Ego and No-Ego.

Leading by example.

Sensei N.

Way back in the late 70’s or early 80’s on a bleak Saturday afternoon in Yorkshire I was attending a seminar in Wado karate with a Japanese instructor, who, for the sake of this article, I will call ‘Sensei N’. ¹

He was pretty much fresh out of Nichidai university and had been in the UK a short while. I hadn’t had much exposure to him on the larger courses, as, being one of the more junior Japanese Sensei, he was usually relegated to teaching the lower kyu grades; while we spent all of our time with Suzuki Sensei. But for this course in Yorkshire, it was just him on his own.

(In the near future I will use Sensei N. as a springboard for another piece to be released at a later date).

He did a really comprehensive, well-constructed lesson and his English was good enough to get across what he needed to communicate and he always did it with a smile. His own techniques were crisp and assured, as you would expect from his years of university karate.

At that time, he had a particular thing about footwork, and drilled us in stance-shifting, up and down the room and explained how important it was for Wado karateka to be light and smooth in movement.

But, on this day there was one incident that for me was to have a big influence on how I viewed what we were doing with our karate and how we related to other people. Something bigger than just a set of technical notes.

A model of humility.

Towards the end of the session, he called us up one at a time to spar with him. Bear in mind that this was in front of the entire class. I watched closely as he very calmly out-manoeuvred his opponents, who were, to some degree, being slightly deferential towards the Sensei, not that it would have made any difference, he was more than capable of dealing with what they had to throw at him.

Then came my turn.

In my mind I felt it would be disrespectful to not present myself in the best possible light; not because my ego demanded it, but because the situation demanded it. There was no space for ambiguity.

In a sparring situation like this, it is important to dig into your reserves and you also have to draw upon your toolkit. At a basic level, here was a problem that had to be solved – respectfully and appropriately.

The fight started out well enough; some good solid exchanges flowed both ways. Then, I must have spotted that he favoured a left stance, and so I went for a footsweep (ashibarai). It wasn’t a full-on take-down sweep, more of a calculated tickle; something I had used many times before, a set-up, if you like.

I honestly thought he would read it, (was he laying a trap for me?) But no, temporarily he was wrong-footed and the sweep tipped him ever-so slightly to his left, and for a nano-second he locked up to readjust his balance; to which I saw my chance and connected with a gyakuzuki; right distance, right timing – but, what had I done?

I had less than half a second to come to the thought that can be summed up with, “Oh no, I’m in for it now!”

I expected him to power up the gears and turn me into mincemeat. (After all, I had been brought up on stories from my seniors where certain Japanese Sensei had broken bones if they thought for a moment that the Westerners were getting uppity).

Had I overstepped the mark? I had the audacity to lay a technique against the respected Japanese Sensei, and was I now going to pay a heavy price?

To give a little background on the cultural dynamics.

International judoka Neil Adams, in his autobiography wrote about randori in the Kodokan in Tokyo, when he was only 16 years old, where he came up against an elderly, highly-respected 9^th Dan Japanese Sensei, and for a second, he was absolutely sure that he had the old geezer bang to rights. But… his coach, Brian Jacks, shouted ‘Adams…No!’ and so he held back.

Obviously, I wasn’t there, but part of me wonders about that story. If that oldster was a Kodokan senior, probably someone who had rolled with Mifune Kyuzo, having seen what the elderly, fragile Mifune could do (through films on YouTube), part of me wonders if the hothead Adams would have been humbled by his interchange with this Kodokan master? Adams said that he heard that if you come up against one of these old guys, the tradition was that you let them have their way and almost ‘throw yourself’.²

Adams autobiography.

Yorkshire - What actually happened.

I expected Sensei N. to adjust his determination settings, move the dial to 11 and give me a lesson in pain. I had the cheek to strike the respected Japanese Sensei, and was now going to suffer the consequences.

But no… he paused and then said, ‘nice technique’ and continued exactly as before, no change of speed, no great urgency to ‘get one back’. I know, if he wanted to, he could have taken me to the cleaners. Instead, one simple encouraging comment, then business as usual.

I had plenty of time to think about his response and, in my mind, the simplicity and the humanity behind the choice that he made, the course of action he chose to pursue (or not to pursue) proved the measure of the man, here was someone who was comfortable in himself. Total respect from me.

Compared with this event…

The same Dojo in Yorkshire, but maybe a year later.

The host instructors had invited two members of the England squad to conduct a seminar. One was well-established, and the other was seen in some quarters as a kind of rising star. This was fight training and drills, with some sparring at the end.

It was at this event where ‘Mr Rising Star’ provided the perfect negative counterbalance to what happened with Sensei N.

Towards the close of the session, the squad members brought students up to fight with them in seemingly friendly bouts.

Rising Star picked himself a green belt, the sort who was inexperienced but would have a go. Early on, the green belt pulled off a technique that surprised even himself, a clear score against Rising Star, obvious to everyone.

Rather like Sensei N. Rising Star had a choice to make, and he chose badly.

The effrontery of the green belt was more than his ego could stand, and, zipping himself up to maximum force, 100mph, he went into full-on demolition mode.

It was embarrassing to watch, being so ridiculously one-sided. The green belt was knocked from pillar to post.

It left me with a bad taste in my mouth, and a clear conviction that I would never allow myself to fall into that trap, and would call it out if ever I witnessed it. As far as I could see it, it showed a naked fragility on the part of Rising Star.

At a later date, and in a very Karmic way, Rising Star’s trajectory to fame was abruptly cut short by an injury which he was unable to come back from.

I suppose the lesson here is that when the power balance is clearly in your favour, check your own privilege and realise that there is more than one person in the exchange. A senior experienced practitioner should take responsibility for encouraging the lesser experienced partner. Lessons in respect and humility are two-way, not one-sided.

1. Header Image: I utilised AI to generate a portrait image of Sensei N.
I described him to the algorithm pretty much as I remembered him, trying to be as precise as possible. Not a bad approximate.

2. Neil Adams autobiography, ‘A Life in Judo’ page 28.