty injuries.

Back in the day, jyu-kumite was practiced in class primarily to teach students how to use their techniques and tactics in an unrehearsed manner. It was a way of testing yourself and learning as opposed to trying to “win” against classmates or simply have fun. It was practiced with deadly seriousness and control – two things that seem to be completely absent from today's training regimens.

LIVING TWICE

 by Phillip Starr

“You only live twice;

once when you are born,

and once when you look death in the face.”

-Old Japanese Saying

In 1980, a television mini-series that told the fascinating but fictional story of several Dutch seamen and their English captain who had been shipwrecked on the coast of Japan in the 17^th century. The Englishman was favored by one of the most powerful leaders in the small island nation and he insisted that the foreigner be taught how to speak Japanese as quickly as possible. This was a daunting task and the daimyo (territorial baron) decided that the responsibility for this task would fall to the local villagers with whom the Englishman had daily contact. If the Englishman was unable to speak Japanese within six months, every living soul in the village would be put to the sword.

The captain argued that this was terribly unfair; he could not possibly learn the language in such a short time and his failure to do so would result in the deaths of many innocent people. Even so, the daimyo's order stood. The foreigner considered the situation and then quickly scooped up a tanto (dagger) and threatened to take his own life if the order wasn't rescinded. He held the knife to his belly while the daimyo reminded him that suicide was against the foreigner's religious convictions. But the Englishman was determined and swore that he would kill himself unless the daimyo canceled the order. The daimyo flatly refused.

The tension was almost palpable as the foreign captain realized that the daimyo had called his bluff. The scene was played very well and I could easily imagine what was going through the captain's mind as he considered his options. A samurai who served the daimyo was seated next to the captain and his body tensed slightly as he sought to feel what was in the foreigner's mind.

Then the Englishman's countenance seemed to relax and his eyes looked far into the distance. He had accepted his fate and smilingly accepted death's coming embrace. As he moved the plunge the dagger into his belly, the waiting samurai lunged forward and wrestled the weapon away from him. The captain realized that he was not, in fact, going to die. He had looked death squarely in the face. The young lady who accompanied the foreigner everywhere and acted as his interpreter touched his shoulder and told him that he had entered into a new life; he had been “born again” because his former life had, for all intents and purposes, ended when he had looked into the eyes of death. He had stepped into a new life.

The concept of losing one's fear of death is, I believe, central to the practice of any martial art. Death is, after all, at the hub of all human fears. It is perhaps the most basic fear that we carry in our hearts and although it is useful in so far as ensuring that we don't act foolishly and do something terribly stupid, it is a stumbling block for those who tread the martial path.

KNOWING IT AND WALKING IT

 by Phillip Starr

There's a saying that tells us, “Knowing the path and walking the path are two different things.” It seems that nowadays, there are an awful lot of people who “know the path” and can (and do) “talk the talk.” There are hundreds and hundreds of martial arts books available now, and many use videos on the internet as their “teachers.”

Of those individuals who make the most noise (particularly on the internet), I wonder how many actually “walk the path.” I'm quite sure that their numbers are very few. When I say “walk the path” there's no past tense. You either do it or you don't. If one has walked it for a while, but no longer does so, that's like playing Little League baseball as a youngster and claiming now that one is highly skilled in that sport. Not quite.

I know of some folks who train (in a proper class) only once a week or less and that's the whole of their involvement in their martial art for the week. They're just spinning their tires, not going anywhere. Those who have stopped practicing regularly are no longer walking the path. Many have become “armchair experts” who are only too happy to offer their advice and critique those who still strive to travel further along the path. These are what I call “kuchi bushi” (mouth warriors). Most of them will excuse themselves from daily training, citing various ailments and/or obligations as the reasons for their inability to practice.

I have known (and still know) some of the finest and best-known martial arts instructors in the world (in a variety of martial disciplines) who, although they may suffer some kind of physical ailment, still manage to train regularly. Daily, in fact. Many are older than I am! Some have had various surgeries to repair or replace worn joints and the like, but they continue to train. They are determined to continue along the path.

For those who delight in critiquing regular practitioners, I would ask:

• Who was your teacher and how long had he/she practiced this martial art?

• How often (each week or month) did you practice under the eye of your teacher?

• Do you still practice regularly? How often each week?

  

There are too many kuchi-bushi nowadays. And I suspect it has always been that way...

THE KATA OF JUDO

 by Phillip Starr

Some of our younger martial arts enthusiasts may be surprised to hear that judo actually employs the use of kata! But yes, it does… and not just one or two. There are several kata employed in judo, all of which require the assistance of an uke (receiver). Unfortunately, most judo kata are not practiced much anymore; since judo sold its soul to the god of sport and his right-hand man, the Olympics, most practitioners no longer saw (or currently see) the need for the kata anymore. And for the most part, the judo we have nowadays is no more like the original, traditional version than an apple is to a horse. One of my senior students who began his martial arts career in judo refers to the current version as “brudo” or brute-do”, which I think is probably pretty accurate.

In the judo kata, the movements must be very precise. And in the Nage-No-Kata (which demonstrates a number of throws), even the uke’s form must be perfect. The photo below is a fine illustration of this. The form and movement of both participants must be flawless… and isn’t this the same thing for which we strive in the kata of karate, taekwondo, kung-fu, iaido, kyudo, and other martial disciplines?

It is because we’re interested in more than just whacking someone as hard as we can or body slamming him into the ground. What we do is an art. We strive for perfection. One of judo’s maxims is, “Maximum effect with minimum effort.” Trying throwing a 6’5”, 280 lb. linebacker sometime. If your technique isn’t really good, you’re going to end up underneath him! It doesn’t mean the technique is worthless. Au contraire. It means that YOUR rendition of it is seriously flawed. You need more work. More polish…mentally, physically, and spiritually. And the kata is the main form of “polishing.”

In the percussive arts we utilize solo forms of kata but when we practice one-step and three-step fighting drills, they should be performed with the same precision as the kata of judo. The attacker should fire out a letter-perfect textbook technique with sharp focus and an appropriate degree of power. And he should attempt to touch his partner. This is critical since, if he pulls his attack short, the receiver learns to respond to an attack that isn’t going to hit him! It develops an incorrect sense of distance.

The receiver should respond with razor-sharp precision and his counter-technique should be sharp and crisp - delivered with enough power to knock his partner down (at the very least). BUT it must be so finely controlled that it stops just short of contact. Sadly, most instructors nowadays don’t insist on this kind of precision and power nowadays. And that’s one reason the arts that we claim to love so dearly have degenerated so badly.

Watch the performance of kata. Then watch the students engage in randori (as in judo) or jiyu-kumite (as in karate). There should be a very definite relationship. If the two look entirely different, if the kata is sharp and clean but the sparring looks like a sloppy kickboxing match or a backyard slugfest, there’s a serious problem. The kata and kumite should look very much the same… performed with the same precision and focus.

This same thing is true even in combat shooting. Yeah - I saw your eyebrows jump… well, consider it. Take a week and go to a combat shooting school. There, you will learn - step-by-step - how to begin your draw…how to step, turn…everything has to be done just so because your life will depend on it. The weapon is “presented” (brought to the position for shooting) and fired. Everything has to be just right and you’ll practice it over and over again, both in class and at home - because when the chips are down, you’re going to have to be able to pull this off without thinking. Otherwise, you’re going to end up as a messy stain on the sidewalk. And what is this if it’s not a type of KATA? And yet, there are those who say kata is worthless…

I hope this gives you a new perspective on your kata and your chosen martial art. There’s so much more to it than most people suspect. I keep discovering new things… like peeling off the layers of an onion, there’s always another layer of knowledge and skill to be explored. Want to join me? Here…have an onion.

I WANT TO BECOME A MASTER!

 

By Phillip Starr

Many years ago, one of my new students approached me and said, “I want to become a kung-fu master...like you.” I nodded and then I broke his heart. “I'm not a master of anything,” I said. “I just enjoy training and teaching, that's all.”

My response didn't dampen his enthusiasm, however. “Well, I want to become a master,” he repeated. I shook my head. “You'll never make it.”

The young man was clearly confused. “Why not?” he asked.

“Because you WANT it,” I said. “That desire will blind you. You have to forget this idea. Just train. Forget about becoming a master or whatever. Just practice. Every day.” He didn't get it. Ever. He was gone within a couple of months. So much for his fiery desire...

Over the years, I have met a good many people who aspired to become “masters.” Some even had the audacity to proclaim themselves as such! It's a nice-sounding title. It has that ring of greatness to it and I'm sure it's very helpful in attracting new students. But...

I'm not even sure what a “master” is. Nowadays, I see lots of people calling themselves by different high-flying titles – everything from “hanshi” to “soke” to “doctor” to “grand ultra supreme high poobah.” Funakoshi Gichin, the “father” of Japanese karate, was never awarded the title of hanshi... Yamaguchi Gogen, the “Cat” of Goju-ryu fame, was never referred to as hanshi or soke... and there are countless others.

The very few martial arts teachers who actually WERE given a title never used it... they were never, ever referred to as “hanshi so-and-so.” And they probably would have slapped anyone who did refer to them in that way. They weren't much into wearing titles.

I remember attending a karate tournament a few years ago and noticed a karate teacher strutting around with the word “Grandmaster” printed on the back of his jacket! Good grief. I suppose he did that so he wouldn't forget what he was. It would sure be fun to watch him wear that uniform and strut into a traditional karate class in Japan or Okinawa. I suspect the fun would be very short-lived, however.

I have been most fortunate in having been given the opportunity to train with some of the finest martial arts masters in the world. Mr. primary teacher was W. C. Chen, a direct student of the legendary Zhang Zhaodong. I also met and trained briefly with Hidetaka Nishiyama and Seiyu Oyata (who became a personal friend). I even studied Filipino arnis with Leo Gaje. And none of them were known as “hanshi” or “soke.” I referred to them simple as “sensei”, “shihfu”, or “tuhon”... that's what they preferred. So, it kind of grates on my nerves when I see some character wearing a title like “Grandmaster” smeared across the back of his karategi...

How about you?

I RECOMMEND JUDO!

 By Phillip Starr

It is my opinion, for what it's worth, that the best martial art for a young person to learn initially is judo. Or shuai-jiao if it's available. Certainly, this must sound very strange coming from someone who is known as a kung-fu teacher but when I first stepped onto the martial path many eons ago, I began with judo. This isn't to say that one should not take up the study of karate or kung-fu and it certainly has nothing to do with one art being superior to the others, but I do suggest judo as a beginning point. I can see the young guy in the back waving his hand...either he has a severe case of intestinal distress or he has a question...

Ah, you want to know just WHY I recommend judo? Well hold on, Spanky. I'll lay it all out for you. The first consideration is that from the very beginning, judo (and other grappling arts) deal with one of the most basic human fears...falling. Face it; it's a basic fear that most humans have, even if they don't openly verbalize it. Children are very much afraid of it and older folks (like me) are terrified of it. If you think about it for a minute, you'll realize how true this is.

And one of the most important things that we do in our study of martial arts is directly face our innermost fears, starting with the most basic, simplest fears...like the fear of falling down. And we learn to deal with it. We MUST learn to grab this bull by the horns and bring it under control. We must, in fact, master it. Once that basic fear is mastered, we realize what we can do. We realize that WE create our own fears and only WE can overcome them. This has a lot more applications to life than just learning some simple breakfalls but at the moment we discover that we CAN fall down without injuring ourselves, at the moment that that fear falls from our shoulders, we are unaware of just what it really means. Later, our instructors should sit down and point it out to us...

Secondly, judo requires that you “close with the opponent” quickly and decisively. There can be no hesitation when you move in for the throw. This actually fosters the development of courage and a strong spirit. In karate, taekwondo, kung-fu, and a host of other martial disciplines, there is often no need to “close with the opponent.” You can easily maintain distance from him/her as you fire away with a barrage of kicks and punches. But that generally isn't how real self-defense works and if you're unable or unwilling to close with the enemy quickly, you're in a bad spot!

It's much the same in the military. Nowadays, troops are accustomed to sitting back at some distance and blazing away at the enemy. I remember the days when soldiers were well trained in close-quarters combat and dreaded the command, “Fix bayonets!” You knew you were about to look death in the face, up close and personal. But you'd swallow your fear, tighten your gut, and do it. And in combat, that's what it's all about...the willingness to close with the enemy, stare death in the face, spit in his eye, and do what has to be done.

Here endeth the lesson...

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 that 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 (they still do!) 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 flesh 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.