In this second part:
· How ‘open’ is ‘open’?
· What happens when politics and pride are allowed to run amok.
· What was going on with the early UFC?
Another example:
Open Championships that are a bit too open.
I had been going to open championships for quite a few years; the ones that stick in my head are events in the North of England (Carlisle and Huddersfield come to mind) as well as South Wales. Some were ‘all styles’, while some sought to be Wado exclusive.
How to describe them? On the positive side, you got to compete against some really good fighters. In the truly open all-styles ones, actually styles didn’t seem to matter; there were more ‘regional differences in approach’.
On the negative side you had to accept that things could get a bit silly. For some competitors referees were just an inconvenience – think of the worst of pub league Sunday football matches and you’ll begin to understand the mindset. You also had to accept that some referees were nakedly biased, which fed into the whole ‘football crowd’ vibe.
A few times we suffered from incidents where team members were drawn against each other in the early rounds. Some questioned whether this was ‘cock-up’ or ‘conspiracy’? But to me; if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck… it’s a duck.
Ultimately, cui bono?
But, once you’d come to terms with all that, then it was possible to extract from it a positive experience.
An example where the organisers overreached themselves.
I do remember a clash of cultures though; an event that the organisers of a closed group decided to open up to make it all-inclusive, albeit within the same style. The intentions were good, but a few things had not been thought through.
First was the number of entries it attracted. It was almost overwhelming. On the day, this contributed to a febrile atmosphere. But flashpoints were always close by as coaches and competitors who were not used to the strict control of the referees kicked back against the system. The refs tried hard to rein in the football-crowd mentality, which at times spilled right to the edge of the mats.
I myself was sucked into the fray.
I was competing on the day and I had also brought a team of teens for the junior categories. In our squad preparation I had drilled them hard on a reaping leg throw. We had practiced this Uchikomi style1 over and over so that it became an automatic response to a sloppy kick that is left hanging out. Sure enough, on the day, one of my teens, Tom Ebel, was able to sweep his Welsh opponent and take it to a legitimate score. At the edge of the mat, I was ecstatic, but the opposition’s coach went into full ‘tantrum’ mode. The next thing I know he was up-close and snarling in my face. The referee had to get involved and threaten disqualification if the Welshman didn’t calm down and behave himself.
Stunts like this marred the whole day. I remember, one of the Japanese Sensei (a man not known for holding back his feelings) stomped around in furious indignation. Needless to say, for the organisation in charge, that type of event never happened again.
History or folklore?
On the wider world stage.
The facts behind this are published in Nakamura Tadashi’s book, ‘The Human Face of Karate’, so it’s all out there and I can only tell the story as Nakamura Sensei relates it. I fully acknowledge that this is one man’s view, but, he was there, and I wasn’t.
The story is that the founder of Kyokushinkai karate in Japan, Oyama Masutatsu, in his bid for world domination centred around Japan, decided that in 1975 he would run his own world championship. But the understanding was that Japan must emerge as the eventual winners. He was so committed to this outcome that he vowed that if Japan didn’t win then he would commit Seppuku. This put huge pressure on the Japanese referees.
Very early on the deck was stacked against the foreign competitors. They were denied access to training facilities in Japan; they were only allowed to enter half the number of competitors that the Japanese contingent were given places for. The draw was rigged so that the stronger foreign competitors were pitched against each other, thus removing half the opposition. During the elimination bouts the Japanese refs were pressured into giving decisions in favour of Japanese competitors, etc. In the end, Japan won all of the major titles and Oyama did not have to commit ritual suicide, but the overall political damage had been done. I suppose it was one of the biggest acts of self-harm ever perpetrated by a world karate organisation.
The first UFC.
The UFC, that has become so iconic in modern martial arts, may not have been so squeaky-clean in terms of its early organisational structure, rules and ethics. As explained by Bill Wallace in this interview:
People can make their own minds up about that one. Just how ‘rigged’ was it? What has been the counter-argument? (Surely there must have been one?). Did the ends justify the means? Was this a ‘greater good’ situation (as argued from a utilitarian standpoint by Jeremy Bentham)?
Similar stories are to be found in the history of judo in its attempts to spread across the globe. But this is not about the referees as such, it’s more to do with the organisational premise, the ethos behind the contest and the organiser’s intentions. With the UFC this was to become a platform for a bigger project; one that went beyond the Gracie family. Whatever you think about UFC, BJJ or MMA, this was a kickstart into a global phenomenon, one that still puzzles me today.
In conclusion.
There are numerous stories of the trials and tribulations of martial arts groups and styles trying to hold on to their integrity as the demand for competition becomes an imperative. It’s what people want; they want championships and they want champions. But it comes at a price.
But, pity the poor referee, with blazer, collar and tie and his straight-backed dignity, who at the end of a long day goes home with no trophies, no payment and, as is often the case, not even a ‘thank you’; certainly not from the competitors anyway.
To end, an extract from a poem by Clifton Eastham, called ‘Ode to the Umpire’. It still works for karate refs.
‘An umpire’s life is not that fun,
Spending four hours in the dry hot sun,
Making calls that half dislike,
Telling rowdy managers to take a hike.
He spends his afternoons or nights
Calling balls and strikes and breaking up fights,
He calls him “out” and the crowd goes wild,
Then the manager tells him he’s nobody’s child.
He makes calls on plays that are lightning quick,
The player’s upset; he has a bone to pick…’
"Uchikomi" (Repetition training) is a term borrowed from Kendo, and is used in Judo to refer to the repeated practice of a throwing motion up to the point where the throw would actually be executed (the simulation stops at that point).
I agree about those early UFCs, even though they were (by far) the largest and best experiment ever run in martial arts. The conditions were corrupted, but the nucleus for a legit unarmed one on one contest across all styles was there.
I've seen some heated, idiotic moments at tournaments. People lose their minds and forget who they are at times.