Chapter 3. Karate, an alternative story.
The free Substack posts will continue every Tuesday but for this longer post in its entirety, sign up for the premium (paid) section.
In this post:
Mansfield.
Competitions.
The Birmingham Ballroom bloodbath.
Witnessing the first grandmaster of Wado Ryu (more blood).
The Wolverhampton YMCA team.
(Again, some names changed for obvious reasons)
It’s easy to underestimate the size of the membership of the Mansfield Dojo at that time. David Allsop says that there could be up to fifty people training on any one evening; mostly young men, but not exclusively. This meant that when nights out were organised they could be really busy – add to that the number of people you would come across who ‘used to’ train with us, who you would meet in pubs, “are you still doing it?” they would ask, and then either follow that with the reasons that they’d stopped, or/and introduce you to their friends.
Mansfield in the 1970’s, a little cultural context.
You might say that what I am about to describe could fit any north of England industrial town at that particular time, but I can only tell it as I experienced it.
Remember this was before the destruction of the coal industry by the Thatcher government, and well before the later financial crashes. While it was not a boom town, men (and women) who were prepared to work hard, had money to spend and certainly the younger ones knew how to spend it. The pubs at the weekend were rammed, although there weren’t many clubs or cocktail bars and restaurants were scarce, almost as if we didn’t need them.
If you had a time machine and visited Mansfield in the mid 1970’s on a Saturday night you’d think you’d landed on another planet; wild carousing, spontaneous violence, pubs so rammed that you have to forcibly elbow yourself to the bar. Precariously balanced pint glasses clasped between your two hands (all straight glasses, the only pubs that served beer in glasses with handles were the old men’s pubs); if spills happened (and they did) there was usually a catastrophic crash, but nobody batted an eyelid. And don’t forget about those ashtrays and rooms full of cigarette smoke; gummy carpets and small, token spaces of linoleum designated as ‘dance floors’ – but, there was seldom enough space to dance.
The general pattern was one pub one pint, unless something really interesting was going on. This meant that the night was populated by large groups of young people on the move.
The turnover at the Mansfield Dojo.
This large number of students created a real melting pot of talent, although the churn rate was high there was an ever-developing number of mostly young people attracted to the Dojo. Yes, people were training for themselves, for fitness and the kudos associated with climbing the grade ladder, but also the chance to compete, win trophies for the club, appear in the local newspaper or even national magazines, this was where reputations and recognition could be built.
The early competitions.
In the years 1974 to 1978 we went to many competitions; sometimes in small community halls and function rooms and sometimes in big sports centres. As the popularity grew the venues got bigger, out of pure necessity, the biggest being the National Sports Centre, Crystal Palace, London, once a year for the UKKW National Championships, usually in September. This was a nightmare of logistics for clubs like ours; it was getting more and more common for up to two 45-seater buses to be booked for competitions and gradings, but the trip to Crystal Palace was always a very long day; with early morning departure, usually around 5am, with a body of nearly 90 nervous competitors and supporters hanging about on West Hill Drive waiting for the coaches to arrive. We were often home well after midnight, sometimes in the early hours.