I Am The Real-Life Karate Kid
The tale of my own Mr Myagi
The air in the gymnasium was thick. My nerves were rampant. I entered the black belt division for the first time, just eighteen and ready to prove myself.
Every single tournament and match I fought for years was nothing compared to my desire to win for this one.
I fought with intensity and ferocity. One match, I was paired against an individual I had been fighting at tournaments since I was 8 years old.
Losing was not even a worry to me. Winning could have been done blindfolded. I wanted to take the time to show him while we were the same rank, we were not on the same level.
Where his world ends, mine begins.
I charged him with a “blitz” style attack, sneakily planting my hand on his midsection at the end and gave him a stealthy shove.
I pounced so fast and forward he tumbled over the judges chair and crashing into the main table.
I barely noticed, nor had care to give. Welcome to running your mouth.
He wanted to win, I wanted to fight. That’s the difference.
Long story short, I cleared my division with ease. 18–29 year old men all wanting a shot for the title of the grand champion.
I won first place, unknown to me that makes me eligible to compete for the Overall Men’s Black Belt Grand Champion spot.
I allowed myself a moment to breathe, thinking I earned that.
Taking off my gear, my instructors voice cut me like a whip.
“What the f*ck are you doing? Get ready for grands!”
Bolting back to reality, I sprinted to my gear bag and got suited back up.
I fought men older than twice my age, some with more than a decade more experience than me.
In any realm of fighting, I have unmatched confidence and skill.
I have the vision burned into my mind, I had stumbled and landed on my back with only a split second to react to this grown man attempting to strike me in the face.
He was a mannamed Aarush. I remember specifically his gritted teeth and fist winding back to land on my face.
I have never kicked someone so hard in the face. Laying on my back.
With the winners becoming clearer and clearer, it occurred to me I’d be fighting my own instructor for the title of grand champion.
I had black belt elders and younger coming to me saying the honorary thing is to bow out and forfeit, handing my instructor the title.
Nope.
While I did not tell my instructor what was going on, I knew should I even bring it up to him we’d be fist-fighting in the parking lot anyway.
Not even a considerable option.
Giving my instructor that title not properly fought for would be more disrespectful than hitting each other and see who walks away with the trophy.
This man had taught me everything I know about karate-fighting.
I credit every single victory under my belt to him.
While the fight was respectful, it was a fight. We swung on each other.
Raw and unfiltered competition.
It did feel unethical to me, slightly.
I’d rather fight anyone else for the title, however this is the nature of fighting.
Whoever stands across me in that ring I do not hold back, I do not falter.
I leave everything on the mat. Regardless of who.
There are times when I have fought females at tournament. I do not care.
I will hit you just as hard as a male opponent. That’s the true equality.
We’re all here to win. Why does your relationship to me matter?
I ended up walking away with the title I waited over 10 years to win. I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity slip.
That tournament was nothing I’ll ever forget.
I was invited to Olive Garden with him, his wife and two kids.
He called me “Uncle Joey”.
We did not speak about martial arts, fighting nor the dojo.
He asked me about my plans after high school. My future endeavors. Ambitions I had.
Fighting is the ultimate teacher of lessons. It humbles you. Builds unlikely relationships.
It is the only place you can volunteer to get punched and punch people in the face and an hour later be eating dinner like nothing had happened.
