We work in an industry that continues to change from year to year and decade to decade. Since we teach arts that are supposedly timeless, being ancient in origin, one would think that there would be less change.
Of course, the goals that we set for our schools and ourselves drive that change. Many older instructors remember a time when their schools’ primary goal was to develop the finest fighters possible. That era is commonly referred to as the “bare-knuckle” days or the “blood-‘n’-guts” era. Those names refer to the lack of safety equipment then, and that point fighting in tournaments was the closest thing to a legal bloodbath.
As a matter of fact, I remember, with great joy, the day we obtained our first safety equipment at Bill “Superfoot” Wallace’s school in Indianapolis. Because he was the reigning National Point Champion at that time, we obtained the first prototypes of Jhoon Rhee’s new safety equipment for testing purposes. I thought it was a great idea because the cuts, bruises, black eyes and broken noses we experienced on a semi-regular basis became tiring and interfered with our training.
We have all agreed to advance from those days, but have we advanced too far? Have we diluted what we give our students to the point that they are unable to achieve for themselves what we were driven to find for ourselves?
If you’re an old veteran, then don’t you remember the need to find something about yourself? What you were made of? How you ticked on the inside? I remember watching Bill Wallace during one of his earliest televised kickboxing matches, 1976 in Las Vegas, against a contender named Jem Echollas.
The earliest bouts of that sport, then called full-contact Karate, were conducted without the fighters being surrounded by ropes. It was called a “rope-less ring.” The idea was to decrease the most serious injuries, since most fighters received the worst injuries when they were against the ropes. There were serious penalties for stepping off the mat area.
Bill hit Echollas with a very hard roundhouse kick flush in the face, and he was stunned to the point that he simply staggered from the ring and up the aisle of the auditorium. He was headed from the building. I was struck with the thought that Echollas was so stunned that he really didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew-deep in his mind-that he didn’t want to be where he was.
If we find weaknesses or failings within our students, then we can help them grow beyond those challenges. That makes what we do valuable-and worth whatever we charge for it.
I suddenly was struck by a concern: what if I should I be in a similar situation? I immediately switched from an emphasis on point fighting to full contact.
Don’t you remember a similar time in your life when you wondered about yourself or how you would function in a certain situation? Maybe you thought as I did. What would I do if an attacker had a knife? What would I do if there were two or three of them? These were not random thoughts, but nagging concerns about what you were made of as a person. It was something deep that you wanted to know.
You, like me, probably had a number of experiences that helped you answer those questions. Questions asked not by others, but by you, and answered not intellectually, but experientially. You experienced something that altered your perception of yourself.
As businessmen, we have the responsibility to make a living for our families, but, as instructors, we have a responsibility to help our students discover what is important about themselves. If we find weaknesses or failings, then we can help them grow beyond those challenges. That makes what we do valuable-and worth whatever we charge for it.
