It was a long time ago and perhaps my recollection is a little bit hazy, but one incident from the early 1980’s is lodged in my memory.
When I was living in Leeds, word reached me via the usual channels (probably the UKKW newsletter) that a fighting course was being run at the new sports centre in my home town of Mansfield. If my recollection is correct, the course was being presided over by Sakagami Sensei, and, being widely advertised, attracted a healthy turnout.
Myself and a brown belt from my Leeds Dojo, Mark Gallagher, were eager to attend. (It’s possible that this course may well have been a preparatory training for a large championship).
The course was much bigger than I thought it would be; karateka from all over the East Midlands had attended. We did some paired drills and fighting strategies, puddles of perspiration made the floor slippery (there were no mats).
We were well warmed up by the time it came to open sparring and in some cases, the blood was definitely up and there seemed the potential for things to get over-heated, but Sakagami Sensei didn’t seem too worried. I remember engaging in a spirited exchange and getting my eye split; a cut on my brow line; not serious enough to bother stopping (I was more worried about getting the blood out of my Gi).
Meanwhile, Mark Gallagher seemed to be really enjoying himself and was clearly ‘in the zone’, that was… until he found himself up against a Dan grade who’d travelled over from Lincolnshire.
I was fairly sure I had met this guy a couple of times before, maybe at squad training run by Dave Allsop and Mel Parry and probably at the big area gradings at Kesteven Sports Centre Lincoln, although at those events, for kyu grades, it was easy to get lost in the crowd. He didn’t particularly stand out at that time, but on this day, things were not going his way.
Mark was taller than him and, as the fight was progressing, was outmanoeuvring him and easily scoring points. The Dan grade’s frustration and temper was rising and, for reasons known only to himself, decided to end the fight by playing outside of the rulebook.
He must have seen the opportunity and acted decisively; a downwards stamping kick (sokuto) was targeted at Mark’s knee, with the inevitable result. I remember people rushing over as Mark was laying on the ground in agony. I was really worried for him, how bad was the damage, are we talking ligaments or bone? He couldn’t stand on the injured leg and was in a bit of a state.
Hospital.
The pair of us managed to get to the accident and emergency department at Mansfield Hospital. We must have looked a sight as we hobbled into the waiting room. A duty nurse looked us over, Mark with a swollen painful knee and me with a cut eye, both carrying sports bags, I have no idea what she thought.
We’d agreed beforehand not to be truthful to the medical people; and when she asked how we had become injured, we both said ‘football’. It was common knowledge in those days that doctors had no sympathy with karate people; they didn’t understand it and must have viewed it as ‘self-inflicted injury’, whereas ‘football’ was somehow okay.
The upshot was; a wound-closure strip for my eye and amazingly no lasting damage to Mark’s knee; although it put him out of action for many weeks afterwards.
The second meeting.
The Lincolnshire Dan grade must have been a bit of a Jonah as, at a later date, I was to meet him on the mat and injury was to occur again, but this time it was truly ‘self-inflicted’.
This was at the Nationals in Crystal Palace London. I found that I was drawn against him and this time it was the darker side of my nature that came to the fore. Once the bout was underway and knowing who he was, I was determined to really let him have it, but to stay within the rules.
I noticed that he had a habit of rolling away and hunching his shoulders against an incoming attack; if I could only get him to roll the right way he would open himself up for a head shot for my right foot.
That was the theory; so I faked one way, to make him swerve and lofted the mawashigeri up the other way so he would run on to it, and he must have spotted it at the last nano-second and raised his left shoulder, so my foot clipped the shoulder and sailed over the target. But, that ‘clip’ seemed to have completely snapped one of my middle toes, I know this because when I put my foot down I had the weirdest of experiences of my toe dangling and positioned underneath my foot. Adrenalin is a strange thing, as I felt no pain. That was until the Japanese Sensei who was the referee, in his wisdom, announced to me that the toe was dislocated and that he would put it place. He yanked on it eliciting excruciating pain… thanks. Actually, a later x-ray showed the clean break across the toe.
Whether it’s a rule book or a ‘gentlemen’s agreement’, things have the potential to go awry when someone chooses to step outside of the bounds, as this next tale illustrates.
A desperate situation.
In the early 2000’s a young Japanese university student, a visitor to the UK, found himself in the type of bind that I would challenge anyone to get out of with his dignity still intact.
At the end of a training session the youngster found himself corralled into an impromptu sparring contest with a very experienced English competition fighter. Both parties were asked to take part in this ‘friendly’ match by a senior Japanese Sensei, who I think, believed that the youngster needed to feel the experience of pressure brought upon him by the seasoned fighter.
The two competitors, being perfect gentleman, felt compelled to go along with this plan, and, I suppose, on paper it looked like a good idea. But very early on, it became obvious that this was an extreme mismatch. Should the senior Sensei have let the fight run on as long as it did? I don’t know.
As the bout went on, the youngster was being humiliated. Time and time again he was being scored upon and totally unable to land a single blow. It wasn’t that he was a bad technician, he was actually quite good, but this experience was well beyond anything he had encountered before.
He felt he needed to do something, and so, in a complete brain-blip of a moment, he decided to step outside of the rule book and impulsively went for the sokuto knee stomp. Fortunately, the experienced fighter spotted it. A perplexed look crossed the senior competitor’s face, and finally, mercifully, time was called and nobody was injured.
The UK fighter told me afterwards that he could have swept the youngster all over the floor, but because there were no mats, refrained from doing so.
In this particular case my heart went out to the youngster, and I think his more experienced opponent felt the same. It was just an unfortunate clash of circumstances, and maybe, humiliating though it was, it might have been a learning/growth experience for the youngster (I am wearing my optimist’s hat here).
As a final thought…
The dilemma over competition karate.
Looking back over time, the rules regarding competition fighting had always been in a state of flux. When I started competing there were no mats, it was a single full point or two half points to win and mitts, or any kind of padding, were just not allowed. The flux seemed at its most intense during those early decades, rules were always being refined. But one thing was for sure, joint attacks were always forbidden. They fell into the same category as groin kicks and eye-gouges.
Rules in games are there for very good reasons; without them everything erupts into chaos – there are even rules in warfare (allegedly). As an example; picture explaining the game of chess to a naive beginner; ‘Your objective is to take my king’, and so, at the start of play the beginner swiftly reaches across the board and snatches your king away, ‘I win!’ he proudly declares.
With karate the problem has always been; what are we aiming to achieve here? Do we want a full contact match, last man standing? Or the other end of the spectrum, do we want a game of tag? Are we perhaps now evolving into something like Olympic fencing? (It certainly looks that way to me). In karate, the rules of the game have evolved to serve the rules of the game and the physical athleticism of the art of karate has had to bend and warp into the same shape. It is a puzzling and profound conundrum.
One thing is for sure, playing outside the rulebook, like our friend from Lincolnshire, is nothing to be proud of.
I'm on the fence on whether or not there is a place for sport martial arts -- any martial art. The sport rules themselves promote habits which can be a liability in a real self-defense situation. The result is just a game, not a martial art. I hope someone can change my mind.
Very interesting article and perspectives!
From my own experience, I've always seen the Japanese with whom I trained have a perfect understanding of what sport is: a game where you have to win by following certain rules.
It was quite confusing for me at first because I saw very talented sensei losing in competition and not seeming to make a big deal out of it.
Because for me, there was confusion in my mind between sport and Budō, or should I say Bujutsu. My sensei at that time in France always talked about efficiency, being able to kill with a single blow and always said that competition was the worst thing that ever happened to Karate etc....
But training in Japan totally changed my understanding, and I really understood that Japanese Karate-ka (at least in all the organizations I trained with) make no confusion between sport and Karate.
You can be a champion, that's pretty cool, but that's it. This does not reflect your understanding in Karate and the step you're at, and it does not change anything inside the Dōjo. Although it can be a great tool fort many aspects of the training and I have huge respect for people who commit themselves to becoming a champion.
And that's why I've seen some really awesome Karate-ka who have been Japanese and World champions just playing with the rules in order to win the tournament! This was so weird and confusing for me at first! For example they were voluntary going out the Shiai-jo to play with time or avoid some very strong combinations of their opponent. This was totally unacceptable to me, because I thought you had to win in a kind of samurai way that reflected the reality of a fight, otherwise it was better to lose...
Yes, I was young and fanatic, but fortunately I met great Sensei who helped me grow a little along the way!
Sorry if this is a bit of a personal comment, but your post brings back very good memories!