It was just a single day before the Fukuda International Judo tournament that I received a call from my friend Tennis, who sounded as if he was half dead from some some sort of horrible flu. Not only did he sound congested, and as if he’d rubbed the inside of his throat with sandpaper, he also sounded disappointed because he was going to miss the the tournament.
It was a downer for myself as well, since we’d planned on doing this for a long time. And I was a complete noob at the whole Judo thing. Reinforcements in the form of an amiable, bearded, and short -- or maybe he just seems that way because he’s so broad -- and above all knowledgeable jujutsuka were very welcome. Bummer.
I’d only heard about this tournament, and of Keiko Fukuda a few months before the tournament itself. Boy am I out of touch with the world of martial arts. Fukuda Shihan is not only the highest ranked woman in Judo, but she has also put up with an incredible amount of sexist bullshit over the years. From other students assuming she was an easy target because she’s a small woman, to being held back at fifth dan (black belt degree) for twenty. Count them. Twenty. Freaking. Years. Since that was traditionally how far a woman could rise in Judo -- that is until Fukudan Shihan.
This woman is a badass and a pioneer no matter from which angle look at it. The granddaughter of Fukuda Hachinosuke, who was one of Jigoro Kano’s teachers (Judo’s founder,) she was later invited by Kano himself to join him as a student. When it came time to choose between her desire to pursue the highest reaches of Judo or marriage, she chose her art.
Through all of this she had to deal with sexist bullshit from the male dominated culture of Judo and japan and not just her being snubbed for twenty years -- I know I’m repeating myself, but it’s galling to know we were, and still are, that backwards. And it was not just back home in Japan, but also here in the United States.
Sensei Mike told us story about her when she came to the States for her first visit in the 50’s. Fukuda had come to the states and continued to train at the dojo of who would be one of Mike’s teachers. When she arrived she saw that not only were people way bigger than her, but also that she would have trouble with the assumptions they would make about not only a woman, but one so small. So Fukuda asked the dojo’s sensei to line up all of their students from highest rank to lowest. Then she went on to fight and defeat every one of them, starting from the highest rank to the lowest!
The above doesn’t even begin to describe how amazingly awesome I’ve found out she is through just a small online search.
Her personal motto gets to the bottom of her no bullshit attitude that’s tempered by kindness and general awesomeness (no charge): Be gentle, kind, and beautiful, yet firm and strong, both mentally and physically.
Tennis’ call changed all our plans. He’d been the one who was going to be driving, and what I’d not known is that he wanted to bring along his friend Bob Wells and drive him to the tournament. Now he was asking me if I could pick him up. It’s not hard to figure out just how I replied to the request. I’d met Bob before at a dojo potluck and chatted with him for a short while, though it was mostly small talks between sips of beer and bites of dahl and vegetarian pot stickers.
So Sam and I wake up early on Saturday. Since we’re not the sort to really wake up truly early, we ended up getting the breakfast of champions that are the breakfast treats available at the local gas station mart.
With coffees in cup holders and with breakfast bacon, egg, and cheese grease still clinging to my fingertips, we took 680 northward and were off to Oakland. Sam and I were still somewhat in shock from the early hour, and with caffeine still not fully energizing our minds, we didn’t really say much to one another. There was some confusion and cursing at our GPS unit, but that’s hardly something I should mention.
Once in Oakland we met with Bob, and after reintroducing ourselves to him, since he didn’t quite remember us, we were off to the SF Community College where the tournament was being held.
Being nosy as I can be, I started asking a few questions of Bob. When did he join Black Belt magazine? Which he replied to by saying that he joined when it was still a ‘thing in a garage.’
While we were in slow-moving traffic in the bay bridge he told us told stories of martial arts in the 60’s, how he had studied Judo for a long time. Now I wish I were more of a morning person so I could write them down more clearly (or maybe even just write these damn things down sooner than nearly two weeks later.)
I listened, probably wide-eyed, feeling, well, awful young. The perspective of years looking at the martial arts and the sheer number of people he’s met over that time was staggering. It was also completely awesome. We arrived to our destination long before I would completely geek out on it all and lost all ability to operate a motor vehicle with anything resembling safety.
Thanks to our trusty GPS, we managed to make it there with more than enough time to schmooze around with the judoka who were milling about outside the impressive martial arts gym that this institution saw fit to invest. It’s always a sight to see so many competitors in one place, most of them black belts. All of them getting ready, stretching, talking to one another. From a larger gymnasium across the hall where I could glimpse through the half-opened door, there were some judoka tossing each other about on a mat, practicing nage no kata.
We gravitated toward the merch table, where there were various videos, tee shirts, and a table where you could contribute to the documentary that’s being made about Fukuda sensei. We huddled there and chatted with Bob for a while, and I honestly can’t really remember what we talked about, but I do remember listening a fair bit. But it wasn’t at all like the listening I was about to do in a few moments. I didn’t spot him as anyone other than an elderly gentleman with well-groomed hair and a loosely fit navy blue suit. What I should have noticed, which thanks to hindsight now I realize, is that if one discounted the slightly stooped, shuffling walk nor the wrinkles I would have seen a man who filled the suit roughly in the same way (and same apparent solidity) that a dishwasher or small fridge might. This man was Hal Sharp. I didn’t find this out until Bob introduced me to him.
Bob, of course, knew him and they quickly struck up a conversation. It’d been many, many years since the two had spoken, but they fell into the easy pace of two practitioners trading stories of the old days of the arts here in the States. While I listened, I leaned over to Sam and whispered to her “This guy’s a legend.” How much of a legend, again, I wouldn’t find out until later. Though I don’t rightly know whether or not that would have helped or hindered on first meeting the man in person.
Hal is yet another complete badass. After World War II, he went to Japan to train at the Kodokan, which is the Judo dojo founded by Kano sensei. He trained and lived there for many years, falling in love with martial arts and the culture alike.
He photographed the great masters, has written books on the subject of Judo and is an all around Interesting Dude.
We listened to Hal tell stories about how he was asked by a senior student sent by Mifune sensei if he would become one of his teacher’s senior students. Hal respectfully declined the personal invitation of a 10th dan master of Judo because he was quite happy training at this ‘little dojo’ in Tokyo.
Of course, as conversations between martial artists always seem to go, once introductions and storytelling are done, techniques are demonstrated. It was my turn to throw the ritual haymaker to the head so Hal could speak about the finer points of blocking and where contact should happen (hint: at the joint.) He may be in his seventies, but that block felt like a bar of steel across the tendons on the inside of my elbow. Once again I was reminded of the adage about youth and skill versus age and treachery.
The tournament proper got underway just a few minutes after that demonstration, so we said our hasty goodbyes and walked into the dojo area of the Wellness Center.
We walked into the dojo itself just as everyone who was wearing pyjamas was lining up for the opening ceremonies for the tournament. Demonstrations of tournament etiquette were made for the benefit not only of the participants, but also for the small crowd that had gathered to cheer family members and friends; though here and there I did spot a few who had the look of having joined the gathering because they’d spotted this curious gathering of men and women in white pyjamas.
Announcements made, bows taken, the participants all moved off the mats as we made our way through that crowd to the other end of the dojo, where there was better light for my camera and a much better angle from which to watch the higher rank competitors for the first half of the tournament (the half before lunch.)
Again, all I really knew about Judo at this point was that it is both a sport and a martial art, and whatever it had been that Bob had shared with me on the morning ride. Bob had also been prescient enough to bring one of his Judo books, which I referenced plenty of times while watching the tournament proper.
Once settled off the mat and where the lighting was good, I pulled out my camera and took a few snaps. Then stopped and turned to Bob as the first kata that we saw was nothing like what I’d been expecting.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s Ju no kata. The gentle form,” he said. He Then informed me that it was one of Fukuda sensei’s favorites.
What I watched was Judo expressed in the gentlest way. Focused on finding and disrupting balance. Turning your opponent’s attacks, and turning into them, both to avoid and to execute the opening of a throw. The movement itself looks as if the tori were bowing, except it’s while lifting the uke off the ground, their legs perfectly straight.
It was an almost entrancing thing, watching these judoka working together in the gentle form. Then I noticed something that should have been obvious for its lack. There was very little noise. What made me notice this was that all could really hear were the sound of bodies hitting the mat from the other side of the dojo where the lower ranked competitors were performing Nage No Kata.
The spectators sitting in the bleachers and off on the sidelines of the mats were silent. And by silent I mean completely quiet. No cheering, no enthusing, just applause whenever a kata was finished and the judoka bowed and got off the mat.
Bob, with his near infinite knowledge of Judo filled in the details. He said it was fairly common for the tournaments to be perfectly silent. The crowd watching on, putting all attention on the form, almost as if they themselves were judges and at the same time dumbstruck with awe over every throw, lock, and weapon disarm. I sure as hell felt like it, even as the black belts moved to Nage no kata themselves. Then the throws and the sound of bodies hitting the mat revealed their rhythm with each slap of a hand and every roll.
There were a pair of young orange belts, both girls throwing each other expertly. I’d had it pointed out to me, by you know who, that they were doing an abridged version of the throw kata. The judges surprised everyone by asking them to come back and do the last three throws. I wondered if someone was going to get their belt based on this performance.
In fact, I wondered aloud about just how many of the competitors were also here as a test for their next rank.
“Oh, probably a few of those here,” Bob replies.
It really does seem like he knows everything about Judo sometimes.
More kata, more time passed, and we talked our way into getting sandwiches on the house. Then back into the dojo to watch the rest of the competition. Around this time is when we noticed these two young judoka, one a black belt, the other brown. Their last names were Oishi and they were plain amazing.
Crisp movements, precision, and definitely endurance. We commented Sam and Bob and myself about just how good they’d grow to be in the coming years and just how much these ‘young tigers’ as Bob would put it would shine.
Just before the end of the tournament, Fukuda sensei who was sitting on a wheeled out of the dojo for one reason or another. As she went past us I kept hearing ‘gomen nasai, gomen,’ from her. Then on her way back, she was apologetic even as those who were scurrying out of the way would stop then bow briefly.
I couldn’t help but do the same, especially after watching just how gentle and beautiful this side of Judo could indeed be.
There was also a reminder from Bob that you could see the beauty of it all and still be gently irreverent, as he commented how it looked as if Itsutsu no kata really would have something extra to it if the performers were in kabuki style outfits.
Definitions:
Tori: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tori_(martial_arts)) Tori (取り?) is a term used in Japanese martial arts to refer to the executor of a technique in partnered practice. The term "tori" comes from the verb toru (取る?), meaning "to take", "to pick up", or "to choose".
Uke: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uke_(martial_arts)) In Japanese martial arts, the uke (受け?) (IPA: [ɯke]) is the person who "receives" a technique.
The exact role of uke also known as a partner, varies between the different arts and often within the art itself depending on the situation. For instance in aikido, judo kata, and bujinkan ninjutsu uke initiates an attack against his partner, who then defends, whereas in competition judo, there is no designated uke.
[Pictures coming]
Notes:
Kyuzo Mifune:
I’ll let the internets do the talking for me here. This is him at seventy year’s of age: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vqM_lgVzIM
Ju No Kata:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGdJKwkFs1A
Nage No Kata:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7hDH_KHf9o
Itsutsu No Kata:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdWvLDYlu48
Notes:
https://wp.usjudo.org/Files/Internal_Files/eLetter/2011/20110801fukudaarticle.pdf
It was a downer for myself as well, since we’d planned on doing this for a long time. And I was a complete noob at the whole Judo thing. Reinforcements in the form of an amiable, bearded, and short -- or maybe he just seems that way because he’s so broad -- and above all knowledgeable jujutsuka were very welcome. Bummer.
I’d only heard about this tournament, and of Keiko Fukuda a few months before the tournament itself. Boy am I out of touch with the world of martial arts. Fukuda Shihan is not only the highest ranked woman in Judo, but she has also put up with an incredible amount of sexist bullshit over the years. From other students assuming she was an easy target because she’s a small woman, to being held back at fifth dan (black belt degree) for twenty. Count them. Twenty. Freaking. Years. Since that was traditionally how far a woman could rise in Judo -- that is until Fukudan Shihan.
This woman is a badass and a pioneer no matter from which angle look at it. The granddaughter of Fukuda Hachinosuke, who was one of Jigoro Kano’s teachers (Judo’s founder,) she was later invited by Kano himself to join him as a student. When it came time to choose between her desire to pursue the highest reaches of Judo or marriage, she chose her art.
Through all of this she had to deal with sexist bullshit from the male dominated culture of Judo and japan and not just her being snubbed for twenty years -- I know I’m repeating myself, but it’s galling to know we were, and still are, that backwards. And it was not just back home in Japan, but also here in the United States.
Sensei Mike told us story about her when she came to the States for her first visit in the 50’s. Fukuda had come to the states and continued to train at the dojo of who would be one of Mike’s teachers. When she arrived she saw that not only were people way bigger than her, but also that she would have trouble with the assumptions they would make about not only a woman, but one so small. So Fukuda asked the dojo’s sensei to line up all of their students from highest rank to lowest. Then she went on to fight and defeat every one of them, starting from the highest rank to the lowest!
The above doesn’t even begin to describe how amazingly awesome I’ve found out she is through just a small online search.
Her personal motto gets to the bottom of her no bullshit attitude that’s tempered by kindness and general awesomeness (no charge): Be gentle, kind, and beautiful, yet firm and strong, both mentally and physically.
Tennis’ call changed all our plans. He’d been the one who was going to be driving, and what I’d not known is that he wanted to bring along his friend Bob Wells and drive him to the tournament. Now he was asking me if I could pick him up. It’s not hard to figure out just how I replied to the request. I’d met Bob before at a dojo potluck and chatted with him for a short while, though it was mostly small talks between sips of beer and bites of dahl and vegetarian pot stickers.
So Sam and I wake up early on Saturday. Since we’re not the sort to really wake up truly early, we ended up getting the breakfast of champions that are the breakfast treats available at the local gas station mart.
With coffees in cup holders and with breakfast bacon, egg, and cheese grease still clinging to my fingertips, we took 680 northward and were off to Oakland. Sam and I were still somewhat in shock from the early hour, and with caffeine still not fully energizing our minds, we didn’t really say much to one another. There was some confusion and cursing at our GPS unit, but that’s hardly something I should mention.
Once in Oakland we met with Bob, and after reintroducing ourselves to him, since he didn’t quite remember us, we were off to the SF Community College where the tournament was being held.
Being nosy as I can be, I started asking a few questions of Bob. When did he join Black Belt magazine? Which he replied to by saying that he joined when it was still a ‘thing in a garage.’
While we were in slow-moving traffic in the bay bridge he told us told stories of martial arts in the 60’s, how he had studied Judo for a long time. Now I wish I were more of a morning person so I could write them down more clearly (or maybe even just write these damn things down sooner than nearly two weeks later.)
I listened, probably wide-eyed, feeling, well, awful young. The perspective of years looking at the martial arts and the sheer number of people he’s met over that time was staggering. It was also completely awesome. We arrived to our destination long before I would completely geek out on it all and lost all ability to operate a motor vehicle with anything resembling safety.
Thanks to our trusty GPS, we managed to make it there with more than enough time to schmooze around with the judoka who were milling about outside the impressive martial arts gym that this institution saw fit to invest. It’s always a sight to see so many competitors in one place, most of them black belts. All of them getting ready, stretching, talking to one another. From a larger gymnasium across the hall where I could glimpse through the half-opened door, there were some judoka tossing each other about on a mat, practicing nage no kata.
We gravitated toward the merch table, where there were various videos, tee shirts, and a table where you could contribute to the documentary that’s being made about Fukuda sensei. We huddled there and chatted with Bob for a while, and I honestly can’t really remember what we talked about, but I do remember listening a fair bit. But it wasn’t at all like the listening I was about to do in a few moments. I didn’t spot him as anyone other than an elderly gentleman with well-groomed hair and a loosely fit navy blue suit. What I should have noticed, which thanks to hindsight now I realize, is that if one discounted the slightly stooped, shuffling walk nor the wrinkles I would have seen a man who filled the suit roughly in the same way (and same apparent solidity) that a dishwasher or small fridge might. This man was Hal Sharp. I didn’t find this out until Bob introduced me to him.
Bob, of course, knew him and they quickly struck up a conversation. It’d been many, many years since the two had spoken, but they fell into the easy pace of two practitioners trading stories of the old days of the arts here in the States. While I listened, I leaned over to Sam and whispered to her “This guy’s a legend.” How much of a legend, again, I wouldn’t find out until later. Though I don’t rightly know whether or not that would have helped or hindered on first meeting the man in person.
Hal is yet another complete badass. After World War II, he went to Japan to train at the Kodokan, which is the Judo dojo founded by Kano sensei. He trained and lived there for many years, falling in love with martial arts and the culture alike.
He photographed the great masters, has written books on the subject of Judo and is an all around Interesting Dude.
We listened to Hal tell stories about how he was asked by a senior student sent by Mifune sensei if he would become one of his teacher’s senior students. Hal respectfully declined the personal invitation of a 10th dan master of Judo because he was quite happy training at this ‘little dojo’ in Tokyo.
Of course, as conversations between martial artists always seem to go, once introductions and storytelling are done, techniques are demonstrated. It was my turn to throw the ritual haymaker to the head so Hal could speak about the finer points of blocking and where contact should happen (hint: at the joint.) He may be in his seventies, but that block felt like a bar of steel across the tendons on the inside of my elbow. Once again I was reminded of the adage about youth and skill versus age and treachery.
The tournament proper got underway just a few minutes after that demonstration, so we said our hasty goodbyes and walked into the dojo area of the Wellness Center.
We walked into the dojo itself just as everyone who was wearing pyjamas was lining up for the opening ceremonies for the tournament. Demonstrations of tournament etiquette were made for the benefit not only of the participants, but also for the small crowd that had gathered to cheer family members and friends; though here and there I did spot a few who had the look of having joined the gathering because they’d spotted this curious gathering of men and women in white pyjamas.
Announcements made, bows taken, the participants all moved off the mats as we made our way through that crowd to the other end of the dojo, where there was better light for my camera and a much better angle from which to watch the higher rank competitors for the first half of the tournament (the half before lunch.)
Again, all I really knew about Judo at this point was that it is both a sport and a martial art, and whatever it had been that Bob had shared with me on the morning ride. Bob had also been prescient enough to bring one of his Judo books, which I referenced plenty of times while watching the tournament proper.
Once settled off the mat and where the lighting was good, I pulled out my camera and took a few snaps. Then stopped and turned to Bob as the first kata that we saw was nothing like what I’d been expecting.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s Ju no kata. The gentle form,” he said. He Then informed me that it was one of Fukuda sensei’s favorites.
What I watched was Judo expressed in the gentlest way. Focused on finding and disrupting balance. Turning your opponent’s attacks, and turning into them, both to avoid and to execute the opening of a throw. The movement itself looks as if the tori were bowing, except it’s while lifting the uke off the ground, their legs perfectly straight.
It was an almost entrancing thing, watching these judoka working together in the gentle form. Then I noticed something that should have been obvious for its lack. There was very little noise. What made me notice this was that all could really hear were the sound of bodies hitting the mat from the other side of the dojo where the lower ranked competitors were performing Nage No Kata.
The spectators sitting in the bleachers and off on the sidelines of the mats were silent. And by silent I mean completely quiet. No cheering, no enthusing, just applause whenever a kata was finished and the judoka bowed and got off the mat.
Bob, with his near infinite knowledge of Judo filled in the details. He said it was fairly common for the tournaments to be perfectly silent. The crowd watching on, putting all attention on the form, almost as if they themselves were judges and at the same time dumbstruck with awe over every throw, lock, and weapon disarm. I sure as hell felt like it, even as the black belts moved to Nage no kata themselves. Then the throws and the sound of bodies hitting the mat revealed their rhythm with each slap of a hand and every roll.
There were a pair of young orange belts, both girls throwing each other expertly. I’d had it pointed out to me, by you know who, that they were doing an abridged version of the throw kata. The judges surprised everyone by asking them to come back and do the last three throws. I wondered if someone was going to get their belt based on this performance.
In fact, I wondered aloud about just how many of the competitors were also here as a test for their next rank.
“Oh, probably a few of those here,” Bob replies.
It really does seem like he knows everything about Judo sometimes.
More kata, more time passed, and we talked our way into getting sandwiches on the house. Then back into the dojo to watch the rest of the competition. Around this time is when we noticed these two young judoka, one a black belt, the other brown. Their last names were Oishi and they were plain amazing.
Crisp movements, precision, and definitely endurance. We commented Sam and Bob and myself about just how good they’d grow to be in the coming years and just how much these ‘young tigers’ as Bob would put it would shine.
Just before the end of the tournament, Fukuda sensei who was sitting on a wheeled out of the dojo for one reason or another. As she went past us I kept hearing ‘gomen nasai, gomen,’ from her. Then on her way back, she was apologetic even as those who were scurrying out of the way would stop then bow briefly.
I couldn’t help but do the same, especially after watching just how gentle and beautiful this side of Judo could indeed be.
There was also a reminder from Bob that you could see the beauty of it all and still be gently irreverent, as he commented how it looked as if Itsutsu no kata really would have something extra to it if the performers were in kabuki style outfits.
Definitions:
Tori: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tori_(martial_arts)) Tori (取り?) is a term used in Japanese martial arts to refer to the executor of a technique in partnered practice. The term "tori" comes from the verb toru (取る?), meaning "to take", "to pick up", or "to choose".
Uke: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uke_(martial_arts)) In Japanese martial arts, the uke (受け?) (IPA: [ɯke]) is the person who "receives" a technique.
The exact role of uke also known as a partner, varies between the different arts and often within the art itself depending on the situation. For instance in aikido, judo kata, and bujinkan ninjutsu uke initiates an attack against his partner, who then defends, whereas in competition judo, there is no designated uke.
[Pictures coming]
Notes:
Kyuzo Mifune:
I’ll let the internets do the talking for me here. This is him at seventy year’s of age: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vqM_lgVzIM
Ju No Kata:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGdJKwkFs1A
Nage No Kata:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7hDH_KHf9o
Itsutsu No Kata:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdWvLDYlu48
Notes:
https://wp.usjudo.org/Files/Internal_Files/eLetter/2011/20110801fukudaarticle.pdf
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