Kongo Rikishi

One day a skilled street fighter, body scarred from old knife fights, joined and quickly gained a reputation for breaking people's noses with a lightening fast left jab. He didn't just get in a good technique and break a nose. He walked in on the brown or black belt he was fighting and his opponent would score a direct hit on him (light contact to the body). At that point we were supposed to stop fighting. But this guy wouldn't stop, he just kept coming and BANG, he punched the guy in the nose after he let down his guard!

After this happened a couple of times people started fighting back but he was a good fighter and he was still able to break noses.

There was a lot of back-room discussion about him. During some rather heated discussion I announced that when it was my turn to fight him I would not pull my kick as others have done. This particular bit of gossip spread fast and soon the dojo murmured about what would happen when I kicked that guy.

Everyone has a "best technique," and mine was my front kick. It was fast and very, very powerful. Although I had never hit anyone with power I always scored with it during light-contact kumite and I moved the heavy bag like no one else.

Soon it was my time to fight him. I was scared because I knew this guy was going to do his best to break my nose. He started walking in on me, as he did with everyone else. I let him have it with everything I had. Right in the gut. He was thrown into the air, folded in half with his arms and legs dangling behind him like a cartoon character riding a cannon ball. He hit the wall that was about 6 feet behind him then crashed to the floor in a heap. He didn't move.

My first thought was "my God, I've killed him." The dojo is silent.

But then, to my great relief, he moved. Just twitches at first, then real, conscious motion. He stayed on the floor, slowly moving more and more, until, to my amazement, he rolled over onto his knees, paused, then slowly got back up. He kinda shook off the effects of the kick, rubbed his belly, and within maybe 3 minutes of being hit he was back in his fighting stance!

So ok, I'm thinking that I'll just almost kill him again. This wily street fighter, meanwhile, was thinking something along the lines of "now I know what you've got..."

Again he walks in on me and again I send out my terrible kick. But this time he withdraws as the kick is extended and it fails to make contact. He follows the kick as I withdraw it and grabs my leg...

...I pull back with all my strength. Thankfully, his grip was not very good and he had moved closer to grab me. I kicked out again, just barely thumping him in the chest. It was enough to break his grip, though, and I withdrew my leg.

Now we are both fully engaged, both fully aware of what the other one has. Again he lunges, again I kick and fail to make contact, but this time his grab swishes through empty air.

Over the next few years this guy continued to practice his blocks and grabs. I, meanwhile, kept practicing my kick. We would occasionally fight again and the usual stalemate would result. He kept working on the timing of his grab and soon he was getting uncomfortably close to accomplishing his goal of grabbing my leg.

When I did a kick at that time it was a straight ahead kick that was simply so fast and powerful that nothing could stop it. It was a very consistent kick. This guy was exploiting the consistency of the kick by lunging forward just as I withdrew the kick. His timing was getting better. I had to do something or I'd see my nose broken fairly soon. One day I'm thinking about this problem and I decided that I would alter the kick: I would start it out fast, slow it down slightly, then speed it up again. A very simple variation to the basic kick that I expected would throw off his timing enough to ruin the grab.

It worked beautifully. He lunged at me with his grab but the leg wasn't there. A milisecond later the kick thumped him in the chest. I hadn't managed to hit him since our first encounter. Once I allowed myself the freedom to alter the kick variations came in abundance. Fakes to the left and right evolved into a constant jiggle of my ankle so he'd have a harder time figuring out when I'm kicking and in what direction. With these fakes and variations I comfortably kept him away from my nose.

At the time I just thought of him as a jerk I had to deal with. Now I realize that if it weren't for him I wouldn't have the keenly honed and nuanced kick I have today. He was one of my greatest teachers.

--
Kongo Rikishi, eternal student, Shotokan
Shotokan Karate Academy