The Ringer.
Definition: “An athlete who enters a competition under false representation as to identity or ability to gain unfair advantage”.
In the late 1970’s the premier UK Wado karate event to be competing in was the UKKW national championships, this took place every year in September.
My first one was 1975 and I hardly missed a championship until the early 1980’s.
This was where I first came across the concept of the ‘ringer’ (what the Americans call a ‘sandbagger’).
The competition.
About 1976, in the junior grade fighting event one competitor stood out amongst the many lower kyu grades who were just finding their way in the skills of competition karate. It was clear that he was no beginner; far from it, he moved in an assured and confident way, with precise timing he easily racked up the points, cutting through the opposition like a hot knife through butter.
I have an image of him in my head even now. He wasn’t particularly tall, a young white guy with dark brown hair, a heavy brow ridge and equally heavy jaw. He fought in a style that caused his head to reach forward and hunch between hefty shoulders, similar to the fighting posture of that supremely skilled Wolverhampton scrapper, Hugo Robinson.
My club team mates shook their heads and raised their collective eyebrows, not needing to say anything.
Although he wore a white belt, he was no novice; it was clear to everyone. The referees must have seen it, the organisers must have spotted it; if Suzuki Sensei or the other Japanese teachers realised it, (or even cared), I don’t know.
Other complex problems that the organisers had.
To be fair to the organising committee they had more issues to deal with than just this one.
Every year all categories had huge entries. In fact, the numbers got so big that the event used to go on long into the evening. It became such a headache for the organisers that they later conspired to make it an event that you had to qualify to compete in. This was done through regional championships where only the top fighters were allowed to proceed to the Nationals. When they first did it, I was lucky enough to be among the qualifying fighters after my home Dojo had totally cleaned up at the East Midland Championship, taking just about every trophy available.
Moral and ethical problem.
But this particular year, we watched as the rounds went on and the ‘ringer’, (as we then called him), progressed through the field of fighters. I could feel the growing resentment among my team mates.
Personally, I didn’t compete against him. He was never on my side of the draw sheet; I would have been knocked out well before I got anywhere near him. But, for him; quarter finals gave way to semi finals and he was still there.
Who was responsible for this?
Naturally, we were curious; who was he, where was he from? At that stage all I knew was he wasn’t from our region; somebody said he was from the West London area. This was confirmed when he eventually found himself in the finals and his instructor appeared on the edge of the fighting area; not that he needed any real advice, he had this in the bag.
But I wondered about that instructor; after all, it was him that had put this guy in as a ringer. At that time the instructor was a well-respected senior in the UKKW, we couldn’t understand why he would be so complicit in this deception. I still wonder about it today, as it reflected so badly on his otherwise good reputation. Nevertheless, I have an abiding memory of this same instructor leaping for joy at his protégé’s eventual victory.
For the ringer, I hope he was happy with his trophy at the end of the day, for it was a hollow victory.
One of my team mates later overheard the new champion in the changing room. He was telling someone he was really a 2nd Dan from another group (he may not have even been a Wado stylist). So much for honesty.
To my recollection, he also competed (and probably won) the following year as well.
Other examples.
Subsequently, the theme of ‘sandbagging’ came across my radar again, but on a much bigger scale.
A story reached my ears at international level, whereby one very large country put a kind of karate ‘superteam’ together from all the various karate styles and entered them in Wado only tournaments, pretending they were Wado stylists, with predictable results.
To my mind, this raises the whole question underpinning the spirit of all sporting competitions with mass participants – who are they there for?
At international level it is not just about individual glory, but also national pride and prestige (At a later date I will be publishing a piece on the appropriation of martial arts for the state).
The second grandmaster of Wado karate once said that champions who become victors at a particular event should not have celebration as their first instinct, but gratitude. He was talking about all the competitors who took part to make the contest a worthy event; everyone who competed (and lost) to allow this one person to rise to the very top.
With the case of the ringer; I have to remind myself that the organisers created categories for a very good reason, partly to allow young inexperienced competitors to gain a flavour of competition and hopefully experience some success, and crucially on a fair and level playing field.
But, it mustn’t be forgotten, these were knock out events, so technically, the loss of one fight and you are done for the day. The early competitions were also Shobu Ippon, meaning, one full point, or two half points to win; that put everything on a rather cagey knife-edge, one mistake and you were out.
Add to that the fact that to compete in the Nationals, many of us suffered long journeys just to get there.
Perhaps my memory is hazy of some of the facts about the ringer (I don’t even remember his name, and I couldn’t be 100% sure about the exact year) and in all things there is often more than one side to the story, but I can only tell it as I recollect it.
I think the key word is ‘integrity’. In such instances everyone’s integrity is on the line.
We have this in ranked online competitive multiplayer FPS (first person shooter) games. And like you I wonder why they even bother: the easy wins are going to be offset by everyone judging you.
It would be definitely interesting to investigate as a psychological phenomenon, if there are answers that can be found anywhere (interviews -- have any ringers opened up about why they do this at all?).
This sort of Pyrrhic victory is all too common, unfortunately.
I do have a good ringer story for you, Tim. The tournament I founded used to run submission-only events - no time limits, and the only way to win was via submission. Not every event was like this, but we ran at least 20 of these. Competitors loved them. Spectators? Well, it just wasn't for them.
The last division of the day was the white belt absolute (open weight) division. These white belts had just barely enough defense to keep them alive for a really long time, but little ability to finish the match. We joked (but never EVER seriously considered) sending in a team of purple belts wearing white belts (ringers/sandbaggers, but even more comically absurd) to clean house so everyone could go home before midnight.
Good times.