That's OK, I'm retelling the same ol', figure get 'em in one thread then I'll be done! And I can't recall any of your fighting stories, the site is too big and I've been travelling and w/o internet for weeks at a time.
Originally Posted by Muerteds
Wado-Ryu, Japan International Karate Center Attachment 13525
After getting beat by bullies a bit I joined this dojo, start of jr year high school. After a couple months I still didn't know much, or how to fight, but I'd gotten karate attitude. When walking with a jock friend the main bully, being on a team with my friend said hi to him and I also said, hi bill. My friend said don't say anything or he'll beat you up again and I said no, he won't. I still remember the puzzled look on bully's face, he knew he could beat me, but I showed no fear because I'd had it with that bullshit. If he beat me up I'd have snuck up and shoved a pencil in his kidgey, or torched his car, or slammed a chair over his head. No way I was going to take **** from assholes, ever again. Instantly I was invisible to the bullies. Maybe they smell fear and smell the **** you attitude, too.
I'd been in class long enough to get to green, almost a year. By this time we'd spar for an entire class period, about every two weeks. Sensei Hirano would get several black belt students to join the instructors to fight us, though sometimes we just sparred each other.
One night we'd been joined by several bb students, along with Hirano and his several instructors. I was sitting (cross legged, no back touching wall!) on the side, waiting a turn to kumite, when a young small bb started to spar with a large green belt. They were both local Japanese guys, both around 20, or early 20s. The green belt looked like a line backer - tall as me, 6'2" and around 200 lbs and in great shape. The bb was your typical 5'6" 135 lb Japanese guy, pretty slim. They started out and it quickly went really hard. Big Green got pissed and charged into the bb throwing fist combos. BB dropped into a low back stance and blocked with ridge hand (shuto uke?), chopping Big Green's wrists with short hard strikes. Big Green got more pissed off and went after the bb. The bb looked sad and bored (in JIKC looking cool and maintaining composure was expected) and kept blocking, never once allowing a strike to land and started slapping Big Green's face, open hand slaps and back hand slaps.
In TMA karate it is an honor to be struck; it means you are good enough to warrant being struck. If you hit a bb hard sparring in this dojo, he'd say arigato. This didn't make sense to me until years later when I was fighting a Kyokushin Japanese tournie fighter and he refused to hit me. Then I understood just how insulting that could be, to not be hit, to have some a-hole just block and look bored. In that case I was considering doing my best kick, mawashigeri (fake front to rndhs) and take his fucking head off when Sensei stopped us - probably seeing that I was going to go for it. And if I didn't KO him with a head kick, he would have wiped the floor with me, but at least he'd have given me respect!
The bb wasn't about to respect Big Green, he was insulting him by refusing to punch or kick, just looked bored, block and SLAP! Hard slaps. Hard blocks. Really hard slaps. This went on for awhile - none of the other bbs or instructors seemed to notice, though I'm sure many were aware, despite several pairs going at it at the same time. They let the bb take care of business.
Eventually the bb put up his hand and said, "Yamai." (stop) and then "Rei," the bow command. Green managed to bow and stumbled down near me. His face was swollen, all purple and red. I'd never seen a face so bruised and injured, and outside of ring or cage fights, I don't think I've ever seen that again. The bb went on to keep fighting more students. Big Green wasn't called up to spar again that night and I never saw him again.
This to me is what real karate is about; if the smaller bb hadn't been able to handle Big Green he'd have taken off his bb and left the dojo in shame.
Sensei Hirano was a stocky little Japanese guy, I'd hit him and it felt like a barrel wrapped with leather. We were told that after we got a bb in karate we were expected to go to at least shodan in judo or JJ. Wish I'd listened... When he fought other bbs (other dojos would guest to kumite) he'd giggle. The harder and faster the more he laughed. He loved karate and I'm thankful that he was my first teacher. Aloha Hirano.
Soke Kiyohisa Hirano (1938 - 2009) - "Not to Conquer others, but to conquer the weaknesses within one's self."
9th Degree in Karate
Nidan (2nd Degree) in Judo
1960 All Japan National Karate Champion, Kumite
Doctorate, Philosophy in Oriental Medicine (Global Peace University)
Licensed Qi Gong Physician (Shanghai Qi Gong Association)
Licensed Ki Physician (SAS International Ki Science Association)
Licensed Ki Master (SAS International Ki Science Association)
Only have "stick sparing" in any sort of official "school setting" with Kuya Guro Woddy Woodman of the Pambuan Arnis school.
Now Woody was a hell of a tallent. Lifetime TKD dude, ex-marine. When he connected with the Pambuan Arnis family he excelled from his considerable base and mastered in the system.
Sparring with Woody was like playing chess against a master. THe guy could tag you any time and anywhere at will. The best a newb like me could accomplish would be to hang in there and make a good showing of it. 99.9% of the strikes I ever landed on him were "gimmees". He'd leave the openings here and there for demo purposes and not totally take your head off in the first second of sparring.
One of my favorite parts was that he taught me some of the old world traditions from the Santa Cruz area in regards to dueling. And that is how his school treated the sparing. Start to finish, orchestrated as a classic stick duel. Complete with "terms".
So Woody has me "Uke" (best term I can come up with, I am unfamiliar with any equivalent word in FMA) for a demo at our work. Santa Cruz deuls are modeled after a cock fight so we start of strutting our stuff. Abanico's and butterflys everywhere. Then it's time to establish "terms". Woody Extends his free hand and waves the stick between his extended fingers and toes. (Strikes to the apendages). I agree and match the gesture. He gestures from head to feet (Strikes to the body and dome piece) I know this is a demo and he won't break my head for real so I match his pantomime in agreement. Woody takes his stick and trap hand and makes A CROSS ON THE GROUND. (guess what THAT means). I wave my stick back and forth in an EMPHATIC hell-to-the-no!
So we start sparring and it goes as usual. Woody is casually picking me apart. He was pretty bad ass like that. Since this was an exibition for our co workers he would leave me with openings to demonstrate a back and forth and show more techniques than they would see if he just whooped my ass. Woody is still dominating the match though. The fact is, he could dodge just about anything I could throw and return it like a bad joke.
Then I nailed his hand. I actually de-fanged the snake, just like I'd been taught! Against a guy that could take me apart as easily as he could scratch his butt. I saw the surprise in his eyes as I'd finally landed a REAL interception and not one he'd let me have.
Kuya smiled and said to me "good hit!"
Darn if it didn't feel good too!
Woody, wherever you are today, thank you for being a good teacher! (I'll be killing myself with some of your warm ups tonight...)
Your story really touched me, I nearly KO'd a Black belt once and he fought really bad during the sparring, yes he was smaller than me (I'm 6'0 or nearly 185 cm) but he was really bad during the fight It was just a normal class, I want to fight him again to see if he is really bad fighting maybe that is stupid but I really need to know how good the teaching actually is
Originally Posted by patfromlogan
Ok, ok... a sparring story I have told before, but it still makes me smile because every now and again, I meet someone who is familiar with the old North Texas Karate Association tournaments. The NTKA, in the late 90's, held point-sparring tournaments. The legs and back were off-limits, as were direct punches to the face. You could punch to the helmet full force, but faces you had to pull the shot for little to no contact. You could groin kick. Weird. No knees or elbows, though.
So, my second tournament ever, I was 17 or so, and a white belt. Lots of beginners had a habit of showing up to do the kata portion of the tournament, then leave before the kumite, which always cheesed me off. I was left with no one in my division. Not wanting to walk away with a trophy without at least getting to throw a punch, the tournament organizers offered to let me fight the winner of the intermediate category. I saw that guy make his opponent cry from an uppercut to the bread basket. Yay?
I got out there, and fought my best, not wanting to give him a chance to slaughter me. I figured I'd lose, but I wasn't going out like a chump. The guy was taking it easy on me, and I started to win by driving him out of the ring with front snap kicks. His coach told him, "Fight!", and it all went loopy from there. I caught a crescent kick right in the noggin, and went down like your mom for crack. The dragged me up, and had me espouse my opinion on the number of fingers a very wavy man elected to produce. My answer seemed to be close enough for government work, so on the fight went. I finished the fight, but I couldn't get my legs or arms to really do what I wanted them to after that hit. I did not win (surprise, surprise).
As I walked off the mat, the concussion hit me. I could barely remember my street address when filling out the form for my trophy. I walked over to my mom and told her I had a weird waking dream while walking over. She sent me to sit down with my brother and collect myself. I "came to" drinking a Sprite and wondering why the hell I was wearing a gi. I wandered off down the hall towards the noise in the gym, totally bemused as to why a guy coming out of the bathroom stopped me to congratulate me for a helluva fight. What fight?
I saw my mom again, and told her, "Hey, I remember you!" And I turned to my worried brother following me, "I remember him, too! But where am I, and why am I here?" I asked if I fought. I asked if I won. I asked how I got there. I couldn't remember driving there, or that I'd stayed at my grandmother's the night before. I was missing about 3 days. Over the rest of that day, the memories slowly came back, and the headache subsided. The next week, my goal was clear: "How do block head kick?!"
One of the high times on acid was spent a few feet from Emmylou. I was sitting on the grass in front of her and I noticed guys in orange shirts coming up on both sides and all of a sudden everyone was gone, 'cept for me and one guy who looked like a college wrestler wearing a bright orange shirt that said SECURITY and he and I watched her for a minute, knowing we'd never be that close again. Then he said, "You don't want to embarrass yourself in front of her, do you?" And I said, "Of course not." And we kept watching for another minute, caught by her beauty and voice, and then he said, looking at a little open space behind the ropes back toward the crowd, "Just get behind the ropes and you'll be OK." So I slipped behind the ropes and this guy put his hand on my shoulder and said, "We waited four hours to sit here and you ain't getting in front of us." And I said, "OK, just let me listen to this song and I'll split." and he said, "No, get the **** out now." And I said, "I'm a black belt, move me."
And I looked back at Emmylou, and it was during an instrumental break of the song and she was staring right at me. Then she shook herself, looked up and didn't look back at me for the rest of the entire concert.
I kinda got ahead of myself. I'd wandered up the ski resort hill and saw some guys I knew and sat by them. And I found a big candy bar sized piece of hash lying there and I asked everyone around if it was theirs. It turned out to be my friend's and he said, I'll put some in my pipe for you and I said, naw, fill my pipe. Then no one wanted to smoke with me so I walked on up the hill and most people looked nervous and looked away, but some people looked friendly so I smoked them out. Then I was up real high, took a leak and when I came out of the trees security on horses got in my face and said something, thinking I was sneaking in, coming over the mountain. But a big flock of turkey vultures came up and hovered over them and I was amazed. I looked at the vultures and the cowboy in front looked at me puzzled, looked over his shoulder and said, "Whoa! They are beautiful!" Then as they rode off I heard the opening notes of Luxury Liner and I ran down and ended up following this big muscled guy pushing his way through the crowd, all the way to the front row, where he sat down with his friends. Since I didn't have any friends up in front, I stepped over the rope and sat down in front of Emmylou.
I have three little stories to tell. They are all loosely related so I hope you won’t feel that I wasted your time after reading all of them. The only real MA training I did before college was at a little crappy looking traditional Ju-Jitsu school that mixed in some karate. It is sad that it the instructor, while a great martial artist and teacher was a shitty businessman and the place went out of business. The place was tiny but the training was very live. We sparred regularly and worked on grappling in live situations. We drilled the **** out of the lead leg roundhouse which I have found to be super useful in sparring and real fights.
Other than that the best training I probably ever did was screwing around with my friends. Two of my friends studied Hapkido, one studied TKD and another guy did traditional JJ. We used to get together and spar like 4-5 times a week in our yards. I have some funny stories from these sessions but I want to tell another story today.
Here is a great example of the difference between live and dead training. Let me say this too, I have no problem with TKD in general. There are lots of excellent TKD school that train with aliveness.
At the end of my senior year of high school we had a big picnic at a park. I think it was loosely a school event. There was a girl that part of our normal circle of friends who was around green belt in TKD. I don’t really remember how it started but somehow we got into a “I can kick your ass” type of conversation. My friends were egging me on saying “Dude, she’s a green belt. She’ll kick your ass”. Before I realized what a bad idea it was the two of us were squaring off on the grass and someone said go. She started throwing spinning back kicks and I just simply circled counter clockwise and threw a left and right at her face, of course not actually hitting her. Even still my buddies were giving me **** yelling, “She’s kicking your ass!” Literally, all she was doing was the same damn spinning back kick over and over and literally, she had no chance of hitting me. Not only did she have no chance of hitting me, since I was circling, I was behind her most of the time. But instead of everyone thinking, Kali is making this girl look like a fool, my friends kept yelling at me, “You’re getting your ass kicked by a girl”. So what did I do, I hit her face.
I’m not a complete douche, I used a loose open hand strike. It was kind of like a cupped hand, but it knocked out her contact. You never saw a crowd turn so fast. All of a sudden everyone is yelling at me, “What the **** man. You hit a girl! What the ****’s wrong with you!”. Then it turns into my friends telling me, “Of course we knew you could kick her ass, you didn’t need to hit her” and everyone giving me ****.
It didn’t end there though. Next this guy Rob decides to white-knight it and he wants to spar me. He, being a black belt in TKD at the same school is going to rescue her honor. We line up, he takes his shirt off of course, someone says go and I fired two lead leg roundhouses into his chest before he has a chance to **** his pants. I was glad he took his shirt off because my kicks made a wonderful slapping sound for all to hear and I left a perfect diagonal red mark. It ended right there.
Then he started asking me about where I trained and for how long and **** like that. I told him I didn’t really train anywhere but me an friends spar and **** around all the time.
The moral of the story, the blind leading the blind in live training is better than a whatever level don dead training.
Just for a little context, were you high when you wrote this?
Originally Posted by patfromlogan
ok so this is not something that happened to me (I don't know what's wrong with me, fighting just doesn't seem to occur to me since highschool), but this is a funny story my coach keeps repeating.
He had just found a spot to leave his car near the park he goes jogging into, when another guy cut in front of him and slips into the spot, sort of like that famous ad with the woman driver.
When he asked him to get out of his place (probably not in a very nice manner, my coach is kind of a hothead), the other guy leaped out his car and proceeded to stand in front of his face, all the while shouting abuse and jabbing him with his finger. My coach, a light heavyweight european champion in amateur boxing on his prime, understandably annoyed, headbutted the other guy on the face, which left him sprawled on the ground with blood running from his nose.
At this point of time, several onlookers broke them up and called the police. My coach was scared out of his wits, since the other guy seemed to be out cold. Luckily, the other guy came to and in a dazed short of way, kept shouting at him and doing some kind of front kick at my coach's car (my coach latter claimed that he scratched his fender). So when the police came after a while, they found a blood splattered, enraged maniac kicking a car, while the other guy was trying to loose himself into the crowd. They brought them both to the station, but thankfully no charges were pressed.
After a while they were both released so the other guy came in front of my coach and asked him "Hey, what kind of sport are you doing?" He, still afraid that the other guy would press charges, answered in as passive a way as possible "Me? Nothing, I just like to run once in a while". The other guy smiled in satisfaction behind his broken nose and said "I am a seventh dan in kung fu' I could have killed you".
I think it's because I'm small enough to make people feel accomplished and big enough to make people feel accomplished but for whatever reason I get into or almost get into an unusual amount of fights. The last one that was a full fight and not a one punch altercation was the second fight I've been in since I started training in mma. The first was just me choking a kid out and getting jumped. So this was the first time I really got to see how what I've learned translated to a streetfight against an untrained person. I was at my friend channing's house playing hackysack. Channing is lean and physically active but also around 5'4 and skinny as ****. As we were playing hackysack a black suv pulls up and stops in front of Channing's yard. At first I thought they were just at the stop sign because we were at the corner house. As I realize they weren't waiting to turn a kid a few years older then me (I was 18 at the time and later found out the kid was 20) opens the back door and says "Hey!", looking straight at me. I think it's someone I know at first start to walk up and realize I've never seen this kid in my life. I say "yo I don't know you, whats up?" Thinking he probably mistook me for someone. The kid proceeds to get out of the car, he's a little stocky and a bit shorter then me, and walks up to me smiling. I'm standing there just waiting to see what he says when he literally jumps forward throwing a haymaker at my face. I swayed back just in time for it to miss me and start rapidly back pedaling saying "dude, I don't know you, I don't wanna fight you, I don't fucking know you.". The kid starts walking towards me fast smiling, I guess thinking I'm scared (and I was pretty freaked out), with his hands in fists. My back hits the house and I realize I'm probably going to have to fight him, so I circle out to my left a little bit, the kid tries to grab me, and I reach under his arms and body lock him. I lift him up a little bit slam him over my left hip and immediately throw a leg over and mount him. I found out afterwards he landed right on a large plastic flower pot. I straighten up a little bit with his head in my left arm and rapid fire 3-5 straight rights to his face, I couldn't really see because my head was still low but I just aimed for my hand. I then put my left hand on his chest fully straighten up and look around to see whats happening. The driver had gotten out of the SUV (skinnier but pretty tall) Channing looked like he was trying to figure out if he should go after the driver and the driver was looking at me holding a small bowl of cereal. He says "Dude I know whats going on, he's fucked up just let him up. I don't wanna fight, he's just fucked up". I don't really believe him but I stand up seeing it as my best option, still feeling confused, and the kid I had fought gets up with a gash under one eye and the other rapidly darkening, He looks at me with the most disappointed face I've ever seen, looks down, walks to the back of the suv and shuts the door. The driver looks at me and says "sorry man I didnt know that was gunna happen, I dont know whats going on." gets in the car and drives away. Me and Channing are confused as ****, then I realize I just fucked that kid up and get a little happy, we decide to walk around in case they come back for some reason and just talk about it for a bit. Channings mom is upset I broke her flower pot but get's over it when we tell her the story.
I was close range sparring a classmate and I got him with a chain punch.