The most peculiar martial arts course I have ever attended.
Of pain (and no pain) and an encounter with a Ninja.
Whenever I have stepped outside of my zone, I have always learned something. What I mean by ‘zone’ is that the total number of in-house courses I have attended over many years by far outweighs those more open, or multi-disciplinary courses I have been on.
This particular ‘out of the zone’ experience happened some time in the late 90’s or early 2000’s. Somehow I received an invite to attend an open martial arts seminar which was held at a university local to me. It was billed as having ‘international masters’ teaching in workshops and looked interesting as one of the ‘masters’ was an expert in Okinawan Shorin Ryu and would be teaching Shorin Ryu kata; something I was very curious about at the time. The other workshop was with a very senior instructor in a UK-based Jujutsu organisation.
(Disclaimer; names changed to avoid embarrassment).
The course was on a Saturday and myself and one of my assistant instructors, Tony had decided to take the plunge and attend.
We had arrived early and walked in on what must have been a Jujutsu grading on a squash court; which we could watch through the glass front. We asked someone what was happening, as there was quite a crowd of people clustered around the main viewing area, we were told that there were people grading for 6th Dan in Jujutsu. Naturally, we were intrigued. My abiding memory of the parts we saw of the grading was of some quite impressive throws; I guess what you might call pseudo-judo, and some really heavy guys, of the more ‘senior years’, wearing coloured gis with very large sewn-on badges. I have no expertise in jujutsu and so I was unsure as to what the quality was like, but something about it rang bells, a memory from my way distant past.
We wandered off to check out the training area and realised that this seminar had attracted quite a crowd; there were a lot of people changed into gis of all colours and designs. Kung-Fu people, TKD guys with those kind of V-neck gis, all manner of badges and affiliations. It seemed that the seminar was hosted by the Jujutsu group. The chief organiser was a senior man in their organisation, a rather rotund elderly chap, who was very chummy, with a pronounced Lancashire accent. He had a kind of catch-phrase, whenever he addressed the group, he described everyone as ‘boys and girls’ like he was the headmaster of an infant school, I think he said he was an ex-prison officer.
Okinawan Shorin Ryu karate.
The first workshop of the day was Shorin Ryu. I was really looking forward to digging into these Shorin Ryu kata. The teacher was supposedly a 10th Dan, who had travelled over from the USA, Sensei/Hanshi Williamson, ex-Vietnam veteran and author of two books on Okinawan karate. He was friendly enough; an older guy, grey hair and a neatly trimmed matching moustache. He had a strange way of pronouncing Japanese words, giving them little flicks and flourishes that I have never heard Japanese people use; an odd rolling of the ‘r’ sound, and other peculiarities. At least he didn’t speak in that weird broken English that some UK born instructors subconsciously pick up.1
He was teaching kata from the Matsumura line and as such was starting with Matsumura Passai. I was really looking forward to studying this and perhaps drawing parallels with the Wado version of Bassai.
We did some basic warm-up and a little kihon. I looked around and noticed that the standard and styles of performance were very different from what I had been used to seeing. One guy did stand out; he was tall and lean and looked really well trained, his moves were sharp and confident; next to him, others looked sluggish and heavy. He was to have his moment in the spotlight later in the session.
Sensei Williamson announced ‘Matsumura Passai’! And then, single move at a time he showed us the position and shouted ‘Ish’! We got to the end - so this was the first basic run-through I thought… but, that was it! On to the next kata! Surely not… only one single time through, no repetition, no explanations, in fact no narration at all, just, ‘do this, then this’ etc?
I can’t remember what kata we ‘learned’ next, I was so blown away and hugely disappointed, but the next kata was ‘taught’ in exactly the same way.
After these whistlestop kata experiences we then returned to more kihon; this was a little more intense and he ramped-up the work rate, a bit of a workout. Sensei Williamson seemed to focus on me and Mr ‘Sharp and Confident’, he asked if we were from the same Dojo? He used us to explain things on.
There was one guy in our group; a Dan grade from another system, a young chap who gave the appearance of a rather enthusiastic puppy dog, he bounded around the Dojo area with an overabundance of energy, he was just everywhere! His Dojo manners were at best sloppy and at worst just rude, he would duck out of the session when things got challenging; he sat down slouching around and chatting to people when the Sensei was explaining things, he was just a pain. But it was his sloping off that was the most irksome, why did he think that was okay? My assistant instructor Tony called this guy, ‘the Ninja’.
Towards the end of the workshop Williamson asked if any of us had ever done Kote Kitae (arm pounding, Ude Tanren). I had experienced it when I was training with the Goju Ryu people, I wasn’t a fan, but I knew how to survive it. He pulled up Mr ‘Sharp and Confident’ and asked him to lock in with him, and then, what to my mind was a battle of egos began. Neither parties were going to back down, I reckoned that Williamson had chosen the wrong guy. It just got more and more brutal as they bone-crashed their forearms into each other. They just went harder and faster. Then it suddenly stopped… by my reckoning Williamson had had enough and realised he was going to get nowhere with this guy.
This whole experience was an opportunity lost. I am sure that Sensei Williamson had a vast storehouse of knowledge, but for reasons known only to himself he decided that this particular day was not a day for giving.
Ju-Jutsu.
In the next workshop, a ghost from the past! The senior Jujutsu master was none other than the very same Sensei Chamberlain who featured in the bizarre Jujutsu demonstration I had witnessed way back in the mid 1970’s at the Civic Theatre Mansfield (see my previous post). But, master Chamberlain was only there to oversee proceedings. I got the impression he was ill, as he sat on a chair at the side in his street clothes, rather glum, and let one of his senior team, a young guy, teach the workshop.
The brief was pretty clear very early on, let’s call it ‘funky takedowns’, but, before we did that, we went into a rather good warm-up of just rolling around, which was excellent with a good hint of cardio. I looked across at everyone else and noticed the ‘Ninja’ taking a break while we were all working hard, five minutes later and Tony my assistant was subtly gesturing to me and directing my attention to the viewing balcony, he was silently mouthing the word, ‘Ninja’! There, to my astonishment, was the Ninja, with his feet propped up on the handrail drinking a cup of tea! He’d really excelled himself in the art of stealth and deception.
The young instructor then proceeded to his main theme – the takedowns. He was following a very safe seminar formula, i.e. give them something they can take home and wow people in their own Dojo; lots of set pieces that would have worked well in a demo. He did a good job, but in one takedown he included a leg-lock at the end of the set-piece. I couldn’t get it right, he spotted this and came over and suggested that he does the lock on me – fine, no problem. I lay on my front and he trapped my knee and then put pressure on it, nothing happened… others came over to watch, but I felt nothing, he was struggling and I wasn’t tapping, because I didn’t need to, this was getting embarrassing, so, out of complete politeness I tapped out, he looked relieved. I now know that those leg locks can be really effective, but I guess he was having a bad day, and all under the eyes of his Sensei.
The group photo.
The course came to an end and the organiser gestured that the ‘boys and girls’ who had completed the training should assemble for a group photograph. Tony was adamant that we should not be part of this; he was eager to distance himself from the proceedings. At first I couldn’t understand what his problem was, it was only a photograph, but then I decided that maybe a discrete exit would be the prudent thing to do, and put the whole thing behind me.
Conclusion.
The truth was that I was not filled with confidence by what we had experienced. It took a while for me to unpack it and to balance out the positives and the negatives. My feeling now is that you have to experience these things and that exposure to what the wider martial art population considers ‘normal’ is useful in providing a lens to work out what you are doing in comparison to others who are supposedly in the same field. Maybe Williamson held that particular kata training method as a traditional way of teaching, perhaps it was normal to him? It certainly wasn’t what I was used to or expecting. Maybe the Ninja was used to taking things in a more ‘relaxed’ way and perhaps we were in error by being too rule-bound and rigid? Perhaps there were things about him we didn’t know, and those around him tolerated his eccentricities? As for the Jujutsu; what do I know anyway?
The fact that I am still mulling it over after all these years and sharing it on Substack, must indicate that it has some value… surely?
Image credit: Wikimedia, Jujutsu School in Japan 1922.
Something that has rarely been spoken of, the tendency of some UK born instructors to affect a mock Japanese accent and ways of speaking in broken English. Being truly objective I might be moderately forgiving. Look at it this way; if you had spent the majority of your training under a Japanese Sensei who struggled with the English language, it is possible that you might pick up certain quirks or phrasing from him. Shotokan seniors have been known to pick up the phrase, ‘More speedo’ from the early UK-based Japanese Sensei.
This would be at an unconscious level… surely? But I am convinced a little self-awareness would remedy it; either that or a well-meaning friend might have a quiet word in your ear? This is what ex-England football manager was missing when he moved to Holland, it’s worth listening to ‘Shteeve’ McLaren in this clip;