The Group Leader thought it was a good match. The hour's worth of repetitive techniques and structured training was through and it was time for the favorite part of the session...free-style sparring. The Philipino was a little shorter and about 20 pounds lighter, but he was quick and experienced. The white kid was a bit of a novice, but a quick learner and very aggressive. Larry, the Group Leader, was sure the Philipino would take the match, but he was anxious to see how the white kid reacted to the better fighter. The new girl in the Dojo had been a distraction from the start of the session. A lithe, dark haired, olive skinned, Judo-trained sweetheart, she had approached him the previous week because she wanted to try Karate...just out of curiosity. He was happy to have her join the group. She was well conditioned and had kept up with the technique drills. But all the guys had trouble keeping their eyes off of her. When it was time for sparring, everyone sat on the floor around the walls of the room, an old empty barracks, they knew their places, assigned by seniority, but they all seemed to want to sit next to her.
Larry called the first two out to spar. Todd was a brown belt in Tai Kwon Do and very good. He was paired up against Rick, a belt holder of some sort in another style. They bowed, first to Larry then to each other, then took up their favorite stance and waited for the command, "Hajime"...they flew into action. The goal of free style sparring, Kumite, was to score points with a clean, full power technique that is delivered under "full control"...it has to come close enough to erase any doubt that it would be a serious strike but it could not touch the opponent. It is really kind of an honor system, but in a small Dojo like this, everyone could tell right away when a point was scored. Three points wins. Todd took the match in three straight. Larry called out the white kid and the Philipino.
They both looked eager. They knew each other well, had watched each other spar with others, and both felt confident of a win...the Philipino because he was good...the white kid because he didn't know any better. They did their bows, took up a stance and waited for the command. As soon as Larry said, "Hajime" the Philipino launched into a flurry of short punches designed to confuse his opponent and impress the girl. To everyone's surprise, the white kid side-stepped, swept the first punch in the flurry aside and left the Philipino flailing at air. He quickly recovered and threw a back kick at the white kid that nearly did the trick but momentum was going the wrong way and it lacked any steam. They circled and feinted, punched and blocked, kicked and blocked and feinted again. The Philipino was a little put off by the white kid's ability to stave off his initial attack and was not as confident as he started out. He was also disappointed that he couldn't end the match with some flashy footwork guaranteed to catch the girl's attention. While he was considering a new approach he was totally surprised by a back foot round house from the white kid that popped his Gi right over his solar plexus...Larry yelled , "Point" . They returned to the start position, Larry started them again and this time the Philipino was a furious whirling dervish, front kick, pivot on lead foot and follow with a lightning back kick, plant and come around with a spinning heel kick. But the white kid wasn't there anymore...and as soon as the dervish came to a halt, the white kid popped his Gi right over his solar plexus with the exact same round house as before. Larry yelled, "Point" again and brought them to the start again.
Both boys were sweating and breathing hard, putting on such a show for the girl was demanding work, even if the Philipino seemed to be doing most of the work. They were both aware that they had everyone's undivided attention...especially hers. At the start command, the Philipino feinted into another rush then pulled off to the right, the white kid was sucked in and momentarily it looked as if the Philipino would get his first point with a beauty of a straight short punch...but the white kid recovered enough to sweep the punch aside...
There is a concept in sports called "going to the well once too often". It simply means that if you do the same thing too many times, the other guy gets to expect it and is ready to counter. This time when the blazing round house came out, the Philipino raised up a picture perfect knee block...but didn't count on the force of the impact...neither of them did. So picture these two seriously engaged young warriors blazing about with TV-worthy kicks and blocks and punches and feints and slides and sweeps and making this horrific shin to knee contact and being immediately transformed into two cartoon characters hopping around on one leg whooping and whining...it must have been pretty funny because the whole Dojo roared...especially her. The Philipino had to have fluid drained from behind his kneecap...and a few days off his leg.
I got off easy. The hematoma that developed on my right shin was easily the size of a softball and hurt like crazy. But I didn't have to have a needle poked into it. And I learned an important lesson about "going to the well" and a more important one about showing off. I am not a good show off. First, I don't have much cause to show off...not much to show ! Second, and more importantly...everytime I try to show off I wind up on the sofa with a pillow under my leg or arm or head, sucking down Tylenol IIIs and wishing I hadn't done that.