In this second review of the Budo Specialization Course of the Kokusai Budo Daigaku, I am going to look at the Japanese classes as well as the lifestyle in the dormitory and city of Katsuura. Finally, I will give my overall opinion on the course.
Japanese Classes:
Bekkasei are required to attend Japanese language classes apart from their regular Budo training. These classes are generally held twice a day from Monday to Thursday, the exact period varying depending upon the schedule of Judo and Kendo classes. Topics range from Japanese grammar and conversation to culture and history.
In a course that is fraught with weakness, the Japanese language classes emphasize the shortcomings in the Budo Specialization Course of the International Budo University. The problem lies in a complete lack of organization; the course has neither a syllabus nor a coherent structure. The primary sensei follows no textbook, nor does she set forth objectives. Though both the primary and secondary sensei are wonderfully kind individuals, they fail to maintain any authority in the classroom. Furthermore, classes do not relate constructively, building upon what has already been taught. Instead, each class consists in unrelated material. This is the danger of teaching without a syllabus.
Bekkasei are required to take these Japanese classes, regardless of their relative abilities in the language. For this reason, both students with very high and very low levels are mixed together. Inevitably, someone will get board. When bekkasei with a sufficiently high level of Japanese asked to take regular university classes, they were refused. The reason being: Bekkasei are required to take the “Bekkasei” Japanese class.
It is difficult to adequately “review” the Japanese language course without seeming to directly insult the sensei. Unfortunately, the criticisms I put forth here have been made by years of bekkasei before me. Though people have expressed their dissatisfaction for over a decade, nothing has changed. The sensei themselves are very nice, but perhaps also somewhat lazy as regards the classes. In the end, however, a sensei has a responsibility to teach. Being friendly or kind does not forgive failure in one’s work.
The dormitory:
Bekkasei are offered a place in the Kokusai Koryu Kaikan, or International Exchange Hall. For 15,000yenn (roughly $150-$170) a month, bekkasei live in a relatively spacious room with access to internet (in the downstairs assembly hall) free laundry and a public kitchen. Each room is shared, but includes a bathroom and shower as well as heating and air-conditioning.
There are some small complaints that can be made regarding the Koryu Kaikan. There is no internet access available within dorm rooms. In order to use the free wireless, students must sit in the downstairs assembly hall. This means there is little to no privacy while speaking with one’s friends or family. Though the use of washers and dryers is free, the dryers are more often broken than not. In the winter, this means you must think carefully about when to wash your dogis.
Despite some few, small complaints, however, the Kaikan provides the most affordable way to live in Japan. Much of the Kaikan’s atmosphere depends upon the bekkasei themselves; though a cleaning staff does their best to keep the downstairs kitchen and assembly hall tidy, the bekkasei decide whether or not it remains so throughout the day.
Katsuura:
Katsuura is located one-and-a-half hours (by local train) from Chiba City and around two-and-a-half hours from Tokyo. Though small, Katsuura attracts tourists year-round for its beaches and festivals. In the summer, people spend as much of their free time as possible on the beach. In winter, on the other hand, Katsuura becomes a very uninteresting place to be.
Possibly the greatest drawback to living in a town as small as Katsuura is the lack of variety in food. There is but one supermarket, Hayashi, which is fairly expensive. Fruit and vegetables are especially high priced. It is sometimes more affordable to shop at the “morning market” in downtown Katsuura. This is a daily market in which local farmers sell their produce starting around 6:30AM. The selection is highly variable, however, and dependent upon the season.
A more reliable option is to take shopping trips to nearby towns along the sotobu train line. Though these towns are all fairly small, each one offers something unique that the others might not.
Finding part-time work in Katsuura, at least, is fairly easy. During the summer, a number of small stores open up along the beach. There is always a need for young men and women willing to work serving in the restaurants or selling merchandize. In the winter, some of the local hotels and ryokan—inns—employ students from the university to help take care of the busy tourist season. AS a bekkasei, the student visa allows for part time work up to twenty hours a week. Since most employers are somewhat… “informal” in their records, the twenty hour limit is often overlooked. Employers do keep their own, generally accurate, accounts, however, and will pay their employees in full…. Even if the lack of book-keeping seems suspicious.
My Overall Opinions:
I do not recommend the Budo Specialization Course at the International Budo University for most people. The difficulty in finding acceptance in the dojo combined with the low quality of both Budo and Japanese classes can result in a very disappointing experience. This being said, I myself do not regret having done this course. As with all study abroad experiences, this program is “what you make of it.” I took every advantage to travel and train at several dojos in Tokyo as well as becoming involved in activities outside the university. I was also very lucky in having had a life in Japan prior to beginning this course.
In particular, my relationship with Nakajima Sensei from the Kokushikan University opened the doors for several opportunities I would not have otherwise had. The winter swimming in Kamakura as well as a trip to Nagano to a seminar on disability sports were both thanks to the intervention and invitation of Nakajima Sensei. Furthermore, I knew my way around Tokyo well enough to freely travel on the weekend. This made it possible for me to visit both the Kodokan and Newaza Kenkyukai (Newaza Research Association) on Saturdays. If one’s only idea of Japan comes from their experience in this course, then this is not a good exposure to Japanese culture. However, if a person is outgoing and willing to take trips, look for training on their own, and make an effort to learn the language, then something can be gained by attending the Budo Specialization Course.
Showing posts with label Judo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judo. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
Reviewing the Budo Specialization Course; Part I
Now that the 2011-2012 Budo Specialization course at the International Budo University has finished, I would like to give my thoughts and opinions in a detailed review for anyone who might have an interest in applying to this—or some similar—martial arts program in Japan. This review will be separated into two entries looking at training and budo classes, in the first, and the Japanese classes as well as living conditions in both the dormitory and the city of Katsuura in the second.
The budo Specialization Course at the Kokusai Budo University is open to people who have an interest in training in either Judo or Kendo. Though the program’s application may give the impression that a black belt is required to attend this program, this is not the case. Five out of the thirteen “bekkasei” or special course students from this past year entered the course without a shodan. Applicants are accepted from a variety of backgrounds from countries around the world. Students have ranged in ages from as young as eighteen to members over the age of forty. No Japanese language skill is required, nor is it necessary to hold a university degree in one’s home country.
Training—
Training is divided into two parts: asageiko or asaren (morning training) and bukatsu (normal, club activity.) Morning training is held Monday-Friday beginning around 6:30AM. Bukatsu begins at 4:30PM Monday-Friday and, depending on the schedule, 9:00AM on Saturdays.
It is important to understand that training at a university club—the sort of training one will experience at the Budo University—is very different from the sort of training one might expect when imagining Japan. This is a problem that many, more mature Japanese Sensei are noticing as an increasing number of foreigners come to Japan to practice the martial arts. In Japan, Judo and Kendo are as much “sport” as they are “budo” or “martial art”. AS a result, training at the university level is somewhat cut-throat.
What does this mean for you as a foreigner? Well, if you are weak in your chosen martial art, University students will not train with you because they will not feel they can improve. If you are very strong, however, Japanese students might refuse to train with you for fear of losing against a foreigner. Japan is a famously exclusive country and, when you consider the fact you are training with young men and women, ego plays a large roll. The situation is made yet more complicated due to the fact that not everyone can train simultaneously; there just isn’t enough room in the dojo.
What can you do, then? The best way to deal with this complicated training situation is to show your willingness to work hard. Unfortunately, most Japanese university students will either like you… or not. This has little to do with you, personally, and more to do with how they feel about foreigners in general. By working hard, however, you will win the respect of both the sensei and those Japanese students who are disposed to like a foreigner. Respect, in Japan, is everything. If you can become friends with even one university student, it will help to open the door to a better training environment.
Regarding Judo, there are major differences between the men’s and women’s training. This is a result of the methodology and mentality of the sensei. Regarding the men, morning training is important as a symbolic gesture of your willingness to wake up early. Some people will run while others lift weights. The sensei themselves only show up, bow, and go back home to bed. Though people will tell you asageiko is “very important,” the truth is that very little changed when the bekkasei stopped showing up. No one really seemed to notice. It is much more important to show up regularly to the afternoon Judo bukatsu. For women, however, this is very different. The women’s morning training is very important and extremely difficult. The sensei actually run with the women and drive them to work harder. Bukatsu is equally tough and equally important; the women train hard all the time.
In kendo, on the other hand, morning training is one of the best opportunities to improve your technique. Asageiko consists in “suburi” or basic striking practice. Several kendo bekkasei made it clear that, if you are going to skip one or the other, the afternoon bukatsu is less valuable as far as development goes. In Kendo, as with Judo, it is difficult to find a chance to spar with the stronger players. You can spend 40 minutes waiting in line only to lose in a thirty second round of sparring. Unlike with Judo, however, the Kendo sensei will actually train with the university students and, as I have heard, will pay attention to the bekkasei. This is a golden opportunity for training with sensei who are ranked some of the top in the world.
Budo Classes:
Classes are held from 9:10AM to 4:20PM Monday through Friday in four, 80 minute blocks. Budo classes focus on aspects of one’s chosen martial art. Topics include basic training, referee qualification, “Kata” (form classes) and “theory and practice” classes. Bekkasei also have the opportunity to try the martial art which they are not specializing in. For Kendo students, practicing Judo is relatively easy as it only requires a dogi. For Judo students, however, the basic Kendo class requires a full set of armor and may result a little more difficult. In addition, Iaido—a sword drawing and striking art—is also offered to all bekkasei.
Kata Classes
The majority of the bekkasei classes are “form” classes. Kata is a choreographed pattern of movements or techniques designed to demonstrate some aspect of a martial art. (Though the term “Kata” is also used in non-budo arts such as tea ceremony.) For example, the “Katame-no-Kata” or “grappling Kata” includes fifteen techniques used in newaza.
As a Judo bekkasei, you are required to take six kata classes. These include: Nage-no-kata, Katame-no-kata, Kime-no-Kata, Kishiki-no-Kata, Ju-no-kata and the Goshin Jitsu-no-Kata. Depending on the sensei, these classes are either brilliant and informative or a waist of time. Kashiwazaki Sensei, the current director of the Bekkasei Program and a fantastic sensei, teaches both the Nage and Katame-no-Kata classes while including information on both the history and modern usage of the kata. Other sensei, however, would simply play a video of the kata and maybe correct students while they practiced. To be honest, traveling to Japan to watch Kata video—all of which is freely available on youtube—is something of a disappointment.
The theory and practice classes were, again, highly dependent upon the sensei. Miakoshi Sensei, a seventh degree black belt and a very funny man, showed us variations on several techniques throughout his class. Furthermore, he encouraged us to fight from our weaker side—left, if we were right-handed—because he felt it was important to familiarize ourselves with fighting styles opponents might use. Kashiwazaki Sensei, on the other hand, encouraged us to make an instructional video in order that we might think more deeply on our own Judo. Unfortunately, other sensei just showed videos.
The classes, overall, were somewhat of a disappointment for Judo. Traveling to Japan only to learn Kata, which can be learned on the internet, was not what any of us had expected. The Basic and Theory classes were hit or miss, depending partly on the sensei and partly on the attitude of the students. The best one can do is take what is offered, when it is offered, and make the best of the rest.
In my next post I will continue with a review of the Japanese classes, the life in Katsuura and my final opinions on the Bekkasei course.
The budo Specialization Course at the Kokusai Budo University is open to people who have an interest in training in either Judo or Kendo. Though the program’s application may give the impression that a black belt is required to attend this program, this is not the case. Five out of the thirteen “bekkasei” or special course students from this past year entered the course without a shodan. Applicants are accepted from a variety of backgrounds from countries around the world. Students have ranged in ages from as young as eighteen to members over the age of forty. No Japanese language skill is required, nor is it necessary to hold a university degree in one’s home country.
Training—
Training is divided into two parts: asageiko or asaren (morning training) and bukatsu (normal, club activity.) Morning training is held Monday-Friday beginning around 6:30AM. Bukatsu begins at 4:30PM Monday-Friday and, depending on the schedule, 9:00AM on Saturdays.
It is important to understand that training at a university club—the sort of training one will experience at the Budo University—is very different from the sort of training one might expect when imagining Japan. This is a problem that many, more mature Japanese Sensei are noticing as an increasing number of foreigners come to Japan to practice the martial arts. In Japan, Judo and Kendo are as much “sport” as they are “budo” or “martial art”. AS a result, training at the university level is somewhat cut-throat.
What does this mean for you as a foreigner? Well, if you are weak in your chosen martial art, University students will not train with you because they will not feel they can improve. If you are very strong, however, Japanese students might refuse to train with you for fear of losing against a foreigner. Japan is a famously exclusive country and, when you consider the fact you are training with young men and women, ego plays a large roll. The situation is made yet more complicated due to the fact that not everyone can train simultaneously; there just isn’t enough room in the dojo.
What can you do, then? The best way to deal with this complicated training situation is to show your willingness to work hard. Unfortunately, most Japanese university students will either like you… or not. This has little to do with you, personally, and more to do with how they feel about foreigners in general. By working hard, however, you will win the respect of both the sensei and those Japanese students who are disposed to like a foreigner. Respect, in Japan, is everything. If you can become friends with even one university student, it will help to open the door to a better training environment.
Regarding Judo, there are major differences between the men’s and women’s training. This is a result of the methodology and mentality of the sensei. Regarding the men, morning training is important as a symbolic gesture of your willingness to wake up early. Some people will run while others lift weights. The sensei themselves only show up, bow, and go back home to bed. Though people will tell you asageiko is “very important,” the truth is that very little changed when the bekkasei stopped showing up. No one really seemed to notice. It is much more important to show up regularly to the afternoon Judo bukatsu. For women, however, this is very different. The women’s morning training is very important and extremely difficult. The sensei actually run with the women and drive them to work harder. Bukatsu is equally tough and equally important; the women train hard all the time.
In kendo, on the other hand, morning training is one of the best opportunities to improve your technique. Asageiko consists in “suburi” or basic striking practice. Several kendo bekkasei made it clear that, if you are going to skip one or the other, the afternoon bukatsu is less valuable as far as development goes. In Kendo, as with Judo, it is difficult to find a chance to spar with the stronger players. You can spend 40 minutes waiting in line only to lose in a thirty second round of sparring. Unlike with Judo, however, the Kendo sensei will actually train with the university students and, as I have heard, will pay attention to the bekkasei. This is a golden opportunity for training with sensei who are ranked some of the top in the world.
Budo Classes:
Classes are held from 9:10AM to 4:20PM Monday through Friday in four, 80 minute blocks. Budo classes focus on aspects of one’s chosen martial art. Topics include basic training, referee qualification, “Kata” (form classes) and “theory and practice” classes. Bekkasei also have the opportunity to try the martial art which they are not specializing in. For Kendo students, practicing Judo is relatively easy as it only requires a dogi. For Judo students, however, the basic Kendo class requires a full set of armor and may result a little more difficult. In addition, Iaido—a sword drawing and striking art—is also offered to all bekkasei.
Kata Classes
The majority of the bekkasei classes are “form” classes. Kata is a choreographed pattern of movements or techniques designed to demonstrate some aspect of a martial art. (Though the term “Kata” is also used in non-budo arts such as tea ceremony.) For example, the “Katame-no-Kata” or “grappling Kata” includes fifteen techniques used in newaza.
As a Judo bekkasei, you are required to take six kata classes. These include: Nage-no-kata, Katame-no-kata, Kime-no-Kata, Kishiki-no-Kata, Ju-no-kata and the Goshin Jitsu-no-Kata. Depending on the sensei, these classes are either brilliant and informative or a waist of time. Kashiwazaki Sensei, the current director of the Bekkasei Program and a fantastic sensei, teaches both the Nage and Katame-no-Kata classes while including information on both the history and modern usage of the kata. Other sensei, however, would simply play a video of the kata and maybe correct students while they practiced. To be honest, traveling to Japan to watch Kata video—all of which is freely available on youtube—is something of a disappointment.
The theory and practice classes were, again, highly dependent upon the sensei. Miakoshi Sensei, a seventh degree black belt and a very funny man, showed us variations on several techniques throughout his class. Furthermore, he encouraged us to fight from our weaker side—left, if we were right-handed—because he felt it was important to familiarize ourselves with fighting styles opponents might use. Kashiwazaki Sensei, on the other hand, encouraged us to make an instructional video in order that we might think more deeply on our own Judo. Unfortunately, other sensei just showed videos.
The classes, overall, were somewhat of a disappointment for Judo. Traveling to Japan only to learn Kata, which can be learned on the internet, was not what any of us had expected. The Basic and Theory classes were hit or miss, depending partly on the sensei and partly on the attitude of the students. The best one can do is take what is offered, when it is offered, and make the best of the rest.
In my next post I will continue with a review of the Japanese classes, the life in Katsuura and my final opinions on the Bekkasei course.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Now…. Do I want the black cotton Weave or the Black Satin?
There are just so many choices when purchasing your black belt; I had no idea! Do I stick with the traditional black cotton…. Or spring for the black satin? Cotton is washer-safe, but who really washes there belt anyway? The satin though…. pretentious?
This past weekend I participated in my second shodan-shinsa shiai or black belt examination tournament. At my first tournament I earned five of the six points I needed to receive my shodan certificate and, since the system in place at the International Budo University awards a point for simply participating, I was guaranteed my shodan on Saturday just for showing up. I wanted to go out—or come in?—with a bang, however, so I decided to win all my matches. Call me sick and twisted, but there is nothing more gratifying than holding an opponent in osaekomi while they struggle feebly to escape.
My first match lasted a total of about 30 seconds…. 25 of which were taken up by me holding my opponent down. When my opponent falls at the beginning he lands on his side, which is worth a quarter-point. In judo, you must hold an opponent pinned for 25 seconds for a full ippon (1-point). Those 25 seconds last a surprisingly long time:
Second Tourni, First Fight
My second opponent actually seemed to have some idea of what he was doing. At least, he knew how to move and he tried to throw me. He tries tomoe-nage twice; a sacrifice throw in which you fall backwards and use your leg to propel your opponent over top. Though it is a really difficult technique, beginners seem to try it often. By the end of the match, something in my head clicked and I decided it was time to end the fight. I noticed that the kid kept trying to pick up his right leg, so I tried to time my soto-gari as he picked up the leg. I’m not sure the timing was perfect, but he went down well enough:
Second Tourni, Second fight
My third and forth fights were both quite short and quite similar. I didn’t have a chance to make a nice technique in either match because, in both cases, my opponents put themselves in bad positions very quickly.
Second Tourni, Third fight
Second Tourni, Forth Fight
It is fun to act a little cocky in Judo, for a change, but in defense of all my opponents, these kids came from a variety of sports clubs. I believe my first opponent practices karate, my second opponent practices rugby, and I’m not sure about the third and forth. The system at Budai is a little unusual; every judoka at the university is a shodan well before coming to Katsuura. Students from other sports can take Judo classes, however, and the shodan shinsa is so that they can also earn their black belts. Regardless of this, I do feel I have earned the shodan after eight months of daily judo training against men (and women) who have been doing Judo most of their lives. I can say for certain that there is at least one third-degree and several second-degree black belts who I frequently beat during practice. The shodan examination was a formality more than a test and, when I return to the United States, I would like to earn my shodan separately within the American system.
This past weekend I participated in my second shodan-shinsa shiai or black belt examination tournament. At my first tournament I earned five of the six points I needed to receive my shodan certificate and, since the system in place at the International Budo University awards a point for simply participating, I was guaranteed my shodan on Saturday just for showing up. I wanted to go out—or come in?—with a bang, however, so I decided to win all my matches. Call me sick and twisted, but there is nothing more gratifying than holding an opponent in osaekomi while they struggle feebly to escape.
My first match lasted a total of about 30 seconds…. 25 of which were taken up by me holding my opponent down. When my opponent falls at the beginning he lands on his side, which is worth a quarter-point. In judo, you must hold an opponent pinned for 25 seconds for a full ippon (1-point). Those 25 seconds last a surprisingly long time:
Second Tourni, First Fight
My second opponent actually seemed to have some idea of what he was doing. At least, he knew how to move and he tried to throw me. He tries tomoe-nage twice; a sacrifice throw in which you fall backwards and use your leg to propel your opponent over top. Though it is a really difficult technique, beginners seem to try it often. By the end of the match, something in my head clicked and I decided it was time to end the fight. I noticed that the kid kept trying to pick up his right leg, so I tried to time my soto-gari as he picked up the leg. I’m not sure the timing was perfect, but he went down well enough:
Second Tourni, Second fight
My third and forth fights were both quite short and quite similar. I didn’t have a chance to make a nice technique in either match because, in both cases, my opponents put themselves in bad positions very quickly.
Second Tourni, Third fight
Second Tourni, Forth Fight
It is fun to act a little cocky in Judo, for a change, but in defense of all my opponents, these kids came from a variety of sports clubs. I believe my first opponent practices karate, my second opponent practices rugby, and I’m not sure about the third and forth. The system at Budai is a little unusual; every judoka at the university is a shodan well before coming to Katsuura. Students from other sports can take Judo classes, however, and the shodan shinsa is so that they can also earn their black belts. Regardless of this, I do feel I have earned the shodan after eight months of daily judo training against men (and women) who have been doing Judo most of their lives. I can say for certain that there is at least one third-degree and several second-degree black belts who I frequently beat during practice. The shodan examination was a formality more than a test and, when I return to the United States, I would like to earn my shodan separately within the American system.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Judo at the Kroc Center, Grand Rapids
On my recent trip to the States I took the opportunity to train with a great group of Judoka in the Grand Rapids, Michigan, area. I have known Jim Murray and his son Alex for just over a year—since I visited home last summer—and never have I met two people who do more to encourage a positive Judo spirit. I was excited then, in January, to hear that Jim Murray Sensei was starting a Judo program at the Grand Rapids Kroc Center.
The Kroc Center
2500 S. Division Ave
Grand Rapids, Michigan 49507
Judo: Children’s class (under thirteen years of age), 6:00-7:30 Mondays and Wednesdays
Judo: Adults (thirteen and older), 7:30-8:45 Mondays and Wednesdays
The Salvation Army Ray and Joan Kroc Corps Community Center, one of many such centers across the United States, was founded with the intention that all people, regardless of social status, have access to a world-class recreational, educational and cultural arts facility. Joan Kroc—wife of McDonalds founder Ray Kroc—established the first center in Sandiego, California in 2001. Since 2001—and with the aid of an impressive 1.5 billion dollar donation from the Kroc family—the salvation army has continued Joan Kroc’s dream by establishing many more such cultural centers.
The first time I joined a class at the Kroc Center—back in February—I was immediately impressed by the fact I was hearing as much Spanish as English spoken amongst the members. An excited group of twenty kids between seven and 14 years of age were gathered to learn Judo, wearing judogi that the Kroc Center even provided. The students were energetic, friendly and, above all, excited to watch Jim Murray Sensei throw me and other adult judoka with Ogoshi (major hip throw).
Six months and more have passed now. When I joined the Kroc Center’s Judo club these past couple weeks, I was delighted to see that there is still a strong membership with children and adults from a mixed variety of races and ethnicities. As Murray Sensei put it, “With our visiting Sensei from Poland and Nick in from Japan, I think every major culture is represented here tonight.” This is what I, personally, love to see. Jim Murray Sensei, with the help of the people at the Kroc Center, is bringing Judo into the lives of people who would probably never have the chance to learn under normal circumstances. You hear stories of great basketball and baseball players being discovered in poor inner-city neighborhoods…. Why not the next Judo gold medalist?
Jim Murray is a third degree black belt in Judo and the president of Judo Affiliates of Michigan. He is a USA certified national coach and a USJF certified Kata instructor. He has taken silver and bronze medals in both the USA Judo National Championships (Masters Division) and the Pan-American Masters Championships. He also won the gold medal in the 2005 Midwest Judo Championship (Masters Division).
The Kroc Center
2500 S. Division Ave
Grand Rapids, Michigan 49507
Judo: Children’s class (under thirteen years of age), 6:00-7:30 Mondays and Wednesdays
Judo: Adults (thirteen and older), 7:30-8:45 Mondays and Wednesdays
The Salvation Army Ray and Joan Kroc Corps Community Center, one of many such centers across the United States, was founded with the intention that all people, regardless of social status, have access to a world-class recreational, educational and cultural arts facility. Joan Kroc—wife of McDonalds founder Ray Kroc—established the first center in Sandiego, California in 2001. Since 2001—and with the aid of an impressive 1.5 billion dollar donation from the Kroc family—the salvation army has continued Joan Kroc’s dream by establishing many more such cultural centers.
The first time I joined a class at the Kroc Center—back in February—I was immediately impressed by the fact I was hearing as much Spanish as English spoken amongst the members. An excited group of twenty kids between seven and 14 years of age were gathered to learn Judo, wearing judogi that the Kroc Center even provided. The students were energetic, friendly and, above all, excited to watch Jim Murray Sensei throw me and other adult judoka with Ogoshi (major hip throw).
Six months and more have passed now. When I joined the Kroc Center’s Judo club these past couple weeks, I was delighted to see that there is still a strong membership with children and adults from a mixed variety of races and ethnicities. As Murray Sensei put it, “With our visiting Sensei from Poland and Nick in from Japan, I think every major culture is represented here tonight.” This is what I, personally, love to see. Jim Murray Sensei, with the help of the people at the Kroc Center, is bringing Judo into the lives of people who would probably never have the chance to learn under normal circumstances. You hear stories of great basketball and baseball players being discovered in poor inner-city neighborhoods…. Why not the next Judo gold medalist?
Jim Murray is a third degree black belt in Judo and the president of Judo Affiliates of Michigan. He is a USA certified national coach and a USJF certified Kata instructor. He has taken silver and bronze medals in both the USA Judo National Championships (Masters Division) and the Pan-American Masters Championships. He also won the gold medal in the 2005 Midwest Judo Championship (Masters Division).
Monday, July 18, 2011
Teaching Sankaku/Ude-Garami
Due to classes and general busyness, heat and the fact I exercise for four hours a day…. I haven’t put up a blog entry in a week! Naughty naughty; I’ll try to behave better. With this in mind, I have something particularly near and dear to my heart I would like to share.
I’m not sure I’ve adequately expressed my love of newaza—ground fighting—over the course of my posting. Ground fighting is, however, where I feel the strongest. Maybe it is because of the close proximity of my opponent, but I feel like I can better read my opponent’s movements while on the ground than when standing and fighting. Of course, I must work to develop both aspects of my judo; I wanted, simply, to share my enthusiasm for the technique I am about to show.
This technique is both a sankaku (triangle choke) and ude-garami (arm bar). A friend taught me the technique three weeks ago and I have found it to be extremely effective, even against people who know exactly what I’m about to do.
The volume in this video is quite low and my explanation is in Japanese, but please
Watch
And I’ll give a more detailed description below.
When an opponent lies flat on the tatami, he is probably stalling and waiting for the referee to stop the match. In Judo, very little time is allowed for ground fighting. This turnover, however, is quite fast.
As you sit on the opponent’s back, you want to grab the back of their collar with your hand and, if you’re particularly nasty, try to dig a few knuckles into the back of your opponent’s neck. This will make them more willing to move momentarily. With your other hand, try to pull your opponent’s arm away from their body. Obviously, your opponent wants to stay huddled up and probably won’t let you push their arm out. So, it helps to use a knee behind the elbow. Believe me, your leg is a lot stronger than their arm.
Once you have opened a small space between the opponent’s elbow and body, lift the opponent using the hand at the collar and back of the elbow. Shoot your foot around, under the opponent’s neck, and put your foot into the space you opened before. In this case, my right heel must touch my left knee.
Now, fall to the side and roll your opponent over. While in this motion, try to shoot your foot inside the bend of your knee to form the triangle. With the leg that is free—my left leg, in this example, I use my foot to hook the opponent’s hip and turn my body. I turn simply to better position my leg across the opponent’s neck.
In this position, you are ready to choke. Just squeeze your legs and lift your hips. The triangle has to be quite accurately placed in order to choke the opponent and often times I fail to hit the mark. The benefit of this turnover, however, is the option to make an arm bar.
The opponent has their left arm within your triangle and, therefore, it is rather isolated from the rest of their body. You can easily sit up and wrap your arm around theirs. Then, try to find the opponent’s elbow. Place your hand on their elbow and, using your own elbow, press down to bend the arm backwards.
I change one detail in this turnover in my second demonstration. As I lift the opponent and bring my right leg around, I catch my own ankle with my hand. There is a reason to do this. Most likely, at this point, your opponent will have figured out what you are trying to do. They will try to close the space you have opened by bringing their elbow close to the body and blocking your leg. When you slide your hand in that space, however, the opponent cannot stop you from catching the ankle. As you do the turnover, just pull your own leg through and hook it with the opposite leg as before.
AS I mentioned before, I have had a lot of luck with this single turnover; more, in fact, than with any other technique I’ve ever been shown. It is fast, simple, and allows for either a triangle choke or an arm bar. I hope the explanation has been clear and that the video is likewise understandable. I will try to edit the video for volume in the next few days; I wanted to get this post up as soon as possible.
I’m not sure I’ve adequately expressed my love of newaza—ground fighting—over the course of my posting. Ground fighting is, however, where I feel the strongest. Maybe it is because of the close proximity of my opponent, but I feel like I can better read my opponent’s movements while on the ground than when standing and fighting. Of course, I must work to develop both aspects of my judo; I wanted, simply, to share my enthusiasm for the technique I am about to show.
This technique is both a sankaku (triangle choke) and ude-garami (arm bar). A friend taught me the technique three weeks ago and I have found it to be extremely effective, even against people who know exactly what I’m about to do.
The volume in this video is quite low and my explanation is in Japanese, but please
Watch
And I’ll give a more detailed description below.
When an opponent lies flat on the tatami, he is probably stalling and waiting for the referee to stop the match. In Judo, very little time is allowed for ground fighting. This turnover, however, is quite fast.
As you sit on the opponent’s back, you want to grab the back of their collar with your hand and, if you’re particularly nasty, try to dig a few knuckles into the back of your opponent’s neck. This will make them more willing to move momentarily. With your other hand, try to pull your opponent’s arm away from their body. Obviously, your opponent wants to stay huddled up and probably won’t let you push their arm out. So, it helps to use a knee behind the elbow. Believe me, your leg is a lot stronger than their arm.
Once you have opened a small space between the opponent’s elbow and body, lift the opponent using the hand at the collar and back of the elbow. Shoot your foot around, under the opponent’s neck, and put your foot into the space you opened before. In this case, my right heel must touch my left knee.
Now, fall to the side and roll your opponent over. While in this motion, try to shoot your foot inside the bend of your knee to form the triangle. With the leg that is free—my left leg, in this example, I use my foot to hook the opponent’s hip and turn my body. I turn simply to better position my leg across the opponent’s neck.
In this position, you are ready to choke. Just squeeze your legs and lift your hips. The triangle has to be quite accurately placed in order to choke the opponent and often times I fail to hit the mark. The benefit of this turnover, however, is the option to make an arm bar.
The opponent has their left arm within your triangle and, therefore, it is rather isolated from the rest of their body. You can easily sit up and wrap your arm around theirs. Then, try to find the opponent’s elbow. Place your hand on their elbow and, using your own elbow, press down to bend the arm backwards.
I change one detail in this turnover in my second demonstration. As I lift the opponent and bring my right leg around, I catch my own ankle with my hand. There is a reason to do this. Most likely, at this point, your opponent will have figured out what you are trying to do. They will try to close the space you have opened by bringing their elbow close to the body and blocking your leg. When you slide your hand in that space, however, the opponent cannot stop you from catching the ankle. As you do the turnover, just pull your own leg through and hook it with the opposite leg as before.
AS I mentioned before, I have had a lot of luck with this single turnover; more, in fact, than with any other technique I’ve ever been shown. It is fast, simple, and allows for either a triangle choke or an arm bar. I hope the explanation has been clear and that the video is likewise understandable. I will try to edit the video for volume in the next few days; I wanted to get this post up as soon as possible.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Under Pressure
I love Judo. There is something about the beauty of a perfectly timed throw that sings of poetry in motion. Here you have these two people who both want to throw the other, but every move one makes could be opening a throw for the other. Judo is, after all, a game of using an opponent’s force against them. It’s the competition I really admire in Judo; where the other martial arts I practice are mere demonstrations, Judo is pure application.
Despite what I have just written, I will now make a confession: I hate competing. It is both what I most admire and most dislike about the sport. When the referee yells “Hajime” and the match begins, somehow my brain shrivels up, my heart and lungs stop functioning properly and my world is populated by two people: myself and my opponent. I have to rely on instincts I’ve gained during training to carry me through the match. Fortunately, I’ve done enough conditioning over the past few years that I can survive three or four minutes without air.
Today I participated in a shodan shinsa shiai [初段審査試合] or shodan examination tournament. This is a tournament in which you earn points toward obtaining your first degree black belt. Under the university rules, which are recognized by the Kodokan, a person needs six points to earn their shodan. Entering a shodan tournament immediately earns you one point and each consecutive win is then worth another point.
My first match was called three minutes after the tournament began. I quickly grabbed the sensei in charge and explained, “I have to start from kumikata”. Under official rules, blind fighters start with both opponents having an equal grip at collar and arm. The sensei made sure to explain this to my opponent and before I was even aware they were ready, the referee yelled “hajime”.
My opponent was a very muscular rugby player who we’ve seen in the gym… lifting more than my body weight. I was taken a little off-guard by the sudden start of the match and before I knew it my opponent was shoving me around. He finally threw me over his hip and landed on top of me, ending the match.
Frustrated would be a mild way to put my feelings after my early loss. I took this frustration, therefore, and carried it into my next match. Here is a video; be careful not to blink:
Second match
The technique I used is something between an ashi-guruma and a koshi-guruma, (leg or hip circle).
My third opponent seemed to think he was going to win. He certainly tried to out muscle me anyway. This time I was more prepared, though, and I attempted a sacrifice throw. This is when you try to pull the opponent on to your leg and flip them. It’s a great throw when someone is pushing hard into you. As you can see in the video
Third match
My tomoe-nage was not successful. The kosoto-gari (outside foot sweep), however, was very effective. My favorite part of this match came right after the video ends. My opponent looked to the side toward his friends and yelled, “Majide?” (Really?) As in “Really, I just lost?” I wanted to tell him, “Well, you are the one on his back now.”
My camera man left after this match to support some of our other friends, so I do not have videos of my fourth and fifth matches. Neither one lasted more than thirty seconds, however.
One person went home today saying “I just beat up a blind man."
Four people went home today saying, “I just had my ass handed to me by a blind man.” Just the thought warms my little heart. I scored five points in total, which means I will be guaranteed my shodan at the next tournament I enter.
I would have liked to win my first match. If I had played the same person during my second or third round, I think I would have. Judo, for me, is partly a game of beating my opponent and partly a game of beating myself, however. Losing one match and thinking I was done for the day really put things into perspective. Its just one more step up the latter; one more experience under my belt.
Despite what I have just written, I will now make a confession: I hate competing. It is both what I most admire and most dislike about the sport. When the referee yells “Hajime” and the match begins, somehow my brain shrivels up, my heart and lungs stop functioning properly and my world is populated by two people: myself and my opponent. I have to rely on instincts I’ve gained during training to carry me through the match. Fortunately, I’ve done enough conditioning over the past few years that I can survive three or four minutes without air.
Today I participated in a shodan shinsa shiai [初段審査試合] or shodan examination tournament. This is a tournament in which you earn points toward obtaining your first degree black belt. Under the university rules, which are recognized by the Kodokan, a person needs six points to earn their shodan. Entering a shodan tournament immediately earns you one point and each consecutive win is then worth another point.
My first match was called three minutes after the tournament began. I quickly grabbed the sensei in charge and explained, “I have to start from kumikata”. Under official rules, blind fighters start with both opponents having an equal grip at collar and arm. The sensei made sure to explain this to my opponent and before I was even aware they were ready, the referee yelled “hajime”.
My opponent was a very muscular rugby player who we’ve seen in the gym… lifting more than my body weight. I was taken a little off-guard by the sudden start of the match and before I knew it my opponent was shoving me around. He finally threw me over his hip and landed on top of me, ending the match.
Frustrated would be a mild way to put my feelings after my early loss. I took this frustration, therefore, and carried it into my next match. Here is a video; be careful not to blink:
Second match
The technique I used is something between an ashi-guruma and a koshi-guruma, (leg or hip circle).
My third opponent seemed to think he was going to win. He certainly tried to out muscle me anyway. This time I was more prepared, though, and I attempted a sacrifice throw. This is when you try to pull the opponent on to your leg and flip them. It’s a great throw when someone is pushing hard into you. As you can see in the video
Third match
My tomoe-nage was not successful. The kosoto-gari (outside foot sweep), however, was very effective. My favorite part of this match came right after the video ends. My opponent looked to the side toward his friends and yelled, “Majide?” (Really?) As in “Really, I just lost?” I wanted to tell him, “Well, you are the one on his back now.”
My camera man left after this match to support some of our other friends, so I do not have videos of my fourth and fifth matches. Neither one lasted more than thirty seconds, however.
One person went home today saying “I just beat up a blind man."
Four people went home today saying, “I just had my ass handed to me by a blind man.” Just the thought warms my little heart. I scored five points in total, which means I will be guaranteed my shodan at the next tournament I enter.
I would have liked to win my first match. If I had played the same person during my second or third round, I think I would have. Judo, for me, is partly a game of beating my opponent and partly a game of beating myself, however. Losing one match and thinking I was done for the day really put things into perspective. Its just one more step up the latter; one more experience under my belt.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Further Training with the Ladies
A friend of mine put it this way:
"Well, you can come over here with the girls and train for three hours… or you can go over there with the guys and watch for two."
If you harbor any doubts to the value of a man training in the women’s dojo, allow me to share with you the results of the recent Judo ZenNihon Gakusei Taikai [柔道 全二本 学生 大会] or All Japan University Judo Championship. The Budo Daigaku’s women’s team took third place… the men failed to place within the top ten. I wonder why that is. Could it be the fact that the women judoka train harder? Could it be the influence of a training session that includes technique drills, conditioning exercises as well as the normal randori? Maybe they’re just better.
I believe the breakthrough from “visiting guest” to “more or less regular member” of the women’s judo club came a couple weeks ago on a particularly hot afternoon. During two hours of training, I was never short a partner. AS soon as the whistle blew, someone was waiting to grab me.
When a welsh friend of mine—a man who also trains regularly with the girls—finally had the opportunity to spar with me, he said, "Well, I see we’re feeling patriotic today; I’ll have to throw you extra hard for that."
"What?" I asked, not following his logic.
"Ahem; I can see the stars and stripes of your boxers through your pants."
Allow me to reiterate: I am somewhat lacking in the sight department. How was I supposed to know my American flag boxers would show right through my wet dogi? But I’ll say: I never lacked for a partner that day. Advertise, Advertise, Advertise.
Training is almost comical, now, for the sheer efficiency with which the girls include me in their drills and exercises. As I step back from one drill, one of the girls is waiting to push me into the next line where a second girl pulls me along. You can almost hear the clockwork precision of their movements:
"This is Cheri, you ready Aya?"
"Aya here, we’re waiting,"
"Here he is---"
"Ready in five… four…. Three… two… one… go go go!"
It’s a little awkward being pushed and pulled around. Under normal circumstances it would probably bother me, but the girls are man-handling me with the intent of including me. When it comes time to train, though, they fight me every bit as hard as they would another dojo member.
I train with the girls twice a week; Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I still practice at the men’s dojo. This gives me a nice balance of technical and physical training. The boys are stronger, physically, and this gives me the opportunity to try the techniques I’ve drilled with the girls against a different type of opponent. In the end, it’s just nice to feel welcome at the dojo, men or women.
"Well, you can come over here with the girls and train for three hours… or you can go over there with the guys and watch for two."
If you harbor any doubts to the value of a man training in the women’s dojo, allow me to share with you the results of the recent Judo ZenNihon Gakusei Taikai [柔道 全二本 学生 大会] or All Japan University Judo Championship. The Budo Daigaku’s women’s team took third place… the men failed to place within the top ten. I wonder why that is. Could it be the fact that the women judoka train harder? Could it be the influence of a training session that includes technique drills, conditioning exercises as well as the normal randori? Maybe they’re just better.
I believe the breakthrough from “visiting guest” to “more or less regular member” of the women’s judo club came a couple weeks ago on a particularly hot afternoon. During two hours of training, I was never short a partner. AS soon as the whistle blew, someone was waiting to grab me.
When a welsh friend of mine—a man who also trains regularly with the girls—finally had the opportunity to spar with me, he said, "Well, I see we’re feeling patriotic today; I’ll have to throw you extra hard for that."
"What?" I asked, not following his logic.
"Ahem; I can see the stars and stripes of your boxers through your pants."
Allow me to reiterate: I am somewhat lacking in the sight department. How was I supposed to know my American flag boxers would show right through my wet dogi? But I’ll say: I never lacked for a partner that day. Advertise, Advertise, Advertise.
Training is almost comical, now, for the sheer efficiency with which the girls include me in their drills and exercises. As I step back from one drill, one of the girls is waiting to push me into the next line where a second girl pulls me along. You can almost hear the clockwork precision of their movements:
"This is Cheri, you ready Aya?"
"Aya here, we’re waiting,"
"Here he is---"
"Ready in five… four…. Three… two… one… go go go!"
It’s a little awkward being pushed and pulled around. Under normal circumstances it would probably bother me, but the girls are man-handling me with the intent of including me. When it comes time to train, though, they fight me every bit as hard as they would another dojo member.
I train with the girls twice a week; Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I still practice at the men’s dojo. This gives me a nice balance of technical and physical training. The boys are stronger, physically, and this gives me the opportunity to try the techniques I’ve drilled with the girls against a different type of opponent. In the end, it’s just nice to feel welcome at the dojo, men or women.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Teaching Ashi-Barai
One of the simplest and yet most affective techniques in Judo is Ashi-Barai, or foot sweep. During the natural movement of randori, as both judo players are fighting for position and balance, a clean foot sweep can easily land an apponent on his back.
When I asked a sensei at the Kodokan for help practicing seoi-nage (shoulder-throw), his response was, “Why are you waisting time with seoi-nage. That is a technique for short people. You need to practice ashi-barai. Your legs are long; when you touch me with your foot I am scared!”
The sensei had good reason for his suggestion. Of the handful of tournaments I have competed in here in Japan, ashi-barai has one me the most matches. Furthermore, practicing ashi-barai has been a great way to develop a better sense for my aponents movement and weight placement. Before you can jump into a more complex technique, it is crutial to understand whether an aponent is leaning forward or back, whether his weight is on the right foot or the left. Hours of drilling foot sweeps have helped me develop this sense.
With this in mind, I wanted to write about some of the recent suggestions Kashiwazaki Sensei has made for teaching ashi-barai.
A foot sweep is as simple as it sounds; the idea is to sweep your foot at an aponent’s ancle at the moment they are stepping. The foot should be slightly tilted with only the little toe sweeping the floor. It is important to keep your leg straight with the hip projected slightly forward. The wider the stance you have when beginning a foot sweep, the stronger your sweep will be. Try standing with your feet two inches apart and then sweeping one leg across…. There isn’t much room. Now stand with your legs a little further than shoulder-width apart and sweep a leg. There is a lot more momentum.
One way to practice the motion of a foot sweep is to take turns with a partner, walking back and forth across the room and sweeping feet alternately, as in this
Ashi-barai practice
It is important to pull the apponent toward you to take his balance. Do not make the mistake of pulling yourself into your aponent, as this will knock you off balance instead.
After practicing this drill, Kashiwazaki Sensei asked us to do something very strange. “Write your names on the tatami with your big toe.” Surprisingly enough, this is much more challenging than it might sound. This is also a great way to help children develop balance while standing on one foot, an important part of foot sweeps.
Perhaps the most powerful counter to a foot sweep is also the most logical. Sweep your aponent’s foot at the moment they are trying to sweep yours! Kashiwazaki Sensei described this as drawing the letter D. Pull your foot back toward you (dodging the aponent’s sweep) and circle your foot around to push the aponent through. Watch this video for an example of a
Ashi-barai game
That helps practice sweeping and counter-sweeping while maintaining balance.
This is an easy technique, but the benefits of practicing foot sweeps are far-reaching. Balance is crutial for all aspects of Judo and it is important to practice pulling an aponent toward you for later, more complicated throws.
When I asked a sensei at the Kodokan for help practicing seoi-nage (shoulder-throw), his response was, “Why are you waisting time with seoi-nage. That is a technique for short people. You need to practice ashi-barai. Your legs are long; when you touch me with your foot I am scared!”
The sensei had good reason for his suggestion. Of the handful of tournaments I have competed in here in Japan, ashi-barai has one me the most matches. Furthermore, practicing ashi-barai has been a great way to develop a better sense for my aponents movement and weight placement. Before you can jump into a more complex technique, it is crutial to understand whether an aponent is leaning forward or back, whether his weight is on the right foot or the left. Hours of drilling foot sweeps have helped me develop this sense.
With this in mind, I wanted to write about some of the recent suggestions Kashiwazaki Sensei has made for teaching ashi-barai.
A foot sweep is as simple as it sounds; the idea is to sweep your foot at an aponent’s ancle at the moment they are stepping. The foot should be slightly tilted with only the little toe sweeping the floor. It is important to keep your leg straight with the hip projected slightly forward. The wider the stance you have when beginning a foot sweep, the stronger your sweep will be. Try standing with your feet two inches apart and then sweeping one leg across…. There isn’t much room. Now stand with your legs a little further than shoulder-width apart and sweep a leg. There is a lot more momentum.
One way to practice the motion of a foot sweep is to take turns with a partner, walking back and forth across the room and sweeping feet alternately, as in this
Ashi-barai practice
It is important to pull the apponent toward you to take his balance. Do not make the mistake of pulling yourself into your aponent, as this will knock you off balance instead.
After practicing this drill, Kashiwazaki Sensei asked us to do something very strange. “Write your names on the tatami with your big toe.” Surprisingly enough, this is much more challenging than it might sound. This is also a great way to help children develop balance while standing on one foot, an important part of foot sweeps.
Perhaps the most powerful counter to a foot sweep is also the most logical. Sweep your aponent’s foot at the moment they are trying to sweep yours! Kashiwazaki Sensei described this as drawing the letter D. Pull your foot back toward you (dodging the aponent’s sweep) and circle your foot around to push the aponent through. Watch this video for an example of a
Ashi-barai game
That helps practice sweeping and counter-sweeping while maintaining balance.
This is an easy technique, but the benefits of practicing foot sweeps are far-reaching. Balance is crutial for all aspects of Judo and it is important to practice pulling an aponent toward you for later, more complicated throws.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Making Movies
There was a slight delay in putting up this blog post; I am still getting the hang of multi-media and how to add more creative things to the blog. Today, we’re experimenting with adding videos…
The program for international students at the Kokusai Budo Daigaku consists in a series of classes devoted to your major—Judo or Kendo—as well as the opportunity to take an introductory class in the martial art you are not focusing on. I realize that I have yet to explain the classes in detail, due partly to the fact we have only recently begun the regular semester.
Judoka have three “kata”--or judo form--classes in which we study set routines such as throws or pins intended to demonstrate principals of the art. Apart from these kata, which I will talk about in greater detail as the course continues, we have one basic technique class and, finally, the class I am going to talk about today: a movie making class.
Yes, that’s right, a movie making class. Our first period on Thursdays is devoted to filming an instructional video. Each student has ten minutes to teach two or three of his or her favorite waza. We can choose between tachiwaza [standing techniques] or newaza [ground techniques] or demonstrate various interpretations on one single throw.
The purpose of making a demonstrational video for Judo is two-fold. Firstly, one tends to think about a technique differently when teaching. Breaking the technique down to its principal pieces helps to deepen understanding and is especially useful for finding out where one’s weaknesses lie. Its often much easier to commit yourself to a throw and quickly execute it… but when you slow things down you find the little errors—bad posture, incorrect hand position, unbalance—that may cost you a match.
The point that Kashiwazaki Sensei stressed above all, however, was the importance of keeping a record of one’s development. Sensei explained that this video will be something we take with us: a reminder of this year and the place we are in both mentally and physically. Having a record of your current level of skill or strength provides encouragement to improve. It sets a mark in stone—or film, as the case may be—that may then be surpassed.
The clip I have uploaded is a quick demonstration of Haraigoshi [sweeping hip throw]. While preparing to film this clip, I worked with a man much shorter than myself. I realized that a traditional Haraigoshi throw was very difficult for me as I have trouble lowering my hips far enough to get below my opponent's center. In this video, however, I am doing a slight variation of Haraigoshi in which I step to the right and then quickly twist my hips inside:
I approached Kashiwazaki Sensei to ask him his advice on my two throws. I explained that, with shorter opponents, I have difficulties performing the traditional style of this throw. Therefore, I do a slight variation. With taller opponents, however, I stick with the variation of Haraigoshi more typically taught.
Kashiwazaki Sensei’s reply was, “That is exactly what we’re looking for; this video is for You to explain Your technique. What works for you and what doesn’t. If one variation works on a short opponent while another variation works on a tall opponent, teach it. That is what this video is for.”
The program for international students at the Kokusai Budo Daigaku consists in a series of classes devoted to your major—Judo or Kendo—as well as the opportunity to take an introductory class in the martial art you are not focusing on. I realize that I have yet to explain the classes in detail, due partly to the fact we have only recently begun the regular semester.
Judoka have three “kata”--or judo form--classes in which we study set routines such as throws or pins intended to demonstrate principals of the art. Apart from these kata, which I will talk about in greater detail as the course continues, we have one basic technique class and, finally, the class I am going to talk about today: a movie making class.
Yes, that’s right, a movie making class. Our first period on Thursdays is devoted to filming an instructional video. Each student has ten minutes to teach two or three of his or her favorite waza. We can choose between tachiwaza [standing techniques] or newaza [ground techniques] or demonstrate various interpretations on one single throw.
The purpose of making a demonstrational video for Judo is two-fold. Firstly, one tends to think about a technique differently when teaching. Breaking the technique down to its principal pieces helps to deepen understanding and is especially useful for finding out where one’s weaknesses lie. Its often much easier to commit yourself to a throw and quickly execute it… but when you slow things down you find the little errors—bad posture, incorrect hand position, unbalance—that may cost you a match.
The point that Kashiwazaki Sensei stressed above all, however, was the importance of keeping a record of one’s development. Sensei explained that this video will be something we take with us: a reminder of this year and the place we are in both mentally and physically. Having a record of your current level of skill or strength provides encouragement to improve. It sets a mark in stone—or film, as the case may be—that may then be surpassed.
The clip I have uploaded is a quick demonstration of Haraigoshi [sweeping hip throw]. While preparing to film this clip, I worked with a man much shorter than myself. I realized that a traditional Haraigoshi throw was very difficult for me as I have trouble lowering my hips far enough to get below my opponent's center. In this video, however, I am doing a slight variation of Haraigoshi in which I step to the right and then quickly twist my hips inside:
I approached Kashiwazaki Sensei to ask him his advice on my two throws. I explained that, with shorter opponents, I have difficulties performing the traditional style of this throw. Therefore, I do a slight variation. With taller opponents, however, I stick with the variation of Haraigoshi more typically taught.
Kashiwazaki Sensei’s reply was, “That is exactly what we’re looking for; this video is for You to explain Your technique. What works for you and what doesn’t. If one variation works on a short opponent while another variation works on a tall opponent, teach it. That is what this video is for.”
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Kashiwazaki Sensei's First Lesson
Our first formal class with Kashiwazaki Sensei began with a simple question:
“Why, when you sit seiza [kneeling], do you lower your left leg first and then your right?”
In an effort to demonstrate our knowledge of Japanese customs and their history, each one of us said in turn, “Because the Samurai carried their sword on the left side of the body.”
“Interesting,” Kashiwazaki Sensei replied. “Before World War II people went down to their right knee first and then their left when sitting seiza. So…. It can’t be related to the sword.”
As we bowed to begin class, Kashiwazaki Sensei posed us a second question, “Why do you bow?”
“Out of respect,” we replied.
“Yes, but why. Why is bowing a sign of respect?”
Sensei went on to ask us how monkeys, dogs, and even ships greet one another. In the case of monkeys, they show their rear ends. Dogs, as most everyone has seen, will allow other dogs to sniff their asses. Ships, in previous centuries, would fire an unloaded cannon as a form of salute.
“Why do you shake hands in America?” Sensei then asked me.
“To demonstrate that we have no weapon,” I replied.
“Yes,” Kashiwazaki Sensei said. “In all these cases, we are showing our weakness. I give you my hand to show you I carry no weapon. Ships fired an empty cannon to demonstrate they were not armed. Monkeys, Dogs, and other animals put forth their most vulnerable areas. Likewise, in Japan, we bow to expose our weakest point…. Our necks.”
Kashiwazaki Sensei explained that there are three reasons we bow in Judo. We first bow as we enter the dojo. This is a sign of respect toward the spirit or, one might think, God of the dojo. In the Shinto religion there are millions upon millions of gods that exist in the world around us. We bow to do honor to that energy that inhabits the dojo. (I like to think of it as “Tatami-sama”)
When we bow to our opponent before a match it is *not* a sign of respect; rather, bowing helps us bring our mind and body under control. When we finish sparring, then we bow to our opponent to show our gratitude and respect for training with us.
The purpose of Kashiwazaki Sensei’s lesson was two-fold. It is our responsibility to carry on these traditions and teach them in our home countries. Few people in America know the true reasons behind the actions they perform in a dojo. The second reason we were challenged mentally—and not physically--is because an action without reason is useless. We must always question. Why? Why why why? Why do we bow? Why do we sit seiza? Why is haraigoshi [sweeping hip throw] done this way and not another? Kashiwazaki Sensei touched upon a lesson that is very important in Budo and one that I believe is often forgotten: the mind plays a role equal to that of the body.
To return to our first question: why do you lower your left knee first when sitting seiza? Well, the answer is remarkably simple. Someone decided to make it the custom. During the 20th century—especially after the two World Wars—many countries created customs to help begin a new age. Tradition is important and it helps create unity amongst people.
It was also interesting to learn about the origins behind seiza or the kneeling style of sitting that is so common in the martial arts. Japanese only began sitting seiza since the development of woven bamboo mats [tatami]. Before the turn of the 18th century, floors were hard stone or dirt, impossible to kneel on for long periods of time. When tatami mats became popular, however, people sat in seiza to prevent their dirty feet from touching the clean floor. Furthermore, the ruling class in Japan realized it was much more difficult for a subject to jump up and stab them if they were seated in a kneeling position and wearing restrictive clothing or armor.
“Why, when you sit seiza [kneeling], do you lower your left leg first and then your right?”
In an effort to demonstrate our knowledge of Japanese customs and their history, each one of us said in turn, “Because the Samurai carried their sword on the left side of the body.”
“Interesting,” Kashiwazaki Sensei replied. “Before World War II people went down to their right knee first and then their left when sitting seiza. So…. It can’t be related to the sword.”
As we bowed to begin class, Kashiwazaki Sensei posed us a second question, “Why do you bow?”
“Out of respect,” we replied.
“Yes, but why. Why is bowing a sign of respect?”
Sensei went on to ask us how monkeys, dogs, and even ships greet one another. In the case of monkeys, they show their rear ends. Dogs, as most everyone has seen, will allow other dogs to sniff their asses. Ships, in previous centuries, would fire an unloaded cannon as a form of salute.
“Why do you shake hands in America?” Sensei then asked me.
“To demonstrate that we have no weapon,” I replied.
“Yes,” Kashiwazaki Sensei said. “In all these cases, we are showing our weakness. I give you my hand to show you I carry no weapon. Ships fired an empty cannon to demonstrate they were not armed. Monkeys, Dogs, and other animals put forth their most vulnerable areas. Likewise, in Japan, we bow to expose our weakest point…. Our necks.”
Kashiwazaki Sensei explained that there are three reasons we bow in Judo. We first bow as we enter the dojo. This is a sign of respect toward the spirit or, one might think, God of the dojo. In the Shinto religion there are millions upon millions of gods that exist in the world around us. We bow to do honor to that energy that inhabits the dojo. (I like to think of it as “Tatami-sama”)
When we bow to our opponent before a match it is *not* a sign of respect; rather, bowing helps us bring our mind and body under control. When we finish sparring, then we bow to our opponent to show our gratitude and respect for training with us.
The purpose of Kashiwazaki Sensei’s lesson was two-fold. It is our responsibility to carry on these traditions and teach them in our home countries. Few people in America know the true reasons behind the actions they perform in a dojo. The second reason we were challenged mentally—and not physically--is because an action without reason is useless. We must always question. Why? Why why why? Why do we bow? Why do we sit seiza? Why is haraigoshi [sweeping hip throw] done this way and not another? Kashiwazaki Sensei touched upon a lesson that is very important in Budo and one that I believe is often forgotten: the mind plays a role equal to that of the body.
To return to our first question: why do you lower your left knee first when sitting seiza? Well, the answer is remarkably simple. Someone decided to make it the custom. During the 20th century—especially after the two World Wars—many countries created customs to help begin a new age. Tradition is important and it helps create unity amongst people.
It was also interesting to learn about the origins behind seiza or the kneeling style of sitting that is so common in the martial arts. Japanese only began sitting seiza since the development of woven bamboo mats [tatami]. Before the turn of the 18th century, floors were hard stone or dirt, impossible to kneel on for long periods of time. When tatami mats became popular, however, people sat in seiza to prevent their dirty feet from touching the clean floor. Furthermore, the ruling class in Japan realized it was much more difficult for a subject to jump up and stab them if they were seated in a kneeling position and wearing restrictive clothing or armor.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
He's Not just a God, He's a Man!
Finally, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…. At least, if you know anything about Judo and the International Budo Daigaku then it’s the moment you’ve known would come. On Tuesday, the five of us foreign Judoka had our first private class with the living legend of judo: Katsuhiro Kashiwazaki.
Kashiwazaki sensei is a man who embodies the budo spirit not only for his achievements, but also for his attitude. His many accomplishments include winning the silver medal at the world championships in Vienna in 1975 and the gold at Maastricht in 1981. He also dedicated time to studying other forms of wrestling and in 1975 he one the world Sampo championships. Unfortunately, politics prevented Kashiwazaki Sensei from competing in the 1980 Olympics as Japan was boycotting the event held in Russia.
In fine form, the five of us Judoka went to the wrong building and sat attentively with other Japanese students as Koshino Sensei explained the ground-fighting class he would be instructing. We silently wondered, “Where is he…. Where is the Man?”
After 15 minutes, the secretary of the international centre politely interrupted Koshino Sensei’s lecture to say, “The bekkasei students aren’t supposed to be here!” AS we ran quickly from the room, excusing ourselves as we went, “Shitsurei shimasu!” The secretary said, “Kashiwazaki Sensei called; he asked, “Where are my students!””
Now embarrassed—as well as excited—we ran to the next building where we bowed our entrance and rushed to sit attentively at the feet of Kashiwazaki Sensei. In his soft, cultured voice he asked us to make our introductions in Japanese. AS I finished my jikoshoukai, Sensei turned to the other judoka and said, “Listen to Niko, speak like he does.”
Kashiwazaki Sensei explained that he would be giving us a Kata class. That is to say, a class that demonstrates various techniques and fundamental aspects of the art of Judo. This would be our chance to ask any questions we might have about our favorite techniques. It’s like having Jimmy Hendrix invite you over to his house for an hour and a half twice a week and offering to teach you guitar.
Kashiwazaki Sensei went on to speak of the importance of cultivating our minds as well as our bodies. We must learn Japanese, he said, for he would not speak to us in English. He will speak slowly and help us to understand, but he will only speak Japanese. Kashiwazaki Sensei further commanded us to find Japanese girlfriends and told us the two most important words in any language are “Beer” and “Wine”.
AS he dismissed us, Kashiwazaki Sensei asked, “Do any of you have anything you want to talk to me about?” When we stood silently he looked at me and asked, “Niko, are you having any problems?”
I bowed and explained to Sensei that I still had not been accepted by the Japanese students at the Dojo. “At most, I am only doing to or three rounds of randori.”
With simple elegance, Kashiwazaki Sensei replied, “Well… go practice with the women’s team. They will accept you and they train hard. You will learn from them.”
To see a video of Kashiwazaki Sensei performing some of his signature throws, click:
Here
Kashiwazaki sensei is a man who embodies the budo spirit not only for his achievements, but also for his attitude. His many accomplishments include winning the silver medal at the world championships in Vienna in 1975 and the gold at Maastricht in 1981. He also dedicated time to studying other forms of wrestling and in 1975 he one the world Sampo championships. Unfortunately, politics prevented Kashiwazaki Sensei from competing in the 1980 Olympics as Japan was boycotting the event held in Russia.
In fine form, the five of us Judoka went to the wrong building and sat attentively with other Japanese students as Koshino Sensei explained the ground-fighting class he would be instructing. We silently wondered, “Where is he…. Where is the Man?”
After 15 minutes, the secretary of the international centre politely interrupted Koshino Sensei’s lecture to say, “The bekkasei students aren’t supposed to be here!” AS we ran quickly from the room, excusing ourselves as we went, “Shitsurei shimasu!” The secretary said, “Kashiwazaki Sensei called; he asked, “Where are my students!””
Now embarrassed—as well as excited—we ran to the next building where we bowed our entrance and rushed to sit attentively at the feet of Kashiwazaki Sensei. In his soft, cultured voice he asked us to make our introductions in Japanese. AS I finished my jikoshoukai, Sensei turned to the other judoka and said, “Listen to Niko, speak like he does.”
Kashiwazaki Sensei explained that he would be giving us a Kata class. That is to say, a class that demonstrates various techniques and fundamental aspects of the art of Judo. This would be our chance to ask any questions we might have about our favorite techniques. It’s like having Jimmy Hendrix invite you over to his house for an hour and a half twice a week and offering to teach you guitar.
Kashiwazaki Sensei went on to speak of the importance of cultivating our minds as well as our bodies. We must learn Japanese, he said, for he would not speak to us in English. He will speak slowly and help us to understand, but he will only speak Japanese. Kashiwazaki Sensei further commanded us to find Japanese girlfriends and told us the two most important words in any language are “Beer” and “Wine”.
AS he dismissed us, Kashiwazaki Sensei asked, “Do any of you have anything you want to talk to me about?” When we stood silently he looked at me and asked, “Niko, are you having any problems?”
I bowed and explained to Sensei that I still had not been accepted by the Japanese students at the Dojo. “At most, I am only doing to or three rounds of randori.”
With simple elegance, Kashiwazaki Sensei replied, “Well… go practice with the women’s team. They will accept you and they train hard. You will learn from them.”
To see a video of Kashiwazaki Sensei performing some of his signature throws, click:
Here
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Every Silver Lining Has Its Cloud
Today marks two full weeks of training here at the International Budo Daigaku. Apart from Sundays, when the dojo is closed, I have attended every possible practice including the running and weight-lifting at 7:00 in the morning. Half of my cuticles have been peeled back from grabbing stiff dogis with dry hands, the joint at the base of my right thumb feels jammed, my right eye is black and blue from someone kneeing me in the face and one toe is slightly swollen from where I kicked a man while attempting a leg-sweep. (For the record, he fell down.) All in all, I haven’t been overly impressed with the skill level of these judoka.
The last two days have seen a marked improvement in the behavior of some of the Japanese students, however. I am averaging about five rounds of randori (sparring) out of a possible fifteen per day and, although Koshino Sensei still must order some of the students to go with me, a few of the boys have come of their own volition. It’s not perfect, but its four rounds of randori more than what I was getting last week.
It seems I have been relegated to a corner of the dojo, though, as I am not allowed to spar with anyone in the center of the room. The obvious answer for this is: “Oh, you can’t see the other groups sparring, so they put you in the corner where there are fewer people.” Unfortunately, this hypothesis is completely negated when you notice that the Japanese students seem totally unaware of their surroundings during randori. I could talk for hours about the importance of awareness in budo… one of the fundamental principals in my opinion. The fact that I have had three pairs of people slam into me while I stood against the wall at the edge of the tatami-mat leads me to wonder if maybe everyone here is blind.
Yesterday, I finally managed to communicate to one judoka that he should actually fight me if he didn’t want to end up on his back with my knee in his groin. I communicated this by throwing him on his back and putting my knee in his groin. It was like a light came on in his head. He jumped up, said, “Onegaishimasu!” and started sparring seriously and not just making half-hearted attempts to kick my ankles.
Since then, most of the judoka I’ve sparred with have made legitimate attempts to throw me. They might only be playing at 75%, but that is 75% better than before.
But every silver lining has its cloud. As the five of us foreigners stood to the side while the Japanese began class today, Koshino Sensei walked up to us and said “There’s a tournament coming up. Sorry. Try to make friends.”
This was meant to excuse the behavior of students who refused our requests to practice. They only want “serious” training now while preparing for the tournament. So, it’s not only me who has been having difficulties in finding acceptance. But I think the IBU will find it has a very stubborn group of gaikokujin—foreigners—this year.
The last two days have seen a marked improvement in the behavior of some of the Japanese students, however. I am averaging about five rounds of randori (sparring) out of a possible fifteen per day and, although Koshino Sensei still must order some of the students to go with me, a few of the boys have come of their own volition. It’s not perfect, but its four rounds of randori more than what I was getting last week.
It seems I have been relegated to a corner of the dojo, though, as I am not allowed to spar with anyone in the center of the room. The obvious answer for this is: “Oh, you can’t see the other groups sparring, so they put you in the corner where there are fewer people.” Unfortunately, this hypothesis is completely negated when you notice that the Japanese students seem totally unaware of their surroundings during randori. I could talk for hours about the importance of awareness in budo… one of the fundamental principals in my opinion. The fact that I have had three pairs of people slam into me while I stood against the wall at the edge of the tatami-mat leads me to wonder if maybe everyone here is blind.
Yesterday, I finally managed to communicate to one judoka that he should actually fight me if he didn’t want to end up on his back with my knee in his groin. I communicated this by throwing him on his back and putting my knee in his groin. It was like a light came on in his head. He jumped up, said, “Onegaishimasu!” and started sparring seriously and not just making half-hearted attempts to kick my ankles.
Since then, most of the judoka I’ve sparred with have made legitimate attempts to throw me. They might only be playing at 75%, but that is 75% better than before.
But every silver lining has its cloud. As the five of us foreigners stood to the side while the Japanese began class today, Koshino Sensei walked up to us and said “There’s a tournament coming up. Sorry. Try to make friends.”
This was meant to excuse the behavior of students who refused our requests to practice. They only want “serious” training now while preparing for the tournament. So, it’s not only me who has been having difficulties in finding acceptance. But I think the IBU will find it has a very stubborn group of gaikokujin—foreigners—this year.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Training Begins.... As Does the Frustration
When a break in our rigorous orientation finally left us free in the afternoon, the five of us foreigners studying Judo asked permission to “get accustomed to the dojo.” The Judo club is on a special schedule until the semester begins, with training in the morning and running in the afternoon. We were anxious to take some falls and get a feel for the dojo’s springy floor before we would be joining the Japanese students. So, with many admonitions that we not injure ourselves before classes even begin, one of the secretaries at the international office confirmed with the sensei leading Judo that the room would be open.
For three days we ran through uchikomi—technique drills—and some throws. By the fourth day, however, the moons aligned just so and orientation was canceled for the morning. We were given our first chance to join the regular judo club for training.
As we walked into the dojo, sixty pairs of eyes followed us across the length of the room. Unfortunately, this was the last time many of the Japanese students would bother to look at us for the rest of the day.
We sat in a hunched group at the far end of the dojo surrounded by a veritable sea of black belts. When the Japanese students suddenly stood up and started shuffling around the dojo in a large circle, we stood up and began shuffling around the dojo in a large circle. When the Japanese students suddenly stopped and began rushing through stretches, we muddled to a halt and attempted to rush through stretches. When the Japanese students lined up, we lined up. Then we bowed and suddenly became the center of attention, again.
Koshino Sensei, who was leading training, called the five of us up to the front of the room and asked us to do jikoshoukai (self introduction.) Learning how to introduce yourself in Japanese is the single most important bit of language one can have when spending any length of time in Japan. It is a part of Japanese custom to introduce yourself in front of every new group; it is your fifteen seconds of undivided attention.
Once we said our names, countries, and weight classes, training began. Again, the five of us huddled together to one side and now puzzled over what was going on. With a seemingly random precision, the large mass of black belted Japanese divided and went to apposing sides of the room. Then, as a line of men walked into the center of the room from the opposite side of the dojo, another line would rush forward to bow and ask permission to spar. After five rounds of randori—five “matches” so to speak—none of us had gotten a chance to participate. A friend asked me to translate for him and we approached a judo player on our half of the room.
“Will you do randori with my friend?” I asked.
The man stood silently. I rephrased my question, “The next randori, could you do it with my friend here (tapping my friend on the shoulder)”
The man said, very clearly, “no.” I was taken aback. He went on to say something about the belts, but I couldn’t understand his quickly spoken Japanese.
By the end of the first training session, the five of us combined had only had one or two chances to spar with Japanese students. We were very confused.
For three days we ran through uchikomi—technique drills—and some throws. By the fourth day, however, the moons aligned just so and orientation was canceled for the morning. We were given our first chance to join the regular judo club for training.
As we walked into the dojo, sixty pairs of eyes followed us across the length of the room. Unfortunately, this was the last time many of the Japanese students would bother to look at us for the rest of the day.
We sat in a hunched group at the far end of the dojo surrounded by a veritable sea of black belts. When the Japanese students suddenly stood up and started shuffling around the dojo in a large circle, we stood up and began shuffling around the dojo in a large circle. When the Japanese students suddenly stopped and began rushing through stretches, we muddled to a halt and attempted to rush through stretches. When the Japanese students lined up, we lined up. Then we bowed and suddenly became the center of attention, again.
Koshino Sensei, who was leading training, called the five of us up to the front of the room and asked us to do jikoshoukai (self introduction.) Learning how to introduce yourself in Japanese is the single most important bit of language one can have when spending any length of time in Japan. It is a part of Japanese custom to introduce yourself in front of every new group; it is your fifteen seconds of undivided attention.
Once we said our names, countries, and weight classes, training began. Again, the five of us huddled together to one side and now puzzled over what was going on. With a seemingly random precision, the large mass of black belted Japanese divided and went to apposing sides of the room. Then, as a line of men walked into the center of the room from the opposite side of the dojo, another line would rush forward to bow and ask permission to spar. After five rounds of randori—five “matches” so to speak—none of us had gotten a chance to participate. A friend asked me to translate for him and we approached a judo player on our half of the room.
“Will you do randori with my friend?” I asked.
The man stood silently. I rephrased my question, “The next randori, could you do it with my friend here (tapping my friend on the shoulder)”
The man said, very clearly, “no.” I was taken aback. He went on to say something about the belts, but I couldn’t understand his quickly spoken Japanese.
By the end of the first training session, the five of us combined had only had one or two chances to spar with Japanese students. We were very confused.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Nakajima Sensei
Takeshi Nakajima Sensei is a truly encredible individual. The more I discover about his life and character, the more I am left smiling at his non-prepossessing manner and open attitude. I was first drawn to his exuberant personality and, since, have been deeply impressed by his lifetime dedication to budo. Nakajima Sensei is an expert in both Judo and Aikido and is director of the Japanese academy of budo. He has traveled throughout the world, promoting the martial arts and encouraging people’s with disabilities to get involved. Most recently, I spoke to Nakajima Sensei about his experiences learning how to snowboard at the mature age of 68.
I first met Nakajima Sensei through my Judo instructor in Kitakyushu, Japan. Masamitsu Haga Sensei was concerned about the difficulties I was having in finding a university where I could study Japanese. He made some calls and, finally, set up a meeting for me in Tokyo with Nakajima Sensei at the Kokushikan University.
Nakajima Sensei is a short, energetic man with shriveled ears that have seen many years of judo. I know this because he proudly grabbed my hand on our first meeting and said, “Here, feel my ears! They’re like potatoes!” I shook his hand—then ear—and, in the customary Japanese tradition, offered him a souvenir from Kitakyushu, saying, “Sumimasen, Kore tsumaranaimono douzo…” [Excuse me, this is a boring thing but please take it].
In his cheerful manner, Nakajima Sensei said, “If it’s boring, than keep it! I only want delicious things!”
After some debate, we determined that the box of Ramen I had brought from Fukuoka—where ramen is famous for being prepared in a pork soup—was, in fact, possibly delicious.
As we sat down at his desk, Nakajima Sensei asked me, “When did you go blind.”
“I went blind when I was eight years old,” I told him.
With that, Nakajima Sensei jumped out of his chair and slapped his hands on the desk, exclaiming, “That’s great! You must be so strong!”
I must admit, I’ve told many people about my childhood illness and, inevitably, they have reacted with sorrow or commiseration. Never before had someone exclaimed how wonderful a thing it was to go blind, however.
“We all have a weakness,” he went on to explain, “I am short. You, though, you know your weakness. You are blind. So now you can deal with it and become strong. You have had so many years to become strong.”
Even now, I laugh to remember his excitement. What he said was true and, despite all my years of travel and adventure, I had never quite looked at things in this way. Some people have spent their whole lives wondering what’s wrong with them. Me, though, I know what my problem is. I’m blind. Done and done; let’s move on.
And move on we did. Nakajima Sensei took me around the Kokushikan University to meet professors and students and told me stories about the amazing people he had met who have overcome diversity to achieve greatness, each in their own way.
Upon our parting, he said, “I think you should study judo at the kokusai budo daigaku.” The course at the international budo university was something I had researched and dreamed of attending. With Nakajima sensei’s encouragement, I applied to the course.
So here we are, sitting in Katsura, Japan.
I first met Nakajima Sensei through my Judo instructor in Kitakyushu, Japan. Masamitsu Haga Sensei was concerned about the difficulties I was having in finding a university where I could study Japanese. He made some calls and, finally, set up a meeting for me in Tokyo with Nakajima Sensei at the Kokushikan University.
Nakajima Sensei is a short, energetic man with shriveled ears that have seen many years of judo. I know this because he proudly grabbed my hand on our first meeting and said, “Here, feel my ears! They’re like potatoes!” I shook his hand—then ear—and, in the customary Japanese tradition, offered him a souvenir from Kitakyushu, saying, “Sumimasen, Kore tsumaranaimono douzo…” [Excuse me, this is a boring thing but please take it].
In his cheerful manner, Nakajima Sensei said, “If it’s boring, than keep it! I only want delicious things!”
After some debate, we determined that the box of Ramen I had brought from Fukuoka—where ramen is famous for being prepared in a pork soup—was, in fact, possibly delicious.
As we sat down at his desk, Nakajima Sensei asked me, “When did you go blind.”
“I went blind when I was eight years old,” I told him.
With that, Nakajima Sensei jumped out of his chair and slapped his hands on the desk, exclaiming, “That’s great! You must be so strong!”
I must admit, I’ve told many people about my childhood illness and, inevitably, they have reacted with sorrow or commiseration. Never before had someone exclaimed how wonderful a thing it was to go blind, however.
“We all have a weakness,” he went on to explain, “I am short. You, though, you know your weakness. You are blind. So now you can deal with it and become strong. You have had so many years to become strong.”
Even now, I laugh to remember his excitement. What he said was true and, despite all my years of travel and adventure, I had never quite looked at things in this way. Some people have spent their whole lives wondering what’s wrong with them. Me, though, I know what my problem is. I’m blind. Done and done; let’s move on.
And move on we did. Nakajima Sensei took me around the Kokushikan University to meet professors and students and told me stories about the amazing people he had met who have overcome diversity to achieve greatness, each in their own way.
Upon our parting, he said, “I think you should study judo at the kokusai budo daigaku.” The course at the international budo university was something I had researched and dreamed of attending. With Nakajima sensei’s encouragement, I applied to the course.
So here we are, sitting in Katsura, Japan.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Judo
For a complete story about how I began training in Judo, click
Here
This is an article I published in Mobility International—an online magazine focusing on the stories of peoples with disabilities who travel—detailing my experiences arriving to Japan and joining the Shishinkai Judo association of Sensei Masamitsu Haga. It would be next to impossible to recreate the article in this blog with the same impact as when I wrote for the magazine.
To watch an interview Fox News conducted with me at a Judo Tournament in Grand Rapids, Michigan, click
Here
AS I wrote in “Fighting the Good Fight” (What was I thinking with that title… *shudders*) I began Judo by pure coincidence. When my neighbor in Japan found out that I practiced Aikido, he invited me to try Judo at the club where he trained. From the first time I sparred, I was hooked. Judo combined the aspects of the martial arts I had come to respect—an emphasis on balance, speed and the use of an opponents energy against them—with a competitive spirit similar to that of wrestling. Furthermore, the amazing group of people who joined together to form the Shishinkai association became the best and tightest network of friends I could have hoped to have in Japan.
AS I wrote in “Fighting the Good Fight” (What was I thinking with that title… *shudders*) I began Judo by pure coincidence. When my neighbor in Japan found out that I practiced Aikido, he invited me to try Judo at the club where he trained. From the first time I sparred, I was hooked. Judo combined the aspects of the martial arts I had come to respect—an emphasis on balance, speed and the use of an opponents energy against them—with a competitive spirit similar to that of wrestling. Furthermore, the amazing group of people who joined together to form the Shishinkai association became the best and tightest network of friends I could have hoped to have in Japan.
Though I credit Haga Sensei for promoting such an atmosphere of encouragement and support within his dojo, I believe it speaks as a credit to the art of Judo that I have found the same Budo spirit in clubs throughout the world. At the
in Tokyo, I met and trained with people from around the world. From the Venezuelan paralympic team, French and German teams and instructors from Israel, Trinidad and Egypt, I found that regardless of the nationality or the language, judo players want to help eachother improve.
Someone once described Judo to me as, “Interupting a fall with a throw”. Judo is truly one of the most elegant demonstrations of the martial arts. One seeks to induce movement in an opponent and, then, uses the opponent’s motion to generate a throw. Balance and speed are crutial. Though we use these exact principals and even some of the same throws in Aikido, Aikido is a partner-based art that relies on cooperation. Judo, on the other hand, requires a yet deeper understanding of the fundamentals of momentum because the opponent, far from cooperating, is doing his or her best to prevent the throw. Although it is true that muscle can play a roll in Judo, relying on muscle will result in a mockery of the art. I have been thrown across the width of a room by men much smaller and less muscular precisely when I have tried to use my strength to advantage. This, however, is why I love Judo. A clear demonstration of one’s knowledge in the art can usually be seen by who is left standing.
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