Karate Oil: A Journey of blood sweat and tears
Chapter One (Dipping my cold toes in)
Twenty-three and a half minutes I have stared at this white screen waiting for the words to appear, I guess it doesn't always happen that way…. oh well here goes.
It was 1982 and I had seen many of the Bruce Lee films as a younger child and the adrenaline from watching Bruce Lee fight caused me to sweat. Beads of excited sweat used to roll down from my arm pits and pool at the top of my trousers. I was so into those films I simply just had to join a Martial arts school immediately. I believe many young kids of the time also dived into martial arts. But little was known of martial arts back then, so any system would be the fuel you needed if you wanted to be like Master of The Martial Arts Mr Bruce Lee.
I was 6 years old and only just old enough to pick up a long wood saw and cut two 4-inch pieces off the top of my father’s garden brush, securing a dog’s choker chain between them with hook nails, I had just fabricated a pair of Nunchucks and was proud of my work and ready for my martial arts journey or so I thought but instead I was a child with hands full of wood splinters. But a friend of mine had heard of a local Karate club and I was all in, totally convinced. It was my ticket to happiness, My destiny, My future. I couldn't wait to live my life like they do in the martial arts films. Some kids wanted to be like Spider Man or Even Super Man but not me. The powers I wanted were real ones.
I got to my first martial arts belt at 6 years old during a particular cold winter at a really cold Karate dojo, where I can remember very loud shouting of commands by the sensei. Rows and row of students stretched across a very rough wooden sprung floor with areas coned of due to the roof leaking. I saw teenagers crying after training because their fingers were so blue and cold they could hardly fasten their trousers. If that wasn't the reason for the crying then it was most likely from the blisters, cuts and flaps of skin on their feet. It was not uncommon for people to pivot on a heel or the ball of the foot and tear it into a massive flap of skin. The old one-hundred-year-old ball room style floors were unforgiving to bare feet.
There was at that time a massive boom in Karate, due to the latest movies at the cinema. Karate classes were massive and the new “In thing” to do but unfortunately the instructors didn't think about the fact that they may need more instructors to help. It was a special treat if you got an instructor come anywhere near you during a Karate session especially due to the massive size of the group. The help to improve your karate and correct any mistakes was not there and if you couldn't copy, well you had big problems. I guess this was a common trend that took place at most Karate dojo during this era.
This first taste of my martial arts future was a sour one, So I won’t continue to send you to sleep possibly it was down to my young age or maybe down to it not being quite what I expected. That's about all I can remember from my time at that dojo. I had learned nothing at all, not a thing, I can honestly say that this really early martial arts experience during those dark winter months had little positive or even negative effect on my martial journey. I guess it was not my time to shine in world of martial arts yet.
Chapter Two (Hard times)
Fast forwarding to 1988 It was a good year for all other kids who were twelve years old, I though had just come back to the small town called Wallsend, after my family had returned after moving away to Byker for year or two. I was glad and keen to fit in as the previous years had been complete hell. I guess I don't fit in easy and the fact that I was sporting a massive Jackson Five “nineteen seventies” type of bungle hair style never helped me. But it had however as it happens, taught me to run. Chants of “Bungle” “Curly Tots” “I’m Going to get you” where heard chasing behind me wherever I went. But however not one of them who wanted to lay harm on me ever caught me at that time. I was pretty fast and getting faster and for the ones I struggled to out run later in life I would make other plans.
I had previously been living in a block of a new type housing that was developed with in the famous Byker wall estate. It had a large maisonette type of housing on the end of the block. The unusual type of maisonette was on big concrete supports and was only two houses down from me. When someone was hot on my heels I used to end up running up the maisonette back stairs and there was a window at the top without glass. It was all nicely laid out with pot plants and a window box, stuff like that. I remember on numerous occasions flying up the stairs and going straight out that window. Then landing quite lightly, ten foot down into my neighbour’s front garden leaving me with four feet of fence to volley to arrive safely into my front door. These little escape routes were life savers. But as my family were planning to move back to the town of Wallsend I was hoping I would now longer need or want them. But I guess I was wrong.
The new school had it in for me right from the start. I was the equivalent of two years behind I could hardly read and write and my spelling and grammar made no sense to anybody. Dyslexia was known of, but hardly ever mentioned and there was no help of any sort available. I also had problems with bullies, I was a daily target due to my hair and my clothing. It wasn't a good time for me, not a good time at all. All kids can be cruel for many reasons, I have heard that sometimes it’s because they are being bullied themselves? Well If that is true then most of the kids in the North East of England must have had a really shity time from bullies, because they all seemed to have it in for me. Not a day went by without some sort of incident.
I recall a lovely summer day. It was one of them lovely summer days that you remember from your childhood because the summer days now never seem to be as nice anymore. The older you get the more grey and gloomy summers seem to be. Well this summer’s day started really great, all was going fantastic and I had been to see a friend that lived above a pub down next to Wallsend’s famous Swan Hunter’s Ship works. But bumping into a certain familiar bully and making the dash toward home was not on my agender. Unfortunately, he caught me give me a hiding and rubbed my face into some dog shit. Nearly 40 years later I can recall that smell.
I remember another time him knocking me to the ground. The horrible bastard then took up the mount position over me, kneeling on me and hitting me over and over again. Eventually his lack of concentration due to the fact of him becoming a little bored of hitting me helped me escape. Seemingly if you watch a cat play with a mouse, it was a bit like that, but only “This cat” and his friends continued their chase. I thought I was home free, as back then not many could catch me. Sadly, the fact I was wearing a big thick “parker” style winter jacket with the fur around the hood in August was not the best choice of clothing on such a warm day. I could not out run them and they eventually caught me. There were people about, waiting for buses and going about their business my begging of passing adults for help, simply fell on deaf ears. These lads were at least 5 years older than me and I hope those adults who didn't help me can live with themselves. If I witnessed this now I would certainly step in to help, without a second thought. After another good hiding this was becoming quite a regular occurrence and it was a little too much for me. Little did I know times were about to change, which was good as it couldn't have got much worse. I used to dread going to school in case of being someone’s target and still suffer to this day with anxiety.
Chapter Three (The beginnings)
My mother showed me an advert in the local free paper, A tiny little advert only a few lines she had ripped out of the classified page. It read “Learn Karate”. I was intrigued, nervous and exited all at the same time, I remember reaching down feeling my bruised ribs from my last good “beating episode” and thinking to myself that this is exactly what I needed. I mean it could only improve my chances? Right?
I remember the first lesson so clearly. I was the only student to turn up, it was the first day of a new Karate club. I remember how frightening walking into a dojo seemed. All the unknown traditions, how I was supposed to act, or what I was supposed to do danced around my head. The instructor started the session with his beautiful wife as his helper. They both spent the whole hour on the finer things, stances, basics and a simple stepping punch. I felt special and felt like I had really got somewhere in only one lesson, so next week I was back and dying for training, in fact it had become an addiction and my confidence grew and grew.
Over the next few weeks the club became larger. Still with only fifteen members, but that was a lot of folk for a dojo so small teaching traditional and practical Karate at that time. Everything we learnt seemed useful for self-defence. I had no doubt in my mind the Karate learnt here would work on the street. A lot happened over the next few month's including the new friendships I had made and best of all was the complete disappearance of all the decent martial arts books from the local library which I believe I was most likely solely responsible.
Our head dojo was based at Hexham at a great big sports centre that as a child it seemed massive. It had lots of rooms and corridors that made me even more nervous when we went there to train on courses or just for the Sunday Karate session. We had to go there also for gradings and the massive sports hall was normally halved by a big curtain and there was usually badminton or football going on in the other side.
The head instructor was a well-respected man with many years of experience and he always seemed to have time for everyone. Mr Cook was a good instructor with many great historic stories or Karate masters of old, but he always had rude jokes or sexual innuendos to throw into his stories and teachings. Everyone seemed to like his humour and thought he was the bee’s knees and so did I, after all he was some kind of friendly Karate Master. As I think back to the gradings Mr Cook used to get high ranking K.U.G.B members to grade us. The gradings were usually held at the big leisure centre by high ranking strangers of seemingly massive importance. In them days to me those people were gods of the highest level and as a child to me the gradings were massively nerve racking. I remember sometimes after the gradings we sometimes ended up at a pub so the instructors could socialise with the grading examiners. This I remember well and I used to be fascinated by the stories of old and general gossip. I do recall a Sensei called Steve Cattle showing Mr Cook how to do an advanced Karate kata while holding a fifty pence piece clenched between his bum cheeks to test ones Karate Stance. Priceless.
After many gradings and as time ticked by our group of clubs decided to become independent from the K.U.G.B. so instead of just being a Shotokan style we also adopted the Goju Ryu style of Karate making us a bit like half breeds. After a number of years things were changing for the worst. My local instructor had trouble with holding a location for the dojo and we kind of moved around training at different places month by month. I even remember us all training upstairs in a social club on the dance floor amongst the shards of glass from the night before. While training there my instructor used let me teach a bunch of five-year olds on the Saturday morning class. I was so honoured and grateful. I still see some of them today, some of them five-year olds now unbelievably have grand kids.
Chapter Four (The effectiveness)
My first year in high school was a massive turning point in my life. My Karate club had relocated there. It was good because suddenly everyone in my school seemed to know I was not to mess with and left me alone. I kind of liked this as it enabled me to stick into my school work and progress academically a bit. There was one kid though I had problems with. This one bully always had it in for me, for this and that. He was a brown belt in Judo and I always thought he should have had more sense. We had come to blows on a few occasions but it was always stopped by teachers before it got nasty.
One school dinner time, after a build-up of tension and words getting passed backward and forward the troubles came to a head. We were all at the local fish and chip shop and for some reason I found myself suddenly right in front of this bully and before I knew what had happened a tidy shot to his head followed by his head getting kneed twice off a low wall that stood next to him and then a continuous combination of head shots sent him tumbling over it.
I knew something was up at school when my form teacher sent me into the old tiled corridor of the now terrifying old school. Standing there was the head of the sports department. The action man as he was commonly known was one of those teachers that had left military duties for some reason or other and liked to pass his years of discipline on to kids. He was telling me that the ‘bullies’ parents were going to contact the police due to his injuries and that things were looking bad for me. He then mentioned that he had been in contact with my Karate instructor then the penny dropped. My instructor had been in the paratroopers and served tours of Northern Ireland. They were working together on my punishment I thought. After lots of one-sided shouting, pushing, pulling and general raggleing me about to try and get a violent reaction I was sorry and no further action was taken.
My instructor was a very patient man, he said very little but when he did he was very wise. He had us repeat things never short of hundreds of times to get perfection. He was our life coach too, He always encouraged us to try hard at school and be good people and work toward a good careerer.
I remember his exact words “I believe you have had trouble with a Judoka?” “yes” I said. He then continued “This stops now and one day you will become friends with your martial brother” Obviously it stopped right there it was a respect thing and no more trouble between us ever happened again. I still hear from the “Judoka” from time to time on social media, as he lives on the other side of the world now and I am pleased to call him my friend.
Chapter Five (The Deadly)
Thinking back to them days I remember a stranger once walking into the dojo, he knew my instructor well and had asked if it was ok for him to use some space at the back of the dojo. He was a short, hard looking man called Graham Noble. Graham had a student with him he called Stu who was tall and wirey looking. Over the weeks they would be paired off together doing their own thing in the corner in normal clothing that consisted of boxing style pad work with the use of elbows, head and low kicks. They also did a lot of wall sparring where one of them had their back to the wall, on a regular occasion this caused pools of sweat on the floor and them bloody noses.
It was a normal Thursday night training session when I was asked by my instructor “Could you work with Graham because Stu hasn't turned up and he needed someone to work with?” I was so nervous but I needed in on this. I needed to know so much more about this ‘Real life scenario fighting’ that these warriors who dressed in normal swagger were in to. It was new experience I couldn't turn down, I hit and held pads for close range combat, I grappled, I wall sparred with this legend and I felt fear, and it excelled me. It was a fantastic experience I loved every single moment. I later found out that Graham Noble was a martial arts historian, an accomplished writer and an old school respected martial artist. Like I say he was a legend.
Chapter Six (The White Transit Van)
There wasn't much going on in my life at these times apart from constant training and a few paper rounds after school but even that I had to fight for. It was one of them cold winters when the rain would freeze and the wind would feel like a thousand pins stabbing you in the face. I would go to the first shop I worked for, pick up the papers and deliver them. Then I would head off to the next shop sort out my papers then do the next round.
This day particular I was needing to sort out some new customers so I knew I would be in the shop a little longer. As I was in there sorting stuff out I kept one eye on my mountain bike and the other eye on the job at hand. Then it happened, I seen someone drift past and take it, Take my bike! It was one of them moments when a massive adrenalin dump gives you fucking wings. I was out that shop in one second flat and approaching my target at a gaining pace.
The target was a heavy built man, not fat. but more like a top-heavy strong bloke who was obviously intent on taking my bike and disappearing with it. I still wonder what he thought to this day when a skinny kid probably ten stone soaking wet took him around the neck at magnificent speeds cranking him in a way that caused us both to crash in a heap.
I hit him a number of times while on the ground and was shouting all sorts to attract attention. He did however amongst the struggle manage to pin me down and punch me in the face chipping one of my teeth and giving me a fat lip. There was still no way I was letting go of this bike so I continued shouting and holding on to it.
Eventually he realised I wasn't giving in and backed off and his mate in a white transit van picked him up on the other side of the road. I bet that van was full of stolen bikes, but on that day, he did not get mine.
Chapter Seven (Back Yard Dojo)
One day my instructor announced out of the blue that our club was closing and we were to find another club and instructor. By now I had many close friends at the dojo and as Hexham was too far to travel for young teenagers we decided to go to the new dojo our instructor pointed us in the direction of. This didn't last though as the club that we went to was very different to what we were used to. It was the standard “Shotokan style” of Karate I was supposedly used to, but it was very different all at the same time. I remember thinking back and I got told off by their instructor for hitting a focus pad too hard. That was the icing on the cake. The difference was the fact that I was used to hitting pads hard so I was confused and just never settled there.
We went back to our instructor with the news of the new club. My instructor understood and continued to teach a hand full of us in his back yard over the next few summers. It was good hard training that included running through local parks, kata, bag work and makiwara training. David Bailes or “hard harry” as others called him was still training with us and them runs through the local parks became an adrenalin buzz, as he was always running at the back and if you slowed down he would thump you one. He was a wirery brown belt with a scary face and his arms were covered in old sailor type tattoos.
I was once told by someone, that in his past he once had a massive fall out with a number of hard men from a place called Byker, the story goes he knocked a bloke out in the battle and as his head was about to make ground contact he hit it again. The deadly strike caused a rebound that stopped the bloke’s heart and after C P R brought him back, the bloke was never quit the same. I later found out that the bloke he nearly killed was his own father.
We were all shit scared of him after that. He once hit me at training so hard in the sternum that it hurt every time I breathed for months. I do believe now that he was maybe one of the reasons that our last dojo location had come to an end. At that time, we were training at a family run dance school. It was nice the floor was smooth and sprung and it had plenty of space, the owner was a nice bloke who we called Dexter who also had started training. Well... on our last training session there it seemed a quiescence that “Hard Harry” completely broke that dudes’ nose while lightly sparring so I guess we were doomed to back yard training until our Sensei found us another dojo.
Then the news came, our instructor had fallen out with his head instructor over something going on between our head instructor and a young female student which I believed which wasn't good and eventually to add to this my instructor’s life took a turn for the worse with his work commitments and the stressful divorce of his wife eventually leading to the end of our training and that was the sad end of an era. He later moved to Paris and started a fresh new life for himself, It’s never too late for a new beginning in your life.
Chapter Eight (Bottoms up)
Drinking at our local was not always a nice night out, it was a dark dingie place. It was the type of place that just recently they got rid of the sawdust from the floor and replaced it with a shit horrific carpet that even in the early nighties, it still looked shit. Wallsend High Street back then some people looked for trouble and many found it. One particular night was one of those nights. I was out with a friend and girlfriend of the time and I noticed someone trying to catch my eye. Now if someone tries to catch your eye, it could mean a number of things. Maybe they know you or maybe they would like to punch your face in and unfortunately their decision has normally been decided already. This lad as it happens had already made his decision, He was out with quite a large bunch of his mates and I didn't know them. Maybe I should have kept my head down and avoided the situation at all costs but I was young and fearless. I stared back and to my surprise within seconds he was screaming the original “What the fuck are you looking at”! Across the bar. I did however back down as I guess adrenalin and the none ability to use it had already set in, I told him to calm down sit down and have a good night. This did seem to work so I was safe but remember I was young and fearless or maybe more like in hindsight simply stupid. “Chadwicks” as the pub was known had two exits, one of which avoided the rowdy crowd and the other which would lead me on a path that without a doubt I should not have taken.
I made a clear journey over to him. I had to. I had to live with myself after all. “Catch you later” I told him. Suddenly a massive boom was heard as six to eight chairs flew back as the crowd jumped up as I was on the way through the door. My mate was knocked off his feet as the crazy crowd came through the door into the hallway. I caught hold of the ring leader as he was first at me his fists flying. Against the main door post was the place is head ended up, Bang, Bang went my forehead into his nose and all the other soft tissue I could find. He slumped down sliding toward his feet, that was the end of him for the night I expected. Suddenly that door shot open again and the full number of them were coming for me. The rest is a miss match of I guess “flash backs” I remembering still standing this time in the middle of the road bleeding with no shirt on holding another man’s shirt in my hands while being surrounded and backing up toward a building. I believe they all had free shots to try and knock me down that day. I don't know if they did or that I was too stupid to stay down. Some people I believe intervened and I ended up hitting one of them by an accident but that part I seem to struggle to remember.
the night ended his wife who had not been drinking, offered to drive us all home. As we were driving along in her little old-fashioned Austin mini we past a large group of maybe 15 people. They must have been heading home after a party or pub crawl and decided to throw something at the mini. Sally, as she was called halted the car and reversed back to the group. I guess with Sally being very naive she was gonna give them a piece of her mind. The door must have taken a good old kick as the dint came right into the car. I was telling her to let me out from the back “Let me out this fuckin tin box!” I said. As soon as she did I caught up with who I was sure did it. One strike and he was out. Good I thought, that will teach him, the bastard. Next came something quite strange the group seemed to separate and a very stocky fella stepped forward. What happened next, I have very limited memory of. What I do remember is holding onto a car window wiper blades about 200 meters up the road bleeding, with black eyes that were nearly shut after another line up of drunken dudes. I guess it was time I went to hospital. The next day I was sent onto the eye specialist clinic. I had had such a good hiding that both my eye retinas were torn and nearly disengaged but would lucky repair in good time.
Chapter Nine (The brother hood)
A few years later I found myself as new parent and I guess I was looking for some me time, I heard from a good friend that there was a new Karate club opening at the local gym. Since we were doing a bit of focus pad work together on a weekly basis it seemed the next step. Strangely it was at the very same location I initially started training at all those years back. I was bought immediately, I needed back in! It was a part of my life I wanted back, a part I missed. I made plans to meet my friend there for our first class. As it happens he never showed up.
The training there was hard and precise and I loved it. The sensei was a man called Doug Hunter he was little over a year above me in age but gained my respect like that of a farther. His training was intense and his kata ability and shear knowledge of martial arts was totally amazing. So, it wasn't too surprising that after the club in Wallsend came to a close, I then travelled to Sensei Doug’s main dojo at Gateshead in the North of England. It was a lovely dojo, not big, but had a lovely sprung wooden floor. Good hard old-fashioned old-school training was done there. It was where the lying “One more time” saying was first invented.
Many people came and went over the years with some great characters some not so great. I made many friends or may I say brothers. I was training along with some very fine Karate Ka indeed. One of which call James Dobson who shares a Judo dan rank in the Busen form of Judo with my Sensei Doug Hunter. James is a loyal “Karate Brother” and a good Judo sensei with lots of good ways to improve a student’s Judo ability and also making it fun and fantastic all at the same time. I have also spent many years training in Judo and still do to this day. It goes hand in hand with Karate and the two arts complement each other.
Chapter Ten (Legends of the arts)
The Busen Judo organisation is ran by a man called Steve Makin who is a highly respected Master of Judo. Master Steve Makin’s Judo is a very practical form of Judo with the emphasis of very hard training and self-defence to be kept in mind. His students are very powerful and really good Judo technicians and the whole Busen organisation is ran and organised very well.
Someone else I would like to mention is Garry Gordon. Mr Garry Gordon was a lot older than me, but for an older guy he was extremely fit. At the time Garry was working as a lifeguard at the local pool and most likely completing a million miles a week swimming. He was fitter than most with very sharp fists. His elbows were very sharp too as he opened my eyebrow with one once. Turned it into a little mouth he did. Me and Garry first met as we were approaching our Shodan gradings. Garry comes from the old school days of Karate and like myself we were both head strong and stubborn while remembering old training methods that science has since ruled out, like having people standing on your legs while in horse riding stance and plenty other crazy body damaging conditioning. But the way my Sensei had informed me and filled me in on his back ground about Garry Gordon was very clever indeed. He told me of this guy who I would be training with to progress toward our Shodan gradings and that I shouldn't go easy on him. Both of us battled it out over the next few months none of us would ever giving in. We constantly sharpened each other’s techniques and determination against each other. Years later I was talking to Garry at a social event and realised our instructor had said the exact thing to both of us. Very clever, very clever indeed.
I remember one of the finest characters that ever-entered Doug Hunters dojo was a man called Joe Curran who was a student of Chiba sensei. Joe was a high-ranking aikido Sensei. Doug had met him previously on a course. The course Doug was on was “somewhat” taking over by him. As the story goes the instructor of the course miss understood many aspects of aikido, well that's what Joe told him, straight in front of the many students who were attending.
I do recall Joe also coming into a Judo lesson I was attending after he had been out for a family meal. I remember him watching for a while with curry stains on his shirt, then removing his shoes, Then the next thing you know he was standing on the mat in front of me and my Judo Sensei asking for me to turn in for a hip throw on him so he could demonstrate a blocking technique. This would have been fine but I believe Joe to be well in to his 70s at the time, needless to say I turned in for my throw at full power and speed and it was well defended effortlessly.
Sensei Joe Curran started to teach a few of us higher grades aikido, which was really interesting but Joe did have a really hands-on approach which became quite physical at times. His ability was outstanding and his use of words to explain his teaching was quite something else for example “Utralise the power!” And “Never take your eyes off your man!” many of his masterful words were followed either by a slap across the head or a massive deep evil sounding belly laugh. Its people like him that make martial arts so fantastic.
We as a club entered the local sport Karate competitions in them years and did really well. We used to do Individual Kumite, Team kata and Team Kumite and always managed to bring back some silverware.
Chapter Eleven (The Cold Truth)
The links I had with my previous training helped our club get in contact with my original head sensei Mr Cook who was now a famous author, karate historian and a renowned karate instructor. A hand full of us travelled to his house for training on numerous occasions. We trained with him on the isle of Arran on a beach for a weekend In the middle of nowhere and even trained on his kangeiko (winter training) course, which was held in deep snow at an old quarry near a Roman fort. It was somewhere up the hills off the A69, which was all fantastic except the fact I had to reverse my car to try and gain traction in those bad conditions for about two mile up a hill after turning off the A69 and spinning the car a full 360 degrees in the deep snow.
Everything was going along great with Mr Cook we were spending more and more time training with him. Many of his courses we attended. But sadly on the very day we had him booked to take a course at the Gateshead dojo he was unbelievably arrested for indecent images of children. So that was the end of him. All them rude jokes and sexual innuendos I had heard from being quite a young child suddenly made sense.
Chapter Twelve (To Chase a Dragon)
As the years ticked by and I got awarded First Dan under Sensei Asano which was a great task as I had to travel to Nottingham on a regular basis. I never really enjoyed all the travelling. I guess I was a bit of a home boy. There was always “this course” and “that course” I had to attend for stamps in my licence that allowed me to take my dan grading.
The day of the grading was an incredible challenge. Me, Sensei Doug and Garry Gordon were at Nottingham for the grading weekend. We stayed at travel lodges, mainly because previous weekend trips to Nottingham for stamps in our Karate licences made us realise that the suggested accommodation at hostels, were in fact a cross between drug dens and horror films. I remember the lesson before the grading being made up of basics. Over and over again, Up the hall and down we preformed our techniques. With it being grading day each punch and kick was preformed like our life depended on it. After an exhausting morning and about half an hour break the gradings began. The standard set up was required Kihon the basics first then Kata, then Kumite. All was going great then it happened. The main man “Sensei Asano” decided to take great interest in the fighting. This was quite normal for him. But what was not so normal was the fact, out of the hundreds of want to be black belts he wanted to see me and Garry fight each other. This could get a bit dangerous I thought as we did tend to go all out on each other. Well everything was going well we were both getting techniques in and both of us were moving well then, I could have died with shock at what came next. Sensei Asano stopped us and started screaming at Garry “You Kill Him!” Hagime! Fight! Well Garry is well known to go hard while fighting anyway and the fact the main sensei, Head of our organisation at the time was screaming him to kill me put the shits up me I must say. The rest of the fight went well, I matched Garry when he upped his game, none of us died that day and we both became First Dan. Happy Days.
Chapter Thirteen (Pass it Forward)
I decided that now being a Shodan I had a dream of open a club of my own and this was harder than I could have ever imagined. I rented the old drill hall that was supposed to be a community centre in Wallsend. The place was so remote the council had since stopped lighting the street at night. I started the class with one hour a week and for about six months I was flogging a dying horse not a soul walked through them doors so I just trained on my own regardless of the occasional noises of stamping of boots and creaks and groans of the old building.
A little later on my daughter started training so I decided to change the dojo location to her school which I only ever cut equal with the few students that came but it was good all the same. Everything was going sweet then marriage problems and the fact that my wife had been having an affair caused a divorced. My daughter eventually stopped training which was a big shame because she had great talent. My son who was training too also stopped training. I think this was down to how unpopular the ex-wife and her latest partner had made my karate seem in her household. I hate nothing more than wasted talent. But the dojo continued and I really started to enjoy teaching and as my instructor polished my Karate at the weekend I then in return improved my students.
I am now happily remarried and my stepson has now taken up the art and loves it, in fact when I look at the little characters of him and his dojo friends. It reminds me so much of my early days. I was about the same age as these little fellows at my martial beginning. How far and how long they will continue their Karate may differ. I have truly begun to believe that due to so many electronic devices now available to a child, many children now have pre-programmed themselves to need constant stimulation and Karate unfortunately you have to train hard to get results. So now only a very special young person will have what it takes to train for his or her life time.
Chapter Fourteen (A less Japanese Karate)
Doug Hunter, Myself and our other dojo head James Dobson, have since took our clubs and left the S.K.I. organisation due to the politics and the rude hounding for our student’s licence fees, which as it happens became a regular thing even early on a Sunday morning. We since joined the British Combat Karate Association a few years back after contemplating our future and even coming close to changing styles to join a decent local organisation. The British Combat Karate Association seem to work well with our practical Karate training and our application of kata. We don't practise karate against karate type self-defence in the way a lot of the Japanese style Karate clubs do so it works well for us. We also do a lot of “all out” focus pad work that can become a kinda hell on earth. A, good few two-minute rounds on the focus pads can produce quite a bit of “Karate oil” flowing from every single sweat hole in our bodies. Always remember that we must all train hard as we must train hard to fight easy.
The British Combat Karate Association Is headed by Peter Consterdine. He is and old school hardened martial artist with many years on the doors and loads of live experience. He has a different way of generating power to a punch that most martial artists don't know of. It’s a technique called the double hip and I haven't in all my thirty years plus of martial arts felt anything quite like it. I thought my punch was hard until I felt his. Its quite a different type of hard. One of Peter’s students told a friend of mine its something very shiny indeed and he wasn't joking.
Here I am now and my Karate Club has grown and I look forward to its future. Any small profit it makes with the handful of kids and maybe an adult onboard I get to put back into the club and buy suits and equipment and as the world turns Second Dan Approaches.
Chapter Fifteen (a bit more of an yudansha)
Second Dan or Nidan…. It’s got a nice ring to it. The build-up of training was very very hard my instructor had written the grading syllabus with connection to what me and the other candidate Garry Gordon had choice for our main kata. About ten of these new combinations were learnt and they were tricky ones. Also, I had been increasing the lengths of my fighting rounds till I was competition style fighting none stop for nearly an hour. I was consistently preforming my chosen kata as well as the other ones and also working out the “Bunkai” application for it so I was ready to preform it on the big day. On the build up to the big day there was a session I remember well. My foot started bleeding just as I had started my combinations and It decided to start leaking quite heavily. As my sensei was shouting the commands lines of fresh blood soaked into the floor over and over again I ran back and forth threw it and when we had finished after ten combinations it had made an interesting pattern. It seemed a wasted effort to be cleaned up with wet paper towels.
On the Second of February two thousand and nineteen the big day came. I was waiting outside the dojo in the snow for people to come and a complete bag of nerves. The training session before the grading was one of those hard ones that you don't forget easily. The three higher dan grades who were preparing to be on the grading panel were taking turns at the teaching so it was really fast paced. After the session me and Garry were called up for our grading, we were already soaked in sweat. So, it began, we blasted through our combinations up on request. I was surprisingly completely done in, I was still going strong but feeling it, if you know what I mean. Then it was the kata part of the grading, many kata were done that day including my chosen one, many previous ones and one from a different style. It felt like it would never end, surprisingly it was just getting going.
Next it was the fighting stage. Previously I had been training for “sport style”,” point style” karate fighting. I guess I had miss judged what was expected of me. The fighting requested was more like “anything goes” type of fighting. It started at a “sport style” range and got stopped when it got too messy or too dangerous. It got messy! It got dangerous! I had to fight Garry then turn, then we both had to fight other Dan grades, then turn and fight each other again. This repeated and went on for many many rounds. We were in bits. Completely destroyed! Due to starting off at a ridiculous pace. After the fighting we had to do the application of the kata. I found this part bearable and as I was demonstrating the application of the kata more and more come in my head. I guess I was on a roll. My instructor then had us up for more fighting but unexpectedly it was two dan grades on to one...and that “One” was me. It went very well. It still started at a sport style range but closed very fast. I was trying to use one attacker to shield me from the other and take prisoners stuff like that, kind of smart strategies and it all worked well. I felt I had done good. Garry and I were then sent out the dojo where we sat with broken souls watching the snow fall outside with carefully placed snow on our massive egg sized lumps and bumps awaiting to be asked to return to the dojo. Fifteen minutes later we were asked back in. Then it was over. We were now Nidan! Bruised, Battered, Broken but Nidan! But nothing mattered, we had done it. It was done and it was done magnificently.
Chapter Sixteen (Goldie locks and a lesson learned)
That moment, when you realise who you are and what you have become can become a bit of a shock. Sometimes it just takes a glimmer of yourself in one second of time to totally give you a fright. This happened to me one cold February morning. I had just climbed into my jeep and had just looked through my rounds book to see where I was going off to work that day. Then all of a sudden when I was about to pull away my wife rang. She asked me if I had been in the caravan. Our touring caravan is my pride and joy, we keep it in the front street. I paid very little for it about six years ago but we have been away in it loads of times and took it all over the beautiful Northumberland coast. But on this occasion, it seems that someone else had been in it as the “always open curtains” were now closed.
I approached the van without too much thought. It was a dark Monday morning and quite early. As I got to the door all looked well apart from the curtains. I opened the door and with it being up on jacks for the winter I climbed in. There I saw something I couldn't quite deal with. There were people not just one, But people asleep in my beds!
As I approached them I could smell the stench of alcohol. I shouted “Get up the police are outside!” That didn't arouse them, I shouted it again. They couldn't of give two shits. I tried to “man handle” one of them up and toward the door. As we struggled I noticed a reflection of what looked like piss and broken glass on the floor as the struggle continued I believe the red mist came upon me and a massive surge of adrenalin came all over me like a speeding train. For the first time I realised the situation I was in. I was in between two smack head drunkin mother fuckers. Suddenly all hell broke loose. The one in my way was fed a very fast very hard combination of blows that sent him out the caravan over a parked car and into a crumpled heap. I followed him out and as I got close I seen the look in his eyes. He was the older of the two and he was shocked, yes, he was shocked. I realised there and then I had no choice. He was about to get up and I could see he was going to be a hand full. Just there and then I did a terrible thing that I can’t get out my mind. I kicked a man while he was down and the stomped on him again and again. I felt nothing for him, The piece of shit. At the time it was just instinct. I had realised I didn't want him getting back up.
I suddenly realised that the other was still in the caravan I went back in and he was cowering he had most likely seen the little piece of hell that had just rained down on his partner in crime and didn't fancy his chances. I grabbed him and threw him out too. He went straight down outside the caravan door. He didn't get the same air time as his mate. As I hopped out van landing at his feet he raised straight up in front of me like a snake out of a basket. It was about then he realised I was no snake charmer. I hit him so hard his nose exploded and he hit the wall behind him. He seemed to pause with his feet off the ground and then slid down into heap. I was rolling now, the damage they had done to my pride and joy started to hurt and my attention was suddenly refocused on the first one I quickly ran over to him and rained down punches making it clear that if I ever saw them again I would kill them and he had to fuck off right now or he would be a dead man. It had gone this far and an example had to be set. He crawled away as if in slow motion. I ran back to the second guy and he had come to. I shouted the same things to him and I had to really encourage him to go “You better go coz I’m gona fucking kill you”! I shouted, enough said he ran. Now this is where it got tricky as he started to run away all of the images, the damage and even the sick they had spat in my sink came flooding back to me it was like an inner struggle. I wanted them away from me as I was going to do some serious damage. I caught him as he ran from me with a kick that sent him spiralling into a concrete block left from remains of the 1970’s attempt of a council estates play park. I finished him off with punches right where he slumped. My wife had since arrived and was telling me to take a photo for the police. I made sure no photos were taken of that mess that day and they crawled away like dying animals. While writing this It’s been three weeks since. The images I caused still haunt me but sorrow for those men I have none. I have learned that my karate with the years of training I have instilled in me is very affective and under certain conditions can be very bad for others health. I must remember this.
Chapter Seventeen (The Kung Flu)
As the winter of 2019 moves away and introduced the spring of 2020, the world as we know it sharply came to a halt, as we were attacked from an invisible enemy. It originated in China and spread completely around the globe. Within weeks of hearing about it and it causing deaths on the other side of the world it was up on us. Battle Hill Karate Club as my dojo is named had to act. Nobody really knew what was going on and the government left us all in the dark at first.
When it first arrived, I had all my students outside the dojo for normal class training in the dojo garden at two meters distancing doing kata. Little after a week later it was on a broadcast from the government that all gyms, training boot camps and other public gatherings had to stop. This was a massive shock as all gyms and dojos had to close until further notice. I managed to continue to run Battle Hill Karate Club through an online conferencing app, which worked ok, but not as good as the typical teacher to student Karate session that we know so well. The fact that Karate was now missing the physical contact seems very strange and I guess we practised Kata and our Techniques on our own until the good old days came back.
Many people lost their jobs and financial promises were made by the government if we all stayed at home and washed our hands. Only “key workers”,”NHS” workers and a small amount of others were allowed to work. I was lucky, my occupation of the past twenty-two years was an owner of a window cleaning business. I was “aloud” to work as I was self-isolated and keep a two-meter distance from others at all times. In fact, for the first month of the “Lock Down” as its was then know; I dressed in a Dead Pool super hero costume, I guess if the whole worlds gone mad your best off joining them. It brought smiles to a lot of young children's faces who were not allowed outside because of the pandemic so I am proud I did it and I would do it again at a drop of a hat.
As we were moving through the great “lock down” The shops and a few other businesses were now aloud to open, so reality was starting to return. The cases of covid19 have went down and I decided to constantly google when I could return to teaching. Our first class back was the 12th June 2020. I passed some online Covid19 course and the government guidelines were now changing allowing fitness coaches to teach five students outside at two meters apart. I was out there in the pissing rain setting five different coloured boxes up out of sport cones. The first two classes back class went great as the rain started to ease. It made me realised how much I enjoyed teaching even though class sizes were limited and we were training outdoors in all weathers. We did however end up back in lock down a few times and were in and out the dojo more times than you can mention. But like the human race Karate lived on.
Chapter Eighteen (sticks and stones may break my bones)
Injuries and martial arts can sometimes go together like strawberries and cream. From the early day’s bruises were common. My forearms were always black and blue, I guess we did a lot of conditioning training. The conditioning training, we did was where we would make our Karate blocks while smash are arms against a partner’s arms. This was an exercise that would be done repetitively for a number of minutes that felt like hours. Certain parts of the forearms and wrists got very battered and remained black and blue for weeks. I would never have children doing this because they are still growing, it’s strange how things have changed. I remember also being about twelve years old and getting kicked in the nuts so hard at a national championship. That I was physically sick and the Saint John’s ambulance volunteers were trying to feel around to see if I had my bladder was ruptured. There was plenty of injures at competitions in my early days. I believe in most of them the only compulsory safety item was a gum shield and terry towelling hand mitts had just started to be used. Black eyes and bloody noses were a very common sight. My first competition was a special one for me that I never forgot, it was an innter club competition and there was quite a few faces I knew well and a few I did not. I was well up for it and had trained hard. I had so far six fights on that day and won them with ease. The next fight I was not so sure, it was the final with a fella called Chris. He was a good friend and also an exceptional Karate-ka. We had already trained together for a few years and we were very close. The fight started off well with both of us getting the odd technique through our opponent’s defence. It was getting very close to the needed three points and we were both at two, so next to score would win. Just as we went into “sudden death” and extra time was added to the clock we both committed to a Jodan Mawashi Geri (high roundhouse kick). Both of us put all we had into that kick and we managed to clash legs. Now I know this can happen I have seen this happen to my own students, it can hurt. But this was different, Blood ran down both mine and Chris’s legs. We had opened up. Pain like a steam train had ran through both our minds, fast, heavy and unstoppable. We circled each other limping and bleeding for what seemed like ages looking for the victory. On this day I took it, another “Jodan Mawashi Geri” this time made contact with Chris’s head and the gold was mine.
Chapter Nineteen (puff the magic dragon)
The amount of fiction associated around martial arts is massive. I have seen many things that will open your eyes. I have seen many a Karate ka of a high level talk the talk but couldn't walk the walk. You will only get good at what you practise and if your training has no purpose then I am sorry to say, neither will you. For example, sport Karate is fantastic to watch but we must remember it only will work in the sporting arena. If you try them high kicks outside maybe in a dangerous environment the likelihood is you may end up on your arse. You see perfect examples of other levels of bull shit on the internet of the “Masters” who float around while their students attack and they all end up in a heap on the floor. The one-hundred-year-old master still standing, looking over them feeling surprised that without any contact he had defeated his assailants. This is dangerous as he will now believe he has super human powers but sadly they will only work in his dojo against his students. If he ever does need to use his skills outside It may cost him his life.
Chapter Twenty (snakes in the grass)
Sometimes it takes to be bitten twice to realise there is nothing stranger than folk. Twice I have had 1st kyu students do the dirty. Now when I say the “dirty” many may think I am over reacting and yeah maybe I am, but when I teach Karate to people it doesn't come naturally and I put my heart and soul into it so all I would like in return is a bit of respect. Respect goes both ways. The first lad was a good hard-working student and worked his way up over the years with my son. They both trained together and both liked a good fight. The Friday nights Karate session had just turned in to a “Friday Night Fight Night” and every one was always up for it. The fella in particular was quit a tall student about fifteen years of age. He was a nice lad and I had known his dad from school and I had watched him grow from a small young boy into a tall very decent fighter. All the younger kids in our club looked up to him. It was on a Tuesday night I got the news. James a good friend of mine rang me out of the blue and told me that my student had been over to his dojo asking if he could join his club instead of mine. He had his reasons which were justified. He was wanting to fight better fighters and that was fair enough. Well it would have been fair enough if he had only talked to me about it instead of just going ahead and rocking up to friend’s club and asking to join. I believe my student learnt a lesson at that session which made him retire from karate. It must have been an extra hard session due to his surprise lack of respect, it was a shame he was a great kid and I still say hello to him when I see him. He never returned to the dojo.
Another one to “do the dirty” was a kid that was good from the start. He had a massive interest in Karate and passed through all his gradings with ease. In fact, many would say he found Karate easy. He was one of my best students, He like others came along as a small kid and grew into a really good Karate student reaching 1st Kyu level. During the “coming out of lock down” we did a lot of training outside. This comprised of me and five students going through our practise in the yard outside the dojo. I had noticed that this student even though had booked on a session had not been turning up. I had realised it was to do with the weather and a slight rain shower was putting him off. I was a little bit annoyed mainly due to the fact that I could have had another student in his empty place. I did mention to him that his wasn't made of sugar and he wouldn't melt if he got wet. He wasn't that bothered by what I said as I knew him personally and me and my wife had taken him on weekend away with Sonny over the past two years. Nothing could have prepared me for what came next. His dad rang me and told me he wanted a word about his lads Karate training. As I knew him and his family very well I invited him over straight away as the lived a stone throw away. When he arrived, I knew his dad felt awkward He told me that his son had been “Trying out another Karate school” When I asked why and was there a problem he told me that his son wasn't getting enough training due to our dojo only putting one outdoor session per week. I found this strange due to the fact it was he who was not turning up due to the weather not being great. I later spoke to his mam and she seemed to think I have made it awkward for him to come back due to me congratulating another student with the weekly award and mentioning his loyalty. Maybe I had the “loyalty” word in my head due to my students lack of loyalty who knows. I told his mother she should of came to me first and we could of talked about his options and I could of maybe suggested other clubs for him to train at for extra tuition. This fell on deaf ears and she continued to contradict herself until it became a little embarrassing. It was a shame a massive shame but nothings queer as folk.
Chapter Twenty-One (Future this Future that)
So, the big question is where is Karate going to be in Ten, Twenty, Fifty years? I don’t know but I can tell you this, Karate has begun to change already, With the help of media like “You Tube”. People don’t have to wait months or years to read peoples articles in magazines or books. It’s all there in an instant. Karate schools are downloading videos on how they train on one side of the world and other schools are copying it on the other. People have recently taken to analysing Karate kata more than they ever have. The likes of Iain Abernethy and others have helped this greatly. Karate is slowly looking to be more practical and Karate techniques are now getting pressure tested.
When Karate came from Okinawa to Japan its package was changed into putting Karate practitioners against Karate practitioners at an unreal fighting distance. This made Karate as a self-defence difficult to use and unworkable. Recent changes and realisations have now put Karate back on track and have now gave it a better future. For some reason it was always classed as blasphemy to make any changes to the way you teach or train in Karate. If we think about its Karate underwent massive changes and improvements for it to become popular in Japan at that time, Guess what? We are not in that time and guess what? We are not even in Japan either. Karate needs to grow and to change and to continue to improve. If it doesn't It will die. Many schools of Karate would disagree about this and say that they are quite happy to continue the way they are, this is fine but there is one slight problem. I have experienced violence. Karate at unreal distance is as much use as a chocolate flask. What is even worse is the fact once you acquire a black belt after a year of training at some schools you may believe you can handle yourself. Well its true. is it not? Sensei said. No, it’s not true even if you can hold your own in the dojo it means fuck all in the real world. I would just like to point out that the dojo its normally a happy and very safe place to be. Even if I had chosen to do twelve rounds of boxing with that machine formally known as Mike Tyson, I know I may get hurt but not killed due to the referee stopping the fight or someone throwing the towel in.
Outside the ring, off the mat, out of the dojo whatever you want to call it. The rules are none and we only use what we know and what we have and don’t forget our caveman instincts have not changed in thousands of years.
Animals we are and will be for a long time yet.
