|
There was yours truly, beneath the spiral staircase descending from three floors above, gym bag in the left hand. It was mid-afternoon
Wednesday, February 22nd 2006 in the Spectrum, a sports complex in Guilford where worldwide training for Wado-Ryu practitioners
is offered annually with Japanese masters. I had heard a number of times about this opportunity since beginning Wado training.
Our dojo in Winter Haven, Florida has senior supervision from Tyrone Pardue 5th Dan, Shido-In, whose own dojo is in Clear
Water/Tampa and it was with him and Romeo Legaspi, a 1st Dan with a dojo near Orlando that I traveled.
It was the last day of training, which had begun the previous Saturday, and many of the 200 plus who had been in the cavernous
gym, then to the cafe three floors above, were now going to a smaller gym on the ground floor to observe the testing of Black
Belt candidates before the five masters present. My two distinguished associates had either dawdled at the in-house café
or were trading “war stories” with the multitude of Black Belts that comprised at least 90 percent of those attending,
virtually all of whom had their own dojos. So I’m by my lonesome when who is coming down to the bottom of the staircase,
none other than Grand Master Otsuka and Shiomitsu Sensei. “Oh-oh”, says I to myself and turned to give what I
hoped was the proper 45-degree bow. Low and behold, but I see two friendly smiles and offered handshakes. I reacted with a
spontaneous verbal greeting of “Gentlemen” while bowing again and shaking the proffered hands in rapid succession.
Then they were gone.
The day continued after the testing (two of the seven candidates made it) with farewells to the many practitioners now returning
to other English towns or elsewhere in the United Kingdom. I had met so many, who now seemed like comrades, from Ireland,
Scotland, Norway, Sweden, Hungary, Italy and other nations now fading from memory (but the faces remain intact in my mind).
The next day I mentioned the Grand Master and Shiomitsu Sensei greeting to Sensei Pardue (whom I know as Tyrone when off the
dojo floor). It was a casual mention since I wasn’t sure how commonplace such a happening might be. Well, as the saying
goes, “he stopped dead in his tracks” and made sure that he had heard me correctly. He offered the explanation
that it was a showing that someone of the rank of Orange Belt in his 7th decade of life traveling some 4000 miles for training
was worthy of some informal recognition.
Maybe. But, I’m going to give you my opinion [and see if it gets into this account, i.e. past the proof reading webmaster
Pardue is bound to do before this gets on the website]. An evening or two earlier a number of us were sitting around a table
in the restaurant of the Travel Inn (which is where we stayed and is about a quarter mile down a slope from the Spectrum)
and yakking, as usual mostly about karate, guys in karate and the training – somewhat broken English being the form
of communication – when the Japanese masters came in. It is apparently customary to have one evening focused on honoring
them and especially the Grand Master. On this evening it was given to them to act as judges as to which of the groups from
the various nationalities present, best sang a rendition of their national anthem. (Mercifully, the three Americans present
were not asked to sing the Star Spangled Banner, because of our small number, I guess.) Our table was closest to the door,
on a dais, with adequate seating, so they were escorted our way. I started looking for somewhere else to sit when my buddy,
Tyrone, indicated that I should sit there. Well, I tried to smile and relax.
|
| The North American Contingent. Thats me, back row, second from right. |
|
| Thats me outside the Tower of London. |
|
 |
|
You know what you hear repeatedly in Wado training, “Relax, relax.” I tried to think of something to say that
might establish some common ground upon which a conversation could take place. It wasn’t until Tyrone left for awhile
somewhat later that the conversation turned naturally to the values and forms of karate training as I learned that three of
the masters had a pretty good grasp of English. Anyway, back to the initial uncomfortable phase: I said to Sugasawa Sensei,
who did the translation during Grand Master’s demonstrations and explanations, that perhaps Grand Master would like
to know that I’m in his peer age group, as I had been told that he is in his seventies, albeit that his moves are like
those of one who is in his twenties, only except lightening fast and vastly superior to anyone in any age group, Shiomitsu
Sensei being a close second and the other masters not far away. The translator advised that Grand Master is age 72. Then,
Tyrone – I think as a way to kind of introducing me the more, since my Orange belt status wasn’t going to give
me any brownie points – commented that I was a former FBI Agent. Well, I think that made an impression and was an additional
reason for the handshaking scenario that remains in memory.
At this point, I should apologize for so much me, me, me, especially since promising Tyrone that the first person singular
would be rarely used. To cause this to happen and to give some further information about the nature of the trip and training,
let’s start (where else, but?) at the beginning. The trip to Tampa via my wife’s car resulted in the ignition
keys still being in my pocket when emptying out all items into bins at the security point in the airport. Oh, oh! Well, a
hurried trip back to the vicinity of the British Airways counter succeeded in returning the keys to an anxious wife. We then
boarded and after about eight hours in the air arrived at a London airport. Romeo had made this trip before and Tyrone no
less than eight times before, so I could just tag along behind as we went from terminal to shuttle to cab stand to train to
cab stand and then to the Inn. We all three like to save money so we bunked in one room. Not too bad an arrangement as all
were considerate of the fact that one lavatory is used by three shavers each morning. BUT, one guy snores like the sound of
an approaching steam engine (all you younger than 60 guys will have to resort to recalling the sound from those Western movies
that use steam engines as part of the story). Tyrone is a somewhat noisy sleeper but Romeo gets the prize. Other than mishandling
the availability of our accommodations twice, I’ll give the Travel Inn an OK. The food is OK and like everything else
in England is twice as expensive since it takes about two dollars to equal a pound.
Ah yes, haven’t described the training: In our case it began the moment we set foot outside the Inn about 9:15am. The
distance up the slope is covered with a gait just short of breaking into a run. “To warm the muscles up”, it
was explained. Then into a crowded changing room, followed by the bow into the workout area while flashing a pass at the
registration table. A little self-stretching and amiable conversation and then the organized stretching began. The new positions
encountered were numerous, straining (for me) and about four times longer than ever done before. Then the basics: junzuki,
jodan uke, maegeri, etc. done in a military type formation with row upon row of Black Belts from the front and a few Orange,
Yellow and a sprinkling of Greens in the back. The Whites disappeared after the first day. All under the watchful eye of the
masters. An Orange can do alright with so many Blacks to copy, but imagine what happens when “mawatte” is commanded
and we lower belts are “leading” the formation. Panic time! Thankfully, Shiomitsu Sensei appeared not long after
the “about faces” had occurred, to exemplify the correct form. The afternoons brought kumites trying to follow
that which had just been shown and explained by the Grand Master and his regular (most of the time) opponent, Sugasawa Sensei.
We paired off with an approximate equal and hoped that one of the masters circulating through out the room wouldn’t
be too disapproving as he corrected our moves. About four hours a day and you were ready to resume some fellowship at the
Inn, a restaurant or a pub. Twice we went to a chosen exotic restaurant in town for first Indian cuisine and the next time
Thai.
It was work. It was lots of times that were enjoyable. It was valuable. It was unique fellowship. It was an inspiration to
try harder after getting home to the good old U.S.A.
See you in 2008, Mate!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
