12/6/08
“Okay boys,” said the Sensei, sitting buddha-like on the bench, “today we’re doing something different. I brought one of my students to work with you.”
I nodded studiously, fourteen years old and only now starting to lose my baby fat. With two friends, I’d been taking Judo classes at the YMCA for about five weeks. We stood across the blue mat from legendary Connecticut Judo coach Lenny LeBlanc and his diminutive purple belt protege.
Sensei LeBlanc, reduced to one leg through a battle with diabetes, taught from his seat. He took us through falling and rolling, throws and escapes.
With fifteen minutes left, it was time for sparring. ”What’s your name again? Chawlie? You, Chawlie. You first.”
With no sense of the shark tank I was wading into, I took off my monstrous glasses and headed out. We bowed, and I felt the ten-year-old purple belt’s fingers bite into my gi.
I don’t remember much after that, only how it ended. I’m sure he unbalanced me, threw me, and landed on top. Flailing, I rolled to my stomach, and that was the big mistake: sharks are attracted to flailing. He clamped a rear choke around my neck and arched back with all his force. I felt my spine pop like firewood as my hands were dragged off the mat.
Before I could tap out, Sensei Lenny shouted “ma-te!” (stop!). ”You’re gonna break his back!”
“Okay boys,” said the Sensei, sitting buddha-like on the bench, “today we’re doing something different. I brought one of my students to work with you.”
I nodded studiously, fourteen years old and only now starting to lose my baby fat. With two friends, I’d been taking Judo classes at the YMCA for about five weeks. We stood across the blue mat from legendary Connecticut Judo coach Lenny LeBlanc and his diminutive purple belt protege.
Sensei LeBlanc, reduced to one leg through a battle with diabetes, taught from his seat. He took us through falling and rolling, throws and escapes.
With fifteen minutes left, it was time for sparring. ”What’s your name again? Chawlie? You, Chawlie. You first.”
With no sense of the shark tank I was wading into, I took off my monstrous glasses and headed out. We bowed, and I felt the ten-year-old purple belt’s fingers bite into my gi.
I don’t remember much after that, only how it ended. I’m sure he unbalanced me, threw me, and landed on top. Flailing, I rolled to my stomach, and that was the big mistake: sharks are attracted to flailing. He clamped a rear choke around my neck and arched back with all his force. I felt my spine pop like firewood as my hands were dragged off the mat.
Before I could tap out, Sensei Lenny shouted “ma-te!” (stop!). ”You’re gonna break his back!”
Sensei Lenny LeBlanc
The little monster released his hold and I thumped to the mat. Dragging myself away, I heard Lenny chuckle and call out the next victim.
Later I realized that we truly were being used as “chum.” Lenny was preparing his student for a tournament, and three big 8th graders were just the way to get his appetite up.
That was my last week of Judo – not because of the thrashing, but because it was only a six week course. A month later I signed up for Tang Soo Do, and the rest is history.
——————–
2008…
I took hold of his gi, and he took hold of mine.
Little did he know, this 14 year old Judo orange belt, that he wasn’t sparring an average white belt. I’d trained in martial arts before his parents had thought of him. I had worked with world-renowned masters; won tournaments; studied multiple arts; taught professionally for years. And though only a white belt in Judo, I’d been in this game a long time. Been there, done that, and gone through more t-shirts than Drew Carey playing paintball.
All that experience, and a hand-full of repressed anger from that day in 1992, and it was time for action. ”I’m the shark now,” I said to myself.
Sensei Bill Montgomery said “begin!” A moment of struggle, then:
My head landed on the mat, followed eventually by my body. Then he landed on me.
Somewhere, squished under both of us, lay my ego.
——————–
That story more or less happened, but I really didn’t go into it with a big head or bad intentions – only a brand new white belt and gi. I’ve been training in Judo since the beginning of November. As an extension of a love for Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, I decided it was a good idea to expand my grappling even further. Judo is the root system that BJJ came from, but concentrates more on throwing technique than the groundwork that BJJ is known for.
And make no mistake… experience or no, I am a white belt.
I’ve regressed to the long forgotten days of being a true beginner; as the last junior on the left, I’m painfully aware of information-overload, a lack of coordination, and a tip-toeing sense of the etiquette and environment in a Judo dojo. It requires full attention to grasp the material. At times I suffer analysis paralysis. I literally get tossed around by 14 year old boys and 50 year old women (one of my coaches, Joan Love, is 5’3″, 100lbs at best, and can drop me like sack of rocks).
And I love it. It’s a fun new challenge to learn, to pursue, and enjoy.
However, here’s a warning: entering a new martial art you have little experience in is not for the fragile of ego. Like your socks, you need to roll that baggage up and leave it in your shoes by the door.
At many points in your martial arts career, your ego must be confronted. Think about it: you had to set your ego aside to even walk through the door on your first day. For every person who enrolls in martial arts, how many think better of it for fear of looking foolish? You braved that first hurdle, then went on to the joys of not really knowing your left from right, throwing punches like you were pitching lefty, and realizing only after six months that you’ve been tying your belt wrong.
But you made it. Nice. You’ve been around a couple years and your confidence is up. You’re pretty comfortable where you’re at.
But is that really where you want to be? Comfortable? Are “comfortable” and “progress” synonymous? Even now, are you sparing your ego?
Step out of that box. Step out of it now, because it will be even harder later on. Spar someone you’ve been avoiding. Ask your instructor to critique you… really critique you. Compete. Ask to be an assistant if the idea of standing in front of class is scary to you. In short, make being outside your comfort zone a training habit. Don’t be the one listening to stories about those who have taken the risks – and wishing you had.
To be a good student, training partner, competitor, or better person, you have to get over yourself. You have to deal with looking foolish, or doing something wrong, or -gasp- getting beaten in competition. It takes a lot to purposely make yourself vulnerable like that, and you learn far more about yourself by swallowing your pride and risking some temporary bruising to your self-esteem.
You don’t need a hyper 14 year old to spike you on your head to get outside your box. Just realize when you’re playing it safe and do something about it. Ask for help if you have to. Make it your habit inside the dojo so it becomes your habit outside the dojo.
Just watch out for 10 year old purple belts. They’re attracted to flailing.
Later I realized that we truly were being used as “chum.” Lenny was preparing his student for a tournament, and three big 8th graders were just the way to get his appetite up.
That was my last week of Judo – not because of the thrashing, but because it was only a six week course. A month later I signed up for Tang Soo Do, and the rest is history.
——————–
2008…
I took hold of his gi, and he took hold of mine.
Little did he know, this 14 year old Judo orange belt, that he wasn’t sparring an average white belt. I’d trained in martial arts before his parents had thought of him. I had worked with world-renowned masters; won tournaments; studied multiple arts; taught professionally for years. And though only a white belt in Judo, I’d been in this game a long time. Been there, done that, and gone through more t-shirts than Drew Carey playing paintball.
All that experience, and a hand-full of repressed anger from that day in 1992, and it was time for action. ”I’m the shark now,” I said to myself.
Sensei Bill Montgomery said “begin!” A moment of struggle, then:
My head landed on the mat, followed eventually by my body. Then he landed on me.
Somewhere, squished under both of us, lay my ego.
——————–
That story more or less happened, but I really didn’t go into it with a big head or bad intentions – only a brand new white belt and gi. I’ve been training in Judo since the beginning of November. As an extension of a love for Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, I decided it was a good idea to expand my grappling even further. Judo is the root system that BJJ came from, but concentrates more on throwing technique than the groundwork that BJJ is known for.
And make no mistake… experience or no, I am a white belt.
I’ve regressed to the long forgotten days of being a true beginner; as the last junior on the left, I’m painfully aware of information-overload, a lack of coordination, and a tip-toeing sense of the etiquette and environment in a Judo dojo. It requires full attention to grasp the material. At times I suffer analysis paralysis. I literally get tossed around by 14 year old boys and 50 year old women (one of my coaches, Joan Love, is 5’3″, 100lbs at best, and can drop me like sack of rocks).
And I love it. It’s a fun new challenge to learn, to pursue, and enjoy.
However, here’s a warning: entering a new martial art you have little experience in is not for the fragile of ego. Like your socks, you need to roll that baggage up and leave it in your shoes by the door.
At many points in your martial arts career, your ego must be confronted. Think about it: you had to set your ego aside to even walk through the door on your first day. For every person who enrolls in martial arts, how many think better of it for fear of looking foolish? You braved that first hurdle, then went on to the joys of not really knowing your left from right, throwing punches like you were pitching lefty, and realizing only after six months that you’ve been tying your belt wrong.
But you made it. Nice. You’ve been around a couple years and your confidence is up. You’re pretty comfortable where you’re at.
But is that really where you want to be? Comfortable? Are “comfortable” and “progress” synonymous? Even now, are you sparing your ego?
Step out of that box. Step out of it now, because it will be even harder later on. Spar someone you’ve been avoiding. Ask your instructor to critique you… really critique you. Compete. Ask to be an assistant if the idea of standing in front of class is scary to you. In short, make being outside your comfort zone a training habit. Don’t be the one listening to stories about those who have taken the risks – and wishing you had.
To be a good student, training partner, competitor, or better person, you have to get over yourself. You have to deal with looking foolish, or doing something wrong, or -gasp- getting beaten in competition. It takes a lot to purposely make yourself vulnerable like that, and you learn far more about yourself by swallowing your pride and risking some temporary bruising to your self-esteem.
You don’t need a hyper 14 year old to spike you on your head to get outside your box. Just realize when you’re playing it safe and do something about it. Ask for help if you have to. Make it your habit inside the dojo so it becomes your habit outside the dojo.
Just watch out for 10 year old purple belts. They’re attracted to flailing.
PS: This is where I train:
PPS: I earned my green belt in June 2009.
Bill Montgomery, Charlie McShane, Joan Love
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